#imp barks

[impkinks]

LET GO OF YOUR PRIDE, good sex involves humiliating communication and you will get over it after you've had the best sex/kink experience of your life getting exactly what you want with a partner who cares for you, respects you, and listens to you without judgment.

[off-the-rails-raccoon]

Quick, what about c!Tommy always needing to fiddling with something in his hands because it’s soothes him? And he used to chew on his sweater and nails but c!Tubbo went ‘Nope, not on my watch’ and made him a ring toy he could chew on without hurting his teeth.

And if you’re for the hybrid demon c!Tommy headcanon, him and c!Ranboo sometimes chirp at each other happily, both their tails wagging.

(Tubbo has no idea what they are saying or if they actually understand each other, but they’re bonding and he’s happy about that)

c!Tommy having the instinct to chew on things will never not be one of my favorite headcanons, I like to think the habit started when he was still a little lad; which is why it's so soothing to him.

"loving to the point of invention" is SO c!Tubbo and no one can tell me otherwise!!

I'd be willing to bet money that c!Tommy would forget about the ring when he's too deep in thought and will instead just chew whatever is in hand, including someone else's hand. c!Beeduo have horror stories and scars to prove it.

When Michael started teething, everyone thought it was because of c!Tommy and the fact Michael had already started copying a few of his other behaviors (including his resting angry face, funnily enough). It took c!Ranboo actually doing research via asking c!Phil for them to learn it was normal.

I think it'd be so funny if c!allium duo did chirp at each other but only one of them was actually communicating and the other was just mindlessly chirping, and I can't for the life of me figure out who would be who. Like, one of them think about how cool it is that they're able to communicate with their hybrid sounds despite being different species and the other being extremely happy to just mindlessly make and copy noises.

[makolokgneh]

[imminent-danger-came]

I can't believe I didn't get a single spoiler for this weeks dunmeshi ep

[initforthelongrun]

Ch 483 page 11

[aether-link]

Once again I have to wait another month for my Ursa and Ozai imps. Second batch had one male but his firebreather was grey 😭

Plz I’m begging you two imps to have a good batch. Y’all did for Azula dammit.

[ronandhermy]

welcome to the caps, ryan lenoard! i understand there is some childhood best boy angst going on with one will smith hockey. don't worry, dylan strome and anthony beauvillier are at the ready to guide you through this dark night of the soul that every one is going to bring up forever and ever because hockey media is often both dumb and redundant. your strange little imp and college angst has got nothing on stromer and tito so listen to them. tom wilson is prepared to train you to accept how weird and psychosexual fans and other teams are going to be about your big body and play style. he's got a lot of experience dealing with both. ovi will scare off any curses or jinxs you think you might have. and you will be required to bark. but carbs will say he's proud of you and i know you love an authority figure telling you how good you did. welcome to the washington caps, ryan, time to get absolutely loved and cherished!

[hazbinshusk]

blitzø x hellhound!reader. blitzø comes home from a mission to find you a wet, whimpering mess - your heat has set in and there's only one thing that can alleviate the pain of it... but I'll leave the filthy single entendres to blitz. 3.3k

(I had two requests for blitzø with a hellhound; one for a sunshine!reader that told me to have fun with the genre, and another for a reader in heat. so here's a combination of the two. thank you for being so patient, dear anons! hope you like it!)

featuring: smut, afab/fem!reader, petnames that reflect gender (e.g. good girl), light petplay vibes in that there's petnames that reflect species (e.g. puppy), breeding kink, sex toys, overstimulation, minor references to blood, dom!blitzø, hellhound anatomy, oral sex, blitzø being a little shit, hell's version of contraception (I pulled it out of my ass, okay?).

Whining as you roll your fingers needily over your clit, you thrust your hips up to meet the dildo you’re pumping in and out of your aching, dripping cunt. Your usually downy fur is damp with sweat, your brow creased with frustration and your tongue lolling out of the side of your mouth. The thick silicon stretches you almost uncomfortably – you were using a toy that only saw action during your heat, one too big for you �� hoping that the fuller you felt the more you could trick this fucking heat cycle into thinking it’s satisfied. Even with how wet you are it hurts a little, but that doesn’t stop you from fucking yourself roughly, desperately. You know you’ll hurt too much tomorrow, but right now all reasonable thoughts have been replaced with raw, unending need.

Pain flares in your cheek when you tense your jaw, irritation doubling as you feel yet another orgasm slip away from you despite your efforts. A snarl – a rarely heard sound coming from you – ripples out of your throat, one that rolls out of you chest in pure, unadulterated annoyance.

“Fuck!” you bark out at the ceiling, the sound devolving into a whimper as you shift your hips up against the toy, angling it to brush against your g-spot better with every thrust. Your arm aches with overuse, your lower back complains with every roll of your hips, but you can’t stop. All you can do is wish desperately that your vibrator would recharge just a little faster.

Not that it would matter. It didn’t the first time.

For the love of everything unholy, you hated being a hound sometimes.

Your ears prick upward suddenly from where they’d been flattened back against your skull. The sound of the lock in the front door turning over catches your attention, and you’re off the bed and on shaky legs son fast it makes your head spin. You barely notice the feeling of the dildo sliding out of you to land with a dull thump on the carpet, your thighs slick with your own excitement and your knees threatening to collapse under you as you stumble out into the hall.

Blitzø closes the door behind him and is halfway through shrugging off his coat when your legs finally give out and you fall sideways into the wall in front of him. You barely notice the pain that flares in your shoulder over the aching heat burning in the pit of your stomach. You’re panting, overheated and exhausted and so fucking needy, and you shudder, pressing your thighs together. “Blitz—”

“Shit—!” the imp moves to help you up, leaving his coat in a heap on the floor behind him. You must look a mess – hair dishevelled and sweaty, your naked body on full display – but you don’t care, nuzzling into his palm needily when he cups your cheek in his hand. “Christ on a stick, I thought you weren’t due for another week – fuck!”

He chokes on a laugh as you knock him onto his ass and try to straddle his lap, the sound breaking off into a groan as you grind yourself against his thigh. He pushes you away as gently as he can while you cling to him, and you’re too far gone to be embarrassed by the stain you’ve left on his jeans. Instead you whine, the reedy sound catching in your throat, and Blitzø makes a show of hauling himself to his feet, brushing himself off as though you’d just knocked him into a pile of dirt instead of onto the carpet.

“Alrighty eager-beaver,” he continues, unbuckling his belt and pulling it through the loops to toss it aside. His grin widens when your tongue wets your muzzle in response, your eyes wide and hungry. He takes your hand and hauls you up off the floor, smacking your ass and pointing towards the bedroom. “Let’s get your sweet lil’ ass to bed so I can pound it into the mattress for ya, that’s a good pup.”

You whine again as he takes hold of your hips and guides you back to bed, stumbling over unsteady feet. Blitzø snickers as he sidesteps the dildo on the floor pointedly, and he raises a brow as he takes in the disaster area that is the bed. Sheets thrown back and torn, feathers from where the pillow has been ripped open by your teeth scattered across them. There’s a wet patch eclipsing the middle of the bed, your charging vibrator blinking from the bedside table. When he reaches the side of the bed he reaches out and flicks the dildo still suction-cupped to the headboard, watching it bounce as he affects a tone of faux-sympathy and an exaggerated pout.

“Awww, poor little puppy’s been fuckin’ herself raw for hours, haven’t ya?” he coos tauntingly, smirking as you climb onto the mattress to kneel in front of him, fumbling with the button of his jeans with shaky fingers. He lets you, snickering again when you pull the zipper open with enough force to tear the fabric. He groans, eyes rolling back as you cup your hand eagerly around his half-hard cock, your tail thumping against the headboard with every wag of it. “Roll over, puppy. Let daddy take care of you.”

Blitzø strokes himself, squeezing the base of his cock with each slide of his fingers as you do as you’re told, rolling over and leaning forward on your elbows. Blitzø smooths a hand over your ass appreciatively, swatting it hard enough to draw a yelp out of you. You’re practically quivering with the need for him to fill you, to fuck you, and when Blitzø presses the head of his cock into your wet, eager cunt you choke on a moan, the sound coming out as more of a sob.

“Fuuuuuck…” Blitzø groans as you squeeze around him, even with only an inch or so inside you. Instead of fucking you, he stills his hips, scratching his claws up your thigh teasingly. “Fuck, you’re so fucking wet… Sexy little slip’n’slide…”

“Blitz, please…” you plead, a canine whine slipping out along with the words. “Please, I—I need you—fuck, please, fuck me. I can’t…”

Blitzø’s undoubtedly snarky reply breaks off into a moan, low and rough in the back of his throat as you move against him. You fuck yourself desperately back onto his cock and he doesn’t stop you, grabbing hold of the base of your tail so he can watch the way his cock slides in and out of your aching cunt. Watch the way your pussy kisses the head of his cock before enveloping him again, tight and hot and so fucking wet. You let out another strangled sob through gritted fangs when he still refuses to move, your forehead pressed uncaringly against the wet patch on the sheets as you fuck yourself onto him, the scent of your own arousal thick in your nose.

You can feel Blitzø’s grip on your tail, the claws of his other hand digging deep into the muscle of your hip.  Already this feels so much better than any toy, the warmth of his touch, the almost painful strength of his grip on your hip. He isn’t as thick as the dildo but he still stretches you, filling you with this delicious, familiar ache that makes heat tingle through the small of your back.

Or maybe that’s the way he tugs on your tail, forcing your back into a more severe arch, making each slide of his cock as you bounce yourself back on it graze against that sweet spot inside you. It didn’t matter – your brain can’t focus on anything through the haze of the heat except for how fucking good it will feel to have him fill you, breed you; to feel his cum filling you up so much it will have no choice but to drip back out of you and stain the fur of your inner thighs.

“Good girl,” he croons, his voice hitching when you thrust back against him and squeeze, and he snickers in the back of his throat deliriously. “Fuck… you want me to fuck you proper? Fuck you like a good little bitch?”

“Please, Blitz…” you whimper, claws tearing further into the sheets beneath you. Tears are burning in the corners of your eyes, and your voice breaks as you beg. “Please. I’ll be—I’ll be a good girl, Blitz, please, just fuck me—”

Blitzø runs a hand over the swell of your ass, squeezing wantonly at the flesh. “Well, since you asked so nicely…”

The imp grasps roughly at your hips and thrusts deep into you, bottoming out inside you with a groan. He doesn’t hesitate to fuck you forcefully, his hips slamming into the back of your thighs with every push of his hips. The sound of flesh meeting flesh, of his cock filling you is downright filthy, joined by the throaty gasps that escape you each time he buries his cock to the hilt in your cunt.

“That’s it,” Blitzø grunts, tail wrapping itself tightly around your thigh. You choke on a sound halfway between a moan and a yelp as the spines of it dig into your skin. It’s a possessive move, one that will leave marks on your inner thighs for weeks, and it thrills you in a way that makes your entire body shudder. You’re his, and Blitzø chuckles when your tail wags at the idea, battering against his chest. He catches hold of the base of it again, holding it down against your thigh. “Yeah… such a happy puppy gettin’ fucked like this… feel so fuckin’ good…”

The bed springs groan beneath you with every roll of your hips into his. His tail quickens against your clit and an orgasm rocks through you, your thighs shivering and your hips jerking disjointedly as he continues to thrust into you. Blitzø slows his pace, hissing a string of curses under his breath as you tighten, vicelike, around his cock.

“No, no, no, no,” you beg, trying to fuck yourself back onto him again. His claws tighten painfully on your hips, forcing you to stay still as he steadies himself, and you let out a purely canine whine that makes him chuckle breathlessly. “Please, Blitz… don’t stop. Don’t stop, I need—”

“I know what you need, baby girl,” he groans, grinding himself slowly into you again. You whimper, desperate for more even as the aftershocks of your orgasm still make you twitch. This fucking heat… even with how good it feels to finally cum, the tension inside you won’t break until he does too; not until you feel him fill you with cum. “You… fuck…. ‘m not gonna last if you keep squeezin’ me like that… shiiit…”

“Don’t need you to last,” you tell him, pushing hair out of your face with a shaky hand. “Need you to cum, Blitz, please.”

“Jus’ what every dick-carryin’ member o’ Hell wants to hear,” Blitzø snickers, unwinding his tail from your leg. He massages a hand over where his claws have left blood welling up against the fur of your thigh. “Cum quick and no foreplay.”

Your answering laugh catches as Blitzø swats your ass again, and you let out a strangled sound of frustration when he slips his cock out of you.

“Roll over; that’s a good pup.” the imp orders, smoothing his hand up over your knee to your thigh as you do as he asks. He grips the base of his cock with his other hand, appraising your naked body and mussed fur with half-lidded eyes. His tongue slides hungrily against his lip as crawls up onto the bed to kneel between your legs. He leans over you and palms your breast, squeezing it roughly, pinching the nipple hard enough to make you gasp. Blitzø’s smirk widens lasciviously, and you wrap your legs around his hips eagerly, pushing his jeans further down his thighs. He trails his palm over your knee where it rests against his waist in what’s almost an affectionate gesture, and he slides his cock over your clit a few times, slow and teasing. “Wanna try begging again?”

“Blitz,” you groan, pressing your hips up against him needily. You sigh a moan ass the move makes the head of his cock dip into you, and Blitzø moans in the back of his throat, giving in and thrusting fully into you again. “Fuck!”

The imp grips at your hip with one hand, bracing himself over you on the other as he fucks you, rough and hard and deep. You clutch at his arms, his chest, claws digging into his skin and leaving dark tracks across it. Blitzø hisses at the feeling of it, grin widening, and he meets you halfway when you lean up to kiss him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Blitzø kisses you hungrily, demandingly, his tongue sliding into your mouth to meet yours almost immediately. He moans into your mouth, the sound almost obnoxiously pornographic, when your fingers graze the side of his throat, his teeth catching on your bottom lip. “Christ, fuck, you feel so fuckin’ good… shit…”

His fingers find your clit and you arch up against him as you cum, the way Blitzø’s cock hammers into your cunt making it gush out of you. You almost shriek with the force of it, your head falling back against the ruined sheets, eyes rolling back. Blitzø curses, shivers when your fingers graze along the spikes at the back of his head, pulling you into another desperate kiss.

“So fuckin’ tight…” he groans, lips and teeth brushing against your cheekbone before he buries his face in your neck. “Gonna fill you up. That’s what you want, isn’t it, pup? Fill you up and breed you like a good little bitch…”

“Yes!” you gasp as he buries his teeth in your shoulder, pushing your hips up to meet his with every thrust. His hips slam into yours, a thrill of pain mingling with the addictive pleasure burning through you. Your voice is a breathless whine, jaw tight. “Yes! Fuck, Blitz, fuck… please, let me have your pups… please… cum inside me, please, fuck…”

Blitzø kisses the underside of your jaw, breath hot and heavy against your throat. His fingers find your clit again and you moan aloud, voice hoarse and rough and broken as you cum again. The imp echoes it, desperately trying to steady himself long enough to get his words out. “Gonna cum, baby… Gonna fuckin’ fill you so fuckin’—fuck!”

Blitzø thrusts deep into you and cums, grinding himself hard against your cunt as he shudders through his orgasm. A sob tears from your throat as the tension inside you finally, finally breaks, your entire body shivering under his touch. Blitzø fucks himself slowly into you in a disjointed rhythm, forcing his cum deep into your cunt, and you barely register the way he brushes his lips over the marks he’s left in your shoulder. When he kisses you again, you taste the iron of your own blood, and he slides his cock out of you slowly with a heavy, tired sigh. He rolls off of you and onto the mattress beside you, laughing breathlessly as his back meets the soaked sheets.

“Fuckin’ Christ, baby,” he reaches over to pat your thigh, snickering when his touch makes you jump, over-sensitized. “Might wanna think about changin’ the sheets.”

“I’ll get right… right on it,” you reply breathlessly, thighs aching. The sound of your tail thumping against the mattress fills the space between you, and Blitzø smirks, his own tail switching back and forth lazily by your ankle. You whine quietly when you feel the warmth of his cum dripping out of you and down your inner thigh. You roll over to rest you chin on his chest and stare up at him with wide, happy eyes, tail still waving merrily behind you. “Thanks. For coming—”

“Heh,” he cuts you off obnoxiously, laughing when you poke him in the ribs in retort.

“—over.” you finish pointedly. “I know you had work to do today.”

“Oh, fuck work,” Blitzø says, one arm tucked up behind his head. His other hand comes up to tousle the hair between your ears affectionately. “You really think I’m pickin’ work over blowin’ your back out when you’re all heat-horny?”

“Well…” you shrug a shoulder, face warming in a blush, “you really like work.”

“And I really like the way you do that bouncy-squeezy thing when you’re all impatient for more of my thick, red co—”

You try to cut him off by covering his mouth with your hands and Blitzø laughs, ducking back out of reach. He catches hold of your wrists and pulls you into another kiss, forked tongue sliding against yours. He releases them to cup your cheek in his palm, fingers carding through your fur and up to the base of your ear. He rolls you onto your back, moving with you to brace himself on one elbow.

He breaks away with a breathless laugh as you reach down to curl your fingers around his cock. It’s soft, but it twitches under your touch.

“Christ on a stick, tits, give me a minute,” he snickers, pulling your hand gently away again and smirking when you pout.

You sigh childishly. “A whole minute?”

He grins and kisses you again, stopping when a thought comes to him.

“You’re early – that shit Fizz’s barnyard bitch makes is, uh…” he gestures vaguely down over your belly. “It’s, uh… doin’ its thing in there, right?”

“Took it this morning; the test for it is on the table,” you nod hurriedly, trying to pull him on top of you again. Blitzø shakes his head in amusement; as eager as you are right now to be knocked up, neither of you are particularly thrilled at the idea of actually breeding outside of the heat. Taking the contraceptive before heat set in was basically foolproof, and the test provided reassurance to partners when the one in heat is too far gone and needy to be worried about telling the truth. “Now, fuck me already, please.”

Blitzø chuckles, sparing the test a long enough glance to confirm you’re telling the truth. He slips a hand down over your belly to tease two fingers over your clit and you shudder, your breath catching in a quiet moan. He watches your expression almost affectionately, circling your clit slowly. “Thirsty bitch.”

“Blitz…” you draw his name out needily, bucking your hips up against his hand.

The imp smacks a kiss to the side of your muzzle, flicking your clit and making you jump before rolling away and sitting up. He claps his hands and rubs them together, stretching out a kink in his lower back.

“Alrighty, here’s the plan. You want me to fuck you again?” he grins when you nod enthusiastically, leaning over to fish a packet of wipes and a bottle of lube out of the bedside drawer. He cleans off the dildo still suctioned to the headboard brusquely and squirts some lube on it.

“Then you: fuck that,” he stands on the bed, cupping his hardening cock in his hand. “While you—” he points at his crotch with his other hand, “—suck this. Alrighty, tits?”

You roll over onto your hands and knees readily, and Blitzø bends down to kiss you again as you reach back and line the dildo up with your still-aching cunt, stroking it a few times to spread the lube over the silicon. You moan into his mouth as it sinks into you, your eyes rolling back behind closed lids.

Blitzø straightens, fisting the base of his cock and groaning as you lap at the head of it with your tongue. When you take him eagerly into your mouth he groans, his head falling back and his hand clutching at the hair between your ears. “Fuuuuuck… that’s my good girl…”

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a/n: it was two anons who requested this one, but I'm tagging @clovrplayz and @rhiandoesfandom because the vibes are very much there for them lol.

hope you all enjoyed! don't forget to comment/reblog and let me know what you think! :)

[j-k-writes]

The Lion of the Trident

Summary - After Rhaegar's defeat on The Trident, Robert and Ned must deal with the Prince's surviving forces, including Y/N Lannister.

Warnings - age gaps (Y/N is about 16/17 while Ned and Robert are 19/20), canon character death, general GOT warnings, ableist language (toward Tyrion), mentions of violence, sexual content

Y/N was awoken to the feel of frigid water pouring down on him. 

He shot up, gasping and shivering. He pushed himself further into the makeshift outdoor prison cell, covering himself further in mud. He shook his hair out as the chilled water settled deep into his bones, glaring up at the men responsible. 

“I know I stink, but that’s not quite the bath I had in mind.” Y/N’s words didn’t quite land the way he’d hoped with the shivers racking him visible to the men standing over him. 

“King Robert wishes to speak with you.” 

Y/N laughed, “King? I wasn’t aware Aerys had died?” 

The two men didn’t grant the Lannister heir with a response, grabbing his arms and dragging him to his feet. He attempted to jerk his arms free from the men’s grasp, but the days spent chained to a pole with little food and water had weakened him enough that the two men had no trouble dragging him to Robert’s tent. 

Realizing he had no choice but to let this farce take place, Y/N steeled himself holding his head high as they walked through the camp. He smiled at the jeers thrown his way, finding himself laughing at quite a few. The days of abuse, physical and verbal, he’d suffered at the hands of the usurpers were nothing compared to the years living in his father’s tight grasp. Perhaps if they set Lord Tywin in front of the young knight he’d have been more forthcoming with his information. 

Robert Baratheon looked exactly how Y/N remembered him, towering over every lord in his tent. Y/N’s eyes trailed down the Baratheon’s body, gaze settling on a fresh bandage applied around his torso. 

“Sit him down.” Ned Stark spoke, drawing Y/N’s attention away from the Stormlander. Y/N grunted as he was forced into a chair, wincing as the rough wood of the seat made contact with the bruises no doubt littering his body. The two men were dismissed, and Robert and Ned turned their full attention to Y/N. 

“While I admire the efforts, you will be getting no valuable information from me.” Y/N spoke, taking in the different reactions from the two men. Ned winced at the reminder of the Lannister’s treatment in the camp, while Robert simply frowned, scowl deepening. 

“Has Tywin Lannister declared for the Targaryens?” Robert asked, and Y/N laughed, wincing half a second later at the pain it caused him. Tywin Lannister was still holed up at Casterly Rock with Cersei and Tyrion, leaving Jamie and Y/N to fight their own battles. 

“Did you see the Lannister forces at The Trident, Robert?” 

“I saw you.” 

Y/N smiled, “And you caught me.” 

“Are you saying you were with Rhaegar’s forces against your Lord father’s wishes?” Ned asked. 

“Which answer would make you less inclined to kick me in the ribs?” Y/N asked, if the two men brought him here for information they might as well get on with it. Y/N wishes to return to bed, finding small comforts in his sleep, as fitful as it was. 

Once again, Y/N’s words made the Stark flinch. “I apologize for your treatment, it was not our intention-” 

“Save it, Ned.” Y/N spat. “I am not a boy, I know how war works. I chose the losing side, and now my fate lies in your hands. If you’re going to have me killed as a traitor I’d rather you just get on with it, perhaps the afterlife will have less mud.” 

Robert barked out a laugh, “Alright.” 

“Robert-” 

“You heard the man, Ned.” Robert said. “He is of no use to us.” 

“If he speaks true,” Robert made to interrupt, but Ned continued on ignoring his friend. “If he speaks true, Lord Tywin has not yet declared for a side. If we have his son, his heir, he may be more sympathetic to our cause.” 

Y/N scoffed, “My father has two other sons.” 

“The kingsguard and the imp?” Robert raised an eyebrow and Y/N frowned. Tyrion was a child of the House Lannister, and even that it seemed would not save him from the realms scorns. Robert was right in his statement, however, Jamie was a sworn knight of the kingsguard, and his father could not even look at his youngest son let alone declare him heir. 

“I am not just some whore who’s body you can sell.” Y/N spat. 

“The whispers I hear would say differently.” 

“What the fuck are you implying.” Y/N sneered at the same time Ned let out a choked ‘Robert’. 

Robert held his hands up in mock surrender, dropping the topic. Ned sighed, turning to Y/N, “I know we are not friends Ser Y/N, but you are a fine knight, and with you and your house’s support behind us in this war we can win.” 

“You’re already winning.” Y/N deflated, it was true. Rhaegar was dead, and from Jamie’s reports Aerys was madder than ever. The war was practically over, and Y/N Lannister had chosen the wrong side. “You do not need the support of my father or me.” 

“Would you rather die?” Robert asked, his eyes scanning the knight in a way that made him squirm in his seat. 

“If I must.” 

“You do not have to, Y/N.” Ned sighed, “Work with us to secure your father’s support and we will let you live.” 

Y/N bit his lip, sinking in on himself. He knew he had no real choice, they would not kill him no matter what he said, they wanted his father’s army too badly. He could either let himself be a prisoner or he could be an equal with the two men. 

“Fine, tell me what to do.”

Jamie had killed Aerys, Tywin had sacked the city, and now the throne was Roberts. Y/N however, instead of celebrating the victory with his father and brother, was in the chambers of Ned Stark, drunk, half naked, and pressed into the mattress. 

“Don’t you have a wife?” Y/N gasped as Ned roughly tugged at the laces of his trousers. 

“Do you ever shut up?” Ned asked, although his smile as he finally managed to undo the laces undercut any bite put into his words. 

Y/N laughed as Ned tugged his trouser down his legs, tossing them to the side. Ned looked up at the man, smiling, and Y/N took the opportunity to wrap his legs around Ned’s waist and flip them over. Ned gasped as his back hit the bed, and Y/N smiled down at him. He leaned down close to his ear, whispering, “No.” 

Ned grabbed the back of his head, roughly smashing their lips together. Y/N immediately relaxed into the Lord’s hold, allowing Ned to trace his mouth down his jaw. Y/N gasped as Ned pressed a soft kiss to his collarbone, before biting down roughly. Y/N ground his hips down roughly into Ned’s and the Stark’s grip in Y/N’s hair tightened as a low groan escaped his throat. 

“Have you ever shared a bed with a man before, Ned?” Ned paused, giving Y/N all the answers he needed. Y/N hummed, pushing Ned down into the bed. Ned stared up at him, chest rising and falling rapidly, and skin flushed a red that was sure to be unusual for a Northerner. “Let me teach you then, Lord Stark.” 

Before Y/N could move however the door to the chambers burst open and the men jumped apart. Ned, still half dressed, threw a blanket to Y/N who quickly grabbed it to cover himself. The men both looked to the door, where Robert, now King Robert, was standing, a jug of wine in hand. Robert did not seem shocked at the sight, an amused smile plastered on his face. 

“What do we have here?” Robert said, still smiling. He closed the door behind him with his foot, placing the jug of wine on the table near the door. He took a seat, “Well, don’t stop for me.” 

“Robert-” Robert held a hand up, and Ned closed his mouth. 

“Are you just going to watch us, Robert?” Y/N said, trying to keep his usual confidence, although he could feel his face burning. Ned made a noise at Y/N’s question, but Robert smiled. Y/N looked to Ned, who’s flush had deepened significantly, before turning back to Robert. “Because the Keep’s beds seem big enough to fit three.” 

Robert’s smile widened, and Ned made a noise that sounded like he was dying. On many drunken nights throughout their journey to Kingslanding Ned had confided in Y/N about he and Robert’s youth-fueled escapades, although they had never gone past sloppy kisses Ned had always wondered what it would have been like to cross the line. 

“What did you say to him to get him into your bed?” Robert said to Y/N. 

“He has gotten me into his bed.” Y/N said. “Although it took him more cups of wine than you to do so, my king.” 

Ned looked between the two men, opening his mouth, probably to ask about Y/N’s words, but Y/N stood dropping the blanket and all words died on Ned’s lips. Robert smirked, standing and stripping his extensive layers. Ned stood silently, looking between Y/N and Robert, and Y/N just placed his hand on Ned’s bare chest. 

“Get onto the bed,” He whispered to Ned, chuckling when the man stripped himself of his remaining clothing and laid down into the bed. Robert came to stand behind Y/N, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “Would you like to teach him or should I?” 

“You.” Robert released the man, walking toward the head of the bed. He crawled onto the bed, coming up behind Ned. He grabbed Ned’s jaw, forcing him to look at Y/N as he approached the bed. 

“Watch and learn, Ned.”

[eliossun]

LAST SHOT - ego death

synopsis : interning at a random ship in space sounds like a great idea for your paper. don't you think? part -> 2 | other chapters -> 1 3 ?

characters : anya, swansea, daisuke, curly, jimmy, gn!reader (daisuke x reader implied)

content : continuation of part 1! i suggest you to read part 1 first, but if you're insistent, you can read this as a stand alone! descriptions of panicking, minor character death, the birthday party (pre crash), and . jimmy. ew

wc : 4.6k+

before you read, reader is : cold, non expressive, and the worst crime of all, a psychology major...

i tried to stick to canon interpretation as much as possible, but i put in some hcs about anya's background ^^; it's only mentioned in one part of this story, but if that bothers you, you can skip! it's not that imp in this chapter !!

- today, you weren’t woken up by your body alarm.

- normally, you would wake up earlier than everyone else, and by the time you folded your ‘bed’ properly by the door, anya’s also awake. that’s how you get to greet each other first at the start of every day. (which daisuke tries to do, but you could tell that he’s going to ignore his alarm for the first few minutes .. as usual.)

- instead, footsteps wake you up. 

- they get closer, and closer, and -

“why the fuck are you sleeping in the hallways again?”

your eyes blink open, slowly. it’s been a few hours after curfew. even with that much sleep in your system - not an ounce of sleep seeped into your body, actually - you manage to seem completely awake at the voice; like you were expecting it.

because you were. you’re surprised it took this long for him to approach you.

peering up at the figure, you find your co-pilot standing before you, looming.

“you have a bed, don’t you? why don’t you use it?”

it’s a valid question. but you can’t just say that he was the reason directly, right? no, he would throw a tantrum. you’re not afraid of what will happen to you - you’re an intern, after all. but the fate of possibly being stuck with an angry manchild for the next few months was in your hands. 

so for now, you hold his glare. 

“was i bothering you?”

if your tone was too sharp, you could just excuse it for the ‘sleepiness’. 

he seems to get that you wouldn’t falter that easily. if he answered anything remote to a yes or a no - he knows that you would just push further.

“you’re going to make more work for anya.” 

so , he diverts the conversation. 

it’s a smart tactic, and you would enjoy conversations like these with your friends. but this man before you is not a friend; you hold nothing but wariness for him. he’s trying to get a reaction out of you, and you’re not going to provide that.

“i think i can take care of myself well enough.”

you look at him, up - then down after you say those words. 

‘unlike you.’

his scowl only got worse, and by now, you’re already all cozied up, and ready to fall back asleep - even if it was only for show. you take a last peek at him, before ending the conversation.

“night.”

after a few moments, you can hear his footsteps getting further away, and you inwardly sigh.

you don’t dream that night. 

but you fall asleep with a smile on your face, and to you, that’s good enough.

- after that little confrontation of yours, jimmy has not held back in his hostility against you.

- instead of bringing down people in your presence, he had opted to bring you down as well during your psych tests.

- you don’t respond, and maintain your usual attitude when it comes to processing his psych tests.

- however, around others, he simply stares daggers into you. there is no bark; nor bite.

- he’s not scared of what others might do once they know - just.. mildly unconvinced - or so he thinks. that’s your hypothesis.

- because, what would the crew do if they knew that one of their members was being bullied only because they were resting unusually, bothering no one, and doing no harm?

- you hold it above his head every single moment; wordlessly.

- and you both know it.

- you win for the moment. but you’ll still have to watch out for him.

- nowadays, your routine.. has changed a bit. 

- unlike before, you’d wake up an hour earlier than the crew, fold your blankets, place them in the room, and then check on your supplies. 

- the bag filled with airtight seal snacks, still very abundant due to your careful rationing, check.

-your already half-filled journal, filled with months worth of research and journaling, check.

- your thrifted power banks (they are a bit more drained than you expected), check.

- your ds with additional stickers on it (mainly from daisuke, but you managed to get one from swansea. it’s a warning label for one of his tools..), check

- your taser and gun (never used, and hidden for safety), check..

- and your emotional support mp3. 

- you stare at this particular item often.

- it contained the ambiance that came from your favourite part of town. your local cafe, the buzz of the aircon in your apartment, the library, and the rain. and not to mention, your favourite books. it’s perfect.

- now to think of it, you really do miss the rain. 

- the closest you got to rain here was.. the showers. pretty sad.

- after doing your item checkup, you head towards the lounge with anya right after you’ve showered.

- the communal shower is more private now, thanks to you placing an occupied and not occupied sign - right on the small window on the bathroom door. (why was that there, anyway?)

- you both eat breakfast; then either relax there, or you’d immediately go to the medical bay. sometimes, if you had time, you’d play games with anya and daisuke until it’s time to start your day. the latter is increasingly more rare occasion by the day, though.

- sometimes curly comes in right after you and anya. sometimes, it’s daisuke who comes in, pleading for you to play with him before the day starts..

 - and on very rare occasions, swansea comes in first. 

- before doing anything, he visits the coffee machine and grabs a can of.. whatever’s available, at this point.

- .. now you’ve nearly ran out of coffee. 

- you think that’s horrifying. a whole vending machine’s worth of coffee.. 

- but to be fair, you have done the same in exam seasons. and you’re not quite dead yet, so..

- eh. maybe you shouldn’t be too worried.

- your daily work includes: learning as much as you could from anya, writing down your conclusions/observations in your journal (for academic purposes), and checking on medical supplies. 

- most of the time, people who come in request for medicine, or have sustained some cuts/bruises. people rarely get sick, and when they do, you’ve tried your best to stop them from working. it’s dangerous to work whilst sick, especially considering that everyone’s job is pretty .. dangerous.

- think about it. if you had to work as a mechanic whilst you’re sick, what are the chances of damaging the ship? and if you were piloting while you’re sick.. the ship might crash.

- you don’t want to entertain the possibilities, so you end up forcing them to their rooms.

- at the end of the day, you take another shower, before changing into another set of pony express uniform. 

- you’re starting to get tired of looking at the same yellow and reds. perhaps you could’ve brought more personal clothing.. 

- after lounging in the living room (what daisuke likes to call it), you pull your blankets out once again, and sleep.

- that has been your routine for these past few months.

- it’s not that bad. surface wise - it’s not as bad as your daily life before the internship.

- but mentally? this is challenging. 

- you’re starting to miss grass, of all things. grass. 

- that green weed that grows from the ground- the dirt? yeah. you’re starting to miss that.

- you realise you’ve taken a lot of things for granted whilst you were in this metal hunk. 

- that includes the sun.

- recalling this all just as you’re about to eat dinner made you suddenly miss the moon too.

- as you open the door, it revealed the entire crew already seated, and you were the last person to join dinner.

- your seat is empty, in the middle of anya and curly.

- your eyes linger on the group, laughing together on the dining table. 

- as you were observing the whole crew from afar, daisuke manages to spot you, and then calls you over. 

- anya sends you a smile as she looks in your direction as well. curly follows after, sending you a smile, swansea nods at you. 

- your chest felt warm that night.

- .. maybe you really should treasure these moments more as well.

- there is one extra addition to your bi-daily tasks.

- laundry with daisuke. 

- or laundai… can you guess who made that pun?

- every three to four days, you meet up with him in front of the laundry room, basket of laundry in your arms, and his own laundry in his. 

- it’s not that he’s incapable of doing it - but he insists that you do it together on the day of the detergent accident. ever since then, you’ve been accompanying him.

- you try to spot if he adds too much or too little detergent, taught him which buttons to press on what occasions, and you also teach him how to pick up his laundry quickly.

- sometimes you do machine maintenance.. removing the tray at the bottom and washing the insides of the machine.

- while the laundry runs, you often just sit there together. seeing the laundry tumble, soap and water mixing together. 

- one time, he asked to go on a surfing trip with you. he made a comparison between the two of you and the clothes in the machine. 

- you pointed out that the clothes are, quite literally, drowning in water. 

- he immediately counters you - by saying that he meant the bubbles looked fun - and continues to try and convince you, saying that he’ll teach you how to surf

- .. that conversation ended with you saying maybe. 

- he cheers, and you were only able to sigh (fondly).

- he talks a lot, and you try to incorporate enough words in between your listening. 

- you talk about all sorts of things. how your day was, how you missed the sun (this topic was brought up by you), the amazement you held for the crew for working here for so long.

- daisuke also talks about the little things as well. how he learnt how to fix the pipes today, how he saved the last time you gave him sunshine - the candy - and ate two today, and how he managed to draw swansea properly today.

- the last one was a slip up, and you can watch his expression grow hesitant when you asked if he draws

- although shy, he shows you his notes- and by extension- his doodles.

- one time you saw him drawing the entire crew, live, whilst you were doing laundry. and somehow, he managed to get the courage to ask you to model for him. (mainly just staying still as you look down at your hands, to replicate the look you had when you were doing your journal)

- you roll your eyes at his request -not to belittle it, but to laugh at the cheesiness of it all - and whilst doing so, a small smile was painted on your lips.

you could feel your lips quirking up at the shy tone of his voice, your eyes looking at him with a fond crease subconciously.

"you could draw me, sure."

"wait, do that again."

daisuke watches you eagerly, a certain shine of disbelief in his eyes as you tilt your head at him, face now back to your usual expression.

"do what?"

he stares at you for a beat. then by the next, his face has already turned away from you, his eyes tightly shut and his hands clenched in front of him in faux defeat.

"noooo.. i can't believe i didn't get a picture of that- man!"

his mumble doesn't get unheard.

"get a picture of what?"

and as soon as you asked that question, his head is facing back in your direction, smiling and giving you a thumbs up.

"nothing!"

you hum in amusement.

"alright."

another smile slips by your lips. and this time, he exclaims, slamming his clipboard (for his drawings) down.

"you just smiled again!"

"i did?"

he continues to pester you to smile once more, and you kept on insisting that you had no idea what he was talking about.

- you had fun playing dumb in front of him, and him getting all frustrated. he looks like an angry puppy, which turned into .. a begging puppy?

- you watch as he pulls his puppy eyes on you, to no avail.

- but you somehow still remember the look on his face. the way his lips were downturned into a small pout and his eyes were wide open, peering at you. it's.. cute. to a certain extent.

- you eventually went back to drawing, and he offered you a little sticky note with a small doodle of him encouraging you on it.

- you still keep the note to this day. he's incredibly endearing sometimes.

- on a few occasion he doesn’t talk at all, but that’s pretty rare.

- the last time he remained silent for the entire session was when you brought your journal along for the wait.

- you had already recorded the past month’s results, and the day you set for data analysis lined up with laundry day. 

- so you brought the book with you, and you kept your eyes on the book the entire time. 

- you did the laundry with one hand, essentially. you only looked up from your book to respond to daisuke, or to check on his laundry. 

- the silence only comes to your attention at the end of your laundry session. 

- the machine often plays a tune once it’s done with it’s job - when it doesn’t, you’d slap the lid, and then it plays the song.

- and usually, it’s accompanied by daisuke’s own hum of the tune.

- at first, you didn’t even realise that he didn’t follow along with the melody. but after a moment, you felt something was off.

- your eyes flicker towards his direction, and you see him napping. 

- he’s snoozing away, hugging his own laundry basket. 

- and he looks.. peaceful.

- this wouldn’t be the first time you saw him asleep. the first time was when you brought him to his room after game night. the second time was when you spotted him on the sofa, napping the evening away on the same day swansea was sick - and this.. would be the third.

- your fingers subconsciously reach out to brush his hair back. you stopped once you realised what you were going to do - your hand inches away from his face.

- dropping your hand back onto your lap, you sigh again. it’s an action you find yourself doing more often.

- you try to focus on your research again, flicking to the next page - your eyes following the lines you’ve written before.

- so you both sit there, his soft breaths filling in the air every now and then, and the flicks of pages accompanying them right after.

- he wakes up sooner than you expected, and you briefly suffer the wrath of the sleepy daisuke.

- half-asleep gibberish about you not waiting for him, and leaving him in the laundry room alone. (while you were right there)

- it takes a few minutes before he falls back asleep, this time, on your shoulder.

- you really hoped he really would’ve truly woken up, even if it did mean sitting through more of his sleep induced rants. 

- .. now you’ll have to stay in this room, in the same position - your shoulders possibly freezing up at this rate - and .. perhaps also face swansea’s wrath later for keeping his intern for too long.

- oh well. 

- you’ll face it later. 

- for now, you’ll just continue reviewing your data… with a snoozing mechanic intern on your shoulder.

- the other day, curly went by your office. 

- it’s odd enough for him to approach you first before you call him for evaluation.

- but it wasn’t psych eval day; and you watch as he enters the medical bay warily, avoiding your gaze after a brief moment of your eyes meeting.

- you could already feel like it would be a long session. or at least, a heavy one. 

- so you place down your clipboard, and instead focus entirely on him.

- he struggles to get a word out other than “hi, sorry for bothering you, do you mind if i.. talk to you as a patient?”

- so you wait. your eyes remain glued at him, and he takes a few breaths in; then out. and it repeats, over and over again.

- the machine buzzes beneath your feet. it’s louder in the silence.

- so are your breaths. and so is his.

- and finally, the silent tempo is broken by a sigh.

“the crew is getting laid off,”

the words are spoken in a low mumble, so soft that you wouldn’t hear them if you weren’t paying attention. but you did hear anyway.

he looks visible distressed; hands messing his own hair up, his fingers fidget more, and eyebags looking heavier than usual. he refuses to look you in the eyes. 

this would be the first time you’ve seen him like this. it’s been sixteen minutes since he came in, and this was the first words that he said, aside from the greeting he gave you.

he's waiting for something. your breath faltering, or perhaps your expression dropping. you can tell by the way he looks at you. 

he seems guilty. 

“.. i just talked with jimmy. before the news, about how i felt stuck in this job.”

he takes a heavy drag of air into his lungs.

“i didn’t mean to.. i didn’t know that this would happen. he’s going to think that i had involvement in this.”

“but you know you don’t.”

your eyes continue to pick up on the little quirks on his body. his faster way of speaking - the way he tumbles over his sentences. and it also explains why he wasn’t seen at the lounge for the past couple of days.

these are behaviours that distressed individuals display. you remember this clearly in a textbook you had reviewed previously.

for the first time, in the past nineteen minutes, he looks up at you. 

“will you let his beliefs prevail over your own?”

you continue to stare at him, he stares back.

after a brief moment of strength, he seems to give up. his body falls back into himself - his body fully leaned back onto the chair.

“.. i don’t know.”

he takes another deep breath in, and you can feel your eyebrows temporarily furrow.

“his views matter to me. so does everyone else’s views. i can’t discount their thoughts about this.”

“but you can discount your own?”

your question rings in the room. this time, he doesn’t dare to hold your gaze anymore.

“you’re not at fault here. you want everyone to win in this situation, and that’s impossible.”

you tap your finger on the table, producing a stable rhythm on the table.

“there is nothing you can do to change this outcome anymore.”

you close your eyes, and your finger comes to a stop.

“...the best you could do now is to not let others write your narrative for you. help others write their own narrative as well.”

you watch as he sinks deeper into his seat.

“...you’re right.”

and this is as far as you can go. 

you can’t help with anything more as a faux therapist.

you’re not qualified for it either. the best you could do is to make him understand that it isn’t his fault, and no, he should not be carrying this burden, nor allowing people to blame him either.

you know he knows this. but does he understand it?

so all you can do is wait; wait until he does.

the blonde man lifts himself up from the seat in front of you, taking a deep breath as he walks around the medical bay.

his eyes are closed, before he attempts to harden himself again. 

he sends a smile at you, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“..sorry for coming out of the blue. i’m not sure what made me do that.“

he even tries to throw in a chuckle, but it just sounds dry. you send him a sour expression.

another exhale sounds in the room; and this time, the sigh didn’t come from him. 

“.. you can do this, curly. don’t doubt yourself either.”

you meet his eyes for the final time. 

this time; he’s completely defeated. no longer is he standing before you as captain, but as a man, grieving for his friends’ futures. for the stable future that they might’ve once believed in. that man sends a weak nod in your direction.

“.. i’ll try.”

the male leaves with a small thank you, and silence follows after.

your eyes are trained at the false sky as the door shuts in on itself. your calm demeanour slowly unfolds on the wooden desk, your head now buried in your arms. 

.. now that his burdens are shared with you, what should you do?

- everyone knows by now that your work with anya in the medical bay are split into two.

- anya with physical injuries, and you.. working on psych tests. 

- you don’t want to say that you work with mental injuries just yet. that’s a horrifying thought. you’re seriously not qualified yet.

- hell, you probably didn’t give proper treatment towards curly that other time.. you don't think you're quite ready to become a therapist yet. that's one thing you've learnt in this internship.

- but point is, you’ve barely dealt with physical injuries prior to this.

- why are you bringing this up? well..

- anya got sick.

- it’s a fever and flu of some sort. you say it’s the airconditioning in her room, and she denies it - saying that it was fine last night. 

- then you suggest that it might be her habit of waking up way too early, and this time, she agrees that it could’ve been what played part in making her sick.

- she laughs when you sigh; mostly due to the fact that she knew you were joking.

- you’ve been helping her do mundane stuff. examples were.. bringing a basin of water of warm water and a small towel for baths, medicine and food prepared for her, and making sure she gets enough entertainment whilst also making sure she slept enough.

- you would really prefer if you could’ve just cared for her in her room…

- but she refused - and instead, remains at the medical bay. she wants to be prepared if anyone’s injured, she says, while she looks like she's dying. (you’re exaggerating)

- but since that’s the only way she would allow you to help her, you comply.

- she often sleeps hunched over the desk. that’s why you brought one of the pillows from the lounge to her. 

- she seemed concerned once she saw the pillow, and you get why - safety reasons, germs, etc. - but you promised that you would wash the entire pillow after it gets in and out of the medical bay.

- it was her time to sigh at your expense. you let out a huff of defeat.

- having a sibling-like relationship with anya meant that she kept you close enough to watch over you, but not close enough to know her.

- only throughout the course of nursing her back to health, do you get to hear more about her life.

- she wanted to pursue nursing due to her mother’s poor health throughout her entire life. 

- her father was the only source of income, and almost saw his wife as a burden.

- living with her older and younger sisters, she had tried to make sure that the two were alright as well, whilst taking care of her mother. this managed to affect her grades.

- miraculously, her mother’s condition got better after some time, and the burden on her older sister’s duties got better.

- but this meant arguments got worse. so she left, leaving her younger sister in her older sister’s care. 

- she promised to take care of her mother when she got older. but after a year she left home, her mother tragically died due to a heart attack.

- that’s how she told you that she never had anyone to care for her like this, ever since she moved and got a job in the city.

- before you knew it, you had something in your eye.

“..are you crying?”

you sniffle, looking away from her - a poor attempt of hiding away your .. emotional state.

“.. no.”

your voice gives it away. damnit.

- she only laughs at your attempts, before convincing you that it was alright now. she’s still alive. and you can only cry more.

- you compose yourself, before handing her another cup of water, and a replacement towel for her forehead. 

- she thanks you quite a lot during the entirety of it. you try to assure that she was welcome to ask for your help.

- but when swansea comes in with a particularly nasty cut - daisuke trailing behind the old man, panicking - you nearly panic as well.

- you try your best to stay calm, following what you’ve learnt from your mentor.

- disinfectant. don’t touch the wound with alcohol. clean the surroundings, and then secure the wrap with bandages. make sure that you handle it properly. 

- before you knew it, you were done.

- it’s not as good as anya’s, but you think you did well with the bandages. 

- swansea thanks you, and daisuke gives you two thumbs ups. it’s hard to not reciprocate his energy, so you give him one as well.

- anya, on the other hand, stares at you wide-eyed. 

you tilt your head at her expression.

“.. did i do something wrong?”

her expression doesn’t look like a dangerous expression - just more towards shock, and perhaps, something else.

“i didn’t know you improved so much..”

ah. she still remembers, it seems..

at the first day, she asked how much knowledge you had about first aid. and you responded by showing her what you’d do when you had a cut. it’s safe to say that you made.. leaps of improvement. 

“yeah. i’ve been paying close attention to you.”

you watch as she realises what she did.

“i.. taught you that..”

you nod in response.

“yeah. you did.”

she smiles at you, and now, it was her who had tears in her eyes.

- you tried your best to comfort her after that. 

- you used your newfound knowledge - that she likes tea - and brought her a cup.

- perhaps, due to the exhaustion, she immediately went to sleep an hour after she downed the tea.

- you made sure she was alright, before continuing your writing on the journal.

- you were informed of a communal birthday party (how cheap is the pony express?), and this time, you were celebrating curly's birthday. 

- everyone's wearing party hats - striped yellow and red, the same colours of your uniform.

- you’re seriously getting sick of seeing it.

- not sure why no one bothered observing and memorising the codes. but you did. and so, you baked the cake beforehand.

- daisuke practically wails at you, asking why you never told him that you knew the pass to the sweetener all this time. basically, putting on a dramatic show.

- you stare back at him, deadpan. the both of you know why you didn’t reveal it to him.

- he only grins once he got caught. you sigh.

- so, that didn’t go well.

- you surprised curly, but it seems like today was the day he decided to break the news to the members about the disbandment. he was told to wait until you were closer to the destination of the delivery but..

- you suppose this would be the best outcome, if you only had curly’s emotional state in mind.

- swansea makes a bitter joke, anya looks increasingly worried, and daisuke’s silent, unable to say anything in this situation.

- and jimmy…

“..so i guess you got what you wanted.”

jimmy laughs bitterly, his hands on the table.

“without the guilt.”

you watch as curly attempts to explain himself.

“jim.. if i had known..”

a poor explanation it was. you could only watch as the brown-haired man grows more agitated.

“i can go back to my, how’d you put it? “struggle of a life?””

the room is slowly growing more heavy at his words. 

he’s clearly talking about a previous conversation with curly. but at the same time.. he’s wording it particularly. sure, you weren’t there when the conversation happened, but you think you get the gist of what jimmy’s trying to do at the moment - and it’s starting to affect others in the room as well.

“sounds like you’re blaming him for this, jimmy.”

so you try to diffuse whatever he’s planning.

his furrowed eyes snap at you, and he immediately explodes.

“what would you fucking know, huh?”

his hands slam at the table, shaking the cutlery on the surface, and it becomes evident that he doesn’t care about the things that could break at this very moment. he’s only interested in expressing his own anger.

so, you conclude that you were right. he’s releasing his anger by picking arguments, instead of thinking rationally, disregarding curly’s emotion, and how it might cause misunderstandings.

you should’ve expected this much from him.

you decide to retort, tone calm as you speak.

“i know that this should be blamed on management. not the man whose a small cog in the machine right now.”

he only looks angrier after being presented with sound logic.

“oh, please, cut your poetic crap. you come out of this unscathed. you don’t have any rights to talk.”

at this point, you’re just more tired than confused. 

“and you have the right to blame someone that isn’t at fault? who gave you the right to do that?”

you slowly unfold your arms, staring at him, before scanning at the others.

they all have different expressions, and you could feel how heavy the atmosphere is. to think that someone like him could cause this much trouble.. 

you look at the perpetrator one last time, as you add in a final comment.

“stop trying to twist reality to your own narrative.”

with that, you could see him seething in his seat. 

his eyes are sharp on you, and you’d continue this little staring competition if you were any less sane. so for now, you place your party hat down on the table, and remove yourself from the conversation.

“i think everyone needs time to process this. so i’ll leave first. goodnight.”

those were your final words, before you stood up from your chair, and left the table.

- after you left, daisuke followed after. then anya, and then swansea.

- everyone’s hat remains at the table, either upright or simply discarded on the wooden surface.

- safe to say, you all agreed that time was the solution for the short while, and you can’t be more proud of them for having some sort of sanity - unlike a certain brunette. 

- but you could only watch as the door closes on you, with curly and jimmy sitting alone on the table.

- you just hope he doesn’t dig a deeper hole for himself. it would make your efforts of redirecting his anger towards you pointless.

- alas, you don’t have power over him.

- you can lead someone to water, but you can’t make them drink, after all.

i did NOT proofread this. oh man. ill edit it later on.. perhaps...maybe.

i also did not know what possessed me when i was writing this. jimmy feels really ooc but maybe it's because no one has tried to put that man in his place LOL.. only swansea did at the end (by attempting to kill him. valid btw)

hopefully i managed to flesh out each character's relationship with reader enough in this chapter .. i didn't get to write swansea in but tried my best to slip him in the details.. will focus on it next chap!

thank you so much for the support for this as well! i appreciate it tons!

extra notes: i'd like to think that the cake was stored in the fridge.. and eaten the next morning (although with a somber mood)

sun & moon dividers by : @/saradika nighttime screen & the lounge visuals from mouthwashing

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

Mite Mischief

《What happens when two entities invite themselves to meet a vigilantes s/o..?》

[1/2]

-

Nite-Mite Ver

"AAAAHHH! Help! It's a giant.. Floating.. Tiny Nightwing?"

You slowly fall to your knees after panicking. Seeing the small fella float close to you, you shrink in on yourself shyly. Watching him float around you, analyzing you...

Meeting you was not what Dyxl expected!

You were strange... Unfamiliar, sure. Nite-Mite knew of Richard Graysons' love interests in the past comic issues or alternative storylines.

Maybe you were a new character implemented by the authors?

"SO..."

"S-so...?"

The small creature sat on the desk chair of your room. Eyeing you carefully. While you sat nervously on your bed, half-expecting to wake up. "You must be the newbie! Or, more so.. For this plot. The love-."

You notice there's a knocking on your bedroom door.

"(Y/N)? Everything okay?" Dick calls out, half-way yawning.

You immediately grab a hold of the small individual, holding him close to your chest as you look for a place to hide him.

"Yeah-! Uhm.. I.. Thought I saw a mouse?"

There was silence from the vigilante, considering your words. "That so'?"

"Mhm, yup. Yes..?" You breathe out, getting closer to the door. Thankful it was locked. The vigilante heard your movements and sighed. "Oh.. Good! W-well, I mean- that you're okay! Not the mouse part."

You laugh it off quietly, agreeing as he finally leaves your door and heads back to his room. You sigh in relief as you slowly sink back to the floor.

You lean back against the door, head banging against as you wince!

"Ouch! That's gotta' hurt.." Your eyes widen as you look down at your small visitor who sat on your lap. Chilling out as if he didn't have a single care in the world.

-

"I think you have the wrong person.." You mumble quietly under your breath. Watching Nite-Mite buzz around your room as he grins at you.

"Nope!"

"But! I'm not exactly his.. Ya' know..?" You make a gesture as your face scrunched up. The words too sour on your tounge.

"Type?"

"Yes! That!"

Dxyl laughed it off. "So what? Sure, many.. And I mean.. MANY! People have fallen for the Grayson Charm, but that doesn't mean he always reciprocates those feelings."

"Then what makes you think -" You're interrupted by the fith dimensional imp. "There's just something un-canny about you. Your presence is there, but no romantic tension? I mean, seriously!"

Nite-Mite snaps his fingers as he shows a built-in board of notes, strings, and photos. Pointing at them as he tries to connect it all together.

You slowly smile, easing into this odd situation. Smiling as he holds up a issue of... Nightwing? Watching him ramble and point to the board, it reminded you of Dick. Who probably fell back asleep, hopefully.

Poof~!

Blinking, your clothes felt heavier as you look down. Dressed in old fashionable garb?! What!

"Though I'm sure whoever Dick chooses is up to him, it's fun to see other routes!"

Nite-Mite had become... Nightwing?

Instead of the usual skin-tight latex suit, the outfit showcased half of his bare-chest as the blue pants and brown boots reminded you of...

"P-pirate?" You laugh a bit, awkward and frazzled by these turn of events.

"Well.. -" Interrupted once again, the door rips open as a handsome young man storms in, his small puppy barked excitedly as she followed close behind. Yet stopped beside Dicks legs, blinking in confusion.

You immediately squeak in suprise. Your face a warm shade of color, too embarrassed to deal with all of these shenanigans so early!

-

[Ta-Da! Hey! Who wants an April fools event?? Also! Thank you for reading, I love Nite-Mite and the art for pirate nightwing. I need more content for both of them.. Please! Tag me if you do! Hopefully I can write a Bat-Mite Ver next! Comments and hearts are appreciated!]

[outofrealms]

Isekai’d as the Demon King’s Therapist

Synopsis: One minute, I’m fighting a vending machine for coffee. The next, I’m the therapist for Zarvath, the Demon King who’s one bad day away from obliterating the realm. His mental health’s a mess, and I’ve got nothing but my psych degree and questionable life choices to fix it. No pressure, right?

Chapter 1: I Was Just Getting Coffee, and Now I’m a Therapist for a Demon King?!

It all started with a vending machine.

Not some magical, glowing vending machine that dispensed ancient relics or cursed snacks. Nope. This was the regular, broken vending machine in the breakroom at work, the one that seemed to have a personal vendetta against me.

I just wanted a cup of coffee. One measly coffee to help me survive another session with a client who swore Mercury in retrograde was the reason her life was falling apart. I was dangerously low on caffeine, and without it, I was one minor inconvenience away from shouting at inanimate objects like she did.

But the vending machine had other plans.

It ate my dollar. Then, just for fun, it ate my life.

I gave it a light smack. Nothing violent. I’m not a monster. Just a small “I’m watching you” kind of tap.

That’s when the vending machine decided to electrocute me.

There was a bright flash of light, a weird sound like a thousand cats sneezing at once, and then….nothing.

When I opened my eyes, I was in a throne room.

I lay flat on a cold, black floor, staring up at a ceiling covered in glowing runes and what I really, really hoped were fake skulls. Around me were creatures straight out of a heavy metal album cover, demons with horns, glowing eyes, and questionable fashion choices.

In front of me sat a seven-foot-tall demon with glowing red eyes and a crown made of actual fire. He was lounging on a massive black throne, sipping something from a skull-shaped goblet like this was just another Tuesday.

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one?”

The one what?!

I sat up slowly, still trying to process the fact that I was very much not in my office anymore. My first thought? Hallucination. Second thought? Maybe I’m dead, and this is some weird afterlife punishment for all the times I lied about liking kale.

“Answer me, mortal!” the demon barked. “Are you the legendary mind healer we summoned?”

Legendary mind healer? Was he talking about a therapist? Did I just get isekai’d to be a demon king’s therapist?!

“Uh… yeah. Sure. That’s me,” I said, adopting the time-honored strategy of when in doubt, agree.

The demon who I later learned was Zarvath, the Demon King of Darkness leaned forward, his eyes glowing brighter. “Excellent. My armies may be unstoppable, but my mental health is… fragile.”

Oh. My. God.

One of the demons, a nervous little imp cleared his throat. “Lord Zarvath, we were supposed to summon the most powerful mind healer in all the realms. Are you sure we got the right one?”

Zarvath frowned. “Do you doubt my summoning rituals?”

The imp shook his head so fast I thought it might fly off. “N-no, of course not! But… they don’t look very powerful.”

Rude. I may not look like much, but I’ve survived family holiday dinners, passive-aggressive coworker emails, and clients who believe crystals can cure broken bones. I’m tougher than I look.

“I may not have magic,” I said, crossing my arms, “but I’ve got a master’s degree in psychology and plenty of experience dealing with difficult people. You want therapy? I’m your person.”

Zarvath tilted his head. “Master’s degree? In… psychology?”

“Yeah. It’s a degree that qualifies me to help people process their emotions, manage stress, and develop healthier coping mechanisms.”

Zarvath narrowed his eyes. “So… it’s a form of magic?”

“Not exactly. It’s more like… mental training. But instead of using spells, I help you talk through your feelings and reframe your negative thoughts.”

Zarvath crossed his arms. “Sounds like sorcery to me.”

The imp leaned closer to Zarvath, whispering loudly enough for me to hear, “Master, perhaps it’s some kind of mind enchantment?”

“It’s not enchantment! It’s cognitive behavioral therapy!” I said. “There’s science behind it!”

Zarvath nodded slowly, stroking his chin. “Hmph. Whatever it is, if it can stop me from obliterating the next hero I meet just because they irritate me, I’m willing to try.”

He leaned back on his throne, considering me carefully. “Very well. Prove your worth.”

And that’s how I found myself sitting on a demon-sized couch, preparing to give my first therapy session to the Demon King of Darkness.

I wasn’t sure how I got here, or how I was supposed to survive in this world… but one thing was clear: this Demon King needed serious help. And if I played my cards right, I might just live long enough to give it to him.

[danika-redgrave124]

Day 2: Chocolate

The kitchen of cafeteria was supposed to be a place of productivity. Supposed to be. The First Years had gathered with the noble intention of making chocolates for Valentine’s Day, but—predictably—things had gone south. Fast.

At first, everything was going smoothly. Yuu was carefully tempering chocolate, Jack was measuring ingredients with precision, and Sebek was grumbling about the importance of proper technique. Ortho, ever the enthusiastic helper, was calculating the exact temperature needed for the perfect consistency.

Then came Ace. "Hey, Deuce, catch!"

A spoonful of melted chocolate sailed through the air. Deuce, ever the earnest fool, turned just in time for the warm, sticky mess to splatter against his cheek.

"Ace! What the hell?!" Deuce sputtered, reaching for a handful of cocoa powder in retaliation.

Before anyone could intervene, he hurled it. Ace ducked, and instead, the cloud of cocoa dust exploded over Grim, coating his fur in a fine layer of brown.

"ACK! MY BEAUTIFUL FUR! HOW DARE YOU?!" Grim screeched, immediately retaliating with a swipe of his paw—unfortunately dunked in melted chocolate.

That was the breaking point.

In an instant, the kitchen descended into absolute chaos.

Epel, cackling like a mischief-making imp, flicked chocolate at Ortho, who merely tilted his head in amusement before engaging battle mode—activating his mechanical arms to spray whipped cream in retaliation. Ace and Deuce had devolved into an all-out war, hurling chocolate at each other with no regard for collateral damage. Jack, despite his initial attempt at maintaining order, got dragged into it when Epel jumped on his back to gain higher ground, smearing chocolate on his uniform and hair in the process.

Sebek, furious, tried to stop them. "SILENCE, YOU INSOLENT HUMA—ACK!" A rogue truffle smacked him directly in the forehead. His rage-fueled tirade was cut short as Yuu, in an attempt to escape the madness, slipped on a puddle of melted chocolate and collided straight into Sebek and Jack, taking all three of them down in a pile of sugar, cocoa, and regret.

It was at that exact moment that Professor Crewel walked in.

The room went silent.

Crewel took in the sight before him: a kitchen in ruins, cocoa powder floating in the air like smoke from an explosion, Grim furiously licking his paws clean, and his so-called “responsible students”—Yuu, Jack, and Sebek—absolutely drenched in chocolate, his eye twitched.

"Yuu, Jack, Sebek—you pups were supposed to be the responsible ones!" he barked, his voice sharp enough to cut through steel. "You're more caked in chocolate than they are!"

Sebek opened his mouth, likely to protest, but Crewel held up a gloved hand. "Not. Another. Word."

Ace, still holding a chocolate truffle covered in chocolate, turned his head toward Deuce with a smirk. "Worth it."

Deuce groaned.

Yuu, face still covered in chocolate, sighed. "So… uh. Detention?"

Crewel crossed his arms. "Oh, detention would be merciful. Congratulations, pups—you’ve just volunteered to clean this kitchen until it’s spotless. Not a speck of cocoa out of place, or else."

A collective groan rose from the group.

"Ugh… Ah should’ve just bought chocolates instead," Epel muttered under his breath.

Jack sighed, wiping some chocolate from his ear. "No kidding."

Ortho, still completely clean despite being in the middle of the chaos, tilted his head cheerfully. "This was fun! Let’s do it again next year!"

A chorus of "NO!" rang through the kitchen.

@oh-hopeless-heart

I love Platonic First Years, they have my whole heart.

[eldritch-spouse]

I can imagine a distant future of Santi overcoming his nature and finally realizing his dreams of having and raising kids. Then, one time he goes to visit his old friend Vesper who's like " So how are you and your *gags* chi- *gags* child *gags* the family is doing ?"

[*Snort*. This is a collection of little moments between Santi and Vesper after Santi has kids.]

Santi doesn't visit as often.

It's only a given, not only does he now have children of his own to take care of, the incubus also knows his presence has stopped being as pleasant to the Ring of Lust as it once was.

He's not necessarily surprised by such.

After all, Santi behaves in a much more subdued manner, dresses a lot more, his clothes have the stink of children, even when he washes them. He can't blame Vesper for scratching at himself and snorting in distaste every now and then. They are still friends, but life has taken them down very different paths.

That doesn't mean some encounters aren't funny to the incubus.

" No. No no! " The King covers his eyes with a clawed hand. " You did not just walk into my chambers with a turtleneck sweater. "

Santi's cheeks are puffed. " King Ves- "

" A fucking sweater, this absolute- " Santi can't help but let a cackle slip. " Take it off right now, I feel sick- I'm going to call the imps over to strip you if you don't! "

[...]

Santi passes his phone to the King, allowing the demonlord to swipe through an album full of family pictures.

Vesper's lips keep curling higher at every picture, no matter how much he tries to muffle that response.

" Well uhm. They're... They sure are. " The King tries, but all he sees are snot-nosed ankle biters who likely stink of all that's nasty.

" They are. " Santi parrots, a devious grin on his face at the other's discomfort.

" I- " A long, pensive hum follows. " They look... "

" Is it really that hard? " The darker demon snickers.

" I'm finding it, Santi. Be patient. "

[...]

While cooking, you get to listen to a call between your husband and the King of Lust on speaker. When the topic becomes inappropriate, both adults switch to infernal language. Santi helps your daughter dress her baby doll, while your son sits by the carpet watching his favorite show.

" Alright, I should get a move on. " Santi says, watching you struggle with a few pans. " We can catch up eventually. Say bye to uncle Vee. "

Both children parrot mildly enthusiastic goodbyes, until your son pipes up. "Dad? " Santi hums. " When will uncle Vee visit? "

" Never. " Comes from the phone immediately, and the incubus doesn't need to see the King to know he's shivering in dread.

Your kids start deflating, to which their father is quick to think of something. " Ah, see, uncle Vee can't visit us. "

" Why? " The little girl sits her doll down, now brushing its hair.

" Uhm. " The incubus opens and closes his mouth a few times. " He's trapped in a biiig castle. " Pause. " And there's a dragon. "

" A dragon?! " Your son's fixation has been mentioned, he's almost vibrating.

" Yes. " Santi nods. " It's very big. And it doesn't like little boys and girls. "

" Aww.... " Both of them huff.

The girl frowns. " I'm sorry uncle Vee. "

" No, it's quite alright. I'll live, the dragon isn't that bad. " Vesper seems to sigh in relief.

" That means a knight is going to save you soon! " She brightens up immediately. " And then he's going to woo you, and you're going to marry! Can I go to the wedding, uncle Vee? Can I? "

Santi covers his mouth with his palm so as to not openly bark in laughter.

" I uh- Y-Yes, of course sweetie. Goodbye now, the uh, dragon, is calling me... "

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for @definitelynotaminion; Clark panic-adopts his teenage clones (yes, including the supervillain one). (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Maybe he just doesn’t care. Maybe he’s just taking the long way around about dumping Match in a cell somewhere until the Agenda gets around to collecting him out of custody. Maybe– 

There’s a sudden blur of speed and a goddamn almighty howl, and something crashes into Superman. 

“The fuck?” Thirteen says. 

Match . . . tilts his head. 

It’s–a dog. That hit Superman, he means. A large white one, that’s currently trying to lick the man’s face off. 

Also it’s flying and wearing a red cape with an S-shield on the back of it. 

So that’s a thing. 

“I seriously did not realize the dog was not, like, a freaky Hypertime thing,” Thirteen says, sounding incredulous. “How is the dog not a freaky Hypertime thing?” 

Match has absolutely no idea why Thirteen is saying that like he expect him to answer or even have an answer, since very obviously he is not the person in this situation who’s been to Hypertime or has any idea what the hell the idiot’s talking about, but it’s Thirteen, so it’s not like he’s surprised to be asked stupid questions. Thirteen, as ever, continues to operate under the delusion that Match has any reason to talk to him at all, much less give him any intel that isn’t a lie or a distraction or some kind of misdirection. 

But seriously, why is it wearing a cape? 

Unfortunately, Superman’s stopped to pet the dog, so they catch up fairly quickly. Match eyes the thing suspiciously. So does Thirteen, so at least he’s being less stupid than usual.

“Um,” Thirteen says warily, glancing at Superman. “So like, if I ask if his name’s ‘Krypto’, are you gonna–AGH.” 

The dog perks up immediately at hearing “Krypto” and then effectively slams into Thirteen and knocks him back a good fifty feet in the air, barking excitedly and trying to climb him. Match wonders what he did to deserve such a useless gene donor. He follows orders, doesn’t he? He performs to expectation. Performs above expectation, except for when those expectations are objectively ridiculous ones set by delusional idiots. 

“Krypto!” Superman calls, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Down, boy!” 

The alleged “Krypto” does not follow orders, apparently. Thirteen yelps, trying to fly out of the dog’s reach. The dog, apparently, is much faster than him, and seems to think they’re playing “chase” now. It tackles Thirteen another three times before Superman zips over and catches it by the collar to tug back. Thirteen flees. 

Specifically, Thirteen flees behind Match, and eyes the dog sourly from over his shoulder. 

Match really does not deserve this useless a gene donor. 

“What, worried you’ll get fleas?” he asks dryly, eyeing the other. Thirteen scowls back at him indignantly. 

“I’m not a dog person, okay?” he snaps defensively. “Or an animal person. I’m not even a Super-Cycle person, it likes Rob and Imp way better.” 

“It likes you fine,” Match says, unimpressed. 

“It literally won’t let me use my TTK on it and bucks me out of it all the time, actually, but thanks for your clueless assessment,” Thirteen snipes at him. Match eyes him oddly, but–doesn’t comment. The Super-Cycle never did anything like that to him, though. 

Well, Thirteen probably provoked it. He’s stupid enough to manage that.

[thelampisaflashlight]

Copia: -at the vet holding imp!Dew- Nurse, signing them in: "And what breed is your..." -squints- "...Dog?" Copia, petting Dew: "He's a lilshitdew. A very rare breed that has a knack for eating socks." Nurse: "And his name?" Copia, looking at Dew: "...Dewdles." Dew: -indignant croaking- Copia, handing him to the nurse: "...He has a very unique bark." Nurse, taking Dew from Copia: "...Why does he feel like a water tube?" Copia: "He's mostly spite and piss, so he's a little floppy."