#but i finally got this done so yeet

[ask-vera]

"As much as sleep has been my aid in warding away these cursed Phantoms, it's also proven to occasionally be my secondary enemy, namely because of the nightmares of my past that torment me as I rest. While their frequency has dwindled over the last couple years, their intensity remains unyielding, to the point I still awaken in a cold sweat, trembling as if I'm standing within a blizzard. Despite having grown stoic to hardship throughout the years, these recurrent nightmares are forcing me to reconsider my current methods of managing my lingering trauma. All I desire is to live my life in peace, nothing more. I have no need for any further fractures in my heart...nor mind."

-V'era's Diary

[solxamber]

How to Tame Your Dragon - Malleus Draconia x reader

Since you and Malleus have gotten into a relationship, you've become a bona-fide dragon soother. But whenever you fumble, the entirety of NRC faces the consequences.

aka the 7 times you cause ecological disasters and the 1 time it works out for you.

this is one of my favorite works i hope y'all enjoy it too

Instance 1: The Unbirthday Party Fumble

It all started so innocently, as most disasters do.

You were sitting on a bench in the gardens with Malleus, who was in one of his "look at my shiny things" moods. He had decided to show you his prized possessions from his extensive, possibly cursed, hoard. Usually, this was an easy gig. You’d nod, say something like “Wow, so shiny,” and then give him a kiss. Easy peasy.

But not today.

Because today, your brain decided to take a little vacation while your body stayed behind, stuck on autopilot.

You were half-paying attention, your focus more on the distant ruckus over at Heartslabyul’s tea party, where Ace and Deuce were most definitely in the middle of doing something stupid. Riddle was probably screaming about proper fork placement, Trey was juggling a thousand responsibilities, and Cater was... doing whatever Cater does.

You could hear the faint sounds of plates clinking and people panicking about the sugar cubes being uneven. It was practically a symphony of disaster waiting to happen.

Meanwhile, Malleus was holding up what looked like a teapot. But not just any teapot—this thing was ornate. Gleaming, intricate patterns, probably blessed by some ancient fae god of beverages. You didn’t notice any of that, though.

Instead, when Malleus asked in his deep, romantic, “I’m-giving-you-a-piece-of-my-soul” voice, “Do you like it, my treasure?” you waved him off like he’d just shown you a half-eaten sandwich.

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Looks fine.”

Silence.

Not just any silence. The kind of silence where the air pressure changes and you suddenly realize you might’ve done something very, very bad.

You blinked, finally looking over at Malleus, and oh no. His eyes were narrowed, his lips pursed, and a shadow seemed to fall over him—literally. The sky darkened as if the heavens were in on his mood. His grip on the teapot tightened, and you could swear the wind started to howl.

Oh, no no no.

The moment you realized your mistake, the storm was already brewing. Quite literally. The sky went from clear to “about to smite someone” in about two seconds flat. You could feel the temperature drop, and leaves started swirling around like they were auditioning for a role in a natural disaster movie.

You were in for it now.

Meanwhile, at the world’s most cursed tea party:

Riddle was just getting ready to pour the first cup of tea when the wind decided to yeet the tablecloth right off the table. Teacups clattered, pastries took flight, and the entire garden descended into chaos.

“WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE QUEEN’S LAWS—” Riddle screamed, clutching a teapot like it was his last lifeline.

Ace, currently dodging a rogue scone, looked over at the sky. “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me. Is this a Malleus thing?”

Deuce, who was using a sugar bowl as a makeshift helmet, shouted over the wind. “It’s always a Malleus thing! Why do I even ask anymore?!”

Cater, hair blown sideways and desperately trying to keep his phone in hand, was trying to snap a selfie in the chaos. “Guys, this is prime MagiCam content—wait, no, my phone’s gone!” He dove after it as it got carried away in the wind.

Riddle, already on the verge of a meltdown, turned to Trey, who was trying to shield a cake from the incoming storm. “I demand an explanation!”

Trey, forever the calm one, glanced up. “Well, if I had to guess, I’d say the prefect did something to upset Malleus.”

“OF COURSE, THEY DID,” Riddle shrieked, practically levitating with fury. “Why do we suffer every time they breathe near him?!”

“I don’t know, but we need to fix it before Riddle explodes!” Ace said, dodging a flying plate.

Deuce grabbed Ace’s arm. “We need to talk to them! Make them apologize or something!”

And so, in the middle of the flying teapots and pastries of doom, the group sprinted to find you, dodging airborne desserts and Riddle’s wrath.

Back at the epicenter of destruction:

You were still sitting there, eyes wide as you watched Malleus literally brood so hard it summoned a small hurricane. “Uh, Malleus…?”

He didn’t respond. Nope, he was fully in Pouty Dragon Mode™. The sky darkened even more, the wind howling, the trees bending, and you could faintly hear the sound of Ace, Deuce, and the others screaming in the distance.

Your casual dismissal of the teapot had, quite literally, ruined lives.

Before you could say anything else, the chaos squad came barreling toward you like a human avalanche, looking like they’d been through a war zone.

Ace was covered in frosting, Deuce had bits of shattered china stuck in his hair, and Trey was holding onto what looked like the remnants of a cake stand. Cater was still trying to get a selfie in, even though he looked like he’d been through a tornado.

“FIX. THIS.” Ace wheezed, dropping to his knees dramatically. “BEFORE WE ALL DIE.”

“Riddle’s about to combust,” Deuce added, his eyes wide. “Please. We’re begging you.”

Trey just gave you a calm look. “If you don’t make this right soon, I don’t know if we’ll make it to the end of the day.”

You sighed, realizing there was no escape. You’d have to face the storm—literally—and make things right.

Turning back to Malleus, you slid off the bench and stood in front of him, gently tugging on his sleeve. “Malleus?”

His eyes, still stormy, met yours, but he didn’t say anything. The wind continued to howl, the sky still dark.

“I’m really sorry,” you said, your voice soft and apologetic. “I didn’t mean to dismiss your teapot. It’s beautiful, really. I was just…distracted.”

Malleus’s eyes narrowed slightly, but the wind died down just a little. Progress.

“I’d never intentionally dismiss something that’s important to you,” you continued, taking his hand in yours. “Please forgive me? I’ll pay more attention next time, I promise.”

The storm finally started to calm as Malleus’s expression softened. The sky cleared up, and the wind turned into a gentle breeze.

He sighed dramatically, though it was more theatrical than anything. “Very well, my treasure. I suppose I can forgive you this time. But you owe me proper attention.”

Relieved, you grinned and leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek. “How about I give you all the attention you want right now?”

That did it. The storm completely vanished, and Malleus’s mood visibly brightened. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close in a possessive, yet affectionate embrace. “I suppose that’s acceptable,” he murmured, resting his chin on top of your head.

Behind you, the chaos squad groaned.

“Oh, sure,” Ace said, rolling his eyes. “One cute kiss, and suddenly the hurricane stops. What even is our life?”

“Let’s just never bring up teapots again,” Deuce muttered, shaking bits of pastry out of his hair.

Cater, who had finally managed to get a decent selfie, grinned. “Well, at least we survived!”

You chuckled as Malleus nuzzled into your hair, clearly pleased with your apology. At least for now, disaster had been averted. But something told you that this wouldn’t be the last time you’d have to apologize for accidentally setting off your dragon boyfriend.

But hey, at least you had kisses to fix everything, right?

Instance 2: The compliment conundrum

It started as one of those innocent slip-ups—the kind that makes you wonder why you even opened your mouth in the first place. You were lounging by the side of the spelldrive field, watching NRC’s teams practice. Malleus, busy handling his own royal duties, hadn’t been able to make it to practice today, so you’d spent the afternoon watching Leona and his squad dominate the field.

It wasn’t like you were doing anything wrong. You were just… appreciating talent, right? And Leona was talented. You couldn’t help but admire the way he effortlessly dodged tackles, sending spells whizzing through the air with precision. The guy was annoying, sure, but he had undeniable skill.

So when you casually mentioned to Jack and Ruggie, “Man, Leona’s got some impressive moves,” you thought nothing of it.

Until you felt the ground crack beneath you.

You froze mid-sentence, glancing around as a creeping, eerie silence settled over the field. The other players stopped in their tracks, confusion spreading across their faces. The once lush, green training grounds were slowly transforming before your very eyes—the grass yellowing, the soil drying, the sky dimming. It was like nature had collectively decided, Nope, we’re out.

Jack blinked at the ground, then at you, his eyes wide with dawning horror. “Did… Did you just—?”

Ruggie, a master of putting two and two together, slapped his hand to his face. “Oh, no. Not again.”

Before you could even ask what was happening, you heard the faintest sound of rumbling in the distance, like some ancient, angry being had woken up from its nap. And that’s when the full weight of your mistake hit you.

You’d praised Leona. And Malleus, who was more possessive than a dragon guarding his hoard, definitely heard you.

“Oh, crap,” you muttered, already starting to backpedal. “Oh, crap, crap, crap—”

The drought spread faster, draining every last drop of moisture from the air. The once-pristine spelldrive field now looked like a scene out of some post-apocalyptic desert movie. Cracks snaked across the ground, the once-refreshing breeze now felt like it was straight out of the Sahara, and the remaining players started wheezing from the dry heat.

Leona, of course, was the first to piece things together. He sauntered over, glancing at the parched earth beneath his feet, then back up at you with a deadly glare.

You tried to stammer out an excuse, but Ruggie was already grabbing your arm and yanking you toward the nearest path off the field. Jack, looking somewhere between worried and resigned, trailed after you.

“Listen,” Ruggie said in a panic, “we gotta fix this now, or the whole school’s gonna turn into a wasteland.”

“I didn’t mean to!” you protested as they half-dragged you across the desertified landscape. “It was just a compliment!”

“You can’t just compliment Leona when you’re dating Malleus!” Jack huffed, sweat dripping from his forehead as the oppressive heat intensified. “You should know better by now!”

You felt a bead of sweat trickle down your temple as you tried to keep up with their frantic pace. “I didn’t know he was that possessive!”

“Oh, he is,” Ruggie muttered, glancing nervously at the sky. “And he’s sulking. You know what that means.”

You groaned. Yes, you did know what that meant. A sulking Malleus equaled world-ending storms, natural disasters, and in this case—apocalyptic droughts.

Leona, who had followed you guys, clearly had enough of this nonsense. He stomped up behind you, glaring daggers. “You’ve ruined my field,” he growled, voice dripping with irritation. “Do me a favor and never say anything nice about me again.”

“Don’t worry, Leona,” you sighed, exasperated. “I’ll only insult you from now on. Promise.”

“Good,” Leona grumbled, adjusting his collar. “Now fix your dragon before I lose my mind.”

By the time you reached Malleus, the situation had reached catastrophic levels. The entire island felt like it was one sunny day away from turning into a desert. The sky was an angry, cloudless blue, and even the birds had fled, probably deciding they didn’t want to risk spontaneous combustion.

And there, in the middle of the courtyard, sat your dragon boyfriend, arms crossed, looking as grumpy as you’d ever seen him. His aura was practically radiating misery.

“Malleus,” you called out, panting from the trek across the sun-baked campus.

He turned his head slightly, just enough to acknowledge your presence, but didn’t say a word. His lips were pressed into a thin line, his eyes narrowed, and you could practically see the pout written all over his face.

Ruggie gave you a light shove. “Well, go on. Apologize before we all die of thirst.”

You shot him a look, but he wasn’t wrong. Sighing, you stepped closer to Malleus and knelt beside him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Hey… I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He huffed, his gaze fixed stubbornly ahead. “You praised another.”

“I didn’t realize it was such a big deal,” you said softly, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I swear, I didn’t mean anything by it. I only have eyes for you, you know that.”

Malleus remained silent for a moment, but you could feel his mood softening. The tension in the air eased ever so slightly, the heat less intense, the grass no longer crumbling beneath your feet.

“I don’t like sharing your admiration,” he murmured, still not quite looking at you. “Especially with him.”

“Leona’s not a threat,” you chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “He’s too busy napping to notice, anyway.”

That earned a tiny smirk from Malleus, though he was clearly still in sulk mode. You couldn’t help but smile as you nuzzled into his neck, placing little butterfly kisses along his jawline. “Come on… I’ll make it up to you. I’ll praise you for hours if you want. No one is more worthy of my compliments than you.”

That finally did the trick. His stiff posture relaxed, and he let out a deep sigh. “Very well,” he murmured, turning his head to look at you. “I suppose I can forgive you… this time.”

You grinned, wrapping your arms around his waist and snuggling into his chest. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

Malleus, now fully basking in your affection, wrapped his arms around you and rested his chin on top of your head. The sky finally returned to normal, the air cooling down, and the earth itself seemed to let out a relieved sigh.

Meanwhile, back on the now-saved-from-death spelldrive field, Leona collapsed onto the cracked ground with an annoyed grunt. “I swear, if they ever break up, I’m moving to a different continent.”

“Honestly, same,” Ruggie groaned, lying down beside him. Jack just nodded in agreement, too tired to even complain.

But as the world finally returned to normal, and you cuddled up against your not-so-grumpy-anymore dragon boyfriend, you couldn’t help but think that maybe—just maybe—you’d be more careful with your compliments from now on.

…Maybe.

Instance 3: Dinner Downpour

It had started out as an innocent evening. Just you, Malleus, and a nice dinner at the Mostro Lounge. You figured it was a good idea—a cozy meal, some quiet time away from the usual chaos. Plus, Malleus had never been to the Lounge before, and you wanted to show him a little piece of what passed for fine dining at NRC.

Everything was going smoothly. The candlelight cast a soft glow over the table, and Malleus seemed to be enjoying himself, even if he occasionally side-eyed the giant aquariums and questionable dishes swimming in ink. You were halfway through your meal when it happened. The moment that would soon be known as The Great Mostro Lounge Flood of the Century.

Malleus, eyes warm and his tone utterly princely, leaned toward you as the waiter left the bill on the table. “Allow me to cover this,” he said, reaching for his wallet—or whatever it was that dragons carry their horde in. “I would like to treat you.”

You, not sensing the danger, waved him off with a smile. “No need, Malleus. I’ve got this.”

Oh no.

If you could rewind time, maybe you would’ve noticed the way his expression faltered ever so slightly. The tiniest furrow of his brow, the faint tightening of his grip on his silverware. But you didn’t. You were oblivious. You, poor unfortunate soul, paid the bill yourself.

And that’s when the first clap of thunder rolled through the building.

It didn’t take long for things to go from zero to we’re-all-gonna-die levels of chaos. The sky outside darkened almost instantly, rain pouring down like the heavens had just decided to empty all their buckets at once. But it wasn’t just rain—oh no, this was a full-blown, hurricane-tier downpour. Lightning flashed, illuminating the shocked faces of the Mostro Lounge patrons as water started seeping in through the windows.

Inside, chaos erupted. The once-elegant ambiance of the Mostro Lounge turned into something out of a disaster movie. Jade was frantically trying to keep the dining area dry with what looked like twenty towels, but the water just kept rising. Floyd was sitting on top of a table, cackling at the sheer absurdity of it all, while Azul was on the verge of a mental breakdown, clutching his ledger to his chest as if it could somehow save him from bankruptcy.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?!” Azul’s voice broke through the chaos as he practically teleported to your side, grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you like a maraca.

“I—I don’t know!” you stammered, still processing the fact that the place was flooding. “We were just having dinner!”

“Oh, you were ‘just having dinner,’” Azul mocked, his voice climbing an octave as the water level rose past your ankles. “Sure, just dinner—and now I’m watching my profits swim away!”

Jade appeared next, a suspiciously calm smile on his face despite the absolute catastrophe around him. “You didn’t happen to upset the prince of Briar Valley, did you?”

Floyd leaned in, grinning like a maniac. “Yeah, did ya snub him or somethin’? This is hilarious.”

Your face paled. Oh no. You replayed the scene in your head—the offer to pay, your refusal—and realization hit you like one of the lightning bolts currently striking outside. “Oh my god. He’s upset because I didn’t let him pay.”

“That’s it?!” Floyd burst out laughing, clutching his sides. “All this ‘cause you didn’t let him foot the bill? Man, that’s rich!”

Azul’s eye twitched. “Fix. This. Now.”

“I didn’t think it was that big of a deal!” you protested, feeling the water slosh against your calves as the storm outside intensified. “I just wanted to treat him for once!”

“Clearly, that was a mistake,” Jade said, entirely too serene for someone standing in knee-deep water. “I suggest you… rectify it.”

“Rectify it,” Azul echoed, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “Or I swear I’ll have you and your little dragon both in debt until you’re ancient fossils.”

Floyd, still howling with laughter, gave you a light shove toward the entrance. “Better hurry, Shrimpy, before we gotta start charging people for canoe rentals!”

You rushed outside, braving the storm as the winds whipped around you. The ground was already flooded, rain pelting down so hard you could barely see two feet in front of you. But there, standing in the middle of it all like some tragic figure from a gothic romance novel, was Malleus.

He wasn’t even trying to shield himself from the rain—he just stood there, soaked, staring up at the stormy sky as if summoning the wrath of the heavens. His mood was palpable, the air around him crackling with discontent.

“Malleus!” you called out, running over and nearly slipping in a puddle. “Malleus, wait!”

He glanced down at you, a flash of vulnerability in his eyes quickly masked by his usual regal composure. “I thought… I could treat you. It seems you do not trust me to do even that.”

You winced. He wasn’t angry, not really. He was hurt. You should’ve known better—Malleus was always thinking about how to show you he cared, and this was just one more way for him to do that. And you’d brushed him off without realizing the significance.

“Hey, that’s not it at all,” you said softly, stepping closer and taking his hands in yours. “I just… I wanted to treat you this time. But I didn’t realize how important it was to you.”

The storm rumbled ominously overhead, but you could feel his mood starting to shift.

You squeezed his hands, standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. “I’m sorry, Malleus. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t appreciate it. You always take such good care of me.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly, the tension easing from his posture. “I simply wished to show you how much I treasure our time together.”

“And I treasure you,” you said, giving him a gentle smile. “So how about this—I’ll let you treat me next time. Dinner, ice cream, whatever you want. You’re in charge.”

The corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. “You promise?”

“I promise,” you replied, kissing him again for good measure. “But for now, maybe we could, uh… ease up on the weather a bit? I think Azul’s about to have a heart attack.”

Malleus chuckled softly, the storm clouds above beginning to break apart as the rain slowed to a drizzle. “Very well. I shall spare them—for now.”

Back inside the Lounge, Azul was clinging to his precious ledger like a lifeline, watching with wide eyes as the floodwaters slowly receded. The place was still a soaked mess, but at least it wasn’t Atlantis anymore.

Floyd, leaning against the bar, gave you a lazy grin as you walked back in, hand-in-hand with Malleus. “Well, looks like you managed to cool down your dragon, huh? Good job, Shrimpy.”

Jade smiled pleasantly, though you could tell there was relief in his gaze. “The Lounge owes you a great debt.”

Azul, drenched and looking like he’d aged ten years, just sighed. “Please. Next time… just let him pay.”

You grinned sheepishly. “Noted.”

Malleus, still holding your hand, glanced down at you with a fond expression. “Shall we continue our evening?”

You smiled up at him, feeling the warmth of his affection, even if he had almost accidentally drowned the entire restaurant. “Yeah, let’s go.”

And as you left the Mostro Lounge, water still dripping from the ceiling and Floyd’s laughter echoing behind you, you couldn’t help but think that for all the chaos that came with dating the prince of Briar Valley, it was worth every second.

Instance 4: Deserted Dreams

It all started with an innocent suggestion over breakfast. You and Malleus were sitting at your usual spot in Diasomnia, peacefully munching on breakfast. Things were nice, calm—Malleus was in a good mood, the sun was shining, and there hadn’t been any catastrophic magical incidents for a solid two days.

But, of course, you just had to ruin it.

"So," you said, casually buttering a slice of toast, "I was thinking… maybe for our next vacation, instead of going to Briar Valley again, we could head over to the Scalding Sands? I heard Kalim raving about the heat and all the festivals, and I thought it might be fun to experience a little warmth for a change."

Malleus, who had been sipping his tea, froze. He looked at you, his eyes wide and a bit too intense. "The Scalding Sands?" he repeated slowly.

"Yeah, you know—sun, sand, maybe a beach or two. Something different!" You smiled, clearly not reading the massive red flags flying in the air. "I mean, don’t get me wrong, Briar Valley is great and all, but we always go there. I thought a change of scenery would be nice!"

And that, was when the Dorms of Scarabia and Diasomnia turned into a hellish desert wasteland.

It started slowly—just a bit of extra heat creeping into the room, making you fidget in your seat. Then it escalated. The temperature spiked dramatically, and before you knew it, the dorm felt like someone had thrown open the gates to the underworld and invited the sun to personally burn it all down. You swore you could hear the sound of sand shifting beneath your feet, though you were still indoors. Indoors, for crying out loud!

Malleus sat in silence, clearly displeased. His usual dark, moody aura was now tinged with the kind of slow-boiling frustration that made you realize: you’d made a huge mistake.

Just as you were about to apologize and backpedal your way out of the desertification of Diasomnia and Scarabia, a loud crash echoed from outside, followed by a chorus of complaints.

You stepped out of the dorm and were met with chaos. The whole area around Diasomnia had transformed into an arid, sweltering desert. The grass? Gone. The trees? Withered. The nice, cool breeze that used to blow through? Now replaced by blistering heat waves. Students were dragging themselves around, sweating profusely as the once lush grounds became a scorching wasteland.

At the heart of the chaos stood Kalim, as cheerful as ever, while a very sweaty and very done Jamil stood nearby, looking like he had reached the end of his rope.

Jamil spotted you immediately and marched over, steam practically rising off his skin. “What did you do?!” he hissed, looking like he was five seconds away from spontaneous combustion.

"I—" you stammered, glancing at Kalim, who was happily waving a fan like he was at a resort.

"Isn’t this great?!" Kalim chirped, smiling ear to ear. "It feels just like home! Now we can have all the desert parties we want! Thanks for the heatwave!"

You blinked. "Um… you’re welcome?"

"No," Jamil interjected, glaring at you like you’d personally set him on fire. “Don’t thank them! What possessed you to turn Scarabia into a furnace?!”

You grimaced, wiping sweat from your brow. “It’s not my fault! I just suggested we vacation in the Scalding Sands instead of Briar Valley and—"

"You did what?!" Jamil pinched the bridge of his nose. "So because you didn’t want to vacation in Briar Valley, this happens? Do you know how long it’s going to take to get the dorm back to normal? Or the fact that I’m now stuck babysitting Kalim in what feels like the surface of the sun?"

Kalim, still oblivious to the suffering around him, beamed. “You should make up with Malleus! Then maybe we can have two vacations!”

Jamil’s eye twitched.

It didn’t take long before you were escorted (dragged) back to Malleus, courtesy of a very sunburned Jamil and a still-chipper Kalim. They deposited you at the door to Diasomnia, giving you the kind of look that screamed fix this, or we’ll make you regret it.

Sighing, you pushed the door open and stepped inside. Unsurprisingly, it was even hotter indoors than it had been outside. Malleus was sitting in the corner of the common room, his arms crossed and his gaze distant, like he was contemplating the deep mysteries of life—or brooding over your vacation suggestion. Probably the latter.

“Malleus?” you called softly, approaching him carefully as the air around him practically sizzled with residual magic.

He didn’t respond, still looking like a dragon that had just been told his gold stash was getting replaced with copper coins.

You sighed and knelt down in front of him. “I’m sorry,” you said, resting a hand on his knee. “I didn’t mean to make you upset. I just thought it’d be nice to see a new place, but if you want to go back to Briar Valley, that’s totally fine. We can go wherever you want.”

Malleus blinked, finally looking down at you, his expression softening ever so slightly. “You wished to travel somewhere unfamiliar,” he murmured, his voice low. “I should have taken your desires into account. But… the thought of you preferring another land over mine… it unsettled me.”

You blinked. “Wait, is that what this is about? Malleus, I love Briar Valley! I just wanted to try something new, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want to go back. We could go anywhere, and I’d be happy as long as I’m with you.”

He softened even more, the heat in the room fading as his magic began to relax. “You mean that?”

You smiled and leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Of course I do.”

His arms, once tense, reached out to pull you into his lap, holding you close as if the idea of you slipping away to some other land without him had weighed far too heavily on his mind. You snuggled into him, feeling the last traces of heatwave melt away into nothing but warmth and comfort.

Malleus nuzzled his face into your hair, his voice a soft rumble. “Then we shall go wherever your heart desires. As long as we are together.”

You chuckled, pressing another kiss to his jaw. “Okay, deal. But, uh, maybe we avoid any more heatwave-related disasters? Jamil might actually combust next time.”

Malleus chuckled softly, his mood lightening as he held you close. “Very well. I shall spare them from further torment… this time.”

And as you cuddled into him, the remnants of the desert wasteland outside slowly returning to normal, you couldn’t help but think that as long as you had Malleus (and could keep him happy), the world—weather catastrophes included—would be just fine.

Instance 5: Fashion Fiasco

You and Malleus were at one of Vil’s fashion shows, sitting in the audience with everyone else as Vil strutted his stuff on the runway, looking absolutely flawless as per usual. The lights sparkled, the music boomed, and Vil practically radiated beauty and grace in an outfit that could only be described as something plucked straight from a dream.

"Wow," you breathed, eyes wide as you watched Vil pose dramatically at the end of the runway. "Vil really does look amazing, doesn’t he? Like, how is anyone supposed to compete with that level of perfection?"

Malleus, sitting beside you, went absolutely still.

It didn’t register right away. You were too busy marveling at Vil’s next ensemble to notice Malleus stiffening beside you, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. But as the next model waltzed down the runway, you felt a sudden chill in the air. Literally.

You blinked. Was it just you, or was it… colder? You glanced up at the ceiling, frowning as tiny snowflakes started to drift down from nowhere. The air grew icy, your breath visible as the temperature plummeted in mere seconds.

"What the—" You stood up, just in time to see the entire fashion show being transformed into a literal winter wonderland. Snow was now falling heavily, frosting over the runway, the lights, and, most importantly, Vil’s perfect hair.

The shriek that followed was one of pure, unbridled horror.

“No! My HAIR!” Vil screeched, desperately clutching his head as snowflakes clung to his golden locks, which were slowly wilting under the weight of the ice. “This is a disaster!”

Models fled the scene, their designer clothes dragging through snowdrifts that were rapidly accumulating on stage. The music cut off, the audience panicked, and Vil looked like he was about five seconds away from declaring the end of the world.

Amidst the chaos, Rook Hunt stood in the middle of the snowy storm, spinning in circles with glee. “Magnifique!” he cried, twirling with open arms as if he were auditioning for a Broadway production of Frozen. “The raw beauty of nature meets the elegance of fashion—oh, how the world has blessed us with this miracle of frost!”

“ROOK!” Vil screeched again, eyes wide and wild as he tried—and failed—to maintain some sense of composure. “This is NOT a miracle! This is a CATASTROPHE! My show—my hair!”

Epel, looking somewhere between terrified and confused, rushed up to you, nearly slipping on the snow-covered floor in his haste. “We need your help!” he gasped, grabbing your arm and shaking it with the desperation of someone who knew what was at stake here. “You have to do something! Malleus is causing the storm!”

You blinked, still processing the fact that this wasn’t just some freak weather event but a full-on emotional meltdown from your very moody fae boyfriend.

“Malleus is… mad?” you asked, finally connecting the dots.

“Of course he’s mad!” Epel huffed, snowflakes clinging to his own purple hair. “You complimented Vil! Now he thinks you like Vil more than him! We’re all gonna freeze to death if you don’t fix it!”

“Oh… oh no.”

It took a few minutes (and a shove from a panicked Vil) to find Malleus, who had retreated to the far corner of the room, looking like a grumpy snow dragon with his arms crossed and snowflakes swirling around him. His expression was dark, brooding, and way too dramatic for someone who was causing a blizzard in the middle of a fashion show.

You approached cautiously, trying not to slip on the ice that was now coating the floor. “Malleus?” you called softly, inching closer. “Are you… okay?”

He glanced at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I see you were quite taken with Vil’s appearance today.”

You blinked, a bit thrown off by the sheer seriousness in his tone. “Uh, I mean… yeah, Vil’s always beautiful. But, um, you know that’s just how he is. It’s his whole thing.”

Malleus’s frown deepened. “So you find him more beautiful than me.”

Oh. Oh.

You nearly facepalmed at the realization. “Malleus, no, that’s not what I meant!” you rushed to say, waving your hands in a flustered manner. “Vil is beautiful, but you—you’re, like, otherworldly! You know, fae beauty and all that. No one could possibly compare!”

Malleus eyed you warily, his lips pursed. “So… you do not prefer him over me?"

“Of course not!” you said quickly, stepping closer to place a hand on his arm. “You’re the most beautiful person I know. No one comes close to your level of magnificence, I swear.”

There was a long, heavy pause. Then, ever so slowly, the storm began to die down. The snowflakes stopped falling, the icy chill in the air dissipated, and the temperature returned to normal. Malleus’s expression softened, his moody sulk fading as he looked down at you with a much gentler gaze.

“Is that truly how you feel?” he asked quietly, his voice tinged with vulnerability.

You smiled up at him, standing on your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Of course, Malleus. You’re my favorite, always.”

Malleus visibly brightened at that, his usual regal aura returning as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close in a warm embrace. “Very well, then. I shall forgive this transgression. But only because you have reassured me of your affections.”

You giggled, snuggling into his chest. “I’ll make sure to tell you more often how beautiful you are.”

Vil then walks directly up to you and stares you down. "If you're done wrecking my show, could ypu please keep your dragon in check?"

All you can do is grin sheepishly at him.

Instance 6: Gaming Shenanigans

It all started because of that one last raid. You and Idia were deep in an epic gaming marathon, tackling a boss so difficult that even Idia—self-proclaimed gaming god—had to break out his limited-edition controller. It was all good fun, hours flying by without you even noticing, as you spammed attacks and worked together like the perfect gaming duo you were.

That is, until Idia hit you with a question that made your stomach drop.

"So, uh, aren't you supposed to, like... do something tonight?" Idia asked, mid-battle. His voice was a little too casual, almost like he already knew the answer but was waiting for you to figure it out yourself.

You froze for a split second, still pressing buttons but no longer fully paying attention. Something... tonight? What could he—

Oh no.

You had plans tonight. With Malleus.

Specifically, your nightly walks around campus, which had become somewhat of a ritual. Every night, you’d stroll through the darkened grounds, hand-in-hand, talking about anything and everything. It was Malleus’s favorite part of the day—something he eagerly looked forward to.

And you’d… forgotten.

Your eyes darted to your phone, which was lying face down on the desk, completely ignored for the last several hours. You didn’t even need to check it to know what you’d find: missed calls, unread messages, probably a voicemail or two from Malleus, wondering where you were.

"Oh no," you whispered, voice barely audible over the sounds of explosions and battle cries on screen.

"Wait, what?" Idia’s character paused for a second as he glanced at you. "Did you just say 'oh no'? What 'oh no'? Are we talking minor 'oh no' or, like, 'I've-angered-a-final-boss-oh-no'?"

You gulped, heart sinking as you realized just how much trouble you were in. "Um... the second one. Definitely the second one."

Before Idia could even react, the room went dark. The power cut out so fast, you barely had time to process it. The glow of the screens, the hum of electronics—all gone, leaving only the soft pitter-patter of rain against the window.

Idia's horrified gasp echoed through the sudden silence.

"No. No, no, no, no, no—this can’t be happening! We were in the middle of a raid!” His hands flew to his hair, the blue flames flickering wildly as panic set in. "Dude, you forgot your dragon?!"

The color drained from your face as the gravity of the situation fully hit. “I—um—got distracted?”

Idia’s eyes widened, and he stood up so fast his chair rolled backwards. "Distracted?! You forgot about your nightly walks with the dragon fae, and now we’re sitting in a power outage caused by his emotional spiral?!”

In the faint glow of Idia’s flame-lit hair, you saw Ortho zip into the room, looking far too calm given the circumstances. “I detected a sudden shift in weather patterns around campus. It seems like the storm has caused a widespread blackout. Should I assume it’s related to Malleus Draconia’s emotional state?”

"YES!" Idia practically screeched, pointing at you in betrayal. "They ditched Malleus for gaming, and now we’re all suffering the consequences! Ortho, tell them to fix it, please! I beg you!”

Ortho turned to you with his usual chipper smile. “I suggest you go to Malleus and make amends before the entire campus loses power. I’ve already calculated a 98% chance that further emotional distress will result in structural damage to the dorm.”

Idia groaned, burying his face in his hands. “This is why you never piss off boss-level boyfriends. It’s just common sense.”

So, that’s how you found yourself trudging through the stormy night, rain soaking your clothes as you made your way to find Malleus. The lightning flashed overhead, thunder rumbling ominously as you approached the usual meeting spot for your nightly walks.

And there he was—standing alone, looking very much like the picture of heartbreak. His tall figure was framed by the pouring rain, his expression a perfect blend of hurt and brooding. The storm seemed to swirl around him, almost as if it were a physical manifestation of his emotions.

“Malleus,” you called out, rushing toward him, your voice barely audible over the sound of rain. “I’m so sorry!”

He turned slowly, his eyes glinting in the dim light. “You did not answer my calls.”

“I know, I know! I got caught up in a game with Idia, and I didn’t check my phone, and—well, now we have a blackout.”

His lips twitched ever so slightly, his gaze softening just a fraction. “You left me waiting, and the storm came.”

You winced, feeling a pang of guilt. “I didn’t mean to forget about our walk. I love spending time with you—I swear.”

Malleus let out a soft sigh, his shoulders relaxing just a bit. “I do not wish to be a burden to you.”

“Burden?” you echoed, stepping closer until you were right in front of him, the rain pouring down between you. “Malleus, you’re not a burden. I love our walks. I love spending time with you. I just… lost track of time. That’s all.”

For a moment, there was silence, the only sound being the rain hitting the ground. Then, to your surprise, Malleus looked away, a faint hint of vulnerability in his expression. “Do you… truly mean that?”

Without thinking, you reached up, gently cupping his face in your hands. “Of course I do. There’s no one I’d rather be with.”

Malleus’s gaze softened further, and slowly—so slowly—the storm began to quiet. The rain lessened, the wind died down, and the oppressive atmosphere that had settled over the campus lifted. He stared at you for a long moment, searching your face as if looking for any sign of doubt. When he found none, he finally let out a soft chuckle, the corners of his mouth turning up in a faint smile.

“You always manage to calm me,” he murmured, leaning into your touch.

You smiled back, feeling warmth spread through your chest despite the cold rain. “I guess I’m just good at soothing dragons.”

Malleus raised a brow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Perhaps.”

The rain had stopped entirely by now, leaving only a light mist in the air. You let out a relieved sigh, brushing some stray raindrops off Malleus’s cheek before standing on your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“I’ll never forget our walks again,” you whispered against his lips, earning a quiet hum of approval from him.

“I shall hold you to that,” he replied, his voice warm with affection. “Now, shall we take that walk?”

You nodded, intertwining your fingers with his. The world felt calmer now, the storm gone, replaced by the soft glow of moonlight breaking through the clouds. Malleus’s mood had lifted entirely, and as the two of you strolled through the now-quiet campus, you couldn’t help but feel content.

And, of course, Idia and Ortho’s screens flickered back to life, much to their relief.

Instance 7: Dessert Disaster

The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and you were about to partake in a picnic with none other than Malleus, Lilia, Silver, and Sebek. Everything was perfect. The blanket was laid out beneath a sprawling tree, food arranged carefully across it—courtesy of Malleus himself, who had spent hours in the kitchen the night before, preparing what he considered to be the pièce de résistance: a pie.

Not just any pie. No, this was a Malleus Draconia-crafted masterpiece. The filling was made from rare berries he’d harvested himself, the crust baked to a perfect golden brown. You could practically smell the love (and maybe a little lightning) that had gone into it.

Malleus, with a glint of pride in his eyes, carefully handed you a slice. "I hope it meets your expectations, my love."

You eagerly took a bite, eyes widening as the flavors exploded on your tongue. It was amazing. No, better than amazing—it was downright phenomenal. How did he even manage to bake something this good? A prince of darkness and a master chef? This was unfair.

"This slaps," you declared, totally unaware of the impending doom those words were about to unleash.

The moment the words left your mouth, you noticed a visible shift in Malleus’s expression. The proud smile he’d worn just seconds ago faltered, his brow furrowing in confusion. His green eyes darkened, clouds suddenly appearing overhead. You could feel the electricity in the air as the temperature dropped.

"I see," Malleus murmured, voice tight. "So… you dislike it."

Wait. What?

You blinked, realization dawning far too slowly. Oh no.

Before you could correct him, Malleus was already raising his hand, a faint crackle of magic sparking between his fingers. You could practically hear the thunder rumbling in the distance as he stared down at the pie slice in your hand, preparing to smite the poor, innocent pastry.

"No, no, no, no—wait!" You waved your arms frantically, standing up so fast you nearly tripped over the picnic blanket.

Sebek, meanwhile, had already leapt to his feet, eyes blazing with righteous fury. "How dare you insult Master Malleus’s baking?!" he shouted, fists clenched. "His skill is unmatched, and yet you have the audacity to call his creation—"

"Sebek." Silver’s voice, calm but firm, interrupted the impending tirade. He was still sitting, but his eyes were half-open now, watching the situation unfold with mild concern. "They didn’t mean it that way."

Lilia, on the other hand, was having the time of his life. He was absolutely delighted by the chaos unfolding, his laughter ringing out across the clearing. "Oh, this is too good!" he cackled, practically rolling on the blanket. "I haven’t seen this much excitement at a picnic in centuries! You modern humans and your strange expressions never fail to entertain!"

You shot him a look that screamed, Please stop encouraging this.

Silver, bless his soul, finally spoke up again, this time turning his attention to you. "You might want to explain before the weather gets worse." He nodded toward the now very ominous-looking clouds gathering above Malleus.

Right. Explaining. You could do that.

You turned back to Malleus, who still looked like he was contemplating whether to zap the pie or not. You could tell his feelings were hurt—his brow was furrowed, his lips set in a tight line. And the thought of him feeling like that, all because of a misunderstanding, made your heart clench.

"Malleus," you said, stepping closer and reaching for his hand. "When I said ‘this slaps,’ I meant it’s really good. Like, insanely good. Amazing. Best pie I’ve ever had."

Malleus’s stormy expression faltered slightly, though the dark clouds remained. "But you said it ‘slaps.’"

"That’s modern slang," you explained, gently squeezing his hand. "It’s a compliment. I promise."

Malleus blinked, the magic at his fingertips dissipating as he processed your words. "So… you enjoyed it?"

"Absolutely. You knocked it out of the park with this pie." You gave him your most reassuring smile. "I could eat the whole thing."

The storm clouds began to thin, sunlight peeking through once more. Malleus tilted his head, considering this new information, and slowly—very slowly—a smile returned to his face.

"It pleases me to hear that," he said, his voice softening.

Meanwhile, Sebek was still standing there, sputtering indignantly. "W-Well, if that’s what they meant, then… of course Master Malleus’s pie is the best! I knew that all along!"

Lilia, still chuckling, waved a dismissive hand at Sebek. "Oh, calm down, boy. No harm done. Besides, now we know modern slang! What other fascinating phrases do you have, I wonder?"

Silver sighed, finally sitting up properly. "Maybe let’s avoid any more slang for today."

With the situation calming down, you took the opportunity to lean in closer to Malleus, brushing a soft kiss against his cheek. "I’m really sorry for the confusion," you murmured. "You’re an amazing baker, and your pie is delicious. I meant that, okay?"

Malleus’s cheeks flushed ever so slightly at the affection, and he gave a small nod. "I believe you."

Feeling a wave of relief wash over you, you pressed another kiss to his lips, slow and tender, savoring the warmth of his skin and the way his hand gently squeezed yours in return. The last of the clouds above you finally cleared, leaving the sky blue and bright once more. The storm was over, and everything was at peace again.

"Shall we enjoy the rest of our picnic, then?" Malleus asked, his voice much lighter now.

You nodded enthusiastically, sitting back down beside him. "Absolutely. And just so we’re clear—your food? Total banger."

Malleus raised a brow, clearly still unfamiliar with the term but now much more accepting of your strange modern ways. "I see. I shall take that as a compliment."

Sebek, still recovering from his earlier outrage, grumbled something under his breath, but you didn’t care. Lilia was still snickering, Silver was finally getting comfortable again, and Malleus was happy. Everything was right in the world.

And hey, now you knew—if you ever wanted to spice things up at a picnic, all it took was a little modern slang.

Instance 8: Destruction of NRC (Well, almost)

Crowley’s “magnanimous nature” was, quite frankly, killing you. Whether it was sorting mountains of paperwork, being sent on endless errands, or handling Grim’s regular chaos, you were exhausted. Every muscle in your body ached, your eyes had dark circles deeper than any pit, and you were pretty sure you were on your third day of functioning on nothing but caffeine and sheer spite.

Grim, bless his fiery little heart, watched you from his perch on your bed, tail flicking in irritation as you barely managed to drag yourself into Ramshackle after another long, thankless day.

“Ugh, henchhuman! You look like death warmed over,” Grim sniffed, narrowing his eyes at you. “How long do you plan on letting that featherbrained Crowley walk all over you?”

You groaned, flopping face-first into your pillow. “As long as it takes to survive this semester, Grim. No one else is going to deal with his nonsense. Not like I have a choice.”

Grim was silent for a moment, watching you with uncharacteristic concern. Then, in a low mumble, he said, “Well, I’ve had enough. You’re my henchhuman, and I won’t let him destroy you.”

You thought Grim was just being dramatic. But when you woke up the next morning to the sound of distant thunder rumbling ominously across the sky, you had a very, very bad feeling.

By the time you made it to NRC, the situation was in full swing. You arrived just in time to witness Crowley practically on his knees, looking like a man who had stared death in the face and lived to tell the tale—barely.

The sky above NRC was pitch black, clouds swirling and crackling with magic as the wind howled through the campus. A storm of epic proportions had descended, and it wasn’t just any storm. This was a Malleus Draconia-grade storm. The kind that didn’t just bring rain or wind—it brought devastation, and everyone was cowering indoors, peeking through windows, afraid to go outside.

Crowley spotted you immediately, rushing over with his cape flapping dramatically behind him as he stumbled, nearly slipping in the mud.

“Please,” he cried, hands clutching your shoulders as if you were his last lifeline. “Please, you must calm him down! I beg of you, prefect, do something!”

You raised a brow, half-expecting some pitiful excuse, but the Headmaster, in all his avian glory, had gone straight to the begging stage. “What did you do this time?” you sighed, knowing it had to be his fault.

“I did nothing! Absolutely nothing! Well, perhaps I’ve… been a little harsh on you, but that’s no reason for him to destroy the entire campus!” Crowley wailed, looking pitiful as a gust of wind nearly knocked him off balance.

“I’ll pay you! I’ll pay you an actual wage! I’ll give you a budget to renovate Ramshackle, and I’ll personally sponsor your vacation! Just please—stop him before there’s nothing left of Night Raven College!”

You blinked. Did… did you just get a salary offer? And a vacation? And a renovation budget? This was new.

Before you could process the sheer absurdity of the situation, Professor Crewel passed by with his coat dramatically billowing in the wind. “Honestly,” he muttered under his breath, “about time that birdbrain faced some consequences for his incompetence.”

Professor Trein, walking with his trusty feline Lucius, shook his head gravely. “At this point, the Headmaster deserves everything that’s coming to him.”

“Do you not see the storm?!” Crowley shrieked, pointing to the lightning that was now dangerously close to striking the bell tower.

Both professors exchanged a look before continuing on their way, Crewel muttering something about how this was Crowley’s mess to fix.

You couldn’t help but feel a small twinge of satisfaction seeing the Headmaster squirm. But at the same time, NRC was at risk of being blown off the map if you didn’t act soon. And judging by the way Grim was laughing maniacally in the corner, proudly declaring how he “fixed” your problems, this was going to be on you to clean up.

With a sigh, you gave Crowley a nod. “Fine. I’ll talk to him. But if you go back on any of those promises—”

“I won’t!” Crowley promised, hands clasped as if in prayer. “I swear on the very foundation of this school, you will be compensated!”

You rolled your eyes but turned on your heel to head toward Diasomnia. The storm seemed to know you were coming, the wind parting just enough to allow you passage. The moment you stepped into the courtyard, the thunder seemed to quiet, though lightning still flashed ominously in the distance.

And there, standing at the center of it all, was Malleus. His expression was dark, eyes glowing faintly as he stared up at the storm he’d summoned. His hands were clasped behind his back, and even with his composed stance, you could sense the simmering frustration beneath the surface.

You approached carefully, calling out softly, “Malleus?”

His head turned slightly at the sound of your voice, though he didn’t fully look at you. “Ah, my love. I see you’ve arrived.”

You moved closer, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Grim told you what’s been going on, didn’t he?”

“I cannot stand to see you work yourself to exhaustion for that foolish crow,” Malleus muttered, still staring at the storm. “He takes advantage of your kindness. It is unforgivable.”

You couldn’t help the warmth that spread through your chest. He was genuinely upset—for you. But, you also couldn’t let NRC be reduced to rubble, and you needed to calm him down before it got worse.

With a soft chuckle, you stepped in front of him, gently cupping his face in your hands. “It’s okay. I appreciate how much you care about me, but you don’t have to destroy the school over this.”

Malleus’s eyes finally met yours, the storm above softening ever so slightly. “But you’re suffering.”

“I was,” you admitted, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “But not anymore. Crowley’s going to make it up to me—he promised me a wage, a renovation budget for Ramshackle, and a vacation.”

That seemed to catch his attention, the storm clouds above beginning to dissipate. “A vacation?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, leaning up to brush another kiss against his cheek. “In fact, I was going to ask if you’d like to come with me.”

Malleus blinked, his earlier frustration melting into a look of surprise—and then, a small, pleased smile tugged at his lips. The storm overhead faded into nothing, the sky returning to its usual clear blue.

“I would be honored,” he said softly, pulling you closer to him. “A vacation, just the two of us. That sounds… delightful.”

You grinned, pressing a final kiss to his lips, feeling his arms wrap around you in return. “It’s a date, then.”

And just like that, the storm was over. NRC was safe, and more importantly, you had managed to calm your dragon—and score a well-deserved vacation in the process.

As for Crowley? Well, you’d make sure to enjoy every moment of watching him squirm while you cashed in those promises.

Masterlist

[hoshifighting]

idk if someone asked you this but i’m a new reader and I REALLY REALLY LOVE YOUR WORKS!!!

can you please make wonwoo, the nerdy president who u thought was innocent and sweet but he’s the one behind ur fave nsfw audio creator???? AND HE’S A HARDFUCKER.. not what u expected tho..

i don’t know if i make sense but please pretty please 😭☝️

Synopsis: where you discover that the nerdy class president is the one man who creates the most nasty NSFW audios that you spend long nights listening to. WC: 2.8k WARNINGS: smut, audio porn, masturbation, hard fuck, dirty talk (obviously), bad sleeping habits (because of wonwoo), fingering, spanking, dirty talk, pussy eating, penetrative sex, protected sex, wonwoo whining, a lil invasion of privacy.

you’ve been running on fumes all day, the hazy buzz of sleep deprivation clinging to your brain like static. it’s no surprise, really. your night had gone the way it always does: you got home, flopped into your chair, threw on your headphones, and let onyx_lens—your favorite nsfw asmr creator—drag you under with that stupidly deep voice of his.

it was kind of pathetic, actually. you barely remember what the script was about—something about obedience or whatever—but you do remember the sound of his voice sinking into your brain like warm honey, making you cum so hard that you blacked the fuck out right after. now here you were, bleary-eyed and trying to stay upright in literature class, the regret of last night’s poor choices catching up with you.

wonwoo, the class president who was somehow both effortlessly chill and annoyingly observant, had been glancing at you every few minutes. you could feel his eyes on you as your head dipped forward for the third time, only to snap back up like a busted bobblehead.

but, in true wonwoo fashion, he didn’t say anything. no scolding, no judgmental sighs—just quiet observation.

when class finally ended, you were ready to yeet yourself into a nap for a solid 72 hours. you were shoving your stuff into your bag when wonwoo’s voice cut through the noise.

“you good?”

you froze. his voice wasn’t the same as onyx_lens’s, obviously, but it had that same deep, smooth timbre that made your brain short-circuit for a second. it didn’t help that his question sounded so much like something out of an nsfw script. you turned to face him, hoping your face wasn’t giving away how flustered you suddenly were. “uh—yeah,” you said, shaking your head a little too quickly. “just tired.”

wonwoo raised an eyebrow. “not sleeping well?”

your brain screamed. your tired, half-horny brain screamed louder. the overlap of his voice and onyx_lens in your head was un-fucking-bearable. you managed to nod, muttering something about late nights and deadlines, hoping he wouldn’t pry.

he didn’t, but his next question wasn’t much better.

“think you could help me with the sci-fi project? your last lit analysis was good, and i could use the extra pair of hands.”

you blinked at him. “me?”

he nodded, adjusting his glasses. “you. unless you’re too busy with...whatever’s keeping you up.”

oh, you mean my nightly sessions with onyx_lens and my vibrator?

you swallowed hard and tried to play it cool. “nah, i can help.”

and that’s how you found yourself standing outside wonwoo’s apartment later that evening, clutching your bag. his place was exactly what you’d expect from him—minimalist, neat, and smelling faintly of coffee.

“come in,” he said, holding the door open for you. “make yourself comfortable.”

easier said than done. you perched awkwardly on his couch as he set up his laptop on the coffee table, your eyes darting around the room in an attempt to ignore how nice his voice sounded in person.

“so,” he began, sitting across from you, “any ideas for the project?”

you cleared your throat, trying to focus. “uh, maybe something about robots and humanity? like, exploring ethical dilemmas or something.”

wonwoo nodded thoughtfully, his gaze fixed on you in a way that made your skin heat. “good idea. we could tie that into the main themes from class.”

he leaned forward slightly, scrolling through a document on his laptop, and you couldn’t help but notice how his glasses slipped down his nose. you were so not prepared for this level of proximity or his stupidly deep voice.

“you okay?” he asked again, glancing at you.

you blinked, realizing you’d been staring. “yeah, just...thinking.”

his lips twitched into a small, knowing smile. “good. let me know if you need a break or...anything.”

the way he said anything sent a shiver down your spine. you weren’t sure if it was exhaustion, residual arousal from last night, or the sheer presence of wonwoo in his element, but your brain was a mess.

you were supposed to be helping him with this project, but all you could think about was the way his voice would sound whispering in your ear, saying things that would make onyx_lens blush.

you were so close to winning the “most pathetic college student of the year” award it wasn’t even funny. after much back-and-forth with wonwoo, class president of your downfall, you somehow convinced him to let you walk home alone. except the man still went all soft and paid for a taxi anyway, which, like… thanks? but also stop being so nice, what the hell.

it was nearing 11 p.m. when you got home, and as if on cue, your phone pinged with a notification: onyx_lens’s weekly live is starting.

you stared at it for a second, blinking in disbelief. today’s theme? "neon circuits and orgasm denial (a cyberpunk experience) 8d audio"

sci-fi-themed. of fucking course.

you almost laughed at the audacity of the universe for this one. was this some sort of cosmic joke? was wonwoo onyx_lens?! no way. no goddamn way. you shook off the thought as delulu nonsense and dragged yourself to the bathroom for a quick sponge bath.

by the time you flopped into your chair, headphones on, the live was already in full swing. that voice—that stupidly deep, velvety voice—flooded your ears as the chat buzzed with unhinged comments. onyx purred, and you were done for.

you couldn’t even focus on the sci-fi plot he was spinning, something about rogue androids, monster cock, neon vibrators and human experimentation. his voice wrapped around you like a silk chokehold, and you were gone—just a vibrating mess in your chair, coming undone embarrassingly fast.

fast forward to the next morning: you woke up feeling like a used dishrag. again. headphones still on, your phone dead, and the memory of last night’s live replaying in your brain like a broken record.

by the time you dragged yourself to class, you were running on fumes and vibes. your hoodie was scrunched up around your face, making you look like a cross between a gremlin and an overgrown baby.

wonwoo noticed. you could feel his eyes boring into you as you tried—and failed—to stay upright. you were so close to just giving in and laying flat on the floor. honestly, it might’ve been comfier than your chair at that point.

wonwoo, sitting two rows away, looked like he was internally debating whether to intervene or let you rot in peace. when the bell rang, you startled awake like you’d been electrocuted, nearly knocking your stuff off your desk in the process.

“you okay?” he asked, falling into step beside you as you shuffled out of the classroom like a zombie.

“i’m fine,” you mumbled, voice muffled by your hoodie. “just need food. like, now.”

you detoured to the convenience store on the way to his apartment, snagging an entire kimbap roll and tearing into it like a starving animal. wonwoo followed behind, holding your water bottle with a look that was equal parts judgment and amusement.

“you couldn’t wait?” he asked, watching as you ate half the roll in one bite.

“bro,” you said around a mouthful of rice, “if i didn’t eat this, i was gonna pass out on the cold asphalt. your problem now, mr. class president.”

he rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, just handed you your water like the reluctant babysitter he was.

this was going to be a long afternoon.

you couldn’t help yourself. the suspicion had been eating away at you for weeks now, ever since you first heard his voice in class and that nagging sense of déjà vu set in. wonwoo had escaped to the bathroom, and you had the perfect opportunity to snoop.

your fingers hovered over his notebook, but then your gaze darted back to your own screen. back and forth, back and forth. his notebook. yours. the coincidences were piling up like a conspiracy wall in your head. the voice, the specific vocabulary choices, even the cadence—how did i not notice this earlier?!

“fuck it,” you whispered to yourself, grabbing his notebook and quickly pulling up the site where you normally streamed your favorite asmr creator. just to check. just to confirm your theory.

your heart pounded as the site loaded, every second dragging like molasses. the channel page opened, and at first, it seemed normal. too normal. you almost clicked away, feeling stupid for even suspecting anything.

but then you saw it: edit profile. analytics.

your breath caught, and a sharp scoff escaped you as you crossed your arms. oh, my god. the realization hit you like a freight train. it’s him. wonwoo. class president. sci-fi nerd. “how the fuck did i not notice?” you muttered, half impressed by his audacity.

you were so lost in your spiraling thoughts that you didn’t hear him return—until his voice, practically kissed your earlobe.

“what. do. you. think. you. are. doing?”

you jumped so hard your knee slammed into the underside of the desk. whipping around, you found wonwoo standing over you, his expression unreadable but his jaw tight.

“uh—nothing?” you stammered, trying to slam your laptop shut, but his hand darted out and stopped you.

“‘nothing’ doesn’t look like you snooping through my computer,” he said, his voice dangerously calm.

your cheeks burned. “okay, fine, maybe i was curious—”

“you were curious?” his tone sharpened. “curious enough to invade my privacy?”

“invade your—bro, you’re literally whispering dirty robot sex fantasies to the entire internet. how is that private?”

“that’s different!” his ears flushed a deep red, and you couldn’t tell if it was from anger or embarrassment. “that’s content. this—this is personal.”

you rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair. “oh, please. you’re mad i figured it out. admit it.”

he leaned closer, towering over you now, his hand pressing down on the desk beside you. “what do you want, huh? blackmail? are you gonna tell everyone?”

you laughed, loud and incredulous. “tell everyone?! dude, relax. i’m not gonna expose your little side hustle. besides…” you smirked, tilting your head to look up at him. “you should be thanking me. clearly, i’m a fan.”

wonwoo’s eyes darkened, and his lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out. 

“you’re a what?” he asks, your pulse skyrocketing as he stepped even closer, crowding you against the chair.

“did i stutter?” you whispered, the challenge clear in your tone.

his mouth crashed onto yours, teeth and tongue and frustration. you barely had time to process it before he was yanking you out of the chair, his hands rough as they gripped your hips and spun you around.

“you want to act like a brat,” he growled into your ear, his voice so reminiscent of his asmr persona that it made you roll your eyes back slighty, “then you’re gonna get treated like one.”

he bent you over the desk, the cold surface pressing against your chest as he yanked down your college skirt and underwear at once. his fingers slid through your folds, already slick just from being around him.

“so fucking wet,” he muttered, almost to himself. “you get off on this, don’t you? knowing it’s me.”

“shut your mouth,” you gasped, but it came out more like a moan as he pushed two fingers inside you, curling them and pressing them hard on your front wall.

“make me,” he challenged, his other hand coming down sharply on your ass. the sting made you gasp, your hips jerking against his hand as you tense on the desk.

the pace of his fingers was relentless, his thumb circling your clit in time with the thrusts. every part of your body was starting to be feveirsh, and you hated—hated—how easily he was unraveling you. you spent nights thinking about how it would be if onyx fucked you, and here you are. of course you would be a mess in a second.

“sorry” he mocked you. “am i too much for you?”

you clenched around his fingers, your nails digging into the desk as you tried to hold back a moan. “you talk too fucking much actually wonwoo,” you hissed.

“yeah, that's what's paying me at nights” wonwoo chuckled darkly, pulling his fingers out and flipping you onto your back with his big arms. before you could protest, he was kneeling between your legs, his mouth suddenly hot and insistent against your core, better than any other vibrator you insisted on using at night.

the sounds—the wet, obscene sounds of his tongue—mixed with your whimpers as he devoured you like a man starved. his hands gripped your thighs, holding you open as you tried to squirm away from the overwhelming sensation.

“stop—”

“stop?” he looked up, his chin glistening. “not until you admit i’m your favorite.”

you glared down at him, breathless and defiant. “you’re such an asshole.”

“and yet…” he smirked, diving back in and flicking his tongue against your clit until your head fell back, a broken moan spilling from your lips.

it didn’t take long before you were coming undone, your body shaking as his mouth pulled your clit. wonwoo didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down, dragging out your orgasm until you were a trembling, incoherent chaos beneath him.

wonwoo doesn’t waste a second after pulling back, his hands flipping you over again so you’re bent over the desk, your cheek pressed to the cool surface as he grinds against you. the thick outline of his cock rubs against your dripping folds, still covered by the soft fabric of his grey sweatpants. you gasp, your hips jerking back involuntarily, and his pearly-white smile flashes above you.

“look at that,” he murmurs, almost smug, as a dark spot begins to spread on his sweatpants from your slick. “you’re soaking me through.”

the way he emphasizes the word makes your back contort in shivers, but you’re too far gone to care. your fingers claw at the desk as he keeps humping against you, his pace quickening. when he finally pulls back, you hear the shuffle of fabric as he yanks down his sweatpants and briefs. the soft clink of a drawer opening catches your attention, and you crane your neck to see him sliding on a condom.

“you’re still melting all over my desk,” he rubs a hand over the curve of your ass. “can’t even wait for me, huh?”

before you can respond, his hand comes down sharply on your ass, the sting making you gasp. he doesn’t stop, spanking you again and again until your skin is flushed and burning.

“you look so pretty like this,” he says, his hand smoothing over the heated skin before gripping your waist and lining himself up. “all messy and desperate for me.”

when he pushes in, stretching you inch by inch until you’re full and breathless, pussy trying to clench at his big grith to adjust. wonwoo groans, his head falling forward as he sinks in to the hilt.

your walls flutter around him, and he moans at the feeling, the sound so real and raw that it sends a jolt straight to your core.

“talk to me,” you manage to gasp, your voice muffled against the desk.

he chuckles, his pace picking up as he leans down to whisper in your ear. “you want me to talk dirty? you want me to tell you how tight you are? how good you’re taking me?”

you moan in response, your hips bucking back against him as his words send you curling.

“yeah, you like that, don’t you?” he continues, his voice thick with lust. your moans grow louder, and he suddenly remembers the videos you must’ve listened to—the whining, the moaning. the thought makes his stomach flip, and he decides to give you exactly what you want.

he starts letting out soft whimpers, his voice breaking with each thrust, the sounds spilling out almost involuntarily. “fuck, babe, you’re gonna make me cum—”

the genuine desperation in his voice drives you wild, and your body clenches around him, pulling him deeper. he groans, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you’re sure they’ll leave marks, but you don’t care.

“please,” he moans, his voice high and strained. “let me cum for you. let me—fuck—”

you push back against him, meeting his thrusts as your own climax builds, your breaths coming in short, broken gasps. the room is filled with the wet, obscene sounds of your bodies moving together, and the tension snaps all at once.

you come hard, your body shaking as you cry out, and wonwoo isn’t far behind. his hips stutter, a guttural moan escaping him as he spills into the condom, his body trembling with the force of it.

he collapses over you, his chest heaving against your back as you both try to catch your breath. after a moment, he presses a soft kiss to the back of your neck, his voice still hoarse as he murmurs, “guess i’m a little better live, hm?”

you just let out a defeated moan, the coldness of the table soothing your hot cheeks.

“keep quiet about this, and i'll keep giving you more.” well, it's just an excuse that wonwoo said to fuck you over again.

[moonlightcycle571]

Rock of Eternity Getting Offerings because they deserve it

I like to think that whenever there’s a magical artifact that needs containment, Billy just… takes it. Here is how it started.

Billy, after defeating an evil wizard: so… what do I do with the Staff???

Solomon: it cannot be kept in the world of man, it’s far to dangerous. You must destr-

Achilles: NEW LAMP

Hemrmes: YESSSSSSSS

Hercules: WAR TROPHY

Solomon: that is highly irresponsible, we cannot keep highly volatile objects for ‘the aesthetic’

Zeus: the burning violon

Solomon:

Solomon: well some decor never hurt anyone.

*and*

JL, after a long battle: Finally the foe has been vanquished! Now to find a secure place to stor-

Marvel, yoinks it and yeets it in a portal: done

Everyone present: w h a t

*or*

Amanda Waller: -thus the proof we need to detain you for breaking into secure government location and theft of a classified artifact

Marvel: *points to the screen* that’s not me

Waller: that’s litterally you in a French beret and a fake mustach

Marvel: I don’t know who that is, but they do look dashingly handsome. And look like a Gustavo. Probably a French mime who failed mime class and left on a journey of self discovery.

Waller: you can’t be serious

Captain Atom, fuck the government rn: I don’t know, Cap doesn’t have a mustach

Batman: the mime theory seems like a pretty sold theory to me

Several people (heroes, civilians, villains and all in between) telling Cap was with them as the time at the crime, each of them being vastly different.

Waller: this mf secretly a mass manipulator???

*or*

Cap, fighting in a museum:

Hermès: Ooh I know this pendant. Super magical, super cool.

Cap, on instinct, puts in pocket dimension to put it on the Rock:

Flash: … did I witness a theft????

Wether the pendant was actually magic or just a shiny jewel Hermes wanted is up for interpretation.

Anyways that’s how whenever he finds magical artefacts or books or whatnot, he just puts them in the Rock of Eternity. It’s a logical solution, as it serves as a place to safeguard and examine, and maybe purify some objects to use later.

The Wizard is so done. It started off as ‘dangerous artefacts to be relocated when a suitable place is found’ but then it became the go to storage and all the stuff just stays.

Thé Rock in the other hand, loves it. Getting more and more offerings by their new champion really shows how loved they are. It’s has been way too long since they got any offerings and new additions, so the newest champion giving them plenty of nourishment / stimulation is as if they are being spoiled.

Billy, brings an ancient cursed crown:

Wizard: another one???

Rock, already pushing Wizard aside: FOR ME!!!! TYTYTYYTY OH MY ME YOU ARE GOING TO LOOK SO CUTE WOTH THIS HOLD ONE LET ME JUST REPLACE THE MAGOC WOTH MINE

Five hours later Billy is chilling in one of the thrones with his new crown and one of his magic cape to match.

In conclusion, Billy is like a cat bringing a mouse in the house, except the mouse is actually a rubix cube that sometimes turns into sushi.

Yes Billy did bring a magic rubix cube that makes sushi when completed. Now I kinda want sushi ngl

[rackartyg]

when i was 14, i stopped reading books. i’ve always put it down to being humongously depressed at the time, which isn’t, like, untrue, but a much more significant reason was that the time i previously spent reading, i now spent on social media.

i was allowed to get my first smartphone when i was 11, started saving up for it for, and then actually bought it when i was just shy of 13. then i got tumblr and youtube and started spending more and more time on there, and my reading time decreased until it was nonexistent, and it stayed that way for years.

then the pandemic hit and i started reading again, just a little, and then more when i switched to e-books, because it made my book as accessible as social media. it’s been a bit touch and go since then due to my mental health, but i am actually reading again, and i love it. but i’m still spending too much time on social media and these last few weeks i’ve come to realise that i don’t even enjoy it that much, really, so why am i doing it?

so i’m going to put hard screen time limits on tiktok, reddit, and twitter, hopefully for the whole summer but we’ll see how it goes. and a soft limit on tumblr. i won’t do anything about desktop because i don’t waste time in the same way there. but i’m putting limits on my phone and tablet. actually i don't know if the screen time thingy on apple lets you put hard limits but i'm going to go find out now!

[linddzz]

Does mage Viktor's reality-hopping and 'only you can show me this' line imply that dozens if not hundreds of other Jayces have done what our Jayce did and end up there on that slope hearing the same thing from him? Did the Viktor that succeeded and lost everything, lost his own Jayce, keep getting to meet new Jayces one by one, allowing himself a small modicum of wistful joy in getting to see Jayce living and breathing again if only for a short time before he sends them back? talk to me here

Not only is it implied, we for sure see at least 8 (if my count is right) times Viktor has saved Jayce as a child, including the current one. You see them flash through and each time, he gave Jayce a different runestone

(gifs by @hextecht)

Since his phrasing was "all timelines, in all possibilities" it's pretty safe speculation that Viktor has been at this for way more than 8 rounds. We don't know if he's tried messing with other points of the timeline or if any other Jayces got as far as the our Jayce did when he reached the center of Wizard Viktor's hellscape (and I made such a distressed noise when the clouds parted and I realized the only beautiful place left, the center of the storm, the oasis, is where Jayce got assimilated).

The general consensus is that this is most likely the first time it worked, because Ekko used the rune Jayce had been given (the "acceleration rune" as Ekko calls it in S2E7) to make the time travel Z-drive that he cranks up to "break reality" levels before chucking it at Viktor's head and knocking that dork off enough for Jayce's "power of love" gamble to actually get through to him.

(I also have the opinion that Wizard Viktor is not going to stop here. He's got nothing but fields of dreamless solitude for him, this IS his project and he's probably going to keep trying to refine the process across timelines until some kinda multiverse cops show up like "dude. Fucking quit it!")

And OH BOY can I sure as hell talk about the way Viktor looks at Jayce over the top of the Jayce he destroyed!!!!

(gif by @glassrunner)

Look at him. LOOK AT HIM. His expression is already wistful and pained as he turns, but you can see him exhale with the breath knocked out of him. his eyelids actually flutter. He softens, he's struck. He looks like he's barely able to keep himself from crying in that moment where he not only looks at Jayce, but lets himself be seen by Jayce in return.

And which is more heartbreaking? That this is the first time Jayce got this far, the first time Viktor had to finally properly look at him after so many tries?

Or has this played out over and over for him? Has he looked over like this time and time again, and every time it takes his breath away? Subjecting himself to this repeatedly, and every. single. time. he's hit with the most classic doomed romance line

(Im holding myself BACK from rambling yet again about how Actually Deranged it is for Wizard Viktor to be doing this but @avelera and I talk about him being a fucked up little guy so much that I need to consider just having a wizard Viktor tag lmaooo but for more Wizard Viktor rambling enjoy

Wizard Viktor doesn't care about saving the world, he's just making sure Jayce and himself are intertwined

How many times has Wizard Viktor had to watch this himbo yeet himself into Pretty Hippy Viktor's cult?

Me giggling and kicking my feet in the air over Wizard Viktor being a control freak egomaniac about Jayce )

[deadghosy]

Mommy long legs reader or slender man reader x Hazbin hotel 🌚🌝

AHHHH I LOVE YOU MY GHOST ANONNNN! SLENDERMAN?? YOU FINNA BRING OUT MY CREEPYPASTA PHASEE🦆✨💗‼️‼️‼️

HAZBIN HOTEL X SLENDERMAN! READER

prompt: a faceless creature of the height of 10’5 (or 7’9 idk I got two different heights from safari lol) came to hell to serve one final purpose…get a damn job.

Two words, scary tall…

So say your height was 10’5…

SHIT GON GET WICKEEDDDD!!!

Okay so I can see Charlie being scared staring at you as you just sit like a nice gentleman as your body doesn’t fit the whole seat… (y’know what, let’s go with 7’9…) you told Charlie you use to be a leader before you somehow came to this wrenched place

Charlie felt bad and gave you a job here so yon can stay. But she was confused when you said “somehow”’ as if you didn’t die as a Human…WAIT A MINUTE..DID YOU JUST TALK WITHOUT A MOU-

Lucifer looked up at you and was like….“What in the fucking nine circles…” and you two became friends because of how Lucifer put accessories on you like a Christmas tree

Y’know how people make slenderman wear reading glasses sometimes? That’s you. 😭 with your blind ass LMAOO (I also wear glasses dw…) But I can see you wear the glasses and residents be so confused because…you don’t have eyes for Christ out loud-

“Fuck you wearin' glasses for?” Husk said to you once as he caught you even reading a book…now he was more confused. “I’m reading…” “…..okay..” husk was so done with this buffoonery as you had no mouth and eyes. But yet you could still read, see, and fuckin talk? Yeah he must be drunk as hell itself…

You treat niffty just like how fanon slenderman treats Sally. That’s how I headcannon it.

I headcannon you to be the fanon version of slenderman rather the cannon version. Cause you being the fanon version is just sweet considering the chaos that can happen in the hotel and how you treat niffty.

I can see people thinking you are a new overlord as you had a stern aura around yourself as you had a proper straight walk as you held a high chin not showing any weaknesses.

“Woah….did you see that sinner get lit in flames…” “yeah I did.” It got so quiet so quick as angel gave you a confused face as you just stood there. 😭 Angel couldn’t tell if you were being fr or being a smartass

You were just sleeping on the couch, dead ass like a passed out beer dad after watching football. And fat nuggets sat in your lap sleeping. Then angel came and slept by you, then husk, then niffty, AND THEN EVERYONE JOINED 😭 big ass family cuddle💗💗🦆

You deadass could be the bodyguard of the hotel as you could escort a sinner who is trying to be an ass to the staff and you’re just like, “YEET!” And boom they are thrown away

You and Alastor definitely bond the most as you two got black tentacles. It’s just for Alastor it’s based on his powers when he uses his magic. But for you, it’s just your appearance as you use them to pierce your enemies. But mostly you use them when you are too bored to pick up objects with your hands

BIGGG headcannon that when slenderman do that static thingy, for you it clouds their vision and hearing as you make them pass out. Either to death or just to knock them out.

Lol I can imagine the whole creepypasta mansion going crazy while you drink tea like “this is fine” as you are in some other universe- 😭 crossover type shit

Like Drowned Ben is spam texting your phone like, “slender. slender. Help. Slendy. Octopus. Father. Help help.. help JeFF STABBED ME!”

And your tall ass is just sleeping as everything is going soooo peaceful in the hotel.

While we are at that, EJ definitely was using a book to try and to summon you with sally behind him hugging her teddy to see you again. Meanwhile Jeff was chasing Ben as he goes through a tv to hide from Jeff.

I imagine people in the hotel would hug you except for Alastor as he hates touch. But the people would dead ass hug you as one of your tentacles hold them.

You picked up angel, niffty , Charlie and Vaggie with your four tentacles as you read a book. It was a funny but cute sight as Charlie was like “:p” while the others had a cartoony ass expression or a blank one which is definitely Vaggie and husk

Adam and Lute definitely glanced at each other confused at what the fuck you were as you didn’t have a demonic or angelic aura. But you had some type of power in you. It was weird asf as you just stood there like “🧍🏾am I ugly?” They just kept staring at you

I can see you having the same expression as the picture above when you met pentious as you and Alastor was having tea just chilling with the hellish weather.

“Do you know that guy?” “I have no idea who that pest is my dear friend.” Alastor says with his usual smile as he hands you a cookie.

Just straight up tea times with Alastor is so peaceful as Alastor was kinda suspicious when you didn’t say anything if he ate a cannibalism meal. But I mean…slenderman! Reader is use to people being a cannibal.

The vees are definitely intrigued with who the hell you are and how powerful are you as you were the talk of pentagram city when you first came.

I headcannon a sinner tried to cut off your tentacles only to be grabbed by one of them and slammed to the ground. You just stood there and let static ring loudly in their head to the point it exploded.

[prettyfilmz]

CHAIN REACTION • JEY USO

author's note: i'm baaaaaack!!! I am officially done with finals which means the creative juices are flowing through the roof currently. all I gotta say about this fic right here is...yes I was indeed the one who gave jey's fine ass that 'yeet' chain he wore on that one episode of RAW and yes he does smell good as hell😫

synopsis: in which nyx had no idea how much her life would change with one gift to her favorite wrestler.

tags: 18+ (MDNI), jey uso x black fem oc, fluff, overstimulation, hotel sex, foreplay, spanking, oral ( fem receiving. ), size difference, daddy kink, sub / dom, drinking, unprotected sex, squirting, anal play (thumb in butt), pet names ( baby girl, honey, mama ), rough sex, praise kink.

word count: 3k words..yeah this is a big one y'all

check out part two here 🩵🖤

nyx sat on the edge of her bed, scrolling through instagram on her phone.  her thumb hovered over a post from wwe’s official account, featuring jey uso cutting a promo backstage at tonight’s show. but what caught her attention wasn’t just how fine he looks—it was the sparkling, silver "YEET" chain resting against his inked chest, gleaming under the fluorescent lights of the promo setup.

her chain.

the one she’d nervously gifted to him at Fanatics Fest weeks ago, after waiting in line with a pounding heart and a stomach full of butterflies. he had grinned from ear to ear when she handed it to him, thanking her with so much warmth that her knees nearly buckled. now, seeing it on him as he spoke into the camera, shouting her out by calling her his “homegirl” paired with a sleek black Nike tracksuit that clung to his broad chest, had her swooning.

her phone pinged in her hand, snapping her out of her thoughts. as if she wasn’t already on cloud nine, it was a message request from none other than jey. her breath hitched as she opened it.

@uceyjucey: yo, mama, I had to find you after you blessed me with this chain. lookin’ fresh, huh? *sends attachment*

attached was a photo of him in the chain, smirking at the camera, lips slightly parted in a way that made nyx’s thighs clench together.

she blinked, rereading the message several times, before typing back with trembling fingers.

@nyx.xoxo: you’re welcome 🥹 It looks amazing on you, just like I thought it would.

he replied almost immediately, the three typing dots appearing before she could even close the app.

@uceyjucey: that’s ‘cause you got good taste, ma. you from the big apple?

@nyx.xoxo: born and raised!

@uceyjucey: that’s wassup. we in your city tonight. lemme thank you properly.

her heart raced as she read his words, the casual yet suggestive tone making her head spin. was he flirting with her?  she couldn’t tell, but before she could overthink it, he sent another message.

@uceyjucey: pull up to the hilton on 34th. i’ll pour us somethin’ bubbly.

♡

the click of nyx’s heels echoed down the quiet hallway of the hilton as she approached jey’s door. her reflection caught in a mirror on the wall, and she quickly adjusted her dress, a form-fitting black number that hugged her curves in all the right places. her curls were styled to perfection, framing her beautiful face. she clutched her purse tightly, nerves bubbling under her skin.

when she knocked, the door opened a few moments later. jey stood there, leaning against the frame like a damn vision. the tracksuit was gone, replaced by a white tank that stretched across his chest  revealing the tribal ink that decorated his arms and chest, and a pair of gray sweatpants that sat low on his hips. his chain still hung proudly around his neck, and he wore a boyish grin that made her stomach flip.

“damn,” he said, his voice low and teasing as he let his eyes wander over her.  “you clean up nice, baby girl.” he mused.

nyx could feel her cheeks heating up as she stepped inside. his suite was spacious but cozy, which put her nerves at ease.

she moved towards him, every step feeling heavier as his presence filled the room.  when she was close enough, his hands found her waist, pulling her in gently but firmly. he smelled so damn good—a mix of sandalwood with a hint of amber.

“you nervous?” he asked, his lips curving into that devastating grin that made her stomach flip.

nyx bit her lip, nodding slightly.  “a little.”

jey chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest.  “ain’t no need for that, mama.  I got you.”

his hands slid down to her hips, his thumbs brushing the curve of her ass as he pulled her closer.  “you want some champagne first? or we gon’ skip straight to what we both know we here for?”

the heat in his eyes made her thighs clench, but she managed to smirk.  “you offering me a drink to calm my nerves or to get me tipsy?”

jey tilted his head, his grin widening.  “maybe a lil’ of both.”

he guided her toward the small table by the window, where a bottle of champagne rested in a bucket of ice, two flutes sitting beside it.  nyx perched on the edge of the chair as jey popped the bottle with practiced ease, pouring the golden liquid with a smooth confidence that had her transfixed.

he handed her a glass, their fingers brushing as she took it.  “to you,” he said, raising his glass.  “for that fire ass chain—and for comin’ all this way to see me.”

nyx’s cheeks warmed as they clinked glasses, the bubbles tickling her nose as she sipped.  the champagne was crisp, and after a few sips, a soft warmth began spreading through her body, taking the edge off her nerves.

jey leaned back against the table, his eyes never leaving her.  “you know I been thinkin’ about you since that convention, right?”

she looked up at him, surprised.  “really?”

“hell yeah,” he said, setting his glass down and crossing his arms, the motion making his biceps strain against the fabric of his tee.  “ain’t every day somebody does somethin’ like that for me.  and then to see how fine you looked in person?  shit.  you had me hooked.”

nyx bit her lip, her heart racing.  “I didn’t think you’d even remember me honestly.”

jey laughed, stepping closer until he was towering over her.  “how could I forget you, mama?” He tilted her chin up with a finger, his gaze locking with hers.  “you been on my mind nonstop.”

the air between them thickened, the champagne coursing through her veins making everything feel a little lighter, a little hazier.  jey leaned down, his lips brushing hers in a kiss that was soft but deliberate, testing the waters.  when she kissed him back, he deepened it, his tongue sliding against hers in a slow, deliberate rhythm that made her toes curl.

“I knew you would taste sweet,” he murmured against her lips, his hands sliding down to grip her thighs, pulling her up out of the chair and against him.

nyx gasped as her body pressed flush to his, the hardness of his arousal pressing into her stomach.  jey grinned, nipping at her bottom lip.  “you feel it, don’t you?”

she nodded, her breath coming in shallow gasps as his hands roamed her curves, sliding up her back to unzip her dress.  The fabric pooled at her feet, leaving her in just her lace bra and panties.

“damn, baby girl,” he murmured, his voice husky as he pressed a kiss to her jaw, trailing it slowly down her neck.  “you’re somethin’ else.  you know that?”

nyx bit her lip, her heart fluttering at the way he looked at her—like she was the only thing in the world worth his attention.  “you’re just saying that,” she said softly, though the warmth in her chest betrayed her.

jey pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, his expression softening as his thumb brushed across her cheek.  “nah,” he said, his tone firm.  “ain’t nothin’ about this fake, honey.  you’re gorgeous.  all of you.”

her cheeks burned under his gaze, but before she could respond, jey dipped his head again, his lips brushing hers in a kiss so tender it made her ache.  he laid her down on the plush bed, his hands slipped beneath her lace bra, palming her full breasts with a reverence that sent heat pooling between her thighs. when his thumbs brushed her sensitive nipples, she gasped, arching into his touch.

“sensitive, huh?” he teased, his grin widening as he undid her bra, tossing it aside. his lips found her breasts next, kissing and nipping his way across her soft brown skin before taking a nipple into his mouth.  the wet warmth of his tongue combined with the gentle scrape of his teeth had her squirming beneath him, her fingers tangling in his hair.

“jey,” she breathed, her voice barely more than a whimper.

he hummed in response, his free hand trailing down her stomach, over the curve of her hips, before slipping beneath the waistband of her panties. when his fingers found her, he groaned low in his throat, his eyes darkening as he felt how wet she was for him.

“shit, ma,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire.  “you’re so fuckin’ wet.”

nyx’s face burned at his words, but the embarrassment quickly melted into pleasure as he began to stroke her, his fingers sliding through her slick folds with practiced ease. his thumb brushed her clit in slow, deliberate circles, and she moaned, her hips bucking against his hand.

“that’s it, baby girl,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear as he worked her. “lemme hear you. don’t hold back on me.”

she didn’t. the sounds spilling from her lips were shameless, each one spurring jey on as he explored her body with the kind of focus that left her trembling. when he slipped a finger inside her, curling it just right, she cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders.

“fuck, jey,” she gasped, her chest heaving as he added a second finger, stretching her in a way that made her toes curl.

“you’re so tight,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe.  “you’re gonna feel so good wrapped around me, baby.  can’t fuckin’ wait.”

the promise in his words sent her over the edge. her body tensed, her thighs trembling as her orgasm crashed over her, a broken moan tearing from her throat as she spewed a few broken curse words. jey didn’t stop, his fingers coaxing her through the aftershocks until she was panting, her body limp in his hold.

“good girl,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to her temple.  “you’re so fuckin’ perfect.”

before she could catch her breath, jey slid down her body, kissing his way across her stomach until he was settled between her thighs. he hooked his arms around her legs, holding her open as he stared down at her with a hunger that made her shiver.

“jey…” she started, her voice shaky.

he looked up at her, his grin both wicked and reassuring.  “relax, baby.  daddy just wants a taste.”

and then his mouth was on her.

nyx’s head fell back against the pillows, her hands fisting in the sheets as jey worked her pussy with his tongue.  he was slow and deliberate, his lips and tongue exploring every inch of her, teasing her clit with featherlight flicks before sucking it gently into his mouth.

“oh my god,” she moaned, her thighs shaking as he pushed her closer to the edge once again.

jey groaned against her, the vibration sending a fresh wave of pleasure through her.  “you taste so fuckin’ good, baby,” he muttered, his voice muffled.  “could eat this pussy all night.”

his fingers joined his mouth, sliding back inside her as he continued to devour her, and it wasn’t long before she was crying out his name again, her body trembling as another orgasm ripped through her.

“j-jey, I c-can’t—” she started tapping his shoulder, her voice breaking as he kept going, his mouth and fingers relentless.

“yes, you can,” he murmured, his voice firm but soothing.  “one more, baby girl.  give me one more.”

she didn’t think she had it in her, but jey didn’t give her a choice. his thumb brushed her clit as he pressed his tongue against her tight hole, the combination sent her over the edge once more, her body shaking as she gushed into his mouth.

when she finally opened her eyes, jey was hovering over her again, his lips glistening as he grinned down at her.

“you okay, pretty girl?” he asked, his voice soft.

nyx nodded, her chest still heaving as she reached up to pull him down for a kiss.  “I’m okay,” she murmured against his lips.

jey chuckled, his hands trailing down her sides.  “good. ‘cause I ain’t done yet.”

nyx’s shaking thighs clenched at his words, her breath catching as jey’s large, rough hands gripped her thighs, spreading her open again beneath him. 

jey leaned back just enough to peel off his shirt, tossing it carelessly onto the floor. her eyes roamed his torso, taking in every curve of muscle and tribal art that painted his skin. he looked down at her with a lazy, almost predatory grin, his confidence radiating from every inch of him.

“see somethin’ you like, baby girl?” he teased, his hands sliding down to hook his thumbs into the waistband of his sweats.

nyx nodded, her voice temporarily failing her.  the sight of him, combined with the lingering sensitivity of her body, left her feeling shy but burning with anticipation.

jey stepped out of his sweats, his dick hard and heavy slapping lightly against his stomach, the sheer size of him making her stomach flip. he stroked himself slowly, his eyes never leaving hers as he settled back onto the bed between her thighs.

“don’t look so scared, mama,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.  “you handled me just fine earlier. you can do it again.”

nyx bit her lip, a nervous laugh escaping her.  “you’re so sure of yourself,” she muttered, though the warmth in her tone betrayed her.

“and you love it,” Jey shot back, leaning down to kiss her again. his hand trailed up her thigh. “now relax for me.  I’m gonna take my time with you.”

he lined himself up, the thick head of his length brushing against her entrance. nyx gasped, eyes rolling to the back of her head,  her hands gripping his forearms as he pushed into her slowly, stretching her inch by inch.

“shit, baby,” he groaned, his jaw clenching as he sank deeper.  “you feel so fuckin’ good. your pussy is so damn tight.”

nyx whimpered beneath him, her body trembling as he filled her completely.  the stretch was intense, but the way he kissed her, his lips soft and reassuring against hers, made it easier to take.

“you good?” he asked, his voice gentle as he stilled, giving her time to adjust.

she nodded, her nails digging into his shoulders.  “yeah,” she whispered.  “feels so good…”

his grin returned, his confidence flaring as he pulled back slightly before sinking into her again, his movements slow and deliberate.  “that’s my girl,” he murmured.  “take me in baby.”

he started to move, his thrusts deep and steady, each one sending sparks of pleasure shooting through her. nyx’s head fell back against the pillows, her moans filling the room as jey set a rhythm that had her toes curling.

“fuck, you’re perfect,” he muttered, his hands gripping her hips as he began to pick up the pace.  “this pussy was made for me, baby.  you hear me?”

“yes, daddy” nyx gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair as he buried his face in her neck, sucking and biting at her skin. the mix of pain and pleasure made her head spin, her body arching into him as he fucked into her deeper, pressing against all the spots that made her see stars. 

“you’re mine tonight, mama,” he growled, his voice thick with possession.  “ain’t nobody else gonna make you feel like this.”

he shifted her legs, hooking one over his shoulder to get even deeper, and the new angle had nyx crying out, her nails raking down his back.

“that’s it, baby girl,” jey groaned, his hand sliding up her body to wrap around her throat. he applied just enough pressure to make her head spin, his thumb brushing her jaw as his eyes locked onto hers.  “you look so fuckin’ pretty like this.”

nyx whimpered, her body trembling beneath him as she teetered on the edge of another orgasm.  “jey, daddy I’m gonna—”

“do it,” he urged, his voice low and commanding.  “cum for me, baby.  show daddy how good I make you feel.”

his words pushed her over the edge, her body clenching around him as she gushed around him once again, leaving her trembling and breathless.

but jey wasn’t done. he grabbed her hips, flipping her onto her stomach before pulling her onto all fours.  “we’re not done yet, baby girl,” he said, his voice dripping with hunger as he lined himself up again.

the first thrust had her crying out, her body still sensitive from her climax. jey groaned, his hands gripping her waist as he fucked her harder now, the sound of skin on skin filling the room.

“look at you,” he muttered, his hand coming down on her ass with a sharp smack that made her gasp.  “takin’ me so good, baby girl.”

nyx buried her face in the pillows, her moans muffled as jey drove her closer to the edge once again. his thumb slid down, teasing her puckered hole, and when he pressed it in just slightly, the sensation alone made her cum once again.

“shit, baby,” Jey groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his own release.  “that’s it, that’s my good girl, give me that shit.”

when he finally came, it was with a low, guttural groan, his hips stuttering as he spilled his load into her.  he stayed there for a moment, both of them catching their breath before he pulled out carefully, rolling onto his back and pulling her into his arms.

nyx plopped her head on his chest, her body still trembling as she listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.  jey kissed the top of her head, his fingers tracing lazy circles on her back.

“you good, baby girl?” he asked softly.

she nodded, a small smile playing on her lips.  “yeah. that was fun.”

“good,” he said, his voice filled with warmth.  “’cause you’re stayin’ right here with me tonight.”

and with that, nyx let herself relax completely. boy does she have a story to tell her friends soon. 

check out part two here 🩵🖤

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[chirpy-poppy]

How would the ghouls react to PC wearing their dorm uniform ? I've thought about this too much for my own good. No pressure

Thanks for the prompt! I'm guessing you mean the uniforms they get at the opening ceremony and not just the colored pin/tie (although that gave me an idea, stay tuned). Hope you like this!

Jin - How to make this man’s heart swell. Jin has a territorial personality. Seeing you in the blue that makes you look like one of his (subjects) people makes him feel secure in his relationship with you. He’d stand a little taller than usual and suddenly gets the need to take a walk with you for “exercise” and totally not to parade you around, flaunting that you’re his.

Tohma - “You look very nice.” He’d make it sound like a platitude, but he truly means it. He already considers you as one of the people in his circle, especially since the two of you spend hours in the vault taking care of Frostheim’s internal affairs together, but seeing you dress the part would truly seal the deal. He’s not one to help others if there’s nothing in it for him, but he’d feel inclined to take care of you when you’re dressed like that. 

Kaito - “Are you finally joining Frostheim? With me?” Tears stream and snot drips down his face. Even after you tell him it is just for a mission, he’d relish in the fact that you are matching. He’d try to sneak away with you during the mission to go on a “date” in your “couple’s outfit.” 

Lucas - “What is the occasion?” … “It suits you very well, PC. You should wear this more often.” Your fancy Frostheim skirt is more cumbersome than your uniform one, so he watches out for you even more. Think opening doors, getting utensils for you at the cafeteria, and carrying your bags. 

Alan - Would feel uncomfortable. “You don’t belong here. It’s dangerous.” He’d send you home to get changed. As he’s fixing up a car later that day though, he’d let his mind imagine how it’ll be like if he were a normal guy and you can sit together in class, side by side, and walk back to the dorms together. 

Leo - Starts streaming as soon as he catches sight of you. He’d come up to you talking like you did all this just for him. Showers you with sweet compliments for his viewers. When he’s done though, he’d mock you. “Why are you dressed like me? Are you in love with me or something? Ew, please don’t. I don’t want to be involved with an NPC.” As if he didn’t just force you to be involved with him for a 20 minute stream.

Sho - “Senpai? Is there a mission?”He wouldn’t compliment you outright, but he might compliment the clothes. Might hyper-fixate on one article so he’d have an excuse to keep looking at you. “That jacket looks really aerodynamic.” “It’d probably let Bonnie go even faster. Want to test it out?” If it is for a mission, he’d actually stand up to Leo if the vice-captain opposes him being partnered with you.

Haru - Might actually cry. He’s probably the one who got you the uniform, and he takes it as a green light to get you to help with some of the tasks around Jabberwock. Of course, he’d customize the uniform so it’ll accentuate your… features. Haru keeps his eyes narrow so you can’t tell which way his pupils are pointing.

Towa - Very pleased that you match. During the day, he’d drag you everywhere with him because you are twinning, and twins do everything together. He’d even drag you across the mud because Haru cannot complain about him getting your actual uniform dirty now. At night, he tells you how adorable you are. He’d note how the clothes don’t make the person since he’s very strong but you still look so weak in the jumpsuit.

Ren - Confusion. Why would you voluntarily wear something like that? He makes a disgusted face at you and yeets away as quickly as he can because this probably means you’re meeting up with Haru, and Ren is not about to entertain “that clown.” However, the next time he has to put on his own jumpsuit, he’d feel less bad about it and his own situation. But then he’d stand in front of the mirror in his green get-up and wonder why he doesn’t look nearly as cute as you in it.

Taiga - Might mistake you for a Sinostra student. He’d have an even harder time trying to remember who you are since he’s not used to you wearing those clothes. When he finally comes around his memories, he’d pull you into his lap to play poker as usual. He doesn’t have much of an eye for fashion anyway, so he wouldn’t act much differently than usual.

Romeo - “Huh. You finally don’t look like you walked out of the dumpster.” Takes you to his office to take a good look at your outfit. Will give a few critiques (obviously), but also will help you fix up your fit. By the end of the day, you are ready for the Met Gala. He might even pamper you a little bit, doing a face mask with you and dabbing some serum onto your face. You’d feel like a million dollar purse poodle, but you’re his million dollar purse poodle, and he’d personally make sure you look the part.

Ritsu - Boy’s elated. Takes it as a sign you are committing to Sinostra and bringing them the Laurel Crown as his business partner. The fact that you look stunning in it is but the fine print of this whole thing. However, if you’ve ever met Ritsu, you’d know he pays close attention to fine print.

Subaru - Tea party! He’d quickly put on his own robes if he isn’t in them already and bring you to Hotarubi’s terrace with some fancy daifuku and tea. “You look very nice, PC.” He finds eye contact a little easier that day. In fact, he keeps his eyes on you the whole time. Despite his social awkwardness, the beauty and grace you extruded while in those robes spoke to his kabuki culture and had him enraptured.

Haku - He was probably the one who tricked you into putting on the garment with the Fox Robe. “Now we look like a couple,” he’d say with a wink. He’d do this around the time of the spring festival so now you ‘have’ to go visit it together otherwise it’ll be such a waste of a good opportunity. Walks under cherry blossom trees so he can pick petals out of your hair for you. Oh no! There’s too many people here. Better hold hands so you don’t get lost!

Zenji - “You look like an absolute doll, my dear!” Walks/floats in circles around you like a satellite, taking in your new look from all angles. “You look like the first flower that blooms after a harsh winter! You breathe life and hope into the hopeless!” Non-stop poetic(?) compliments accompanied by a biwa. Expect to have your ears burning by the end of the day.

Ed - “This reminds me of the gothic era. I must say though, you manage to pull it off better than most of the children I saw back in the days.” There’s a video playing on his tablet, but he’s watching you instead as you go about cleaning his room. Might actually remember to warn you about mysterious liquids in his room so you don’t soil your clothes. 

Rui - You were supposed to look ghoulish and scary in your Obscuary get up, but Rui still finds you super cute. Then again, he finds you cute even when you’re just breathing. Takes a million pictures together. “PC, this just calls for a romantic walk through a graveyard. They say fear makes the heart grow closer!” He’d insist you stay over for the full Obscuary experience. You’d wake up to a full spread of breakfast and another Obscuary outfit hand tailored by yours truly.

Lyca - “You’re wearing more fur than usual. And more purple. Hey! Are you joining our house?” Lil pup would be so excited but try to hide it beneath his scowl. Since he didn’t get placed into the same house as Subaru, he really wants a friend as a dorm mate. Since you are human, he’d also be happy that Obscuary seems less like a place for creatures.

Yuri - “Don’t think you can become the assistant of the great Yuri Isami just because you are dressed like that.” Despite what he says, Yuri would take you around Mortkranken, showing you all the specimens and teaching you how to use the machines. “You better come back here tomorrow immediately after class so you can put some of what you learned to good use. You’d better not waste my efforts!” Oh, and you better wear that outfit again too. You’re supposed to wear lab attire in the lab, after all.

Jiro - “Take it off.” What he meant is for you to put on the patient gown so he can conduct his examination. The patient gown is basically your Mortkranken uniform any other day since that’s all you’re in whenever you go there.

[mediumgayitalian]

“Can I come over tomorrow?”

Nico’s hands still on the stubborn pillowcase. “To…my cabin?”

“Yes.”

“Um.” He resumes, sliding slowly away from Will’s wide round eyes, stuffing the puffy square of feathers into its fabric prison. The ghost of geese past are not happy with him. He is their prince. They will submit. “Yeah? You could all those other times, too.”

“Yeah, but I want to come over.”

“Yes,” Nico agrees, wondering if this is perhaps one of those moments Kayla warned him about. Has it reached day five of Will not sleeping? He doesn’t think so. He was napping when Nico came into the infirmary this morning to help with the tidying he promised to do. At least he was drooling enough that Nico hopes he was sleeping. “You mentioned.”

“So I can?”

“Yes, Will.”

Maybe it’s just an American thing. Nico has been noticing some Moments lately. He’s not sure if all teenagers have unanimously decided on some code they’d like to speak in during the few months he was busy defeating his great grandmother, or if maybe he’s finally stuck around long enough to notice, but nobody says what they mean, nowadays.

(He has gathered, thus far, that ‘on fleek’ is a synonym for ‘aflame’, although ‘yeet’ continues to evade him. Perhaps because Cecil and Lou appear to have indulged in the sick delight of replacing their every word with the term with the sole purpose to Confuse. Or perhaps, as Will has so indicated, they have each endured one concussion to many and are beyond any hope.)

“Sick!” That one Nico knows, at least. “I’ll come by after my morning shift? Connor got cursed by the Hypnos, Hecate, and Aphrodite cabins this morning so I have to do brain surgery before he forgets how to feel genuine human connection again, but I’ll be done by noon. Probably. I mean, Connor has a thick skull, genuinely I mean, which is why his lobotomy has been delayed so many times, but so long as I —”

It has been under Nico’s notice lately that Will eyes, genuinely, sparkle. He has read the cliche time and time again and rolled his eyes almost every time: diamonds sparkle. Water sparkles. Snow sparkles. Eyes reflect, and sometimes glow with reflection. They do not sparkle. To claim a set of eyes are sparkling is to profess to the world and all capable of registering your words that you are a brainless idiot who cannot dredge up from the depths of your mind, the most barren and bereft back corners, a single unique or clever comparison; a minutely original way to describe excitement or animation.

And yet.

Will is indeed very animated, and very excited about very many things, and it shows on his face; in the wideness of his grins, the springing mass of his curls, the stilted and flailing gilt of his languid limbs. It also shows, perhaps most obviously, in his genuinely magnificent eyes — Nico has seen the Logan Sapphire. He has touched the precious thing with reverent hands, stared in awe as it thrust out the light shine upon it like the golden ichor of Ouranous swirling with the sweet saltwater to birth Love Incarnate. He knows glittering, he knows gleaming, shimmering and shining and twinkling.

Will’s eyes sparkle, like the very tip of a mountaintop, like the crackling ends of a flame, like dewdrops on spider silk. It is transfixing. It is alluring.

“—ico. Nico! Hello-o?”

It is also a trap.

“Sounds great,” Nico says loudly, voice like cold soda over vanilla ice cream. He clears his throat, twice, to no avail. His vision begins to blur as the heat pouring off of his face warps the air. “Um. See you then?”

Will nods, or at least Nico hopes he does. His curls bounce, anyway. They are hard to miss. They remind Nico tangentially of how laughter sounds, unimpeded by shame; how the shimmering satin of a ribbon would curl and bend under the smooth slide of the scissor’s blade.

(His father’s circuit of jesters often included poets playwrights. They also doubled as Nico’s babysitters. Surely no lasting consequences, that.)

“Yes!” He flashes a smile, then, and it becomes imperative to note that his eyes squint at the force of it, and his slightly-too-big teeth brush his bottom lip, and he has, in fact, on each cheek, a dimple.

Now, Will is often and even frequently called Apollo Junior by just about every living soul in camp, up to and including Immortal Camp Director And Horse, Chiron; and uproariously once even Mr D, God of Wine. Allegedly, as taunted by Kayla, even by Will’s own mother. The golden hair and unfortunate habit of winking and legs for days do most definitely create an image.

Nico, however, contrarian he be, must deny: he has seen Apollo. Apollo is beautiful and golden and charming, but Will is not quite his spitting image. Will, more aptly, is the son of the Sun. He glows; the glare of his smile leaves impressions behind in the cells one’s eyes, the glide of his limbs is almost dragging, languid. To look at him is to commit yourself to blinding. To seek so desperately the solace of the light as to ignore the unsettling sting of the burn.

“I can’t wait!”

As a blissful cloud moving in front of the solar system’s brightest star saves your eyes the eternal fate of darkness, Will’s duty so saves Nico from an eternity of shadow. He returns, humming softly and horribly, to his work, sifting through folders and updating patient files, and Nico exhales the breath setting foundations in his lungs, slumping forward in fervent relief. A melancholic reprieve from the summer rays, if only for a moment.

He waves goodbye, or at least he hopes that he does, rushing out the infirmary doors and tripping down the rickety porch steps.

“Hurrying somewhere, Nicholas Claus?” drawls Mr. D, throwing darts a perilously balanced apple atop the horns of a satyr bleating in morse code.

“That was not even an attempt,” responds Nico, and hurries away before he can be dolphinized. Dolphinified? Made into a bottle-nosed beast. (Why bottle? Of all comparisons to make, who decided bottles were the utmost separate object to which the snout of the slippery beasts should be named? Oh, wait, drunk people. Bottles. Okay. Mystery solved.)

He manages, in his heroic retreat across the common, not to destroy entire swathes of grass and plants, a feat for which the Muses could perhaps write epics about. Truly he is capable of the utmost restraint and self-control. He does raise several full sized wolf skeletons, but they seem primarily preoccupied with hunting down the the Stolls, so a win-win as far as Nico is concerned. Probably not for Connor, who is apparently cursed or concussed, he doesn’t remember exactly, but he has managed thus far with his startling amount of daily braincell loss so by statistic and happenstance he is bound to survive another incident.

“There has to be away to shut myself off,” Nico says, out loud to himself, proceeding the slam of his cabin door and the heavy breathing upon it. He turns to his altar. “You mentioned an off button, Father. I don’t suppose it has been successfully implemented.”

No answer comes forth. He indulges in a brief moment of self pity, wherein the Nico who lives in his brain clears his throat, digs around the messy confines of his mind to find an imaginary black hoodie, slips it on, digs around again for a dagger, and stabs himself, choking and twitching pitifully. Real Nico then walks with great purpose to the exact geological centre of the stone cabin.

“Okay,” he says again. He nods, once, narrowing his eyes in determination. The Nico in his brain opens one curious eyelid. (Does Will do psychiatric assessments?) “Okay, this is. Hm.”

It is not the first time they have been alone together, after all.

In the weeks following Gaea’s defeat and Will Solace’s nonstop, irritating persistence, Nico has been thrust in his proximity an incredible number of times. From his three day stay, during which he was simply so unconscious for so long his father was concerned enough to manifest onto the mortal plane and poke at his soul until he responded, to his unofficial indoctrination (ha) as a nurse, to camp clean-up efforts, to cabin renovation, to general life — they have become friends. Coworkers, at least. Together they make the camp a little more bearable for everyone in it, including Nico. It is rewarding work. It is illuminating work; Will is a good teacher, and he is funny, and he is good company (and he happens to have very long legs that he does not bother to cover up very often and Nico has eyes that do what they please). They have been in Nico’s cabin together several times over the last few weeks.

Never before has Will come over without some kind of stated purpose.

At least, not and absence he has made so obvious. True, the renovations took longer than expected, and the paint on the east wall is smudged from where Nico shoved Will, shrieking, off the stepstool, and they have perhaps, on occasion, used Nico’s illegal Wii when they were meant to be helping Annabeth make plans for Capture the Flag, but —

But.

Intent.

Is important.

It has been made abundantly clear to Nico over the summer that he has friends upon which he can rely. Reyna has made a point to Iris Message him at whatever Roman tryhard time she believes he should be awake, prompting an attempted murderous shadow travel that left him unconcious in Missouri and at the unfortunate end of many people’s shouting. And Will’s friends, who can perhaps at this point be called his friends also, have created a game entitled “How Many Grapes Can We Flick At Nico During Lunch Before He Goes Ballistic And Sends Us To Purgatory For A Little While” (four), which they are inclined and inspired to play every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. Piper enjoys dragging him around to do Things. Jason is just around constantly. (Does he sleep? Nico should check on that properly.)

He had a point, somewhere. He’s sure he did.

It was maybe the impending anxiety attack, helpfully informs Brain Nico.

“Ah,” regular Nico replies, then grapples around for his least favourite pillow, slams it into his face, and screams at the top of his lungs for several minutes.

Brain Nico decides once again that commentary is the way.

I think we are an all powerful demigod of something, he muses. Dirt, maybe? Bad vibes? I can’t quite remember.

“The dead?” inquires regular Nico.

Do you think those years isolated in the Labyrinth perhaps situated us firmly on the shores of mentally unwell? responds he, blissfully unhelpful.

“I think that was Tartarus, actually,” says regular Nico, and promptly banishes his brain self to the deepest recesses of his mind, among memories of the taste of liquid fire and Calculus.

With the remaining, functioning (well.) part of his brain, he places both palms on the cool floor and attempts to focus.

Juicy Fruit It gets right to ya Juicy salt Hmmm Juicy Fruit, The taste the taste that’s —

For the love of all holy things, Nico begs his brain. It doesn’t work, but what ever really goes right in his life, so he pushes past the increasingly louder replays of eighties commercial jingles and maps out the ground below the cabin floor, pushes through the layers of underground.

Ah. Perfect.

He pulls up the very aptly placed skeleton of a cat, letting it scratch and sniff about his cabin before cautiously approaching him.

“You will be sure to tell it to me straight,” Nico says solemnly, holding out his hand. The cat bobs its nasal cavities in and out of Nico’s fingers and, apparently deciding him to be worthy of its attention, rams its skull against his knuckles. Nico snorts, running a fingernail along its cranial sutures and grinning as its purring echoes in his mind. “You seem very wise.”

The cat’s caudal vertebrae rattle in indignation, miffed at the mere idea that it could be anything other than wise. Nico is honestly quite impressed by its ability to glare without actual eyeballs, eyelids, or thought power.

“I am going to name you after my sister and pray that’s not weird,” Nico says. “I mean, I don’t think she would mind. You’re pretty cool, actually, and Hazel’s cool, kind of, so. Win win.”

Hazel the Cat seems unbothered by her christening, curling up in Nico’s lap. He runs his hand from cranial base to coccyx, finger dipping and bumping along the ridges of her spines, and settles against the cool floor, attempting to breathe evenly.

“It’s just.” He swallows. It takes a try or two, to work around the massive stone borrowed in his throat, and Hazel the Cat nips playfully at his fingers until his lungs settle again. “Before we had something to do, you know? We’d be cutting bandages, and he’d be all, hey, did you know bandages are mentioned in one of the first ever medical manuscripts and definitely predate it by many hundreds of years, and I would say I did, actually, I talked to the guy who made that clay tablet, and his eyes would get all wide and he’d be like no way, tell me everything, and then I would just talk forever.” Nico huffs. “We had something to talk about, you understand. Something to do.”

Nico tries to imagine what Hazel his Sister would say. Probably something along the lines of you are an impossible person, which is code for I have about as much luck as you do in this century, pal, the best I’ve got is hope for the best and remember adults no longer smack you for standing wrong. Which. Fair.

Hazel the Cat just purrs in his head again. It’s as encouraging as anything, he supposes.

“Am I supposed to have…conversation starters? He likes twizzlers and intentionally bad poetry. Maybe I could do something with that?”

Hazel the Cat shrugs at him.

“It’s not even — okay, it’s not just that, though. What is — how close is close enough in a casual setting? Or too close? How am I meant to greet him? Am I supposed to offer something? Make something? What do I do if there’s a lull in conversation? Or if it’s all lulls? Oh, gods, how much silence is socially appropriate —”

Hazel the Cat twists in his hold, meeting his eyes as if to say well I don’t think you’ll be struggling with that last one.

“Shush,” he tells her, but his mouth is twitching. “I’m just — I don’t want him to finally realize I’m weird. Or boring, gods. He’s such a hyper person, you know? He never stops. And I am supposed to entertain him! I think!”

This time he can actually hear his sister’s voice, in the back of his mind — you’re such a dummy. Ringed with fondness from the many times she’s said it to him, shoulders nudged carefully together, head knocked gently against his. You are weird and boring. Most people are.

“Ugh,” he sighs, tipping his head back until it rests against the mattress. “Friendship is hard work.”

Hazel the Cat swishes her tail, rattling the discs of bone like a rattlesnake. It’s a surprisingly soothing sound, like rain pinging softly against his window, or the flutter of the poplar trees outside of his father’s palace. Unconsciously he matches his breathing to it, slowing until it’s even, gentle, deep. His eyes, without any direction from his brain, drift until they blanket his hazy eyes, heavy as stone..

“S’not that serious,” he murmurs to himself, soothed under the weight of his feline friend. “S’just Will, I guess.” A beat. He smiles, slightly, a small, curling thing, mimicking the coiled heat in his belly. “It’s just Will.”

———

part two

[starguardianniom]

The Power of Love in Miraculous Ladybug

It's bad.

Legit bad.

Just in the opening song, you hear: "The power of love always so strong!"

More like always so strong at creating all the problems in the freaking show fr.

Gabriel is Hawk Moth just to get the miraculouses to save his wife, so he is motivated by love.

Marinette legit screwed herself up in 4 of the 5 seasons finales because of love.

And that's not getting into all the akumas she caused just because she was so caught up in her own feelings that she screwed over other people or just ended up hurting other people's feelings in her wake.

The world legit ended because of her love.

Also had to reset an entire timeline too because she couldn't stick to her plan the moment she learned Adrien was Chat Noir.

Let's not forget how the show portrays Marinette's love of Adrien, via stalking, knowing everything in his schedule for the next 3 years, planning his birthday gifts for decades in advance (and apparently having weird gifts too since she threw one of them in the trash once she saw Adrien's confused reaction to it), getting jealous of any girl getting close to him to the point that she once teamed up with Chloé to get Kagami away, and Kagami had done nothing to deserve being humiliated publicly like that, even worse is that the year before Marinette got humiliated b Chloé in front of a guy she liked by said guy she liked which started her whole obsession about Adrien later on which just makes her a double hypocrite in Animaestro.

Marinette treats Adrien more like a prize than a person, you're not gonna make me believe that everything she knows about him is stuff she learned from him by talking to him, please, given how she could barely speak to him you really think she would pull this off? Pretty sure she just researched him online, at one point she pratically begs Nino to tell her what Adrien finds funny.

And yet not once does she consider if Adrien would actually have a word in their relationship, she called him her Adrien as far as season 1.

Meanwhile, Gabriel loves his son but also emotionally abuse him, and also gets physical with him once he learns he's Chat Noir, he yeeted him to the Eiffel Tower, I never forgave him for that.

He also loves his wife, but he also ended up losing his one real chance at bringing her back just to get back at Ladybug, so you can say his love wasn't enough anymore.

The Power of Love was motivating him until it changed to obsession at revenge with Ladybug.

Now I wonder what's it's gonna take until Marinette realise her love for Adrien is her downfall. So far it screwed her over everytime more than anything else, it's not her strenght it's her biggest weakness that brings out the worst in her, and it got brought to it's height in the season 5 finale and the London special.

Lying to the whole world about Gabriel just to spare Adrien's feelings because Gabriel asked her too, especially after everything he did to him, to her and everyone else? Yeah, no.

It just traps Adrien more.

It's disgusting.

The Power of Love is the biggest evil in the freaking show to the point it's its own character.

Lila wish she could be just as bad.

Maybe she will be able to show us.

And with how season 5 ended, I'm wondering how The Power of Love is gonna do, probably do even more damage.

The Power of Love shown by the main protagonist and the main villain is the most terrifying thing ever in the show.

[punksyeet]

- Make You Proud ❥

Plot: Gianna (OC) surprises her man in California, where he wins his first ever singles championship.

Warning: Hefty flirting, mature language, & smut!

"You're all set," the tall man at TSA exclaims, sliding over a tiny bin with my phone and Apple watch.

"Thank you!" I respond cheerfully, re-pack my things and proceed to walk over to my gate.

I find a corner seat and place my luggage down, get comfy against the wall, and pull out my phone.

After about 10-15 minutes of scrolling on Instagram and Tiktok, I get a message that immediately makes me smile.

Joshua 🧸🩵: Safe travels my love. Text me when you land okay? I love you.

My Lady ❤️: I will baby. I love you more. 🤍

For context, WWE is headed to California for Monday Night Raw.

And while my boyfriend thinks that I'm spending our time apart visiting my parents back home in New York, I'm actually headed to surprise him for the show.

There's been lots of buzz on social media about him finally getting another title opportunity tonight and I wanna be there for, what I believe will be, his big win.

Actually, it's not even just for his big win, it's more so just the thought of us being together.

While I adore and will forever be committed to Joshua, our relationship is by no means perfect.

He's been in the business for about 14 years now, and we've been together for about 3 of them.

Whether it's for a PLE or just weekly live tapings, he's on the road for 5 sometimes 6 days out of the week.

Wrestling is his passion and brings out the best in him so, while I miss him a lot — and I mean a lot — of the time, I would and could never bring myself to ask him to put it aside for us.

I'm snapped out of my thoughts when an announcement echoes through the airport speakers.

"Flight #389 to Ontario, California is now boarding."

I take a deep breath, gather all my things, and board.

See you soon my love. <3

—————————————————————————————————

** Josh's POV **

As I'm in the hallway doing a mini warmup for my match, a familiar face walks up with a tiny smirk on his face.

I turn to him and smile. "What's up, uce?"

One of my closest friends in the business, Sami Zayn, nods. "Big night for you, dawg."

"Yeet," I reply, nodding.

Big night is an understatement.

I want my own title more than anything.

And I'm gonna get it.

"Ya know," he begins, breaking the comfortable silence. "That Intercontinental Championship meant the world to me."

I nod understandably.

"And tonight," he continues, tapping me on the chest. "You make that Intercontinental Championship yours!"

I continue nodding, except this time with a smile.

"You hear me?!" he asks, holding out his hand for our handshake.

"Thank you uce," I reply, slapping our hands together. "Thank you, my dawg. Thank you, man. Love you!"

"You've got this! Go get it!" he continues, hyping me up.

"Yeet!" I call out as he walks out of frame, and continue my warmup.

Moments later, the camera man signals that our segment is done.

"Aaaand cut!" he calls, turning off the red light on his camera. "Awesome job guys!"

Shortly after, Rami's music hits.

"I'll see you later man," he exclaims, pulling me into a hug. "Good luck tonight."

"Thank you uce," I reply, patting his back and letting him go. "Go get em!"

As he walks into gorilla and out of sight, I head to my dressing room to change.

By the time I'm dressed and ready to go, it's about ten minutes until the main event - me and Bron Breakker for the IC title.

I take a deep breath and decide to shoot my lady a last minute text before heading out.

—————————————————————————————————

** Gianna's POV **

Josh's close friend Rami just finished his segment with a man named Gunther, and the crowd is still buzzing.

I feel my phone vibrate in my purse and automatically take it out, smiling when I see a text from my man.

Joshua 🧸🩵: About to go out there. Gonna do this shit and make you proud baby. 🩵

My Lady ❤️: You always do, my love. I'll be watching. 🫶🏽

Little does he know, I'll have the perfect view.

I smile and place my phone back in my purse before taking a deep breath.

About a minute or two later, Josh's entrance music hits and the crowd goes insane.

As he enters from the crowd, I automatically take notice to his gear.

It's my favorite one that he wears: baby blue and white colored with "YEET" and palm trees embroidered in bright pink, white air forces, and pink glasses to match.

I smile as he enters the ring, dancing to his theme, while the crowd never stops hyping him up.

As the music switches and his opponent enters, I'm unable to keep my eyes off of my man.

The way he paces back and forth, licking his lips, and delivering mean mugs.

Fuck, I'm so lucky.

As the match rolls on, Josh eventually spears Bron through the barricade.

My heart drops as he lays there, visibly exhausted but still pushing.

I don't know how he does it. He's so incredible.

As he looks up at the crowd, our eyes meet and the world stops.

His jaw practically drops at the sight of me and a gorgeous smile appears on his face.

I smile back and blow a kiss his way.

After taking a second to process what's happening, he puckers his lips and sends one back, before focusing back on the match.

As he drags Bron back into the ring and follows up with another spear, the crowd gets somehow louder.

He climbs up onto the top rope and takes a deep breath before delivering his finisher: the Uso splash.

My heart stops and I cover my mouth while the crowd counts along with the referee.

Once the count hits three, he lays back and the crowd goes from loud to deafening.

I jump up and cheer, tears streaming down my face.

He did it! He fucking did it! My boy is a champ!

"HERE IS YOUR WINNER!" Samantha Irvin announces from ringside, tons of emotion in her voice. "AAAAND NEEEEEWWWW! INTERCONTINENTAL CHAMPION! MAAAAIIIIN EVENT JEY UUUUSSOOOOOO!"

I cheer even louder, clapping my hands, still sobbing.

He lays there with the belt for a while before being helped up by the referee and having his arm lifted above his head while holding the championship in his other.

As he exits the ring, he runs over to me and grabs my face, pulling me into a kiss.

I kiss back, smiling against his lips, before pulling away and wrapping my arms around him.

He hugs me back, panting into my neck and giving me kisses there too.

"I'm so happy you're here," he says just below my ear so that I can hear him above all the cheering. "I love you."

"I love you," I reply, more happy tears strolling down my face.

Smiling, he pulls away and grabs my face for another quick kiss before heading up the stairs in the crowd to celebrate with fans.

Nothing could top this feeling.

I'm so beyond proud of my baby! <3

—————————————————————————————————

** Josh's POV **

As I step into the gorilla, an eruption of claps and cheers for me by Paul and other staff begins.

I smile breathlessly and immediately hug him.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, patting my back.

"On top of the world," I reply, still trying to catch my breath.

Everyone laughs, including me, as he pulls me into another hug.

We pull away and take a classic pointing picture in front of the WWE logo.

On my way back to my locker room, I run into even more co-workers and get lots of congratulations.

But when I open the door, I'm brought with my favorite sight of the night: my girl.

Without a word, she runs into my arms and we share the tightest hug in the world.

"I'm so proud of you," she coos into my neck, tons of emotion in her voice.

I smile and kiss her cheek. "Thank you, baby."

She pulls away and cups my face, tears streaming down hers. "You're a champion. You're my champion."

"Always and forever ma," I reply and pull her in by her waist, pressing our lips together.

She automatically kisses back and wraps her arms around my neck.

Deepening the kiss, I slide my tongue across her bottom lip, earning a tiny moan from her.

About a minute more of this goes by and we pull away, pressing our foreheads together.

"What do you say we get out of here and go celebrate properly after my shower?" I ask, caressing her ass.

She nods, biting her bottom lip. "Sounds perfect."

I smirk and kiss her temple. "Stay here and look pretty. I'll be back."

She giggles and we share another quick kiss before I leave her with my title and head to the bathroom with fresh clothes.

The hot water feels unreal on my body, especially after damn near killing myself during the match.

Once I finish, I towel dry myself and change into a white Nike sweatsuit, my air forces, and my silver chain.

I clean up after myself and head back into my dressing room, where my girl is sat with the title against her waist and scrolling on her phone.

"Shiii you look better with that thing then I do," I exclaim, making her look up.

She chuckles, stands up, and puts it around my waist. "There's no better looking champ than you, baby."

I smirk as she leans in and presses our lips together once more. "Mmm thank you, my love."

Hand in hand, we gather my stuff and exit the arena, earning a couple more congratulations from people as we leave.

—————————————————————————————————

** Gianna's POV **

Tonight has been magical.

After Josh and I left the arena, we went and grabbed dinner at Waffle House and drove back to my hotel room.

Thankfully, he has another live event here tomorrow so we didn't have to end our night in an airport.

Right now, he's currently downstairs grabbing a spare key for the room, and I'm working on making this night end perfectly.

I quickly run into the bathroom and strip out of my outfit from tonight, then change into his favorite lingerie set of mine: black, lace, and see thru.

I doll myself up and fix my hair, before throwing on my silk robe and heading back into the room.

A few moments later, I hear footsteps and my man steps back into the room.

"I got the key," Josh exclaims, holding it up and shutting the door behind him.

I nod and pat the empty spot on his bed next to me. "Come, love."

He raises an eyebrow suspiciously but walks over anyway, getting into bed next to me.

"Whatchu doin girl?" he asks, throwing an arm around me and rubbing my thigh with his free hand.

I turn to face him and climb onto his lap, straddling him. "Just helping you relax."

"Oooo," he coos, smirking and sliding his hands onto my waist.

I giggle and lean in, pressing our lips together.

He automatically kisses back, his hands trailing down to my ass and squeezing it through the silky fabric.

** smut warning! **

I quietly moan at the feeling and begin to grind on him, swaying my hips up and down his crotch.

He moans in the kiss and we slowly pull away, me tugging at his bottom lip.

I climb off of him and stand between his legs, untying the robe and peeling it off my skin.

He watches my every move and practically drools at the sight of my body, reaching out to caress every inch that's revealed.

I continue the show by unhooking my bra and letting it fall to the floor, as well as slowly sliding down my panties and stepping out of them.

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath, caressing and toying with one of my nipples.

"I believe you're a little overdressed sir," I exclaim, taking a few steps closer and pressing my now naked body against his.

He smirks as I pull his hoodie over his head.

"Look at this body," I coo, running my hands up his abs, to his chest, and onto his shoulders. "The body of a champion. Of my champion."

I lean in and run my tongue up his collarbone and neck, sucking and kissing his gorgeously tanned skin on the way.

He lets out a sexy moan, holding me close.

After a few moments of this, I give him one last kiss on the corner of his mouth and pull away to remove the clothes from his bottom half as well.

His dick immediately springs out when I remove his boxers, to which I respond with stroking and showering light kisses onto his tip.

"Shit," he whispers, cupping my face with one hand.

"That feels good, hm?" I ask, continuing my kisses down his length.

"Mmm fuck," he utters between moans. "So fuckin good. I need to be inside you, baby."

I smirk, lightly push him back against the headboard, and straddle him once more.

Except this time, I line his dick up with my pussy and lower myself onto it.

I gasp at the feeling of his full length practically in my stomach and, after a few seconds, start moving.

"Oh yes," I moan, holding onto his thighs for balance with my head thrown back as he takes one of my breasts into his mouth.

Soon enough, he starts moving as well, his thrusts pulsating into my body.

The sound of our skin slapping mixed with combined moans echoes throughout the room.

"Fuck baby you're so tight," he groans in my ear, a firm grasp on my ass cheeks. "This my shit?"

"U-uh huh!" I reply, unable to speak a word.

He slaps my ass. Hard.

I whine at the feeling.

"Don't make me ask again ma," he demands, his voice low and sexy. "Use your words."

"Y-yes da-addy," I reply between moans. "T-th-this pussy is all yours."

He frees one of his hands and brings it to the cheeks on my face, squeezes them, pulls my face in, and crashes our lips together.

"Mmm!" I moan against his lips, still on cloud nine from the way he's fucking me.

A few moments go by until I feel absolutely weak.

"J-Joshua! D-daddy!" I call out.

"Yes baby?" he replies, applying kisses below my ear.

I pant breathlessly, attempting to speak but the words just won't come.

"Talk to daddy my love," he coos, taking a strand of hair away from my eyes and helping me relax. "Tell me what you need."

"I-I'm gon-I'm gonna cum," I practically scream out, holding onto his neck for dear life.

"Mmm good girl," he praises as I let loose, slowing down his thrusts as his climax fills me up as well.

** smut over! **

"Fuck," I say just above a whisper, rolling off of him and laying flat on my back on the bedsheets.

He chuckles breathlessly, turning over and wrapping a protective arm around my waist. "You feel good, baby?"

I nod, my eyes closed and my mouth hanging open.

He smiles and kisses my bottom lip. "I'll get a bath started for us, yeah?"

I nod again, laying my head down on the plush pillow.

I feel him get up and open my eyes just the tiniest bit to watch his fat ass walk off.

Fuck, he's so fine.

—————————————————————————————————

** Josh's POV **

Gi and I just finished up our bath.

It felt like heaven, despite me putting my body on the line twice in one night.

I'm now carrying her to bed.

Between me practically fucking her to sleep and jet lag, she's exhausted.

I lay her down on the plush sheets and tuck her in so she's comfortable.

"Mmm thank you baby," she exclaims quietly, half asleep with her eyes closed.

I chuckle and stroke her cheek with my knuckle. "Anytime my love."

I hop into bed with her and shut the bedside lamp, then wrap her into my arms.

She kisses my chest and leans into the crook of my neck.

It's not long before I hear light snores pouring out of her.

"Goodnight my baby," I coo, before kissing her temple and drifting off to sleep myself.

Liked by uceyjucey, jonathanfatu, zillafatu, rikishi, and 10.7k others

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[thewebcomicsreview]

tatsuya is now explicitly telling his readers to start killing jews

Obviously I'm not posting the comic, but to save you the temptation of looking it up, the final panel is a picture of a caricature of a Jewish person getting attacked with a pitchfork with the caption "Yeet the Yid", which I'm counting as a slur for the purposes of Sinfest Racism Bingo.

Which means that I think we're really truly finally done with Sinfest's descent. He banged out "slurs" and "explicit calls for violence" in the same day. I literally can not think of anything else he could do that's categorically worse than this, short of committing a crime himself.

It's so....disappointing. I wasn't really reading Sinfest back when it was "good", so I don't mourn the loss of a once-good webcomic. But even when he finally crosses the final line that I didn't initially think he could cross, he doesn't even have the decency to do it in an interesting way. Not that I want him to be a funnier nazi or anything, but there's this deep well of pathetic to it all. "Yeet the Yid", huh? That's what you got? That's the big call to violence after months of buildup?

One of my favorite reviews of anything is the RPGNet review of a deeply racist and misogynist game called FATAL that was also stupid and boring. You may have seen the review, it's savage and great (though, content warning since it directly quotes a bunch of horrific shit), but there's an analogy from it that Sinfest makes me think of.

Oh, they want to be all evil and shocking and crap. God, how pathetically they tried. I mean, imagine opening a door to find your mother and sister raping each other with pink strap-ons. And you then realize that you've never seen their bare asses before, because you're pretty sure you would have remembered the swastikas tattooed there. And upon noticing you, they grin wickedly and give you the finger in unison. It's shocking in a way that instantly blights out all rational thought, but later, you'll have to admit the finger and wicked grinning part was kinda cool. (I...guess.) That's the feeling the FATAL morons so wish they could provoke. Instead, they're more like opening that door to find your weeks-unwashed Otaku brother in his soiled underwear, masturbating furiously to - of all the goddamn things in the world - an Archie comic. And on his bare ass is a tattoo of, inexplicably, someone else's ass, and he's disgustingly fat enough for it to be a good 14 inches across. And as he goes at it, he's quietly moaning to himself about how worthless women, [LGBT People] and [black people] are and how they should all be raped or murdered. It's still disturbing on all kinds of levels. But it's the kind of stupid disturbing that ends with you having to answer questions to the satisfaction of a prosecuting attorney.

Let that be Sinfest's legacy. A tattoo on Tatsuya Ishida's ass of the Stonetoss Guy's Ass.

[trippiexlove]

Serendipity- Ch.3

story master list

Druitt POV

We were finally in Atlanta! We were currently at our AirBnB that Trinity got for us. I was in my bathroom getting ready for the day, as we are probably going to spend the day shopping. 

There was a knock at my door before it opened revealing Bianca. 

"Girl you almost ready?"

"Yeah, I just have to put my shoes on"

I put on my sneakers, grabbed my purse and headed out the door. 

The girls and I got into the black suv and headed to the mall

*Few Hours Later*

After hitting our favorite stores, we finally made it a restaurant. 

"Walking around the mall takes me out every time" Trinity says as she sat down.

Bianca nodded in agreement "Girl who you telling"

The waiter finally made it to our table to take our order. We gave her our food and drink orders since we knew what we already wanted. 

"So Trin how has it been being the Impact Knockout Champion?" I asked as I sat back into my chair.

"It has been a great run, I am not going to lie I miss being with y'all though. But the girls have been so welcoming and I feel like I am finally free to be me."

Me and Bianca cooed at Trin, "We miss you too girl, but we are so proud and happy for you" Bianca said as we gave her a group hug. 

After a few moments the food and drinks came to the table. 

"So enough about me, Dru what's going on with you and Jey?"

I shook my head at her, "nothing is going on, we are just friends"

"Yeah, friends who have a date tomorrow night" Bianca said as she gave me a look.

"It is not a date, " I rolled my eyes at both the girls smirking at me "it's just two friends hanging out with. each other" 

"Whatever you say Sis-in-Law" Trinity and Bianca bust out laughing as I gave Trin a look. 

"Keep playing with me Trin" I pointed at her , giving her a glare. 

For the rest of lunch we just joked around and had small girl talk until we paid the bill and headed out the restaurant, and back to our AirBnB. 

Jey POV

I was in my home gym, finishing up my set when I heard my phone start ringing.

I put the weights back onto the rack and went over to my phone, noticing it was Jon that was calling me. 

I picked up the phone, answering on the last ring "Yeet, what's up bro" 

"Nothing much twin, what you got going on?" 

"I just got done with a slight work out, bout to go take my ass in the shower"

"I feel you bro, I just got done myself, what you got going on tomorrow?"

"Probably nothing, might go run some drills with Cody, then later on Rhyan and I going out"

"Wait a damn minute, you convinced Rhyan to go on a date with your ass?"

"Here you go, we just going out as friends, just going to hang around the city"

"Now you know damn well you want to be more than friends with that girl, better stop playing uce" I couldn't do nothing but shake my head at him, even though he was right I wasn't going to let him know that.

"whatever uce, I got to go I'll catch up with you later"

"Yeet!" I hung up the phone, quickly going inside the house, taking a quick shower. 

After the shower, I decided I would facetime Rhyan, just to see what she was doing.

The phone rang 3 times before she eventually picked up. 

"Hey Jey what's up?" 

"Hey mama, nothing much just got done working out, what you up to?"

"Just got back in from shopping with Trin and Bianca, now I am about to rest"

"You got something for me?" I smirked as I looked into the camera.

She rolled her eyes and let out a small chuckle, "Not this time, sorry, but I will try next time"

I set the camera up , showing the upper half of my body, while I finished getting dressed. There was silence on her end, so I turned around to see her staring. 

"Like something you see" I couldn't help but smirk, as she rolled her eyes. 

"Please, ain't nobody looking at you" I laughed her trying to play it off. 

"yeah ok, keep telling yourself that"

"Mhmm, so tomorrow for our little hang out, what are the plans?"

"I got an activity lined up for us to do, and maybe grab dinner afterwards, so dress comfortable"

We talked for a little bit more, until we decided to call it a night. 

"I'll pick you up around 8, just send me your location"

"Alright, talk to you tomorrow"

"Night, ma" we both hung up the phone. 

*Skip to the next night*

The time currently was 7:30, I was finishing up getting ready about to head out the door. I decided to send a quick text to Rhyan letting her know I was on my way. 

Miss Rhyan ❤️

"Hey ma, I am on my way, send me your location"

" sent current location "

"See you soon ☺️"

I quickly jumped in my car, and started heading to Rhyan. On the way I just picked up flowers for her, just something nice to do. 

Once I pulled up to the house, I quickly got out and knocked on the door. I waited a few moments and the door finally opened, revealing Bianca.

"Hey Jey, ooh love the flowers"

"Hey Bi, thank just wanted to do something nice for her"

"I think she's going to love it, I'll go get her" she walked away quickly running upstairs.

I wasn't downstairs alone for long, til Rhyan made her way downstairs. 

Even in chill clothes she looked good. 

"Hey Jey, ooh are these for me?"

"Hey ma, yeah they’re for you"

"These are beautiful, thank you" She took the flowers with a smile. 

"I can take these for you, and put them in some water til you get back" said Bianca

"Sure, thanks Bi" She handed them to Bianca as we said our goodbyes and left out the door. I opened the door for her as she slid in. She said a quick thank you as I walked around to the driver side. She leaned over and opened the door for me, and I got in and I quickly started the car starting to drive towards our destination. 

"So where are you taking me tonight?"

"I know this bar and arcade place, I figured we can play some games, have some drinks. They also have food there as well" 

"Oooh if they have basketball I am whooping your ass in it"

"Yeah ok, we gon see loser buys a round of drinks"

"Bet" we shook hands, and continued making small conversations til we got there. We got there and I paid for our tokens to play the array of games. We got some drinks while playing the games, until we got to the basketball game. 

Druitt POV

After playing the other games for a while, we ended up on the basketball game. Though I was confident Jey would win, I wasn't going to let him know that. 

We started shooting the balls into the hoops, and of course I was losing as I barely get a single ball to go in. 

By the end of the game, Jey had 45 points to my 15. 

"Now you said you was gon beat who ass in basketball?"

"Oh please you got lucky"

"Just admit that I am the best"

"Fine, you are the best" I rolled my eyes playfully at him, hitting his arm.

"Here I can teach you a few pointers" he added more tokens into my machine, and handing me a ball. 

He stood behind me, putting his hand on my waist, and at that moment my breathe hitched. He grabbed my arm, putting it in a specific form, with his one hand still on my waist. 

"You have to stand like this, and put your arms like this", I could feel his breathe on my neck, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. 

"Ok so like this?" I asked

"Yeah, now shoot"

I shoot the ball and it went in. Due to excitement I jumped up, turning around giving Jey a hug. I quickly realized what I was doing and let go. When I looked at Jey he had a smile on his face, and I smiled back. 

"See there you go, now let's finish this game and we'll get something to eat"

After we finished the game we went over the food court area. We sat down to eat and started having small conversation, just to get to know each other. We found we both have a few things in common. 

After we were done eating, I was feeling tired so we decided to call it a night. Once we got back to the AirBnB, Jey walked me to the door.

"I had a really great time tonight, thank you Jey"

"Me too beautiful, we should definitely do this again sometime"

"I think we should" he leaned in for a hug, which lingered a little longer than it should've. He gave me a kiss on top of my head and let go. 

"I'll see you at work"

"Ok see you then" 

Once I got in, I put my back against the door. Did that really happen?

I can't help but admit that I may be falling for Jey, but I think it is too early to tell.

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[littleperson404]

look who finally has a name and the start of a ref sheet

this mf

gonna put tober lore (i think?) below this cut yeet

no fucking clue where i got the name tober, so lets get that out of the way. but he's 100% my fursona

this name came to me, like... a few weeks ago. i didnt know what to do with it but it was rotating in my mind so fast it was generating electricity. so i threw it onto a horse follower in cotl. there tober sat, for weeks, in the back of my mind. ONLY TODAY did my brain finally connect that i wanted my fursona to be named tober. so he is tober

my whole goal with tober is to look like a soft boi. a very sweet little man. it took me almost 2 hours to make that headshot. i think a good chunk of it was stalling bc i was in a call and we were blabbin and i got into horse facts bc weeee special intrest lore dump. all so i could explain what tober is based on. the right picture took less than a minute bc i was showing how i tend to draw him... and im actually very happy with the goofy lil quick doodle? like it looks better than the other quick doodles i've done like that??

tober is based on cob horses. slightly more specifically a north swedish horse. cobs are, basically, draft ponies. its a type of build rather than any one breed. short n stocky, like me. i just.... really really like them. theyre so cute

i loathe needing to draw his body, and loathe even more figuring out his legs

fun fact, tober has a cowlick bc i have a cowlick. i hated it for the majority of my life bc ugh dumb hair. but then i played around with styling it at different lengths and now its my default. my cowlick now makes a v nice, like... fringe. anyway, im aiming to do that with tober too bc i love my goofy ass hair

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

gevivys (beauty) │ Chapter 7: Confrontation

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3 │Chapter 4 │Chapter 5 │Chapter 6 │Chapter 7 │Chapter 8 │Chapter 9 │Chapter 10 (COMPLETE!)

Synopsis: Daemon returns to King's Landing after ten years in exile, intent on rekindling his affair with Rhaenyra. He wasn't expecting you - the revelation changes everything.

Hello, everyone! AGAIN! Because this was originally a single chapter, I didn’t want to leave it on the cliffhanger I did with Chapter 6. Therefore, ya get a two-for-one deal today! YAY! Just got some edits to do of the remaining three chaps and then this instalment SHOULD be done and dusted. Thank you to my slap daddy @ewanmitchellcrumbs​ and my boo @randomdragonfires​ for graciously allowing me to yeet this at them in group chat!

TRIGGERS: incest, purity culture, violence, age gap.

Whenever something in his life goes wrong, the solution can be found in a brothel.

It is a precept that has ruled Daemon from the moment he had first seen a whore’s tits at the impressionable age of thirteen, Viserys having finally capitulated to setting him on the path to manhood. He’d found it between the thighs of a buxom redhead, or so he had thought. Now, he’s not so sure. Nonetheless, he finds himself retreating to familiarity of fragrant burning oils and musk, of moans and sighs and the allure of gleaming flesh at times of struggle. It is where he had buried his vexation and frustration over his brother’s repeated refusals to take him seriously, where he had mourned the loss of his nephew, where he had spent the past ten years fucking away the anger and the guilt and the weight of everything he was.

It is where he has gone now, in the wake of that awful, senseless altercation with the lord of the Reach after he had dared to—Hm. Don’t think of it. He’s not looking forward to the scolding his brother will give him when he returns.

Or, it occurs to him, what will come to light as a result of my actions.

That might be the very worst part of the whole affair. When the king goes hunting for a reason that his wayward brother would strike down a member of the nobility, he knows the event alone will not satisfy as a full account of what took place. For why would Daemon Targaryen come to blows over mere implication? And, for that matter, why would Daemon Targaryen be present at Lord Tyrell’s meeting with the princess at all? From there, the web comes unbound, and he is discovered.

Fuck’s sake. This is not how he intended to broach the subject with Viserys.

The familiar sounds of breathy moans and slapping flesh fill the room as he sits upon the chaise, surveying the wares and nursing his fifth goblet of wine. He is pleasantly relaxed from the drink and the heady scent of fucking, the thrum of arousal warming his veins and pooling in his belly. It is not enough to coax a rise from him, but the ever-present stimulation is its own form of satisfaction. While his current associate—one of those on the fringes of his usual circle, an eager lad named Desmond or Desward or some such appellation—blathers on, Daemon idly casts his eyes around the room, taking in the abundance of unclothed forms, the roaming of hands and bouncing of breasts, the open-mouthed groaning of the whores as they earn their keep on their knees, against the wall, over the chair.

“… Which one do you like best, my prince?”

He snaps back to attention at the direct inquiry from his companion. Desmond jerks his chin toward the figures in various stages of undress, cheap jewels glittering under the light of the chandelier.

A much nicer establishment this time around, Daemon muses. He doesn’t voice this aloud, however. “Hm. That one, perhaps.”

He lets his eyes linger on the taller whore, appreciating the dusky glow of her hair as it spirals ink-dark from her crown. She twists her body winningly upon realising he is watching her, biting her lip and tossing her head back to display the elegant line of her neck. She’s not to his tastes, but that is precisely her appeal.

“Thought you would’ve gone with that pale-haired girl there,” Desward says, pointing out the smaller, white-haired waif prancing about with her gown peeled down to her waist, modest tits springing with each lively step.

Daemon swallows. She reminds him of you. No. He doesn’t want to think of you, not after the way you had looked at him. “Explain,” he says coldly.

This man hadn’t been present for those occasions in which his little entanglement with Rhaenyra had come up. So how has he come to that conclusion on his own?

Desmond’s expression twists apprehensively. “I just… everyone knows of your taste for silver-haired maidens, milord.”

Everyone does, do they? He’s not surprised to hear the rumours circling of his predilection for maidens, but the distinction here is new. There’d never been enough common stock with Valyrian features in Westeros for such preference to be made public beyond the closer of his old associates, and talk of the misconduct that had gotten him banished was never all that widespread, or so he has since learned. He can only think of one who might have reignited speculation. Fucking Dargood.

Later, he thinks, striding toward the object of his interest. I’ll deal with him later.

His irritation boils his blood just enough to incite a twitch of intrigue from his cock as he casts his eye over her critically. She’s a pleasing enough shape, though the hair is too fine and the mouth too small. Good enough.

“I hope I am to your liking, my prince,” she murmurs, pushing her shoulders back so that her form is bared a little more easily to his regard.

He grunts, eyeing the finely groomed mound that conceals his eve’s prize, and he cannot help but extend his hand to cup the plumpness of her, to trace a digit through silken petals to toy with the bud at the apex.

Either she’s had a customer already or she’s had her fun before venturing down, he mulls, rubbing the sticky wetness from her soft, swollen entrance between thumb and finger. The give is not the same as it would have been from grease alone. Ah—a whore worthy of the name.

Daemon allows her to grab him by the wrist and lead him through the room, through a darkened corridor and into an empty chamber. ‘Tis one of several, he observes, and quite finely furnished for an establishment of ill-repute. Of course, they are visiting the Street of Silk this time. The standards are far higher than that dilapidated hovel in Flea Bottom.

He pushes the girl away when she makes for the buttons of his jacket.

“I’m not intending to linger, pet,” he says, leading her hand down to the laces of his breeches. She nods, smirking impishly as she works at the fastenings. When they come loose, he presses her back onto the bed, reaching into his pants to withdraw his cock.

“My prince!” She is already spreading her legs like a little slut, fingers plucking hedonistically at her nipples. He leers, fondling the soft warmth of her exposed cunt. She is primed and ready for him, a consummate professional in her art.

He wishes the sight stirred him more.

“Call me ‘Uncle’.” He damns his weakness even as he crawls on top of her and shoves her legs further apart, notching his cock at her entrance.

He’d not had this fucking obsession before you—back when he’d thought himself enamoured with your sister, it had been enough to simply eke out his lusts on the nearest hole available, quick and rough and barely memorable. How you have unmanned him! How pathetic he has become. How woeful it is that he cannot endure something so instinctive, so primordial as mating without the thought of you to help him along.

The girl blinks; smiles. “Uncle! Oh, Uncle,” she breathes, the inflection all wrong, sounding nothing like you.

He plunges harshly into her, the glide hot and wet and too easy. It is nothing like taking your maidenhead would feel like, nothing like the tight resistance of a nervous virgin. He closes his eyes and pounds into the whore below him. This time, it is different. He is in control, he knows he is picturing you and he lets himself, permits the mirage of you to fill his mind’s eye and imagines the way your eyes might widen with mingling trust and hesitation as he breaches you.

“Uncle, my prince, fuck—”

He slaps a hand over her mouth, irritated by the disruption of his fantasy. You would never say such a thing in the midst of your deflowering, he is sure of it. When the whore’s voice is stifled, pitchy whimpers emanating from under his palm, he can almost convince himself it is you, can almost lose himself in the slip of cunt and glide of skin.

Daemon moans your name again—the game is up and it’s not long before he’s either exiled or given you, so what is the point in pretence—and suckles dark bruises down her throat, imagining it is the pale skin of your beguiling flesh. When he opens his eyes to stare into yours, he is confronted with the dull green of the whore’s.

What am I doing? What am I doing? Usually, the shame and aggravation sinks in once the firestorm of ecstasy has burnt itself out. It is just his luck that it strikes mid-coupling now.

“Fuck.” He begins to soften despite his hips driving a determined rhythm, desperate to keep the illusion alive just a little longer. It is not to be. “Fuck.”

He pulls out of the whore, sitting back on his haunches. He cannot go through with it. He cannot slink away, bury himself in a whore and pretend as though it’s you, not when he could be trying to win the real thing. He cannot disgrace you by fucking another and wishing it was your face he sees. It would have been preferable had the revelation come sooner—or later. He does not enjoy exposing his weakness before peasant stock.

He sighs; wipes his hand over his eyes; tucks himself back into his breeches, knotting the laces once more.

“My prince?” she asks, legs splayed and cunt raw and red from his vigorous pace.

He smiles wryly down at her, thumbing three silvers into her hand.

“My apologies, pet,” he says, pulling himself off the bed and heading to the door. “I’ve got somewhere to be.”

When Viserys had summoned him after his night in the brothel so long ago, he’d known immediately what it was about.

Foolish of him, really, to have said what he did. “The heir for a day.” To be fair, he’d not meant it as a mockery of Viserys’s pain or Aemma’s suffering, of Rhaenyra’s grief or your confusion. For all the commons had jibed of his anger and resentment, the Rogue Prince forced down the line of succession by a mere newborn, he had never truly felt umbrage toward his own nephew. How could he? He remembers cradling that boy in his arms, still numb with the shock of his cousin’s death, his brother nowhere to be seen. He remembers those gasping wheezes of his, tiny lips tinged purple with the effort of drawing air into lungs that did not wish to rise. Baelon had passed on in only a few hours, taking with him the realm’s hope for another heir. Someone other than him.

The king’s vitriol was understandable, if unjustified; in a rare display of restraint, Daemon had allowed the man to rail at him over the perceived slight, all too aware of who had been whispering in his ear. It was clear that Otto Hightower had gleaned the details from one of those nearby on the night of his unfortunate blunder, and had used the information to strip him of his standing.

He should have known better than to trust those he used to surround himself with. He should have learned by now.

Daemon returns to the keep as the hour of the ghosts sets in, the dim illumination of the torches bracketing the walls casting an eerie reminiscence upon his path. He’s faced Viserys’s wrath one too many times, those occasions blurring together so that he is several iterations of himself simultaneously.

Daemon the soldier. Daemon the drunkard. Daemon the outcast. He walks in the shadow of his former selves.

It is not long before he is confronted by the silent, scowling form of the Lord Commander. He holds his arms up, palms out, a clear signal of surrender.

“I assume my brother wishes to see me?” he asks, only to be provided a brief nod in return.

A man of few words, he notes to himself. ‘Tis welcome to see that some things don’t change.

He is honestly surprised that he isn’t dragged into the Great Hall again—it is already a significant departure from the previous two events that had gotten him exiled. There is less substantiation and more happenstance in these circumstances, he supposes. Well, with the exception of his assault on Tyrell. There is no denying that occurred. But not even Viserys would take a flowery fuck like him at his word, and he is sure to have untruths aplenty to impart.

Instead, he is escorted into the small council chamber, where Viserys sits alone at the head of the table, staring pensively at the wood grain. He barely acknowledges Ser Harrold’s pronouncement. Abruptly, he sits up, takes in the view of his brother and his Lord Commander, and clenches his teeth.

“You may leave us, Ser Harrold,” he says, eyes fixed upon Daemon.

He steels himself. This time, he has nothing to be ashamed of—except for his conduct with Tyrell, and maybe the whore, perhaps both… At least this time he isn’t being accused of lechery.

“I had thought you tempered by the years away.” The king’s grip is white-knuckled upon the arm of his seat. “And yet I learn today a most curious thing: the assault of a noble lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and accusations leveraged by that very same lord against my beloved daughter’s reputation. He claims her to be entangled in an affair with another. Who could have done such a thing, I asked? Who other than Lord Flea Bottom himself—my very own brother?”

Never mind, then. By the end of his oration, his words sound more like the sibilant hiss of a snake than the utterances of a man.

“Brother—”

“You will be silent, wretch!” Viserys snaps, smacking his palm down on the table. His pockmarked face has flushed ugly red, apoplectic with thinly veiled fury. “How could you do this? Ruining Rhaenyra wasn’t enough for you, is that it? You had to go and spoil my second child, my beloved girl, for your own selfish amusement?”

“I have done nothing, Viserys!”

“I am your king!” He pushes himself from his chair by his hand and stalks over to stand before Daemon. He is limping again as he is wont to do these days. “You will address me as ‘Your Grace’!”

“Your Grace.” Daemon bows his head slightly in deference. He cannot afford to anger the man further. “While I’ll confess to the abuse levied upon Lord Tyrell, I cannot admit to something I didn’t do. I haven’t touched her—”

“Oh, you haven’t?” Viserys laughs, but it is a repugnant, mocking sound. His features are firmly arranged into an expression of revulsion. “So Ser Criston’s reports of your—indecent behaviour are falsities, is that correct?”

“Cole?” Daemon asks incredulously. “The man hates me, Viserys. Why the fuck are you listening to him?”

His brother makes a noise of outrage.

“Very well.” A cruel gleam lingers in his eyes. “And what is this I hear of you—you—cavorting about with whores, encouraging them to playact as my daughter so that you may seek your pleasure?”

Daemon’s stomach sinks. Oh, fuck.

Viserys continues. “Your man from the City Watch—Dargood—had little issue telling the tale. What say you to that?” A great many things, brother, and none of them for your ears. The king sneers. “I have half a mind to cut your cock from you and remedy your wickedness once and for all!”

“What would you have me do? Lie? I’ll admit to fucking whores and pretending they were her. Tell me you’ve never let your desires rule your bedsport!” Daemon lets out a derisive scoff. “But I’ll not stand here and be accused of undue conduct when I’ve been nothing short of chivalrous in your daughter’s company.”

“You have an answer for everything, don’t you? Lech!” Viserys leans back against the table. When next he speaks, his voice is heavy with distaste. “Begone from this city, Daemon. You have outstayed your welcome once again.”

He shakes his head. “No.”

“No?”

Incredulity. Daemon supposes it is fair. He’d never resisted exile before.

“No,” he repeats firmly. “Save for the business with Tyrell, I’ve done nothing wrong. You have no grounds to banish me.”

“No grounds? No grounds?” The king’s pitch is rising. “Attention! Flattery! Gifts! It is a game I know well! A game you’ve played with my first child, and now my second!”

“I am not after ruining her reputation, Your Grace,” Daemon insists. His brother huffs and spins away, pacing before him. “I would have her as my wife.”

Viserys pauses. “Are you in jest?” He looks almost as though he is torn between laughter and tears. “How do you think you’ll go about getting my throne from her? Do you plan on slaying Rhaenyra and her sons to get your crown?”

It is an abhorrent thought. Daemon cannot believe his brother would think so lowly of him. Briefly, he mourns the bond he once had with him, a bond that has frayed and corrupted under the weight of the Seven Kingdoms.

“It’s not about the Iron Throne, Viserys!” He alters his approach, beseeching his brother and urgently pressing his case. “I am the best match for her, and you know it. A Targaryen prince, a warrior, a dragonrider. There is none other who would compare, none other who could give her a just union such as I, least of all that idiot Tyrell—”

“What of Lord Jason Lannister? I would have her wed into Casterly Rock, far away from your grasping ambition!” Viserys’s gaze is considering, now. No longer is he beholden to the blind rage that had gripped him only moments before. “As for your lofty claim… it is Alicent’s wish that I announce the girl’s betrothal to Aegon, who is also a Targaryen prince and a dragonrider. Why should I not heed her instead?”

He's tempted to laugh, but doing so would only incite further ire. No matter the cost, Daemon will not concede to a green boy who seems more satisfied in acting like a child than behaving like a man. 

“The boy is awful to her, Your Grace. She dislikes him. And the Lannister cunt? A simpleton. She’d be wasted on a fool like him, and you know it.”

His brother tips his head in acknowledgement and exhales frustratedly, leaning against the small council table. Much of the fight has left him.

“You are right… But how can I allow this?” Viserys whispers. He is bowed over the table, slumped and defeated. “How could you do this to her? To me?”

“What have I done?” Daemon draws closer. “I’ve spoken with her, taken walks with her, given her gifts. It is nothing more than that. I doubt she ever saw it as more than an uncle taking interest in his niece, until today. I swear this to you upon anything you wish to name.”

The king chuckles, though it carries no joy. “Such sincerity, Daemon. It is most unlike you.”

“I want her as my wife,” he says again, pleading. “Not for the sake of the throne, or to harm you, or any other reason save this—I want her.”

“I cannot…” is the response, muted and distressed. Viserys glances up at him. “You would destroy her.”

He is upset, resigned, but no longer alight with infuriation. Daemon leans against the table next to his brother.

“I would make her happy. Happier than any other. She could stay in the capital with her family. She could ride that great beast of hers whenever she likes. She could study to her heart’s content, at home where she belongs. Only I can give her all those things, and you know it. I am what she needs.”

Viserys does not reply—only stares at him with something foreign and inscrutable.

He makes his final bid. “Long have I been your staunchest supporter. Did I not wage a war in the Stepstones in defence of your kingdom? I have never asked for anything in return, except this: long ago, you promised that you’d annul my marriage so that I might find a bride of my own choosing. Years, I asked. Years, you denied me. And now… I am free.”

Daemon’s voice rings out in the stillness, the echo lending gravity to his words. He stares unflinchingly at his brother. “Give the girl to me to wife. You owe me this.”

The king is silent, unmoving. It is clear he has nothing left to say. And thus, Daemon has no reason to remain.

He bows and knocks on the door to be let out of the room. Passing through the walkway of the small council chambers as it opens, he leaves the king to his deliberations and hopes that his efforts will pay off.

“For all your degeneracy,” Daemon sneers, “you’re not one to be so loose with secrets.”

The air is chilled with the deep dark of night, the blackness so thick it is almost choking. He doesn’t enjoy the necessity of returning to the scene of his transgressions, but his wayward friend is easy to discover in the depths of the city.

Below him, Dargood pants and splutters, winded after being struck in the gut and dragged from his stool in a cheap, nameless drinking house. Daemon had lugged him rather briskly by the neck to the narrow alleyway beside the tavern, the amber luminosity pooling from the rickety window providing just enough light for him to make out the man’s face.

Dargood coughs. “Times change. A man’s got to do what he must to make coin in this city.”

“City Watch not paying you enough?” Daemon observes him as his eyes begin to droop shut, no doubt a combination of the drink and the knock to the skull as he’d been pulled out the door. He kicks him in the side for good measure, relishing in the yelp emitted when the leather makes contact with vulnerable flesh. “What a shame. Whoever could blame you for selling slanders to the king, then?”

His former ally scrambles to his knees, swaying unsteadily against the stone. “It’s not like that. And ‘slander’ only counts when it’s not true.”

He has a point, Daemon’s mind cannot help but acknowledge.

Dargood babbles on, heedless of the aggravation rising in the figure above him. “I didn’t mention anything outside what I heard and saw—”

“Oh, fuck off!” Daemon clouts him across the temple once more. He collides with the wall with a subdued thump, punctuated by further groaning. “Your father’s a lord. You don’t need the money.”

“Because it’d be so easy for me to beg that man for compassion.” Dargood spits the words out as though they taste foul on his tongue.

Ah, yes—he’d quite forgotten. A lesser son from a lesser house would hardly have recourse to cast himself upon the fires of mercy after amassing a reputation as dissolute as the man’s before him. Whoring, gambling, brawling, and there’d even been some more unsavoury rumours about his involvement in some scheme exploiting the poorest orphans of the city. He’d not cared to ask then, but perhaps he should have. He does not recognise the being before him.

Scum, he realises. He’s scum.

Daemon steps back, assessing the beaten creature that he had once called friend. He sighs. “Go home, Dargood,” he says finally. “Leave this city, or you’ll be made to.”

Before he can turn and walk away, the man lurches to his feet, grappling along the rock behind him. His bloodshot eyes zero in on his target. “So that’s it, then?” he asks, irate cadence marred by the slur in his speech. “You’ll just throw me aside when you feel like it? After all these years, prince.”

A brief flicker of displeasure stirs Daemon’s temper. “Yes—your prince. You sold out your prince for some fucking coin.”

Come to think of it… Wasn’t he making his little remarks before word reached my brother?

The memory has his hands locked tight around the man’s throat before his mind can become fully cognisant of his actions. “In fact”—his fingers squeeze harder—“you sold out your prince for status. Didn’t even need the money to spread your tales, did you?”

“Let—let go!” Dargood chokes, making no attempt to release himself from Daemon’s hold. He ought to be capable of such a feat. His training was thorough enough.

Pathetic. He’s not worth the bother.

Daemon loosens his grasp, surveying the vermin that had been his proudest investiture, a shining example of what the City Watch could achieve with discipline and decisiveness as its fundamental tenets. Now, he is no more than rabble, one among thousands of crooks, delinquents and filth polluting his ancestor’s crowning glory.

“Hm. You disappoint me.” With a final glower of disdain, he adds, “Expect a visit from your Lord Commander when day breaks. I think you’ll find your tenure with the Watch is at an end.”

With that, Daemon revolves on his heel and stalks away, far from Flea Bottom, from these havens of vice lining the streets, and from the poison that had fuelled his life in past years. He has no need for such a meaningless existence now. There is something better and brighter to look forward to.

“My prince! Daemon!”

He ignores Dargood’s supplications even as they grow louder, leaving him behind—where he belongs.

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