#my jester is a bitch and i like her so much

[barbieaemond]

Lykirī

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

WARNINGS: loss of virginity, fingering, oral sex (f and m receiving), handjob, we ride him bitches, dom/sub tones if you squint

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

Author's note: an early Christmas gift for those who celebrate!! For those who don't, just a regular smutty piece. This was based on a request where wife!reader rides Aemond. Merry Aemondmas :)

MASTERLIST

taglist: @zae5 @multyfangirl @arcielee

"You are to marry the King's second son. Prince Aemond Targaryen."

Those were your father's words. Your sister had looked at you almost with pity and a hint of relief since that fate had befallen you and not her. You had simply nodded, accepting the fate decided by your father, just as thousands of other daughters before and after you would have done.

Your mother had come to comb your hair before going to bed, and without much ado, she had told you what would happen after the wedding, after the banquet.

"All you have to do is try to relax your nerves, and I promise it will be less painful.”

The thought had stuck in your brain until the wedding day. And the aura emanating from the prince didn't help. He was stoic to the point of looking like a statue, his posture rigid as a spindle, and there was something unsettling about him that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand when he took your hand to recite the wedding vows. Fear, but also a foreign giddiness prickling your skin upon feeling his calloused fingers around yours.

The banquet had not helped either. Prince Aegon had behaved like a court jester, drinking to the point of wondering how he could stand upright, poking his brother with cruel jokes about his eye and a whore who had made Aemond a man many years before.

You didn’t know what kind of unpleasant memories your good-brother had just summoned in his brother’s mind. That woman and her cheap perfume, that way it had clung to his skin, to his thoughts for days after his only ever trip to Flea Bottom.

Then the elder Prince had approached you with his breath stinking of Dornish and it was then that Prince Aemond broke his icy silence, standing up abruptly and looking down at you. "Come, wife. It is time for us to retire."

Prince Aegon had clapped his hands as if in front of a hilarious show, saying "Finally some fun! The bedding!"

The entire crowd present at the banquet had escorted you to the prince's chambers. The servants had removed your dress, leaving you in your underskirts; you had unconsciously covered your chest, crossing your arms to hide from the greedy eyes of the men peering in the doorway, Prince Aegon in the front row with yet another cup of wine clutched between his fingers.

Master Mellos invited you to lie down on the bed, and you obeyed, swallowing, while a host of servants shielded you from view as the Maester made his humiliating inspection.

"All is in order, your Graces," the Master informed the Prince and Queen. And that was enough for Aemond to completely slip the iron mask off his face and go straight to the door. "The show is over. Get out."

"Oh, come on, little brother. Let me watch, at least. I could give you some tips."

Aemond had towered over his brother, and from your seat on the bed, you were able to see the eldest brother shrinking by the moment. "This is not some common whore you're speaking of.” Aemond seethed “She is my wife, and you will owe her the respect she deserves. One more lewd word from your mouth, and I will rip your tongue with my bare hands. Am I being clear?”

"Gods, brother, are you already so cunt-struck?"

He never got an answer, only the door being slammed right into his face.

You stood in the middle of the room, torturing your hands as he looked at you from the door. He seemed unsure of what to do, until he cleared his throat and took a few tentative steps in the room.

“You could have some wine, if you wish. It may…help you.” He said, but as he said this, he seemed to regret his own words, given how his mouth twitched as if he had just tasted something sour. Memories could come just like that, sudden and sour.

“You must relax, my prince. Have some wine, maybe? No need to worry, I will take care of you just as a prince deserves to.”

“I’d like to keep my mind clear, my Prince.” You said, keeping your gaze down, hearing his fast and deep sigh. “Fine.” he said, straightening his back as a soldier. After all, wasn’t this just another duty?

It wasn’t just that though. You were his wife now, the future mother of his children. It was his duty and his right to claim you as his own.

“Lay on the bed.”

With your heart pounding in your ears, you did as you were told but when the mattress dipped under his weight, you did not expect to see him with his clothes still on, the eyepatch firmly in its place. More so, you did not expect the harshness of his gestures as he held your waist to turn you around. The air hitched in your throat as your face met the mattress and a strange sorrow gripped your heart. Did he not want to look at you? Did he not like you?

“Try to stay still and it’ll be over shortly.” he said. He was trying to sound reassuring, but his voice came out cold and flat. His fingers latched on your underskirts, hiking them up, filling you with embarrassment as you grow completely exposed beneath him.

Aemond knew what to do. He may not have been as depraved as his brother, but he was still a man. And once in a while, when his hands would not suffice, some maid or servant girl would’ve had to bear, quite keenly on their part, his intimate attentions.

As his hands began to glide on your thighs, you shivered and said “Wait…”

Slowly your head turned to look at him, cheeks red and breath slow and anxious. “Am I not allowed to look at you?”

Your words seemed to stun him for a moment. The mere thought of you wanting to look at him made him realize how wrong he was behaving. You were his wife, not a common whore to bend over and have his moment of bliss. He had even told Aegon. That was not his intention, but there was a gap between how he felt and how he acted, a limb severed by years of pity looks and feelings trapped in his mouth and swallowed.

Almost gently, he made you turn but once you were facing him, he pinned your wrists on the mattress, unable to touch him even if you had gathered enough courage to do it. You tried to brace yourself for what your mother had told you. But she had not told you that he would touch you there, that all your senses would go numb except for that one brand new feeling between your legs. But he seemed enthralled by it just as you, his mouth parting to let out slow puffs of air as you grow wet and swollen against his fingers.

Your breath was labored, coming out in soft pants that made your cheeks purple. More so because he kept circling his deft fingers on your core while looking straight into your eyes, reveling in the way you were answering to his call, in the way he was shaping your need, your desire.

“You never touched yourself, did you?” he asked in a husky voice.

You barely shook your head and his eye glinted with something dark as he brought his face close to yours “Good. I shall be the only one inside you.”

He swallowed your shaky breath with this mouth, kissing you for the very first time, apart from the shy, almost prude peck exchanged after the wedding vows. Your lips moved shyly, trembling with the coiling pressure between your legs. And just when you thought this heat, this delicious aching couldn’t grow more unbearable, he sticked a finger inside you, spilling a loud moan right against his mouth.

One of your wrists twisted in his harsh hold, willing to touch him, to grip on something, but he didn’t let you. “Easy…” he blew on your lips “Relax. It’ll feel good, I promise…”

It surely felt good to him, to feel the tightness of your cunt squeezing his finger. He curled it and you squinted your eyes, choking a gasp that made him smirk proudly against your jaw. “Gods, you’re so tight…” he breathed as he kept rubbing slowly against your walls.

“It’s—it’s too much—“ you cried out with pain and pleasure running together, breathing his scent of ash, leather and a hint of something minty.

“How will you take my cock if you can’t even take my finger?” He whispered with benevolent cruelty, moving his finger faster and deeper.

Certainly your mother had not told you of the obscene wet sounds you would hear, of the uncontrollable moans coming out of your mouth, of his soft growling next to your ear when his breeches became too tight.

He had lined the tip of his hard manhood to your entrance, catching your breath away as tried to still your nerves, but the pain came altogether. You felt like he was cutting you from the inside. Tears filled your eyes, squinting for the painful stretching. You knew he was restraining himself; he didn’t want to hurt you more than he already was. And you almost felt affection for him, most men would not have bothered.

Then he had started to move, you felt that stranger body rubbing over and over against your walls, and finally the pain soothed, but not completely. You could tell he was enjoying it, his ragged breath and faint moans told you so, as well as the curses hissed through his teeth in a language you guessed was Valyrian. And then he had stilled completely, gripping your hips hard and firm while you felt a hot wave pulsing through your core.

The next morning, you could barely sit down for breakfast, and your aunt had looked at you with concern and a hint of amusement in her eyes. She was a veteran at court, a long-time widow, and quite happy to be so. It was her who suggested your betrothal to the Prince.

"How are you feeling, sweet niece?"

"Awful." you said promptly, shifting your weight on the seat.

"Well, this is the kind of anguish all women must go through."

"I thought that was giving birth to another human being."

"Oh Gods, no. That is the ugly part. This is the good one," she said with a sly smile "I suggest you enjoy it as much as you can."

At the time, you didn't really understand what she meant. The first night with the prince had gone...well, you thought. But he certainly enjoyed it more than you.

The second time was better. Your muscles were still sore, but the pain was but a faint discomfort compared to the pleasure you felt for the very first time in your life.

The third time he went down on you, bringing you so close to the edge only to deny your release, with cruel enjoyment on his part, making you whine with shame at the loss of his mouth and tongue on your folds.

The fourth time he bent you down on the breakfast table, all things falling in a mess of cutlery. He had pulled up your skirts and lowered his breeches just enough to thrust in, unraveling a special spot deep inside of you that had you mewling like some primitive beast.

The fifth time he had you writhing in bed, hair stuck to your head with sweat and hands clenching the sheets while he had you peak three times in a row.

It was then that you started to think your aunt was right.

That was indeed the good part.

“Are you afraid?” he asks, with a soft taunt on the tip of his tongue. You drag your eyes away from the gigantic beast before you and almost scoff. That is enough for him to laugh, quietly, but still not quietly enough for you to not notice and wonder at the view.

It’s been merely one moon since you’ve been married to Prince Aemond, and you could count on the fingers of your hand the times you have seen him laugh. It was eerie at first, you feared all the things you heard about the One Eyed Prince were true. That he was cold as stone and just as hard. And he was. But the more you spent time together, the more you were able to make cracks, and let light through.

“I’m equally afraid as any little mortal of right mind would be in front of the largest dragon in the known world, my dear husband.”

His lips stay quirked up, but his eye widens, as it always does when you call him that. He steps close to you, a few of his long strides are enough for him to tower over you, and the ground below your feet shifts.

“Come.” He says, taking your hand, “I promise she won’t eat you.” This time you deliberately glare at him, and he raises an eyebrow. “Do you need some other kind of persuasion to trust me? Perhaps like the one I used this morning?”

The early afternoon sun makes his face almost hurting to watch, or maybe it's just his bold gloating that makes his appearance so exhausting.

“That was not persuasion.” you remark, hiding the tinge of red on your cheeks “It was coercion.”

“Hmm. You didn’t seem so hostile when I made you come twice before breakfast.”

"I was hostile to the chance of the maid assisting with what we were doing."

"The maid should know better than to enter while my wife is undressing."

His eye roams over you just as he had done that morning, hunger clouding it, making your insides shrink. "Perhaps it's best if she knew. Someone must be aware of how cruel my husband is." there's a soft tease in your tone—something you are still learning, but true nonetheless.

He had ripped your nightgown with his bare hands when the maid entered to help you dress. She fled hastily, but you barely spared a glance at her, already lost to the fierce claim of his hand between your legs. He had taken you, twice, and then ordered you to dress, forcing you to have breakfast with the Queen and the Princess with your thighs still sticky with sex, sticky with him.

And he had been there, sitting just in front of you, with a piercing and delighted gaze.

He pulls your hand, and you follow, getting closer to that living relic that is Vhagar, Queen of All Dragons. She raises her monstrous head and looks straight at you with her amber eyes.

It is the first time you step so close to her, and even if you thought about it a lot, your heart is pounding fast, and your breath comes out slow and labored. She's a dreadful wonder.

She flares her nostrils and smells you, making a low rumble which results in a gust of hot wind that ruffles your hair and skirts.

“Lykirī, Vhagar.” Aemond says quietly “Issa ñuha ābrazȳrys. Kostā pāsagon zirȳla.”

You look at him questioningly, and he answers. “I told her you are my wife. And she can trust you.”

You cast a curious look at the dragon and then back at him “Is that all it takes? You tell dragons to trust you, and they resist the urge to turn you into their meal?”

Aemond curves his lips and makes you step closer, standing behind you and guiding your hand on the old green scales. “It takes much more than that.” he whispers in your ear “You have to surrender to them, completely. A dragon is no slave.”

You feel the heat beneath your palm, but it’s not that that makes you swallow; it’s the heat of his breath on your neck, right into your ear, scorching his way into your brain and inflaming every thought.

“What does Lykirī mean?” you ask, and you hate how your voice cracks on the edges.

He smirks because he knows, he always does. But he does not answer. Instead, he pulls your hand again, and you follow, circling the beast until stopping before the intricate ropes that lead to the saddle.

“Aemond, I don’t think—”

“You are my wife and you will ride with me on dragon back.” He said, commanding.

Truthfully, you gladly want to obey; there is just a slight difference between picturing riding a dragon and doing it.

Even the climbing to get in the saddle is a challenge on its own, but he helps you until you firmly seat yourself in it. Aemond sits behind you, and you look around with widened eyes, as if you are looking down from the highest tower ever built, except this is a living one, made of fire and breathing fire.

He leans over you to grab the reins, and you tense, waiting with bathed breath.

“Dohaeras, Vhagar. Soves!”

She lets out a loud screech that makes your ears hurt, but you have no time to even register it because she's already moving. You grip Aemond’s arms and brace yourself against his chest when Vhagar lurches onward and opens her huge wings to take flight.

She goes up and up, above the clouds, and your head is dizzy, with fear, with euphoria, until you are laughing like a child, like you never did in your entire life. Aemond lets go of the reins and laces his arms around you, angling his head to look at you, his silver hair violently ruffled by the wind. “How does it feel, my sweet wife?”

There are no common words to describe it. Now you know why they say Targaryens are closer to Gods than men. No man could claim a dragon or rule the skies.

“I feel like I’m close to the Gods.” you say, and he tightens the hold on you “Dragons do not answer to Gods.” he says, burying his nose in your hair “Where does this leave us?”

You turn your head to look at him, and you feel like you are looking at one of them. And yet he looks like he’s beyond any God.

“Above them. Above the Gods.”

“Hmm.” He croons, breathing your scent through his nose, and then his right hand grabs your skirt and dips underneath, until you feel his cold fingers grazing your skin. “I will make you feel like one.”

He cups your core through your small clothes, and you whimper, gripping his arm harder. He feels your heat through his palm, hotter than Vhagar’s own fire, and he sets the fabric aside to properly touch you. “My sweet wife.” he whispers, sliding a finger between your folds “Always so ready for me.”

“Aemond.” You say, holding your breath, trying to oppose but your voice cracks, and your body with it, already answering to his call. You see clouds before your eyes, but it’s all a blur, all your senses are enslaved by his touch, rubbing lazy circles on your bud. Too slow for your liking, for your need. Your hips arch and buck, chasing his hand for more friction, and he laughs, darkly. “What is it? What do you need, sweet girl? Tell me.”

He takes your chin with his free hand and forces you to turn your head and look at him. His hold is ruthless, but his tone is almost pleading. “Tell me.” he orders and you feel like he’s smothering you, sweeping away all the air from your lungs. “I-I need more…”

“More of what?” he asks, stopping altogether. “Show me.”

You look him in the eye and swallow, heat inflaming your cheeks, but there’s no place for shame, not here. It is just a faint ghost passing through you, and then it’s gone. Your hand pulls the gown up, and you place it on his, like a feather. “Here.” You breathe on his mouth “Inside.”

The howling wind does nothing to muffle his growl, and then he’s kissing you, harshly, teeth clashing and biting your lips as he accepts your plea, sliding a finger inside of you.

A strangled moan escapes you, and he swallows it, darting his tongue in every corner of your mouth. He releases your chin only to grab your leg to further open them and then he adds a second finger, moving them deftly until reaching that special spot. Your head falls back on his shoulder, gasping loudly, digging your nails into his hand.

Your breath is ragged and fast, and you uselessly try to stifle moan after moan even if there are only the skies to hear.

“Don’t.” he says grazing your lobe with his teeth “I want to hear you. I want you to scream for me.”

Your mind goes blank, as does all your restraint. You feel the tide coming to crash you, hips moving on their own accord, chasing and chasing. And then you’re drowning in it, mouth falling open and flesh and bones clenching and trembling.

He grunts softly when your nails scratch his skin and his fingers slip out, glistening; he raises them to his lips and tastes every drop of you. Still panting, he takes your chin once more with his sticky fingers and licks your lips, so you taste yourself on his tongue.

Your head is still dizzy when Vhagar lands in a clearing in the King’s Wood, but this has nothing to do with altitude. Your limbs are heavy when he helps you dismount, your legs buckle. There is a tautness knotting your bones, itching your fingertips.

You wish to touch him, because you have never, not as a wife would touch her husband, not as he has done with you.

It is only a moon and yet he has taken you almost every night and every day. He has touched you everywhere, he has molded you to his liking, and you let him do it with giddiness, undoing yourself like clay in his hands. He had put his mouth on you, and you have discovered he particularly enjoyed it, because he has done that at the most inopportune times, even in some dark corner of the corridors.

And you wondered if you could do the same with him—not because you have to, but because you want to. You want to claim him just as he claims you, relentlessly.

And he really is. He is relentless, he doesn't give you the time to wander with your hands, to discover, to touch. Fire burns him quickly and you are ashes before you realise you are burning with him.

“I didn’t know my wife had claws.” He says at one point, while you are going back to the Keep.

You wake from your thoughts and turn, watching him raise his hand to show the red marks on the back of his hand, and the sight makes you almost proud—proud to have left a mark of you on him. But you want more, and he wants more. You know it; it takes a brief look at his breeches to know that he wants more.

You dart your eyes around, but there's no one. So, you stop. Trying to gather all the boldness you never had, you step closer to him and take his hand in yours. Your eyes look up slowly, glinting with uncertainty and bravery. "Then let me soothe your pain, husband."

Aemond’s eye widens, and the air around you turn heavy, forcing you to open your mouth to breathe. You take one more step and bring the back of his hand to your lips, kissing it gently while your eyes stay fixed on his face. The other hand goes tentatively to his chest and then slides down, and for once, just once, he’s the one answering your call. His eye darkens and his lips part when your hands bashfully grab the laces of his breeches.

But you should have known better. Targaryens and their desires. Doomed to take whatever they want, whenever they want, answering neither Gods nor men.

You barely blink and he grabs you by the wrists and forces you to the ground. Cold grass and bushes stinging your back make you gasp, but Aemond is already on you, watching you like a century-long thirsted man who takes a glimpse of a water spring, as if you could evaporate from his sight at any moment.

“Aemond, please.” you beg “let me—“

But his tongue is in your mouth, hot and scorching you alive. Your eyes flutter shut, and he hikes your skirts up, taking hold of your hips. You feel his bulge against you, hard and ready, and you can do nothing else than wait, pinned down like prey, all bravery a distant memory.

Suddenly he lowers himself down, lifting your skirts with haste until you’re completely bare half down. “No—Aemond, please I want to—”

“You want what?” he asks with a wolfish grin “Deny me your sweet taste? Iksā ñuhon, ābrazȳrys.” He said that already, you know what it means. You are mine.

“You belong to me. And this…” he swears placing your legs on his shoulders while looking at your aching core as a man who found the greatest treasure in the world. “This belongs to me as well.”

He runs his tongue up and down your wet folds, humming with delight as he tastes you and sees you squirm, arching your back on the stingy bushes. You moan loudly when he slowly swirls his tongue, not able to keep track of your hips starting  to move on their own, thrusting into his mouth and the sight of you like this, makes him even wilder, pushing him to open his mouth and put it entirely on your cunt, sucking harshly until anything before your eyes becomes blurred.

Your legs on his shoulders begin to shake and curl, caging him further against you, but just when you are about to come straight into his mouth, he pulls back. A weak sob leaves your mouth as your hips keep bucking against nothing and he smirks at that, untangling your legs from his shoulders, running his tongue over his lips, to taste what's left of you on him. You look at him through dazed eyes and a tinge of annoyance for the denied release. “What?” he has the boldness to ask with a sly smirk “Did you not enjoy it?” he runs his thumb on his glistening chin and swiftly licks it. "Hmm. I most certainly did."

“Aemond, please.” you claw desperately at his shoulders and forearms, forcing him to lie on you, feel something that could soothe the aching between your legs. He seems keen to grant you this mercy, molding his crotch against you so you can feel how hard and desperate he is.

“Please.” you beg in a thin voice.

“Speak it plainly, my love. I want to hear it from your pretty mouth.”

You look at him straight in the eye and what you say next is not a request nor a plea. Your mother would be ashamed of you, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

You are not begging. You are demanding. “Fuck me.”

He doesn’t need more than a few moments to get his cock out of his breeches, and not a moment later he’s pushing inside of you, your back arching on the bushes and your throat fighting for breath. He groans and starts a relentless pace, lifting his weight from you just enough for him to look at his cock going in and out, the sight only pushing him to thrust harder and harder. “Look at you.” he croons, sweet and rough “You were born to take me, to be mine.”

Your face twists with pleasure, teeth biting your lower lip while he takes you higher and higher, higher than any sky a dragon could ever take you.

He soon becomes messy and sloppy, cursing under his breath, but you can barely hear him. Your mind is sluggish and everything comes muffled: him, the birds chirping on some tree, your wet flesh slapping against his in the lewdest and most blessed way.

He curses some more, and then he’s spilling inside you, his arched mouth opening and his eye closing like a man absolved.

And yet, he does not stop. He has not claimed enough.

“Māzis, dōna ābrazȳrys. Come for me.”

Your hand clutches something on the ground, something with thorns that pierces your skin with pain, but you can’t even feel that, because you are falling, legs trembling around him, and heart stopping for an endless moment of pure breathtaking bliss.

“Gevie.” he coos with his lips on yours, falling with his body on you, still clenching and pulsing around him. He stays right where he is, nesting inside of you, and now it is the only chance you have been granted to touch him. You put an arm around his shoulders, catching your breath, and look at the skies above, thinking you are indeed above them.

It was easy to explain the dirt and grass stains on your dress. It was a little less easy to explain the twigs in your ruffled hair when you and Aemond returned to the Keep only to meet the Queen Mother along one of the corridors. Alicent merely smiled at you with a tight smile and did not spare from giving a look full of daggers to her son.

"Seven Hells" you mutter when you go back to your rooms and catch a glimpse of the mess you are in the mirror.

Aemond stays on the threshold to close the door and grins, or rather, gloats.

You step out of your muddy shoes and start to pull the laces of your dress.

"What are you doing?" he asks, and you playfully glare at him. "Am I allowed to take a bath now? Or do you want me to go around all sullied? I fear there are no believable excuses for the state I’m in."

"You can tell them the truth." he says, walking to you and replacing your hands with his to help you pull the intricate laces.

You smile softly with your back turned before raising an eyebrow, asking "Which is?"

He keeps his eye focused on the dress, a slight furrow in his brow, and stoically serious, he says "That your husband fucked you in the King's Wood."

"I could tell the maid. I'm sure she won't be stunned after what she saw this morning."

He makes you turn so you can look at him, and the sight before you makes your heart sing. His eye roams on your face softly, a rare sight on him, always stoic, always sharp, like all the angles composing this beautiful sculpture of black glass.

You always thought of marriage as a strategic deal for men, and a way for women to prove their value to the world, giving those same men sons and daughters. But you care for him. And he cares for you. That look on his face is enough for you to know that he cares for you, not merely as a brood mare.

“Gevie.” he says, quietly, and he touches your cheek, softly, making you wonder how those same hands can be so delicate and yet so merciless at the same time.

“What does it mean?” you ask, even if you are sure he will not answer. You observed that when he speaks in High Valyrian he does it almost to himself, as if to protect something he does not wish the others to know.

But this time, he meets your eyes and lowers his hand. “Beautiful.”

You look at him with your heart pounding in your throat, and then you stand up on your toes, crashing your mouth against his, almost catching him by surprise. But he is all too deft at turning the game on his side, and a few seconds later, his hands are gripping your hips and his tongue is licking the roof of your mouth.

When the door suddenly opens, you pull back, spotting the same maid from that morning who, this time, can do nothing but suffer the Prince's wrath.

"Can't you just fuck off for once?!"

You hold back a laugh against his chest and the poor maid flees in a hurry. But when he pulls you to him, tilting his head to pick up where he left off, you step back and say, "I'm afraid the Queen has requested your presence. You should go, my dear husband. I promise that by tonight I will be completely clean."

"Tonight?" he asks, raising his eyebrow. "What is happening tonight?"

You shrug your shoulders and hold back a smile. "Innocence doesn't suit you, my Prince."

"Neither does you."

"I'm afraid this is your fault. You are sullying my soul as well as...everything else."

"You won't be of the same mind when you have my child growing in your womb," and he smirks, looking at you as if he's taking a sacred oath, and then walks away.

You finally manage to take a bath and change clothes, and then you go to visit your aunt. She spends most of her time alone, sipping tea in the gardens, partly because she can't stand the other court ladies, partly because the court ladies can't stand her. Truthfully, you cannot blame them, your aunt speaks plainly—too plainly at times.

You sit down with her for tea, which you end up swallowing like salt, because your aunt takes it with a whole squeezed lemon, and no sugar.

"I saw you with your husband earlier. I may be too old for new fashion but mud on your skirt and twigs in your hair seem a bit too brazen, even for me."

You stifle a smile, recalling what happened. If only she knew he was brazen enough to have you utterly undone on dragon back, thousands of feet up.

Your eyes go distant while you fumble with some tablecloth threads, but your Aunt stares at you piercely, and grabbing her cup of tea she says "I love that look on you."

"What?"

She sips the sour liquid and puts the cup down. "That look. The I'm in love look."

"I am not!" you counter, cheeks going red.

"Of course you are. I've watched you two. I dare say he's falling way faster than you."

You look at her puzzled. Many things have changed in a moon. And you are sure you are utterly infatuated with him. But you did not know what to think of what he actually feels for you, if he even feels something. You know he cares for you, you know he loves spending time with you. You know he's passionate, possessive, almost soft at rare times. But in love? That seems too soon to consider, or to hope for.

"It is too soon to talk about love."

"In fact, I did not, my sweet niece. Falling in love and love are beasts of different species. Why do you think we say "falling"? You can't stop from falling. To love a person is an entirely different matter. Love is a choice."

You let those words sink but you prefer not to question your heart right now. There is a reason you have come here to talk to your aunt, even if you don't know how to address the matter without melting from embarrassment.

But in the end, who could you ask for advice? Your squeamish maids? The Queen Mother? Definitely not.

"Listen, I...I wanted to ask you something..." you start "It is uhm...a matter of somewhat intimate nature."

"Ah, my favourites." your aunt says, beaming "I am all ears."

You shift uncomfortably in your chair and swallow another sip of that dreadful tea "My mother...she explained to me what would happen between husband and wife to...consummate the marriage. But she didn't tell me...well, everything else."

Your Aunt is quick to raise her eyebrow "I gathered that your marriage had been consummated by now. Thoroughly."

"Y-yes, of course. But I...discovered...that there are other ways for a husband to please his wife...and I was wondering if...if I could…do those same things to please him."

Your aunt looks utterly puzzled for a long moment, and then, almost stunned, she says "Oh Seven Hells, child. You are telling me you never sucked your husband off?"

A few court ladies walking near turned their heads, going white as sheets, while you, on the contrary, take a nice purple shade.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, prissies. We all did it eventually." she dismisses them, waving a lazy hand, and looks back at you. "You should do it, if you wish. Men love it. Your uncle used to ask—"

"I don't want to hear that, auntie, I'm begging you." you say squinting your eyes.

"Listen to me, child. Men love to think they rule everything, everywhere. But it is not always like that. And if you want to rule your husband's heart, you must rule in his bed first."

That evening, Aemond wanted nothing more than to lock himself in his room with his wife and forget all the hateful political talk he had had to endure at dinner.

You had not attended, and that had bothered him. Never would he have thought of marriage as anything more than a duty, yet there he was, wondering where you were, who you were with, and why you weren't in his rooms when he set foot in there.

"Where is my wife?" he asks the maid, and she keeps her eyes glued to the floor, saying "The princess spent the evening in the library, your Grace. She told me that she would be—"

"I am here," you say, appearing behind the young maid.

You see his chest sag as if a weight is leaving him, and he casts an icy glance at the poor maid "Out."

He is rarely kind to servants, but you can tell by his tense shoulders that something is wrong.

"Aemond, what is the matter?" you ask as soon as the door closes, walking up to him with a hand behind your back.

"Where were you? Why weren't you at dinner?"

"I was in the library."

"For four hours?"

"It was a tough read—"

He grabs your arm, gripping hour wrist harshly, and you flinch. "Aemond, I swear to you.” you say watching his eye on fire and a sneer twisting his mouth “You can ask Maester Mellos." 

Suddenly he lets you go, and looks down, closing his eye for a moment. But he doesn't apologize, he never does, and not because he is a Prince. It's just the way he is. He doesn't apologize, he doesn't say thank you, he doesn't say please.

"Aemond, what's going on?"

"I don't want to talk about it now. In fact, never. Not here."

You watch him carefully, and you nod as he moves to pour wine into a cup. You watch him gobble it up greedily, which is unlike him. So, you get close and move your hand from behind your back and say, "Anyway, I wasn't lying. I really spent four hours in the library...trying to decipher this."

You show him an old book, and the title catches his eye, cup held in midair. "Tales of the Dragonlords?" he asks frowning. "This is in High Valyrian."

"It is." you confirm as you move closer, and you steal his cup before saying, "Would you read it to me?" and you take a sip, of wine and courage.

He watches the liquid flow down your throat and then accepts the invitation, taking the book—the one he has read so many times he can recite it by heart. He opens it to the first page, but you say "No. Page 72."

There is a slight imperative tone in your tone of voice, and it thrills him, given how his eye glints under the candlelight. He drops it on the table, looking at you from head to toe, and says, "I'll read it to you later, sweet wife."

He steps closer but you back away saying, "Fine, then. I'll tell you what I understood so you can correct me or not." and at the same moment your own hands go up on your corset and you start pulling on the laces.

The gesture catches his eye like a moth to a flame and he stays silent as you pull all the laces and then slip off your dress, remaining in your underskirt. His gaze roams over you slowly, and with a soft smirk, he decides to play the game.

“Page 72, you said. How Dragonlords claimed Dragons.”

“Yes.”

"And why did it capture your interest? Do you wish to do it? Do you wish to claim a dragon?"

"I wish to conquer, not claim."

He comes closer and looks at you, breathing through his nose, restraining, always restraining, and then he's raising his hand to reach a lock of your hair falling on your shoulder, but you stop him, air as heavy as moss.

"The Valyrian sages say a dragonlord must surrender himself completely to the dragon. But it works both ways. The dragon must submit his will to their rider."

He looks at you without blinking, and you take his arms, guiding him closer until you turn and push him lightly on the bed. He sits and you slowly climb on his lap, knees caging his hips, heart is pounding in your throat like a hammer. You hear him taking a swift breath and pride pools in your bones because for once you have caught him off guard.

You can feel his crotch hardening by the moment, but the look on his face is not one of hunger or lust. It is pure and blessed devotion.

You wonder at the view, and your eyes roam on his face until...

"Can I take it off?"

There's no need to say what. His face goes hard as stone, eye looking away with discomfort, with shame.

"Please, Aemond." you whisper. "I want to see all of you. I want you to bare yourself to me as I did to you."

"It is not pleasant."

"I don't want pleasantness. I want you."

He stares at you for an eternal moment and then he caves.

A flash of sparkling blue catches you completely and you can do nothing but watch with lips parted, while he keeps his eye down.

You wrap an arm around his shoulders and lean your head against his to breathe one single word in his ear. "Gevie."

His arms are all around you, holding you so tight you might gasp for air. Instead you are smiling, breathing through his long silver hair. You are not sure if you aunt is right, if love is indeed a choice. You can't bring yourself to care because you are doing it already.

And then he's kissing you, seizing your tongue with his in a fierce consuming way. He slightly hikes up your hips, and his hand tries to slide between your legs, but you lace your fingers around his wrist, breaking the kiss with panted breath.

"No." you whisper, and he looks at you almost questioningly, mouth open and chest heaving.

"Lykirī."

His eye widens and you smile, secretly. "I know what it means now."

He smirks at this and does not miss the chance to be the ever diligent scholar. "But you said it wrong. The R is hard."

“Lykirī.” You say again, following his lesson, and in the same moment your hand leaves his wrist and goes down to his breeches. He dips his chin to look at it, at your hands unsure, and he too looks unsure.

“You don’t have to—“

“I want to.” You say, and your voice comes out firm and clear. “Please, Aemond. Let me…let me touch you.”

He realizes now that in all the times you have been lying together, you never managed to lay a hand on him. He likes to keep people at distance. Too many wrong hands have been on him. The Maesters’, inspecting, debating, healing without healing. That whore, taking what it was not hers to take, not yet.

But he wants you to touch him. He has dreamed of it, in any way a man could dream of a woman’s touch.

He looks at you for a moment, chest rising slowly, and then, without taking his eye off you, he pulls the laces of his breeches and guides your hand around his cock. You look down, exhaling a long breath at feeling his hard and hot flesh already pulsing.

He knows you don’t know how to do it, so his hands guide you at first, going slowly up and down, and the air comes out of his mouth slowly and labored. You look up at him, his eye is pitch black, lid growing heavy with pleasure, and your core clenches, desire pools in your belly and flows down.

He must hear the call of your body, because he releases your hand, still stroking him, and goes right between your legs. You gasp loudly, and he hums, delight dripping from his voice just as you are dripping on his fingers. He starts to pump his fingers and you can do nothing but moan, clutching his shoulders with your free hand, the other still around his cock, but the act is growing lazy, your mind can’t focus properly on what you are supposed to do.

“Listen.” he orders you, fingers moving faster and faster, and you do listen. Your soaked flesh coming undone at his scorching touch. “Who else has you like this?”

But this is a question he’s asking himself. Because no one else will ever have him bare like this.

“You. Just you.” you say hoarsely, eyes closing and hips rocking on their own accord.

“And who am I?” he whispers just as hoarsely, and yet his voice is like a whip on all your senses.

“My husband.” you cry, feeling the wave ready to drown you “Ñuha zaldrīzes.” My dragon.

You cannot care less about how you said it, because then your mouth falls open, nails digging into his shoulder while your trembling hips keep riding his fingers, clenching them like a vice.

Your head falls onward, leaning against his forehead, and you try to catch your breath. You watch his wet fingers go straight into his mouth while he looks at you, humming with pleasure. “You look so pretty like this.” he says with the ghost of a smile on his lips “I should fuck you in Throne Room with the whole court watching, so they know how pretty you are when you come for me.”

You laugh with your cheeks flushing, and he slides an arm around you, and you know he wants to pin you down on the bed and fuck you until you are muffling nonsense in the pillow. But this is not his game. This is yours, and even if you don’t know how to play, you will win.

“No.” you say, climbing down from his lap, and he looks at you with hunger and a tinge of thrilling curiosity. “It is my turn to claim.” You say with all the bravery you possess.

Not a moment later, you are going down on your knees.

Another small victory, because his eye widens as he had never done before, and you can see that this, the sight of you on your knees before him, is something he has been craving for, even dreamed of it.

His breathing is slow, and you are not even touching him.

You place yourself between his knees and you lean closer and closer, anxiety twisting your insides, but you want to do this. “Lykirī, nuha zaldrīzes. Surrender.” you take him into your hand, tugging slowly, and your lips linger on the tip, heart pounding in your ears and eyes fixed on him. “Lykirī.” You say one last time and then you are swallowing him.

He hisses loudly and his lips part, hands clutching the covers until his knuckles go white. He’s like burning metal inside your mouth—hot and hard. At first, you just taste him, running your tongue over the head, and he’s cursing under his breath. His hands twitch on the covers, restraining and restraining, but there’s no need. You take his hand while looking at him and you release it from your mouth to say “Teach me.”

It’s like you have just poured fire on more fire. His eye goes wild, he takes hold of your head and starts to guide you again, making your mouth engulf him once more and deep down to the base and then up to the tip again, filling the room with a wet gagging sound. You get the gist of what you’re supposed to do, so your head starts going up and down and up and down, and he actually moans for you, head falling back for just a moment before looking back, he can’t help but watch as you fiercely claim him.

You watch his chest heaving fast and your jaw is starting to hurt but you don't care, you are too absorbed by the view before you. You are too thrilled by the fact that, for once, you have made him speechless.

He's always so bold in the bedroom, so cruel in deciding when and how to give pleasure, and now he's utterly speechless. He can only curse without breath, and gasp and groan.

“Kelītīs.” he manages to say at one point, voice all husky and cracking. You don’t know that word, and you have no time to ask because in a blink, he’s slamming you onto the bed and he’s hiking up your skirt, but you get on your elbows pushing him on his back and climbing on him.

“I’m not done, valzȳrys.” you say feeling his hard length inflaming your core, so you lay your hips on it as firmly as possible. “I claimed, but I did not conquer.”

“You are fucking torturing me.” he points out, bucking against you.

“Conquests could last for centuries, dear husband. You above all should know that.”

“All I know now is that I need to fuck you.” he says placing both hands on the sheets to pull himself up.

“No, I will.” you promise, rocking your hips once more “This is my conquest, not yours.”

You keep rubbing your drenched core on his length until a sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead, and he's so hard he's leaking from the tip. "You are twisted, wife." he says with a dazed tone and you smile even if you can't take it anymore, but you rock some more, saying "I'm a quick study. And I'm learning from the best."

Finally, when you are so wet you are dripping on him, you raise just enough to slide his cock inside of you.

You gasp together and you brace on his shoulders to start moving. You both know you are not going to last long, so you start rocking your hips slowly, taking him to the hilt until you struggle for air.

“Move…” he orders but you just take the opposite road, slowing your hips in a delicious torturing way. “Do you know what else the Sages said? A rider must know their mount, feel their heat below them.”

But Aemond does not have a single drop of blood in his head right now to give you an answer, let alone play your game; he's just fire that burns and burns and burns and just like the Sages said, you can feel his heat, burning below and inside you. He grips your hips and starts to thrust inside you like the wild beast you are supposedly claiming, until you are moaning so loud your throat hurts.

“Yes—” he growls as you bounce on him “Just like that—you’re gripping me so well—fuck"

You both turn sloppy, a mess of sweaty limbs and teeth biting, clutching at each other with bruising grips, pulling at the roots of his hair when you’re about to fall from the highest sky.

"Come on, my sweet girl. Let go for me." he breathes into your mouth, forcing you to move even faster "Let go fro your dragon. Seal your conquest." And you do.

He follows right after, spilling inside while digging his teeth into your neck like fangs on a prey, muffling his loud groaning.

And you are smiling like a fool, a lovestruck fool, but most of all, a conqueror. 

Thank you so much for reading!! 💞💞

[jiminjamms]

sex therapy :: 29. karma's a bitch

chapter tags/warnings: manipulative! naoya. naoya's anger issues continue. infidelity/adultery. extremely strong language. corruption. mentions of physical violence. family drama.

word count: 3.2k

notes: my sixty-hour work weeks have been taking a huge toll on me, so i apologize for this incredibly slow update. the good news is that i cannot take this corporate america bullshit anymore and will resign in the next two months. thank you for being patient! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

Naoya had never felt this humiliated in his entire life.

When people said karma was a bitch, he never thought that it would actually make its way back to him. While he was not the most righteous person in the world, he was the Zenin CEO, for god’s sake! He was the leader to a multi-billion dollar conglomerate, the heir of a centuries-old bloodline. 

Yet, here he was, charging back to his apartment like an irate animal.

He startled the lobby doormen upon his loud entry, and once he returned to his penthouse, he had to will every muscle in his body not to tear apart his abode in a rampage.

In his head, his encounter with Toji looped like a broken record, fueling his chagrin.

When Naoya sought to confront his cousin for the first time in months, he thought he had been prepared. He did not expect to end up digging himself into a deep hole surpassing the world's layers due to a judgment error—a slight miscalculation. 

Correction: this miscalculation was anything but 'slight' because he wildly underestimated what felt like everything. Now, he bore the consequences of his mistakes after inadvertently turning himself into a laughingstock. Because his ego was his hamartia, he had become a mere jester in a story where he was meant to be the sole hero, and thus his ill feelings burned hotter than the surface of the Sun.

As much as he hated to admit this, Naoya had been shortsighted. He should have known better. Just weeks ago, he saw a vision filled with saccharine promises of a happy, comfortable life as the most powerful man in Japan imbued with power and wealth. He had been confident—a hundred percent certain—that absolutely nothing could go wrong in the trajectory he worked hard to create. But, what the actual fuck just happened at the therapist's office?!

He did not expect his mistress to make a complete fool out of him. Her very existence was an anathema to him, and he hoped to never be in contact with that woman ever again. In hindsight, Naoya should have taken the hint a while ago. He had previously forgiven his cousin's ex-wife, dismissing her blissful but intentional ignorance. Mari had never been too keen on actual intellectual and corporate matters, for she took far more interest in the money and comfort that came with starting from the bottom and sleeping her way to the top. Despite that, Naoya trusted that she at least had half the mind to not publicly discuss their affair, only for him to be proven wrong in front of none other than...Toji Fushiguro.

"Fuck!" Naoya screamed into the void of his empty living room. His reality was a nightmare as he thought about his despised cousin again—the assured gleam in his viridescent eyes, the smug smirk that tugged across his lips. The imagery soured his mood beyond measure. "I'm going to fucking—"

He did not finish his sentence.

Instead, he kicked a nearby lamp in an angry bout, toppling the fixture over and sending tiny shards cascading across the floor accompanied by the dull thud of the shade. Whatever. His housekeeper tomorrow morning would come in and clean that. 

What he instead focused on was how he had never been this infuriated, this belittled, this undignified.

The entire apartment echoed with Naoya's loud huff.

'About ‘your wife’ or whatever you want to deem her, there is not a single chance in hell that she’d ever think about calling you her husband anymore.' These words from Toji affected him more than he would have liked.

What did he mean?

That bastard is bluffing, the blonde had to tell himself, yet even he could not believe in his own consolation.

He needed to do something about this. 

No, no, Naoya wasn’t scared.

He couldn’t possibly be, right?!

Yet, after he could feel his ears begin to cool and breathing start to re-regulate, he stared at the emptiness in his halls as he came to the realization that had no better choice but to talk to you.

You didn't want to be here.

The moment you read Naoya Zenin's text to meet up for a 'quick chat' at the café near his office, you already knew that the upcoming conversation was going to be anything but 'quick.' The last thing you wished to do was to be in the same vicinity as that very man again.

After spending the last few days at your family residence, you had been showered with warm attention from aunts, uncles, cousins, and even house attendants who—despite naturally wondering the reason behind your stay—welcomed your visit with open arms. To your relatives' many inquiries, you forged a pretense that all was well even if all was not. (Besides, all did seem well in your family estate, away from the incessant pandemonium that was the Tokyo city center.)

While you knew that this peaceful break was not meant to last forever, you did not anticipate returning to the capital just to sit with the Zenin CEO alone.

Naoya had specifically chosen a corner table in the Hong Kong-inspired establishment, distanced from potential eavesdroppers. He seemed to have been waiting for a while by the time you arrived, his right leg crossed over his left knee as he twiddled with his thumbs impatiently. Sprawled on the table were a freshly brewed pot of jasmine tea and a platter of warm custard pastries.

He remained quiet as you took the seat across from him, observing with a crease on his forehead and a knit to his brows.

Anyone could tell that the blonde was not the least bit happy.

"Giving me dirty looks is not going to get this conversation anywhere," you pointed out while helping yourself to a tart.

From your comment, the inverted slope on Naoya's lips twisted into a deeper frown. 

He did not understand where your annoyance came from. 

Fine, he never treated you nicely either, but he did not expect you to snap at him when the discussion had hardly begun. You offered him no greetings, and Naoya also took great offense at how you chose not to look at him as you talked.

Truth be told, your neglect reminded him of all the other upsetting things that he was dying to bring up, and your unpleasant attitude whittled away the little restraint he had left.

“You didn’t try to ask where I’ve been. Not one text or call. Guess it would not have mattered to you if I disappeared, huh?" he lashed out through gritted teeth. He hated being forgotten, hated being looked over, and hated how easy it was for him to prove you to be a neglectful and apathetic wife.

Which was why there was no better option than to cut him off.

“You ordered me to leave you alone, Naoya.” Only slightly did you turn your head to glance at him. Stirring sugar into your tea, you kept your attention otherwise on the nearby window and watched businesspeople scurrying about on the streets on their lunch breaks. "You can live without my attention since I'm not the only woman you have around. What happened to your lady friend? Hasn't she been entertaining you long before our marriage? I am sure she would love your company, so why not pay her an impromptu visit?”

From a slanting angle, you could tell that the transformation from your normally calm demeanor dismayed him. Naoya, not you, was typically the one to make snide comebacks, but he could not deny your latest comments. Evidently, he wanted you to go back to your submissive and passive self, but that was precisely what you no longer could be for him.

His silence prompted you to reach into your purse and retrieve a thick manila envelope, and you presented the package on the table.

Naoya's gaze snapped to the parcel. 

He was curious, but cautiously so. He had invited you here, expecting to control the narrative, to dictate the terms. As a result, your unexpected move threw him off balance. 

"What...?"

“Take a look and find out for yourself.”

A puzzled Naoya demonstrated no hesitation.

He snatched the folder, tearing the top open and greedily grabbing the curated pieces inside. He stared for a long time at the first item: a photo. But he recognized the image of him and his mistress, boarding a private jet for their most recent trip to Mexico. Then, he flipped through the stack rapidly, barely registering each item before he turned to the next. Some were printed-out pictures and others were cutouts from news articles, but all featured him and his paramour. The confusion on Naoya's visage slowly morphed into aggravation, and when he finished his inspection, he forcefully threw the items back onto the table.

In the end, Naoya sat back and went still, not even blinking, thinking, or doing anything but pressing his tongue along his inner cheek. "How did you get these?"

No apologies. No remorse.

Hell, based on his response, the man could not even bother to deny your accusations, a telling sign of how little he could care for his relationship with you. Obviously, you must be a joke to him.

In one firm motion, you placed down your teacup.

"You're missing the point.”

While one's eyes may be the windows to the soul, Naoya's offered nothing in his current state. His pupils looked at—no, examined you in intense dark pools despite the iridescent glow from the lights above.

"Toji gave you these, didn't he?" Naoya continued with a disdainful laugh, himself insistent on getting answers to his own questions. "You can't find this shit on the internet anymore since I've had them all taken down. But Toji's fast. He has eyes everywhere, I know he does. Look at him. Months later, and he's still hung up on reclaiming a position he should've never had the right to in the first place!"

Thankfully, you didn’t flinch from his loud voice. What you did do was become more indifferent as if you were placing a wall to separate yourself from him, mentally bracing for his emotional maelstrom.

"You are missing the point," you said once more. This time, you shook your head in disappointment, and your tone was far more frustrated than the last. "Aren't you shameless?”

"Me? Shameless?!” His brows pinched closer from fury. "Take a look at yourself, woman! What did you do to get all this dirt from Toji and his henchmen, hm? Ha! Know what? I bet it’s because you're so willing to spread yourself for them,” he rambled with a nasty sneer plastered on his expression. At his comments, your jaw fell open before snapping shut as the meaning behind his words sank in. The way this man disregarded how he had an affair (that began many months ago!) only to redirect the spotlight onto you was repulsing, implying that the sole reason the therapists talked to you was that you had slept around. “A whore like you love taking all them all, don’t you? Well? Well? Am I right? Goddamn, you’re such a—”

The harsh scraping from your chair as you stood was what finally interrupted him. Unable to tolerate his vilification, you counteracted his anger with the venom in your rancorous glare. 

"How dare you talk about me like that!”

In the meantime, prying eyes started to turn in your direction from the commotion: teenage girls, sharing nervous glances across their table; a lone businessman, stopping mid-sip from his cappuccino; even the barista, pausing mid-grind such that her arm froze inches from the hopper.

"That man...doesn't he seem familiar?" a distant voice asked.

"Is he a celebrity or something?"

"No, wait. He's the person on the cover of last month's Fortune magazine. Naoya Zenin!" another replied.

"Isn't that lady his wife?"

While the onlookers' curious glances turned into full-on stares, their regard steeled your resolve rather than bothered you. Instead, you wanted the crowd to take in the spectacle. Corrupt tricks and dirty money had long painted the Zenin heir as 'the most perfect man in Japan,' and the public deserved to understand the fraudulence and cruelty that underlaid his facade.

"For months, I trusted you. I respected you. I put aside the harrowing loneliness weighing on my heart all because I tried to understand you. You told me that finding the time or energy for our marriage was not easy because board meetings kept you late in the office or business meetings required you to spend several nights abroad. Fine! So, I had been patient. But," and your voice overflowed from anger as you pointed a shaking finger at the pictures on the table, "Taking another woman to Michelin restaurants for dinners? Spending nights with her at Ritz-Carltons and Four Seasons? Going on entire vacations with her across the Pacific? All while you had a wife at home? Are you out of your fucking mind ?!" 

The man's nose flared with deep-seated rage, his eyes mirroring the same bitterness in yours. "At the end of the day," he began sternly, "we're still married."

Ridiculous.

“On paper, ” you had to clarify. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be cheating on me with your older cousin's ex-wife."

Immediately, louder murmurs rippled through the crowd. Naoya turned stiff, uncomfortable with the attention. So much for selecting a quiet corner in the café. He wasn’t stupid enough to sense that he had to be careful. Saying one wrong phrase would condemn him to a public meltdown. 

However, you were already steps ahead of him when you loudly declared: “I’m filing for a divorce.” 

That caught him off guard.

Your announcement even drew audible astonishment from bystanders as they stopped their meals, turning to each other and drawing out their phones.

In literal milliseconds, the vexation once riddling Naoya's demeanor shifted into denial.

“No. We’re not going to talk about a fucking divorce right now. We’re going to fix what we have, and you’re going to come back to me. We’re...We're married for a reason, and we’re going to keep with it!”

"That's a bullshit reason,” you had to snap. “Listen to yourself. Do you hear how selfish you sound!?" At this point, nothing could hide your bafflement. "Naoya, you were the one who said that if I wanted to leave this marriage badly, then I should leave. Ask Mai and Maki! They heard the entire conversation. Didn't you also say that you didn't give a fuck anymore?"

The man attempted to salvage some semblance of control. "I was just joking!"

"No, you were not." Picking up a photo of Naoya and Mari together, you pressed the picture to his face. “How much more can I take? How many days would I still have to go through alone in the penthouse, all because you would be spending your sweet time with the woman that you love?”

Unloading all this emotional baggage, not only for Naoya Zenin but also for the café spectators to hear, took courage. Previously, you would have let the burden gnaw at your soul. You would have rather wallowed in suffering rather than even think about speaking up.

But the past was the past, and you had grown immensely since then. Currently, you were stronger, more confident. You knew that, in Toji's words, you deserved better. Life was too beautiful to waste on a man who did not love or respect you and, with that in mind, you relaxed your clenched fists with an exhausted and fatigued sigh. 

You broke me first, you said through a deserted gaze. 

Naoya Zenin was the reason why you had become the way you were: a cold, seemingly heartless wife who cared none for her husband. The misery that he placed on your shoulders finally reached its limit, and while you could forgive, forgetting the memories in your scarred heart would be a task over months, years, and even a lifetime. 

“Listen,” you began, tone terse, “this divorce will set you free. Mari is the person whom you need—”

“The hell. No!” the man interrupted in a violent outburst, taking your breath away as he slammed the table and hissed. “I don't give a damn about her right now! We’re…We’re over!" he snarled with incredible anger such that he almost appeared to growl. "I don’t need her, I need you! That...That whore doesn't give a flying fuck about my shit! All she cares about is...is...Fuck this. All she wants is the money. Why else do you think she married and then later divorced Toji? She doesn't want to hear about all the shit in my family because she had not been brought up to deal with all the fuckin' drama in my household. She can't understand because, unlike you, she wasn't born with a silver spoon shoved down her goddamn throat!"

Quietly, you absorbed his words, stunned.

So this was how their relationship had been.

You had not expected him to reveal all these entrenched feelings willingly, but his concoction between reckless rage and sheer desperation had allowed him to spill the ugly side of this extramarital affair. Naoya could not afford to lose you, and not just because this marriage solidified the respect of those around him. While Mari offered him an outlet for physical indulgence, only you could offer the cornerstone to Naoya's mental and social fortitude.

“So you ‘need’ me now, but what happens when you find another reason to hate me again? What will you do if you don’t think I can fulfill the role you want me to have as your partner? Or if you wake up one day and suddenly want your cousin’s ex-wife again? Or if you meet another woman? Am I supposed to stand there again, and watch this all happen?" 

No answer.

The fact that he couldn't respond hurt.

"My decision is final. Looking back, I despised every single second married to you. In fact, I feel sorry for myself. The fact that I blindly put up with your manipulation, betrayal, and blame for all these months.” With your belongings collected, you prepared to leave. “You would be stupid to think you're the only one with options, you know.”

Only when you turned around did Naoya react, scrambling to his feet.

“What the fuck are you—”

In any other situation, he would have grabbed you, lunged at you, did everything in his power to stop you from going. Yet, given all the witnesses, all he could do was call you back like a helpless child, trying his best to not escalate the scene (although, at this point, even passerbys outside have stopped by the window to spectate).

"Hey!" Naoya called after you. “Hey! I’m still talking with you!”

Pathetic, really, to see him desperately beg for you to stay in his life.

There was a certain satisfaction in finally having the control at your fingertips. The feeling was empowering—electrifying, even—and you became so focused on the gratification that you barely registered Naoya's last question.

“Where are you going?”

At this point, you already stood by the exit.

“That’s not something that my soon-to-be ex-husband would need to know,” and you hardly gave him another glance as the door closed behind you. “Thank you for showing me everything I hope to never find in another man again."

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: Part of why this update took so long was because I wanted to have an encounter between Naoya and Y/N to showcase Y/N’s development, from someone who thoughtlessly defended her husband to someone who could stand up for herself (all while alone!). I envisioned this interaction many times, and I thought about different ways to approach the scene, the delivery, the dialogue, the choreography, etc. It took me a while to go for what I currently have. Thank you for reading!

taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @nemoyr @huangfairy @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @lynn-writes-things @illicitwriter @7oji @kikuchimi @chaoticjojofan @musicisme333 @kumocchin @s-guru @mwahilovemylife @hey-gurls69 @cloudsinthecosmos @moon-mumu-moon @kazscara @skilerfrostfairy @funicidals @nico707 @proteovaldez @tsukiyohanayome @marimoares @qirbys @puffaloxx @sakanoshitaa @arizzu @kissditrio @lewd-bunny14 @mistyheart @szired @supsii @yvy1s @lazyassfinals @katkbc @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi @the-cosmos-network

[yuff7e]

Hi! Is there any chance you’d do a jealous!muzan x female!reader.. Maybe he sent her on a mission to get information and she ends up sleeping with a hashira (male please but you pick). They get called upper moon meeting and domua is making fun of her for sleeping with the hashira and she bites back going something along the lines of “well at least he was good in. Ed unlike you” anyway Muzan is PISSED because not only did she sleep with a hashira but domua as well (she didn’t she was just being a bitch). So he’s super mad the while meeting and at the end she gets taken with him to his private room and they have a full on argument, but he ends up confessing.

Go for gold on it, make it your own! I’m also sorry I suck at explaining things so I hope you understand!

Thank you so much

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐈𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

— hii anon !! i fricken love muzan. i fricken love this man so much. i love writing for him. i’m gonna bust. anyway—let’s begin this one-shot shall we ?! (please please please muzan one chance one chance muzan plea—*he crushes my head w his big gnarly red baby goo arm* *me: blushing*)

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐝 -> muzan kibutsuji

♬♪ -> lıllılı.ıllı.ılılıı

the night was eerily quiet as you returned from your mission, slipping through the shadows like a wraith. your task had been simple enough: gather intelligence on a particularly troublesome hashira. what muzan hadn’t anticipated—or what he had, in his cold and calculating way—was the lengths to which you would go to complete your mission. you’d ended up in the arms of the wind hashira, sanemi shinazugawa, using his guard being down to extract the information muzan needed.

as you approached the hidden lair of the upper moons, you steeled yourself for the upcoming meeting. the other demons were already gathered, their eyes flicking towards you as you entered. douma, ever the jester, smirked at you from his place.

“well, well, look who finally decided to grace us with her presence,” douma drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “how was your little rendezvous with the wind hashira? did you enjoy yourself?”

you clenched your jaw, refusing to rise to his bait. you took your place among the upper moons, ignoring douma’s taunts. muzan’s presence was palpable as he observed the exchange, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“enough, douma,” muzan’s voice cut through the air like a blade, silencing the room. “report, [name].” you straightened up, meeting muzan’s piercing gaze. “the wind hashira has been thoroughly investigated. i obtained the information you requested. the mission was a success.”

before muzan could respond, douma’s laughter echoed through the chamber. “success, she says! by sleeping with the enemy, no less. tell us, [name], how did he compare to your usual standards?”

your eyes flashed with anger. “at least he was good in bed, unlike you.” you snapped back, the words leaving your mouth before you could stop them.

a tense silence fell over the room. muzan’s eyes blazed with fury, his demonic aura intensifying. you could feel his rage radiating off him in waves.

“douma, leave,” muzan commanded, his voice a low growl. douma, for once, didn’t argue, his smirk fading as he slunk out of the room.

once the door closed behind douma, muzan’s gaze locked onto you. “you will come with me.” he ordered, his tone brooking no argument.

you followed muzan to his private quarters, your heart pounding in your chest. the door slammed shut behind you, and you barely had time to react before muzan whirled on you, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and something else you couldn’t quite identify.

“do you have any idea what you’ve done?” muzan hissed, his voice dangerously quiet.

“i completed the mission,” you replied, struggling to keep your voice steady. “by sleeping with a hashira, and then boasting about it in front of douma?” muzan’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, his knuckles white with tension.

“he was the only way to get the information,” you argued. “i did what i had to do, my lord.”

“and douma?” muzan spat, his eyes narrowing. “did you enjoy yourself with him too?” your eyes widened in shock, “i never touched douma.. he was mocking me, and i snapped. that’s all it was.”

muzan’s expression shifted, a storm of emotions playing across his face. “why does it matter?” you ask quietly, taking a step closer to him. “why does it matter who i sleep with in order to obtain information?”

muzan’s eyes bore into yours, and for a moment, he seemed at a loss for words. then, with a sudden movement, he closed the distance between you, his hands gripping your arms tightly.

“because you belong to me,” he growled, his voice low and possessive. “i won’t tolerate anyone else touching you.”

your breath caught in your throat, a mix of shock and something else—something almost like relief—flooding through you. “m-my lord…” you stammer out, muzan quickly cutting you off.

“i can’t stand the thought of you with someone else,” he continued, his grip on you tightening. “it drives me mad. i’ve been trying to deny it, but i can’t anymore. i need you, [name]. only you.”

the intensity of his words, his confession, left you reeling. for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, your heart racing. then, slowly, you reached up, placing a hand on his cheek.

“i’m yours, my lord,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “i always have been.”

muzan’s eyes softened, and for the first time, you saw vulnerability in his gaze. he leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“then stay with me,” he murmured. “always.” you nodded, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “always.” you promised.

muzan’s lips met yours in a fierce, desperate kiss, his hands moving to cradle your face. you melted into him, all the tension and fear of the past few days dissolving in the heat of his embrace. in that moment, nothing else mattered. not the mission, not the other demons, not even the hashira. it was just the two of you, bound together by something far stronger than mere words.

as the night wore on, you found solace in your lords arms, the weight of his confession settling in your heart. you knew there would be challenges ahead, but for now, you were content. you had found your place, and it was right here, by muzan’s side.

[thefatedthoughtofyou]

Eddie Calls Wayne "Dad"

{ i 100% wrote this for @friendly-jester because it was their birthday and THEY DIDN'T TELL MEEEEEEE!!! so yeah this happened for them! Happy Belated birthday day yet again dearest!!! }

The first time Eddie calls Wayne "dad" he's 7 years old. He wakes to this small boy, teary eyed and shaking, clutching the little stuffed black cat Wayne had won him at the fair the first month he'd been here. His little hand on Wayne's shoulder wakes him. Warm and gentle. Almost too gentle. Wayne knows it's because he's afraid Wayne will get mad. He's only been here a year and half, and he's getting better. But he's still skittish. Wayne clears his thoat of sleep and blinks up at the boy.

"What is it son?" He calls him that all the time. He knows Eddie's not his. But he is. He is to Wayne. He is now. Eddie sniffles, wipes at his little nose with the back of his hand and says,

"I h-had a nightmare Daddy." And he's crawling up onto the cot with Wayne before Wayne has time to open his arms for him.

He scoots back, makes room for the kid. Throws his blanket back and then coveres them both back up as Eddie snuggles into his pillow. He holds the little cat up to Wayne. Wayne kisses it's head, like always, and Eddie smiles a teary smile, holding it close. He's already almost back to sleep. Wayne rubs at his head gently. Soothes him. And lowers his head back to his pillow, hand resting on Eddie's small shoulder as he falls back to sleep as well.

Eddie doesn't remember the nightmare in the morning. Just asks Wayne if he missed him when he wakes up in Wayne's bed. Wayne laughs and says,

"Yep kiddo. Missed you so much I had to bring ya in here with me."  And Eddie giggles, grabbing his cat and shuffling to his room.

But Wayne sees the look he gives him, a small sideways glance after the smile fades. Wayne's pretty sure Eddie remembers just fine. But he grew up, at least partly, he's not grown yet, in a house full of anger and secrets.

Wayne is sure Eddie is keeping things to himself because he doesn't want Wayne to have to worry. Wayne is also pretty sure that this boy is smarter than he could ever dream of being. He watches Eddie shuffle back out in his school clothes. Just a black t-shirt and black jeans. He rubs his hands over his eyes and pulls his shoes on. Sits at the table and eats the toast Wayne made in silence.

Wayne doesn't know what to say to him. Has never been much of a talker. So he sits silently too. And when he's finished he walks past Eddie, ruffles his hair, and asks him if he's ready for school. Eddie smiles brightly and grabs his backback, yelling something about how they're supposed to be learning about dragons today. Wayne is pretty sure he means dinosaurs, but Wayne had also been informed by a very stern Eddie that dinosaurs were just dragons without fire and wings.

~°~

The second time it happens is before the talent show. Eddie is nervous. Bouncing on the balls of his feet next to Gareth and Jeff as they watch the Cunningham girl do some cheer and gymnastics across the stage.  Eddie is watching her, but Wayne can tell he's only half paying attention. Wayne clears his throat from behind them, grabbing their attention. All three of them turn, Eddie's face lighting up when he sees Wayne, he bounds into his arms.

"You made it!" He whispers loudly into Wayne's shoulder as they collide. Wayne catches him easily. His arms wraping around Eddie, he's still so small, Wayne's not sure he'll grow much more. He hopes not. His mother was small too. He wants Eddie to have that from her. He smiles tho, giving him a squeeze.

"Almost didn't. Traffic was a bitch on 75." Wayne mutters. Eddie pulls back with a laugh, holding Wayne's shoulders.

"But you made it."

"I did." Wayne nods. Eddie smiles. The Cunningham girl's act ends, the curtains close. She comes running in their direction, bumping into Eddie and turning as she runs, calling out,

"Oh my gosh! I'm so sorry! Good luck out there!" And then she dissappears into a group of laughing girls. Eddie mutters a nervous 'thanks', holding his guitar in his hand, his knuckles are white. Wayne grabs a hold of his neck as Gareth and the others help get there stuff center stage. Eddie's eyes are wide, there's fear, but also excitement.

"You're gonna do great. And I know this is a long shot for you, but try to stay focused." He winks at Eddie, gets that huge smile in return. Eddie's missing a tooth. He'd told Wayne it had just finally fallen out. But Wayne had seen the scrap on his face. Let Eddie have the lie.

Eddie holds his guitar close, moving it into position and jogs out onto the stage, calling over his shoulder,

"Thanks dad!" It's said without thought or realization. And then he's out there. And the curtains open, and him and his friends do their thing. And Wayne's not into the hard metal like Eddie is. But he likes the music his boy makes. Because as loud and scary as it may be to some people, his boy puts his heart into it. Like he does with everything. Wayne could watch him play music with his friends all day.

They dont win. But they hadn't entered to win. They just wanted to play on stage. Wayne takes them all out for pizza after. A few of their parents come along. The smiles on all their faces as they eat and shout and laugh warms Wayne's heart. Eddie had found these boys, like rescuing strays. Wayne could never articulate how proud he was, not in words, or any other way. So he just rests his arm on the back Eddie's chair, squeezes his shoulder and smiles back when Eddie beams at him.

~°~

The third time it happens. Eddie's a junior. He comes home dripping blood from his face. He storms past Wayne and shuts himself in the bathroom. Wayne can hear him sobbing. Hears him cursing. But he waits.

Eddie finally comes out of the bathroom. Stops in the hall. His shoulders hung. They shake for a moment. And then stop. He turns, his face bruised, his eyes glassy, but there's something in them, under the sadness. Defiance. He takes a step toward Wayne. Takes a deep breathe, and sighs.

"I'm a fucking idiot." He says, shaking his head. Wayne smiles a little, shakes his head.

"Now I know that ain't true. You wanna tell me what happened?" He folds the newspaper on his lap, throws it on the coffee table. Eddie swallows, hard, stares at Wayne. And Wayne can see fear in his eyes again. It's been years since he looked at Wayne with fear in his eyes.

"Go on. Ya know I'm listenin." He folds his hands in his lap, never looks away from his nephew. And Eddie, he does the thing he's best at, he throws Wayne a fucking curve ball.

"I'm gay. And I kissed a boy. The wrong one. Turns out. He said he was the right one. He kissed me back. This was..." Eddie crosses his arms defensively, looking toward the ceiling, thinking,

"Three days ago? And today he punched me in the face when I said hi to him in the bathroom. And then his friend punched me because I apparently I attacked his friend? Which I didn't." Wayne watches his hands fist in his shirt as he speaks, his arms tightening around himself.

"He said he liked me. I- I don't know what happened." His arms fall, he looks defeated. His chest shakes as he tries not to cry. Wayne stands, too quickly, Eddie flinches back. Wayne opens his palms, holds them out to Eddie as he moves closer. Eddie's trembling by the time Wayne gets his arms around him. Eddie sobs against him, clutching at Wayne, his fingers almost painful. Wayne tries to sooth him, moves his hand over Eddie's back slowly.

"He said he liked me dad. Why did he do that?" Eddie cries into his shirt. Wayne grimaces, holds him tigher. Fights the urge to leave Eddie here and go find this boy. Make him feel the pain he's caused Eddie.

"I don't know son. But hey, look at me." He pulls back, Eddie looks at him, reluctantly.

"He's an asshole if he doesn't know how good he's got it with you. Yeah?" Wayne says, watches so many emotions fly across Eddie's face it almost makes him dizzy. He settles on confused, maybe a little wary.

"You- you're not mad? Y-you don't hate me?" His voice hitches, and Wayne immediately shakes his head.

"Nothin. And I mean nothin, you could ever do, would ever make me hate you. You hear me?" Wayne grabs his shoulders, gives him a little shake, for emphasis.

"Mhmm." Eddie hums.

"Hmm?" Wayne hums back.

"Yes sir." Eddie sniffles, wipes at his nose. The same way he'd done all those years ago when he'd woken Wayne.

"Good. Now listen, cuz I want you to hear me okay?"

Eddie nods.

"Ain't nothin wrong with likin what you like. You just gotta be careful. And safe. Because people round here. They are small minded. And vindictive. And they will hurt you. But hey," he moves his hands to Eddie's neck, bending a little to look him right in the eyes.

"I am so proud of you. And your mama woulda been proud too. Okay? You trust me?" He frowns, hoping he'd said everything right. Said everything the way his mother would have wanted. Eddie's crying again, but he's smiling. He nods again, enthusiastically, his hair shaking wildly.

"You know I love you?" Eddie snorts.

"Yeah. Love you too." And then he's in Wayne's arms again. And Wayne just sighs. It wasn't like he hadn't seen it. The way Eddie would look at boys. But he never said a word. Knew Eddie would tell him if, and when, he was ready. And today was that day. He hugged Eddie closer and then pulled away.

"Pizza?" Wayne asks, already reaching for the phone.

"Uugghh GOD yes!!" Eddie groans, wiping at his face as he falls on the coach, Wayne smiles into the phone until there's an answer on the other line.

~°~

The fourth time it happens it's because Wayne is telling Steve secrets. Secrets that eddie had sworn him to go to the grave with. And then he breaks out the fucking photo albums, like some fucking romantic comedy. Eddie had told him he was dating Harrington about a week ago. Wayne told him they were having a family dinner on Sunday, so he could, and wayne smiles at the memory, "officially meet his boe."

Eddie had groaned at the choice of words, but his cheeks were red and his eyes were shining with delight. Wayne didn't know exactly what happened, but he knew the Harrington boy had saved his son. And he knew that he was always leaving Eddie's room just as Wayne showed up to sit with him in the hospital.

He wasn't always alone, but he was always there. And then he'd... stayed. Eddie talked about him constantly. To say Wayne was shocked that Eddie had fallen in love with a Harrington, would be an understatement. But he'd seen them together a few times, lingering glances, soft smiles, and on one occasion the dorkiest bout of laughter Wayne had ever heard come from Eddie. They were so different, but they worked.

So wayne was showing him the few baby photos he had of Eddie. Sent in the mail from his sister before she passed. One of them, his favorite, was of a four year old Eddie, sitting naked in the middle of a creek, holding a box turtle on the top of his head, his hair a curly mop, the biggest smile on his face. Wayne could hear his sisters laugh every time he looked at the photo. And he cherished it, knowing it was probably one of very few genuinely happy moments Eddie and his mother had had.

He happily points the picture out to Steve, who coos and cackles over it. Eddie falls to the floor dramatically, his face shoved into the carpet.

"Oh my gooooooddddd daaad! Seriously?!?" His voice is muffled, but Wayne hears him, smiles when Steve looks between them, Steve smiles back.

"You were so cute Eds!" Steve says gleefully, then he turns to Eddie, nugdes his toe into Eddie's thigh.

"What happened?"

Wayne laughs then. A real laugh. He laughs over Eddie's undignified squawking.

"Hey! This was supposed to be a nice dinner and now I'm under attack! It's two against one, suddenly, how's that fair!?" He flops over on the floor, looking up at both of them, crossing his arms over his chest as they both laugh at him. He's putting up a good front but there's a smile sneaking its way onto his face, and then Steve snorts while he's laughing and Eddie loses it.

All of them laugh together until they're red in the face. Eddie ends up with his hand curled around Steve's calf, Steve leaning over, his hand on Eddie's shoulder. Everytime the laughter dies down Eddie snorts, mocking Steve, and it starts all over again. Wayne laughs and watches the two boys in his kitchen, laughing and laughing and feeling at home.

~°~

It happens off and on with time of course. But the most important time it happens, for Wayne anyway, is in the Byers backyard in October.

It's 1989. Halloween day. And their backyard is decked out to the nines. But it's not Halloween they're celebrating. It's a wedding.

An illegal one. But no one attending cares about that. Not here. Not with everyone smiling, and Jonathan taking pictures. And the banner Will had drawn for them hanging against the side of the house, full of music, and bats, and dragons, and magic, and Steve and Eddie.

El tosses flower petels as she walks down the makeshift aisle, tossing them playfully above her head, Steve is waiting in front of the crowd, looking nervous in his tux. His suit jacket is black, but the shirt underneath is a bright, warm, yellow. He watches El with a smile, laughing when she tosses flowers over his head, letting them fall around him. She kisses his cheek and takes her seat, wiggling in next to Will. He smiles at her and takes her hand, giving it a squeeze.

And then the music starts. Some Dio ballad Wayne had heard a thousand times. Steve and Eddie had clamed it as their own. Eddie walks next to him, his arm looped through Wayne's, he's wearing a deep red suit, it's almost blood red, his shirt underneath is black, and the pants are jeans, deep red jeans.

Joyce had pinned his hair up on his head, loose, stray strands falling out around his head. El had made him a flower crown out of dandelions, Eddie had been wearing it since she gave it to him this morning. The yellow matched Steve's shirt perfectly.

Wayne looks at him as they walk, his smile blinding at he sees Steve. He looks beautiful. So much like his mother. And so, so happy. Wayne rests his hand over Eddie's on his arm as they walk towards Steve. Wayne smiles when Steve gives Eddie a little wave, wiggling his fingers as they move closer. Eddie giggles, it's high pitched and a little manic, and so Eddie. Wayne and Eddie stop in front of Steve and Hopper asks,

"So, who's giving the lovely bride away today?" He's wearing a gaudy Hawaiian shirt, his hair all slicked back, everyone chuckles, but Eddie sobers fast, turns to look at Wayne.

"He is. My dad is." He smiles, big and bright, and a tear falls down his cheek. Wayne wipes it away with his knuckle, his face feeling flushed from all the attention suddenly on him.

"Guess that's me." He mumbles. Steve and Eddie laugh.

"Take good care of him son. I know you will." Wayne says to Steve. Steve is already nodding. His hands wobbling at his sides and Wayne knows he's trying not to reach out to Eddie. Eddie gives Wayne a quick hug, whispers a sweet,

"Thank you. For everything." In his ear, and then he's stepping up to stand in front of steve.

There's tears. And laughter. Especially when Eddie pulls out a piece of paper and says,

"Let's see what Will came up with shall we?"

But the vows are his. Wayne knows. They're full of Eddie, his words, and his mind, his soul, and his heart. That big heart that Wayne fell in love with so damn fast.

The first time he'd watched little 6 year old Eddie pick up a bug that had gotten into the trailer and carry it outside, all the while telling the thing that it was gonna be okay, that he wouldn't hurt it. Wayne loved him so much.

But he also knew, the only other person who loved Eddie even close to how much he did, was, by some odd fucking miracle, Steve Harrington. And that's why, when Steve came asking for permission. Wayne immediately said yes. And when Steve mentioned picking out the perfect ring, needing it to be right for Eddie. Wayne had opened a box he hadn't opened in years, and he'd given Steve an old ring of Eddie's mother's.

He had planned on giving it to Eddie when he wanted to ask someone. But this was better. This was perfect. Steve had cried, and thanked him. And he'd asked Eddie to marry him three days later.

They were sitting on the roof of the trailer. Eddie was telling him stories about the stars. Steve had slipped the ring on his finger and given him a look. The watery smile Eddie gave him, along with the nodding, gave Steve his answer. He'd pulled Eddie into a kiss and that had been that.

Eddie had given him a ring a month later. A golden band, simple, with golden leaves etched into it. And on the inside.  The words "my salvation" in black. Steve had cried. It was perfect. He'd saved Eddie. In so many ways. The most important one, obviously being... literally. But there were other times too. Recovery was hard. But Steve was strong. Strong for both of them.

So Wayne watches Max carry the rings down the aisle to them on a small black pillow, watches Hopper marry them. Watches them cry, and laugh, and dance. Watches Eddie dance with Max until they're both laughing too hard to stand up straight any longer. Watches Steve and Robin dance until they're crying into each other shoulders, Eddie and Nancy dancing near by, ready to jump in if they're needed.

He watches Eddie and the family he'd found. The family that loved him. The family he'd dragged Wayne into, weather he liked it or not. And for the most part. He liked it.

He watched his son dance with his husband, and smiled to himself, his attention only moving on when Ms. Henderson sits next him at the table, her hand landing on his arm, friendly and warm.

"You did a great job with him Wayne. He's such a good boy." Her eyes are a little teary as she watches Dustin and Eddie jump around and headbang to some metal song that's come on.

"Thank you ma'am." Wayne nods, his cheeks flushing. He reaches into his pocket, hands her a hanky for her tears.

"Oh! Thank you." Wayne's not sure if he's imagining it, but she looks flushed as well.

"I don't know of you remember me or not. But we had-"

"English. Fifth period. Mrs. Fitzgerald. I remember." Wayne says immediately. His eyes widening at himself, he clears his throat and looks away when she laughs.

She's about to say something when she hears Dustin yell for her. And then she's gone, being pulled onto the dance floor by her son. Wayne sighs, watches her dance until he notices movements in his peripherals. He turns a bit, sees Steve and Eddie, their arms wrapped around each other, looking at him.

Both of them nodding toward Mrs. Henderson and making faces, Eddie tries to break away to get to Wayne but Steve holds him back with a laugh as Wayne hold his hands up. He rolls his eyes at them when they nod toward her again, grumpy little faces telling him if he doesn't do it, they will.

He takes a deep breathe, puts his hands on his knees, and pushes himself out of his seat. He takes a step onto the dance floor, towards Dustin and his mother, and his next adventure.

[clownhara]

is there like a jester ocs 101 i do wanna learn about them

Putting these under a read more because this might get long

My family :)

Edward Roberts-Rosales: I made too many jokes about this bastard being my dad and now he's my dad. High key wants to fuck plants. Evades taxes like no ones business. Kind of a shit guy but it's funny to watch him mess up everything so we keep him alive for that alone Max Rosales: My better dad. Can really do so fucking much better than Edward but he settled </3. Is a plant man. Likes baking. Is the dad that actually loves me. Heron Rosales: I don't do to much with her but I'm trying to do more. Max's trans sister. Wants Edward dead and honestly, we don't blame her. Average chronic pain haver tbh please get her some Ibuprofen. Boaty McBoatface: My brother who is a boat. Edwards favorite son, despite being terrified of being on boats after he was the sole survivor of a ship wreck. I fuckinh hate this thing

Project Moon adjacent ones

Despise Domek (Or just Des): Local Enkphalin hooked rat. Goes by it/they but people close to it can call them she/her. There are two remaining people who can call them she/her. Steals things from people it likes to keep a piece of them, so don't invite them to your house. Things WILL go missing. Says the phrase "Well it didn't kill me so I'm fine" way to god damn often. Ambrose Domek: Not actually related to Des at all his parents just stole Des's parents last name. We heart religious fanaticism to the point of self harm!!!!!! Has two boyfriends and has convinced himself neither of them like him. Him and Des are besties :) Keith: Real Jester-heads remember Keith. I made this bastard before Ruina came out and he keeps fucking staying relevant to whatever game is out. How does he do it. Lobcorp him is Geb and Myo's adopted son, a Rabbit, and had a complex where he's gotta prove himself 24/7 and ends up getting his leg ripped off. Ruina him is trying to find Gebura again after the whole Library situation happened, and is wildly distraught after learning Myo's whole deal. Limbus Keith is content, much older, runs a weapons shop, and is gay married to Heathcliff. Jesus Christ I made him before the new translation of Lopcorp happened I think HOW LONG HAS HE EXISTED WHAT THE FUCK

Damien Domek: Also not related to Des, just took it's last name because he liked it. They are qprs though. Also is broke as shit but mostly stays out of the Rat lifestyle by just old fashioned robbing people. Loves lying to people for fun and profit, but he is honestly a pretty nice guy. Minus the lying

Randos

Arlo: Disgusting rancid cyborg scientist who needs to bathe and touch grass. I adore him though. Ellie: Arlos little sibling. She/they user. Kills people for money and feeds the bodies to the eldritch horror that follows her around Hector: The eldritch horror that follows Ellie around. usually just looks like a dilf tbh its easier for Ellie to explain. Can't actually speak so he usually just talks telepathically while making a bunch of hums, chirps, and clicks to mimic speaking.

Oleander: Local unethical scientist that unethicaled a bit too hard when trying to revive his even worse older brother and turned off most of his emotions manually to avoid coping with the mental toil. Sad! Many such cases. Can't feel any emotions other then joy now. Kinda sucks but he certainly doesn't seem to upset about it :)

Simon: Oleadners brother. Kinda. Moreso a robot piloting Oleanders brothers body. Fucking hates Oleander but after Oleander lobotomized himself Simon begrudgingly takes care of him now. Despite his complicated feelings, he's wildly overprotective.

Cybel: A robot Oleander made! They are meant to gather as much information as they possibly can in case some horrible event happens that kills off humanity. is quite literally indestructible. Likes ice cream.

Octavius: I made this guy to be a danganrompa villain back in high school and I succeeded too well. I fucking hate this fake ass bitch

Tabb: This fucking guy. Trapped in a time loop but he doesn't know and its technically not a time loop. Met his (now) husband ages ago but died shortly after meeting him, so he revived Tabb, then the two got married, then Tabb died again so Halt (the husband) revived him again but he lost his memories then halt died and Tabb revived him the Tabb died again so Halt revived him but he lost all his memories so they dated again and got remarried then Tabb died again and you get the idea. Very nice guy, a bit anxious, perfectly normal minus the dying thing. If it wasn't for him losing all his memories and Halt tampering with shit so he was in love with him i uh. Don't think he'd actually like Halt all that much tbh

Halt: Just wants to be happy with his husband :(. Sad he unethicaled all over that science. Hey are you noticinga theme here. Also he's a cat boy but thats really not relevant to his depression issues

Urge: Halts kinda milfy twin sister. Really sick of all of this loop bullshit because she gets to watch her bestie Tabb die repeatedly, so she packed up her bags and left. Can't be in the same room as Halt without them getting into a fist fight. Do you see the themeing with their namesan d their ideals. Halt is kinda halted in place but Urge keeps pushing forward because she has the urgeto move on. Do you see it. It is almost 1 am

Russel: A kid that got roped into this whole mess because he walked in on a Tabb revival tube without permission. Sticks around Urge most of the time. Had a bad homelife to put it mildly, so Urge took him in.

Theres way more of these bastards but these are the most relevant ones. I am going to bed now. Goobnight

[macbooth]

full of childish whimsy in a hostile fashion tonight so here’s every shakespeare clown i can think of and whether or not i think i’d beat them in a fight

(i do not mean fools i mean clowns. they do not need to be the secret genius of the play. if they are stupid in every way shape or form i am including them here)

Puck (A Midsummer Night’s Dream) No chance. Bro’s got that magic and ALSO has a big strong scary fairy king as his bear, like, do not separate them. If I even tried throwing hands at this cunt I’d get torn to shreds and used as glitter dude, I’d be over. 0/10

Nick Bottom (A Midsummer Night’s Dream) I could but I’d feel bad. I also think he’d put up a really solid fight. Like this is out of donkey form, bro was a physical worker. Like I reckon I could win a fight with some of the tradies I’ve seen but I don’t think it’d be easy. Also he’s just really dumb so I would feel a little bad. Donkey form though, I’m running away. Scary as shit. I am afraid of horses though. 6.5/10

Touchstone (As You Like It) Absolutely I could beat the shit out of this man. I hate him so much. Full of hostility towards this fucker. His clothes aren’t even subtle I could find this bitch in the forest no time and hunt him down and rip him to shreds, fuckin court jester doesn’t even have the roughness of the country on his side. 9/10 (-1 point cause he definitely fights dirty but I just hate him so much I’d win)

Jaques (As You Like It) First off he’s absolutely a clown. Second off I’ve played him before so my word is gospel. Third off bro has no fucking chance against me. He’s a podcast bro who thinks I don’t know that Tame Impala is one dude. I’d ask him why we can’t print more money and he would explode instantly and it would be the funniest thing he did with his life. 10/10

Audrey & Corin (As You Like It) I’m lumping these two together cause in the show I did they were one character (and I also played them). I wouldn’t even want to fight these two. And even if I wanted to Audrey would absolutely be able to beat the shit out of me and I would thank her. Our setting was in semi-modern country Australia, that girl would have a shotgun. 2/10

Autolycus (Winter’s Tale) Just like Jaques to me. He might be a little bit harder because he’d change costume and I’d get confused because I have no object permanence but other than that what has he got. Bitterness? Resentment? Bitch so did I when I was 15 grow up experience love. 8/10

Falstaff (Henry IV parts 1 & 2, Merry Wives of Windsor) I don’t actually know about this one but he is very punchable. I feel like he’d let me punch him and I think one punch would be enough for me. I think that would satisfy my urge to punch him. He may be a knight but let’s be honest he’s shit at it so I stand by this. 4/10 (just cause I don’t really give a shit)

The Dromios (Comedy of Errors) I absolutely could beat them in a fight but I would feel So Bad. You see how they’re literally already treated in the play, I wanna give them a break. That being said they’re both kinda dicks but they’re going through it already so I’d wanna give them a breather. I would win though, even if they both were attacking at once. 7/10

Launcelot Gobbo (Merchant of Venice) He’s such a prick but I would be laughing too hard at his name to fight him. Bro’s name is Gobbo. Bro’s name is basically Gobby. Imagine being named Blowjob. I would lose my mind. I would laugh so so hard I would collapse. My heart would fail. Biggest L name out there bro. Launcelot Gobbo oh my god. 3/10

Launce (Two Gentlemen of Verona)  Nah man he has an attack dog. I don’t care what breed of dog Crab is in a production I fully believe he would kill for Launce, that’s just their dynamic. I understand them better than anyone else (I have a dog). Also he’s already working for Proteus, is that not punishment enough? 4/10

Speed (Two Gentlemen of Verona) I mean I definitely could fight him. I don’t imagine he’s got much fighting experience. But once again, he has to deal with Valentine which does feel like it would be cruel to inflict more onto him. Like Valentine’s not as bad as Proteus but fuck is he stupid. Also if I accidentally flubbed a punch Speed could absolutely tear me a new asshole with his words and I would sob and cry and literally never recover. 4/10

The Porter (Macbeth) Fuck no. Bro definitely has a knife on him at all times. I can’t explain why I think this I just do. He works night shift, he definitely doesn’t get paid enough for his dog shit job, he would absolutely try to stab me just to spice up his evening without me starting a fight. 1/10

Trinculo (Tempest) Yes. Sorry, you’re Russell Brand? L. I could kick your ass. And he’s like drunk for half the show, and almost fucked a fish. I doubt his judgement is good enough to say the alphabet backwards let alone dodge a punch. He couldn’t even get Caliban to kick my ass (who definitely could by the way) cause Caliban fucking hates him. Bro, failwife to Stephano should pay more. But it doesn’t. 8.5/10

Dogberry (Much Ado About Nothing) Without Verges? Yes. With Verges? No way. Those two are a power couple in the dumbest possible way. He would absolutely try to get me arrested though but I simply would not go to prison. What’s he gonna do? Send me to prison? I’m already not going. 7/10

Mercutio (Romeo and Juliet) No chance. Unless Romeo fucked up so bad like he did in the actual play, I would have no chance against this dude. I wouldn’t even want to even if I could. I’m a Benvolio stan first and foremost and a person second you think I’d wanna fight his bestie? Only exception is if it was an actual fight club and not just a pure fight out of hatred. I feel like Mercutio could give Brad Pitt Fight Club Realness, outfits included.  I would still lose though. 2.5/10

Don Adriano De Armado (Love’s Labour’s Lost) I reckon I could wreck this dude’s shit. You know that gif where the fuckin dude is doing all these cool sword moves and then he just gets shot? You know the one. I forgot where it’s from but you know the one. That would be this fight. Armado would bust out his flair, his razzle dazzle, his pizzaz, and I would just deck him I think. That’s the power you need in this world, I think. Power of fist to face. Peace and love. <3 8/10

Costard (Love’s Labour’s Lost) I do not think Costard would realise he was being fought even as he was actively getting hit in the face. I know how to say honorificabilitudinitatibus, he doesn’t even have that against me. Bro couldn’t even confuse me with that, I learnt that, like an adult. Anyway yeah I’d kick his ass. 9/10

Holofernes & Sir Nathaniel (Love’s Labour’s Lost) This is the same man to me. I would destroy them both. Fuckin nerds. Flowery ass language nerds. I support gay rights and gay wrongs but the only reason I couldn’t fight those two gay muppets who heckle is cause they’re too far away (in a theatre booth), these two gay muppets who heckle are right in front of me. I’d kick their tweed cladded asses. 10/10

Jaquenetta (Love’s Labour’s Lost) She is just like Audrey to me. I could never bring myself to hurt her. Also she’s pregnant and I feel like it’s fucked up to hit a pregnant woman just for fun. Also she could absolutely wreck my shit. Please wreck my shit Jaquenetta. 0.5/10

Moth (Love’s Labour’s Lost) This little fucker should be an INSTANT knock out but I just know this fucker bites. He’s a shit talking 8 year old? Oh he plays wolves on the playground, I just know it. He plays wolves and he’s definitely been suspended for it, I just know it in my heart. Sure, I could kick him, but he would grab hold of my foot and try to rip it off. We would shake hands and agree to part ways, having met our match. He, who plays wolves, and me, who played fairies, leave the fight with our heads high and respect in our hearts. I am kidding of course but I do think we would tie. 5/10

Lear’s Fool (King Lear) There’s already so much fighting going on, I don’t even think they’d notice if I just started kicking this dude. Not only could I fight him and win, I think I’d get away with it too. I’d win not only physically but socially too. What’s he gonna do? Tell his boss? Bro he’s preoccupied with his whole kingdom crumbling, grow up. 9/10

Lavatch (All’s Well That Ends Well) This is more meta but my hatred of this play would fuel me here. I would fight literally anyone in this play if given the chance, not a joke. I would get in the ring with literally anyone from this play, but honestly, out of them all I weirdly respect Lavatch the most, maybe because he at least knows that he’s a cunt, unlike literally everyone else who Just Suck. I do think he’s probably scrappy though, so I wouldn’t leave unscathed. I also think if he got the upper hand he would be so so awful about it, so I’d really have to fight. 6/10

Sir Toby Belch & Sir Andrew Aguecheek (Twelfth Night)  Andrew is canonically bad at fighting, and honestly I do not believe Toby would be any better. Love both of these guys but if I had to fight them both at once I think I would be able to just move out of the way and they’d bonk each other on the head like a cartoon. They’re just silly guys. 9/10

Maria (Twelfth Night) Every woman clown could beat my ass. Audrey, Jaquenetta, Maria, they are all so special to me and would all also fucking destroy me. Maria especially cause I just know she is full of hate. You don’t hatch a plan like the Malvolio plan unless there’s something deeply worrying about you. She’s a Scorpio to me. <3 I do love her, she’d demolish me. 0/10

Feste (Twelfth Night) Would actually kill me. -5/10

I know I’ve definitely missed some but uhhh don’t expect me to remember every clown even if I’m neurodivergent about these plays please. <3

[libby-for-life]

Hey! I saw that you do staticradio and I'm wondering if you would do this request?

so I'm not really a fan of staticmoth, so basically Vox is in semi abusive relationship with Valentino, that he can't seem to get out of, and even though Vox knows that Valentino doesn't really love him, but he's just desperate for some type of affection that he know he can't get for who he actually wants. And after a tiring day with Valentino and Velvette, Vox goes to his office for some peace, but finds a letter from Alastor to meet at his Radio Tower. Their he finds Alastor with a tied up Valentino. And since you know Alastor is known for broadcasting his carnage for all of Hell to hear.... This is Alastor grand jester to Vox to accept him as Alastor's. And we'll it's not like Vox could just say no, lol🤭🤭🫣🫣(he is very much into what he just witnessed)

Possessive Sex, with kinda non-consenual voyeurism, because Alastor is still Broadcasting, which he is aware of, not that Alastor care. He's glad that Hell knows Vox is off the market and all HIS.

Oh, my. I like how you think anon. I am more than happy to do this. Again, I will be respecting Alastor for being Ace.

Vox groaned as he sat up and another piece of his glass face fell to the ground. Valentino was too rough again and the result had his face smashed into a wall. When Vox tried to yell that he can't keep changing his screen because Val decided to have a piss fit, all he heard was, "I liked your older form. At least that form could take a hit instead of some whiney bitch. I have whores who are better-behaved than you."

Vox had flinched and slumped over when Valentino sauntered out of their shared penthouse, hips swaying in what the TV demon supposed was meant to entice demons. It just made Vox glare harder. His boyfriend was probably going to end up having sex with some slut from work and then post about it knowing that Vox would get jealous of it all.

He had once tried explaining that he didn't like to share when he was in a relationship but Valentino had just laughed before saying nobody liked a clingy slut. No apology. Not even a good explanation as to why he insisted that he sleep with every good-looking demon walking his way. No, it was Vox's fault. It was always Vox's fault.

The Media Demon shook his head. No, he could make this work! Maybe he had been a bit too clingy. Nobody liked it when you're partner hung over you and didn't give you space. He picked up a shard of glass from the ground and held it in the palm of his hand. He needed to be better. Give more. Stop demanding more. If he pissd Val off again he might leave just like—

Vox shook his screen. No. He shouldn't dwell on someone who abandoned him. He should focus on keeping the person in his life right now happy. Besides, he was needed downstairs. Velvette needed him to model something and she got angry when he wasn't on time. He got up to change his screen so he wouldn't be late.

"Are you sure this is what it's supposed to look like?" Vox asked, suspicious and uncomfortable with what he was wearing. Why was he in a dress and why were there so many straps on it?! Sure, the dress was nice, a blue and red piece that looked elegant on him and his admittedly snatched waist but he wasn't really one to wear this type of clothing.

"Uh, it looks nice," Vox said when he noticed Velvette glaring at him. She smirked at the compliment and flipped her hair. "Of course it does. I'm not the Fashion Overlord for nothing!" She peered down at the dress with a frown before snapping her fingers. The dress became shorter and the elegant dress became something out of a porno video Val would direct.

"Velvette!" He screamed. He was lucky that no one was here to witness the blush spreading across his face. "What? The only positive things your body has is your waist and ass! I wanted to show it off." Velvette explained. "Now, look in the mirror and tell me what you think."

With a blush that resembled pixels of red and blue, he carefully examined his scantily clad figure. The scrap of fabric barely covered his ass. The dress now had a low-cut v-neck that made Vox blush even harder. He didn't feel comfortable in this. He tried saying as much, but Velvette was quick to interrupt.

"You promised you would bloody help me!" Velvette all but yelled at his face making Vox sigh. This was going to be an exhausting day. He could already tell.

Vox stumbled into his office breathing out a shaky breath. "Godamn it, Val. Why do you do thi-i-is?" He muttered. He could still remember what went down just an hour ago. Apparently, Valentino needed him at his porn studio. It was important. He purred into the phone just the way Vox liked it and he immediately felt weak in the knees.

"Of course. I'll be right there." He dressed himself nicely, making sure to put a lot of effort into his suit and appearance.

He was practically vibrating as he walked into the studio. Vox tried not to look at the production going on as he tried to find his boyfriend. After asking a few demons, he finally got a concrete answer. The moth demon was in his private office. The one where they used for quick romps whenever Valentino felt like having sex with him.

Making sure he looked nice, he knocked before opening the door. What caught his attention made his blood boil. Valentino wanted sex alright. Just not with his boyfriend. He could feel his body overheating as he watched them moan into the mattress. "What the fuck?!" He yelled. Both of them looked at him but Val had the gal to laugh at him.

"Come on, baby." The moth beckoned him closer. "Want to make this a threesome?"

"No! You know I don't like this!" Vox yelled, throwing the nearest lamp into a wall. "Did you just ask me here to mock me?! Make me angry?!"

Val growled, sending the whore he was on top of trembling. "Vox, watch yourself." He said but Vox didn't even hear that. He was far too mad. "Why do you do this?! Fuck, I give everything in this relationship and yet—"

A slap echoed in the room and Vox felt himself fritz a bit now that a chunk of his glass was shattered. "Why do you bitch and moan about the stupidest of things? God, we're not exclusive, slut." That shattered something in Vox's soul. He felt numb as he heard Valentino call him every insult under the sun. He finished his rant by saying, "You've ruined the vibe, Voxy. Go mope in your tower where I can come fuck you when I need you." Vox was pushed out of the office and he heard the distinct sound of the door locking. Not even a minute later he could hear moaning and panting. The Media Demon could feel himself beginning to cry, so he walked to the nearest camera and jumped through it, disappearing into the wires.

Now, Vox was cradling his hurt face and trying not to sob as he fixed it. The water could ruin his circuits. He forced himself to sit up and head for his desk where he kept some spare screens. Falling into his chair, he was quick to change it, making sure no sharp glass got stuck in his wires.

He sighed when the new screen popped into place and he finally allowed himself to cry. Why did he keep doing this?! He knew Valentino didn't love him. It was obvious with how he was treated. Besides, his heart would always belong to someone else...

Shaking his head, he decided to get some work done. That was when he saw it. A decorative red card that smelled faintly of copper and roses. He recognized the scent almost immediately. It's been a while since he was able to smell it so directly though.

Alastor was in his office. At first, he was panicked. What the hell was the Radio Demon doing in the Vee's tower?! He had security for a reason! But then, curiosity filled him. Why would Alastor leave one of his calling cards here? What game was he playing?

Deciding to finally read the card, he turned it over. It was simple and to the point. Come to the Radio Tower before my daily broadcast.

Vox felt his inside warm up pleasantly before he squashed it. He wasn't getting his hopes up that this had anything to do with how Vox truly felt. Alastor probably wanted to fight and went to him for the most entertainment.

He should crumble the card and throw it away. He should leave it and forget about it.

"Oh, what the hell," Vox muttered. He wasn't going to do any of that. He could never ignore Alastor. Maybe a fight would do him some good.

Standing up, he stretched and looked at the time. Plenty of time to arm himself and make himself look presentable for their fight. He felt the need to destroy something anyway.

Vox stood beside the Radio Tower with a smirk. It wasn't often that Alastor invited him over for a fight but he was prepared. Climbing up the steps, he was prepared to blast open the door when it opened for him.

"Vox! My dear, you're just in time!" Alastor said with his trademark grin. "You bet I am!" Vox said, extending his claws. "Where do you do this? Street 666 would have a lot of casualties and I know you like blood baths."

Alator tilted his head before laughing. Vox felt himself deflate. Here was another demon laughing at him. He didn't like it. "Would you just tell me what is going on?!" He glitched out. He was lucky he wasn't stuttering with how his voice was betraying him.

"Oh, Vox. I'm not laughing at you. I should have been more specific on the card, but c'est la vi~."

Vox blinked and really studied the Radio Demon. He looked calm and at ease, as always, but there was no underlying tension just before they fought. "Alastor, what did you call me here for?"

"Ah!" Alastor brightened. "Of course, this way for your surprise!" A strong hand found its way to his waist and he was pulled into the tower. Vox felt himself blush at the contact but forced himself to be nonchalant about it all. If the smirk on the Radio Demon's face was anything to go off of, he failed.

"Here you are! What do you think?!"

"Alastor, what the fuck?"

His surprise consisted of Valentino hogtied on the floor with angelic rope. It glowed in the dim light of the room. The moth demon was gagged as well, but the noise coming from him told Vox he was probably cursing up a storm.

Vox didn't know what to do. Of all the things he was expecting from Alastor, this was not even close on his list.

"Now, don't be shy, my dear. We have a broadcast to do." Vox still didn't understand what the hell was going on and he said as much to the Radio Demon.

"Can't you tell? We're taking out the trash. I've always hated this bug, but I have a feeling you want this just as much as I do. To feel this miserable wretch die in its own blood."

Vox blinked. He kidnapped Valentino to kill him and he wanted the Media Demon to help?

His eyes trailed down to his boyfriend's tied-up form. He was struggling to get out of the bindings and let out grunts of effort. The moth demon's clothes were destroyed, leaving him in tattered scraps. Vox thought he looked pathetic.

"If you're still feeling hesitant, why don't you just stay and watch?" Alastor suggested. "Besides, after everything he's done, surely he deserves it." Vox thought about every time he was cheated on. How Valentino would always invalidate, humiliate, and discard him because he could. Then he would pull him back in with sweet words until Vox was hooked on the bastard's poison.

Turning to Alastor, he said, "Fine. But I'm just watching."

Then, to Vox's absolute embarrassment, Alastor gently took his hand and kissed the back of it.

"Let's begin~."

Vox watched in fascination as Alastor tortured his ex-boyfriend. Normal people should be disgusted by what they were seeing. Vox wasn't normal by any means. In fact, just looking at the Radio Demon at work made Vox hot under the collar.

How can someone look so good covered in blood?

"Well, folks. It seems this is the end of Valentino." Alastor growled, holding the decapitated head of the moth demon. "Not even I would eat such filth."

Vox watched mesmerized as the Radio Demon turned to him. He walked over to him and before Vox could even blink, he was wrapped up in tentacles. "Wha?! Alastor!" Vox yelled, struggling for a moment before the taller demon kissed him.

Sparks lept off of Vox and he shook as the kiss continued. Alastor chuckled and they both broke for air.

"Do you want this? While I might not be able to give you pleasure how most demons would, I can be quite creative~"

Vox felt like he was dreaming. Was the Radio Demon serious? Did Alastor just ask him to have sex with him?!

"If you're teasing me again, I will fucking kill you." Vox threatened before kissing Alastor again. They both moaned into the kiss, the Media Demon felt sharp fingers brush his clothes before ripping through them. Vox didn't even care that that was an expensive suit.

More clothes were ripped and soon Vox was naked and being held aloft by tentacles. When he felt something poke his entrance, he whimpered. "My, you're sensitive~!" Vox blinked and opened teary eyes and saw that Alastor was holding his cane which had a crackling microphone. He was broadcasting still?!

Before Vox could complain, he felt the rough thrust of a tentacle enter him causing him to scream in ecstasy. Alastor chuckled, his filled with lust. Despite that, he wasn't hard in the slightest. A tentacle forced its way into his mouth, gagging him perfectly.

"Do you hear that? Vox is mine. And only mine. Anyone who tries to touch what's mine gets a spot as my dinner." One last tentacle wrapped around Vox's dick and it took everything in him not cum on the spot.

"Now, listening to my pet? That, I might allow on occasion." Alastor bent down and bit into Vox's neck, blood oozing to the surface. Vox screamed and came on the floor.

Vox shook from everything and Alastor patted his head, rubbing his sensitive antennas. "Thank you for tuning in, until next time."

[dayseedrawz2]

My thoughts on episode 3 + theories!!

I'll talk more about this on my YT, but for now here's a tumblr version

(SPOILERS BELOW)

Okay so starting off, my unfiltered thoughts throughout the episode

-They actually spend time together when outside the adventures aww! (Not like they really have a choice, but still neat-)

-Jax being a bitch

-"Zooble turns Straight" Welp, the whooooooole fandom was right!

-Bubbles reversed dialouge. Damn they really don't want those content farms no more.

-CAINE AN POMNI INTERACTION YEAAAA (It was one piece of dialogue I'm so delusional)

-He made this adventure JUST for Zooble cuz they never go and he really wants them to GUYS HES NOT A VILLAN SEE?

-Jax being a bitch

-LUIGIS MANSION REFRENCE FUCKING YESSS

-Wow the visual here are super pretty :o

-...and horrifying

-Jax being a bitch

-I haven't mentioned yet but the lil quirky powers or whatever are cool

-Wow the lore Caine writes for these stories is just like your average artist who torments their OCs (he so me fr)

-2D ANIMATION!!! Also Kinger and Pomni being like the funniest duo ever

-HOLY FRICKLE FRACKLE THEY DEFINITELY DID NOT WANT CONTENT FARMS TO FIND THIS EPISODE

-the monster is awesome looking tho

-THE THERAPY SESSION SEGMENTSS AAA

-Also Caine has a Trans flag hanging somewhere in the circus neat

-He forgot he could use his powers to just teleport Zooble to him lol

-Back to the spooky stuff

-Wow Kinger can actually use a gun! (Never thought I'd be saying that sentence-)

-KINGER AND POMNI GO TO ACTUAL HELL WHILE THE REST JUST HAVE A TEA PARTY WITH MARTHA

-Also JAX IS TIED UP BAHAHAHA

- "You know how men are, always having the silliest priorities..." "Heh, dont i know it!" I think the bunny doll shippers really like that scene

-Zooble has some sorta body dismorphia and has opened up about it to Caine multiple times seems like

-Uhh Caine... you okay buddy? CAINE YOU GOOD BRO? CAI

-CAINE HAS EMOTIONS/SELF AWARNESS CONFIRMED???

-Pomni gets fucking posessed ok

-now we know why it looked like kinger was hitting Pomni with the shotgun

-KINGER AND QUEENIE WERE MARRIED CONFIRMED???

-Father daughter bonding aww...

-I love how the whole fandom took one good look at Ragatha and went:

GAY GAY GAY HOMOSEXUAL GA-

-also Pomni and Ragatha are on good terms now aww...

-Caine and Zooble Should Pass that pipe from ep 2 and legitemently vent to each other

-Jax is pissed because the Jester actually had a good fucking day for once lmao stay mad

-NOW WE KNOW WHY HE STAYS IN THAT PILLOWFORT IM GONNA FUCKIN CRY NOW

Overall, this was definitely my favorite episode so far! The team is getting better each and every episode! SOOO much happened here!! I'm super excited to see what happens next!!

Okay, THEORY TIME!!

-Okay so to start lightly, so far, all the episodes we've seen contain:

Gangles mask breaking

Jax breaks the 4th wall

A cute/sad heart to heart conversation or interaction

A reference to angels or god or Christianity in some way

Interesting right?? Wonder if this keeps up...

-On the topic of Christianity, I saw a theory saying that if it's true that the gang developed the game (which may be true because of that computer science line), When Pomni says "I knew it would end up like this... He just wants me to suffer..." she may not be referring to Caine, but her Boss at CnA.

If that boss exists and is NOT named able, Imma be mildly upset-

-Okay, Alot of people have been talking about Jax being an NPC, and I wanna bring up my opinion on this:

As I mentioned earlier, he always breaks the 4th wall, witch could be seen as a character in a game being like "What do YOU think?" *Insert Game Options here*

I saw another theory saying that if this is true, Jax might be self aware or sentient to some degree, and This is why he tortures everyone. He knows that this world Revolves around the players and nit him so he wants to make them more miserable.

-OKAY, NOW WHAT (I) WEVE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR... THE WHOLE DEAL WITH CAINE GLITCHING OUT AN' STUFF!

As one of many Caine angst connisuars on this platform, I really enjoyed this scene...

Caine knows that he only exists to make adventures and if he can't do it well enough than he serves ZERO purpouse and his existence is useless... (he's just like me fr)

This has SO MUCH POTENTIAL FOR A SERIES FINALE.

Since in each episode we've (mostly) seen a character being comforted (mostly Either Pomni being comforted OR someone being comforted BY Pomni)

What if the last episode had Caine and Pomni having a heart to heart?

(Shutup this is not about showtime I swear let me have this-)

Someone abstracts, (Ragatha or Kinger probably,) and it's Caine's last straw. He finally breaks and the circus goes into ruins. Pomni does her best to comfort him. This could go one of two ways:

Either she sucseeds and happy ending for everyone :D

OR, they fail and The Circus is destroyed, Taking Caine down with it.

Maybe then that would be how they escape cuz if Caine is emotionaly attached to the circus, it would be completely destroyed or erased if Caine finally broke...

The angst potential is crazy...

This is terrifyingly close to what I wanted to do with R-M AU UHHH I MEAN-

Anywayyyy I believe that's all! If yall have anymore theories lemme know!!

[foxyanon]

To Love A Dragon: Part 3

Since my birthday is in a couple days, here’s a gift from me to y’all! Something a bit lighter for my babies after the last depressive piece I released 😅 I do directly quote Season 2 Episode 2 in this, because let’s be real, ‘twas iconic on Sihtrics part

Summary: An oath is sworn, and a man put in his place.

Pairing: Sihtric Kjartansson x Rhaenerys Targaryen

Word Count: 2439

Rating: 18+, MDNI

TW: Eadred is a cunt, Rhaenerys is a bad bitch, otherwise there isn’t any major warnings here

Part 1, Part 2

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from The Last Kingdom or A Song of Ice And Fire nor do I own any of the images used. I only own my OC, Rhaenerys Targaryen.

Dividers by @arcielee and @zaldritzosrose

The next day, Guthred held a Witan, whatever that meant, in his hall and Rhaenerys stood in attendance with Ser Elwood at her side. She watched as the men bickered, the petty lords arguing with whether or not they should march to Eoferwic, claiming that they had no enemies in the city but that their lands would be left defenseless should they march with their king. The whole thing was rather entertaining to her, because she couldn’t imagine any lord in Westeros making such statements to her own father. Guthred kept speaking in that aggravating tone, the one where he was trying to portray authority but his voice kept cracking.

”Are we certain this man is actually a king and not the court jester?” Rhaenerys muttered under her breath, chuckling a little when Ser Elwood tsked at her. She glanced at him quickly and saw he had cracked a smile at her joke but was still trying to maintain a neutral expression.

She turned back to the crowd and listened as Uhtred claimed there was wealth aplenty in this city, as well as lands. Some fool in the back made a comment about women as well that had some others laughing, and Rhaenerys had to remind herself to keep her mouth shut at such a disgusting comment. Then of course Abbot Eadred gave some rousing speech about how their army was holy and they needed to liberate Eoferwic, that God is with them and so on. It did not go unnoticed by Rhaenerys that Guthred looked upset that he couldn't inspire the way the older man did. Even more interesting was the reaction from Uhtred and Guthred’s sister, Gisela. By the expressions on their faces, there was a more personal slight at Eadred’s comments.

Guthred approached her after everyone had been dismissed, his demeanor one of a man about to ask for something by beating around the bush. “So Princess, what do you think of Cumberland so far?” He asked, clasping his hands together.

She hummed, watching as the lords dispersed the hall in the early morning. “It is…very different from what I am used to,” she responded politely, wondering how long it would take him to get to his point. Blissfully, he got right to it.

”I was wondering if perhaps you might march with us? I should like to ask about your own home and perhaps discuss an alliance between our two kingdoms,” Guthred said, looking nervous despite him having been the one to reach out seeking a marriage with her. Even though she wanted to outright refuse his offer, she wouldn’t deny a certain curiosity at seeing this Eoferwic place and getting a better idea of the people in this land.

”I do not see why not, I should like to see more of this place and have my maesters archive as much as possible. Though, you understand I may not participate in any battle, yes? I cannot in good faith order my men to fight for another’s cause if there is nothing in it for them,” Rhaenerys said, laying some bait to see how he would react.

The man in front of her looked taken aback for a moment, before nodding his head and speaking once more. “Of course, Your Highness. As there is no official alliance between us, it is understandable you wish to do the proper thing. Perhaps a share of the spoils and even access to Church records? I understand you are something of a learned woman,” he spoke rather quickly, seeming a little desperate for more men in this fight.

Rhaenerys cocked a brow at Guthred before answering. “Yes, I do enjoy scholarly pursuits,” she corrected, trying not to bristle at him for his insult. She’s a scholar, equal to the men who use the title and not just a woman who wishes to learn. She shared a look with Ser Elwood, considering the offer. Nothing needed to be said between them, the subtle nod of her sworn shield all the confirmation she needed. “Very well, King Guthred. I accept your offer to march to Eoferwic and share in the win. Perhaps the journey will be enlightening for us all,” she said, knowing full well she was going to take that time learning about a certain currently imprisoned man.

Sihtric had been marched behind the wagon he was tied to, the body of Saint Cuthbert leading the procession at the front. They had only just begun the journey, stopping to make camp on the first day when he decided he needed to act. He had seen no sign of Lord Uhtred or the Princess Rhaenerys and he was not so sure Halig would get either of them without a little persuasion. He put his plan into motion the moment the nun wearing Tekils armor started approaching, the bag of heads in her hand.

”You! Girl!” Sihtric called out, only for Hild to ignore him.

“Woman!” No response.

“Warrior,” he said, sighing heavily. That got her attention, and she turned around to give him a look.

”I need to go into the woods there,” he started, Hild only arching a brow at him. “I need to shit,” again Hild only gave him an unimpressed look before turning around and continuing on her way. “I do not wish to fill my breeches!” He hollered, watching as Hild said something to Halig that had him and another man coming to take him into the woods.

Naturally they shoved him around, but he was used to it so he didn’t let that dissuade him from his plan. He dug a small hole to sell his story, Halig taking that time to ask about Dunholm fortress.

”It is tall,” he chuckled, unable to resist being snarky.

”Tell him that and you are a dead man,” Halig said with an incredulous laugh.

”Then let me speak to him.”

”He will speak to you when he is ready. He is a good man,” Halig said, the look in his eyes saying he spoke true.

Sihtric stood up, pretending like he was going to do his business and waited until the other men turned around before making his move. He was quick to knock the bigger man off his feet with the rope binding him, kicking Halig back to the ground and disarming the bigger man. Overall, the fight only lasted a few minutes, Halig and Sihtric trading blows until the Dane got the upper hand. He held the blade against Halig's throat, shouting at the other man.

“You will fetch Lord Uhtred or Princess Rhaenerys. Tell Uhtred I have his man. Now!” It didn’t take much for the man to run off, hollering for Uhtred and the Princess as he quickly made his way back to the camp. “With luck, we shall both live,” Sihtric spoke softly to Halig, not moving the blade from his throat.

He watched as a small crowd assembled, Uhtred followed by Hild and Rhaenerys flanked by her knight. Uhtred was the first to reach him, a look of fury on his face and Sihtric got right to speaking.

As Rhaenerys walked up, she overheard a conversation between Sihtric and Lord Uhtred. From the looks of it, Sihtric was trying to bargain for his life. What caught her attention, however, was the fact he was still bound and holding a sword to Halig. To say she was a little impressed would be an understatement, so she watched attentively from the sidelines.

”A life for a life, is it?” Uhtred asked.

”My life for my sword. I wish to serve either you or the Princess. I could’ve killed both of your men, but I wish to serve either you or the Princess, Lord,” Sihtric spoke, maintaining eye contact throughout the exchange.

“You are Kjartan’s man,” Uhtred rolled his eyes, not believing the young man.

Rhaenerys watched as Sihtric shook his head, the next words out of his mouth solidifying her desire to accept his oath for herself. “No. I am Kjartan’s bastard son whelped on a slave girl,” he responded.

Naturally, Abbot Eadred decided to pipe in and make his opinions known, proclaiming Sihtric a heathen and saying he should be killed while Uhtred yelled that no one should move and just let him speak. Rhaenerys looked at the Abbot curiously, wondering what he meant by the use of the word heathen since that meant something different in Westeros. Sihtric did not look like a wildling to her, he looked like a Northerner if anything. The shouting match between Uhtred and Eadred carried on for another moment before she decided to step in before they came to blows.

”Enough!” Rhaenerys commanded, stepping into an authoritative role with ease. Everyone stopped and looked at her, and she turned first to Eadred. “Perhaps you might enlighten me what you mean when you call this man a heathen, Abbot. That word has a very different meaning where I am from,” she spoke, her wrist finding its home on the pommel of Dark Sister, a habit she picked up from watching her father.

The man glared at Uhtred for a moment before facing her, collecting himself before speaking in a measured tone. “Of course, Your Highness. What I mean is this boy a pagan barbarian, he follows the false gods instead of the one true God. His people are uncivilized savages, a plague meant to be cleansed from this land by the hands of the righteous.”

She clenched her jaw, picking up his meaning instantly. She had played nice so far, but for him to classify any outside his own narrow minded views as unworthy of existing had her blood boiling and she was going to put him in his place. “Answer me this, do you think Ser Elwood here is a heathen?” She asked harshly, gesturing to the older man behind her.

”No, Your Highness. He is a good and godly man, unlike some present,” Eadred stated, cutting his eyes towards Uhtred and Sihtric.

”He is a good man, yes, but not a godly one. He follows the Faith of the Seven, a religion which worships multiple gods,” Rhaenerys gripped Dark Sister, willing herself to keep a level tone instead of throttling the fool in front of her. “Do you believe the captain of my household guard, Beren Harclay, my own mother’s cousin and follower of the Old Gods, is a heathen?”

Eadred realized his faux pas too late, his eyes widening as he prepared to back track but the look in her eyes had him answering her in a nervous manner, twisting his hands anxiously. “No, Princess. What I meant was-“

“I myself follow the Gods of Old Valyria, just like my father and grandmother,” she cut him off, her gaze hard as she practically stared him into submission. “Am I a heathen, Abbot?” She snarled, watching as the men behind Eadred shrank back a little from her tone.

”No, Princess,” Eadred answered, looking like a thoroughly chastised boy in that moment as the realization his words had insulted her and her people, thus effectively ruining any chance at an alliance between Cumberland and Westeros.

Rhaenerys took a deep breath before glaring at Eadred once more. “For a man whose faith preaches loving thy neighbor, you certainly have an interesting way of going about it,” she ground out, Eadred grinding his own teeth as he bit his tongue to prevent putting his foot in his mouth any further. She didn’t miss how Uhtred smirked a little as the man stepped back to his place beside Guthred, nor did it escape her notice that the king did not intervene.

He truly is a weak man with no backbone, she thought with a roll of her eyes, turning her head to face Uhtred. “I believe Sihtric has made his intentions clear enough. Either you accept his oath, or I will ask that he be released to me so that I might. I could use a man of his skill and knowledge, since I am clearly uninformed on the differences between this land and mine,” she said with a pointed look at the Abbot, who at least had the decency to look partly ashamed of himself.

For his part, Uhtred looked back to the bound man, his hands resting on his hips as he addressed the young warrior. “Well boy, the choice is yours. Either me or Princess Rhaenerys,” he asked, Sihtric looking between the two of them as he thought over his decision.

When Sihtric initially put this plan into motion, he did not anticipate that he would have the option to choose. Either way, he would be free from Kjartan and have the chance to lead a better life, one that would make his mother proud. He looked at Lord Uhtred, and in another life, he would’ve sworn to him. But in this one, he couldn’t pass up the chance to serve an actual princess.

“I swear my sword is yours, Princess. On Thor’s hammer, I swear,” he said, gripping the pendant he wore and kneeling in the leaf covered ground. He kept his head down, only barely looking up when he saw her boots come into his view.

”Then you have my protection, Sihtric,” she said, pulling a dagger from her side to cut the ropes binding him. Her touch was gentle, and he found himself blushing at the contact.

”Thank you, Princess, thank you. I swear I am your man from this day, until my last,” Sihtric said gratefully, relief flooding his veins when the rope fell from his wrists and onto the ground. He chanced a look at her face, rubbing the reddened marks on his skin from the bindings.

“Indeed you are,” Rhaenerys had a knowing glint in her violet eyes and a wry smile on her lips as she spoke, making Sihtric feel as though there was some deeper meaning behind her words. He stood and watched her turn, speaking to a dark haired man wearing black armor with a sigil bearing three moons, waxing, full and waning, emblazoned on the chest plate. “Captain Beren, Sihtric is with us now. See to it he is armed and armored properly as a man of my House,” she commended, the man nodding and gesturing for Sihtric to follow him.

Sihtric was quick to follow, only to be stopped by Halig when the other man gave him an unreadable stare.

’So, do you need to shit, or not?” Halig asked him, sounding rather pissed off but Sihtric just laughed it off and followed after Captain Beren, eager to prove himself worthy of Rhaenerys and her generosity.

Tagging: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @whitedarkmoonflower @gemini-mama @zaldritzosrose @alexagirlie

@legitalicat @thenameswinter99 @viking-chaos

[everywishway]

I find it so funny when I'm at my day job and these kids are talking about the "Hear Me Out Cake Trend" on tiktok but proceed to give the most basic bitch answers (that arent even hear me outs. One said "The prince from Princess and the Frog" and another said "Teddy Roosevelt from Night at the Museum but TBF I think Robin Williams is hot". Like, bitch, everyone finds funny + charisma hot. you arent special) and when one of them asks me my friend goes "why ask, every person they've ever liked is a hear me out." I mean... Not wrong...

So here is a list of my actual Hear Me Outs with a little summary for those who don't know the character/my reason why (please keep in mind I'm ace and this is not so much a "would I sleep with them list" but a "pillow fort and cuddles and kissing while watching pokemon nuzlockes list"). This goes from the most tame to the weirdest lol

Garthy O'Brien (D20 Fantasy High, angelic half-orc who loves pampering and self-love)

Jester Lavorre (Critical Role Campaign 2, blue skin demon with pink eyes who wants you to join the cult for her best friend, a weird archfey)

Mollymauk Tealeaf (Also CRC2, purple skin demon with fully red eyes, covered in tattoos and piercings who likes reading tarot cards and would be hella good at aftercare and cuddles)

Jawbone O'Shaughnessy (D20 FH, polyamorous wolf boyfriend who is ex-drug dealer, most emotionally aware being ever, and also slept with Garthy O'Brien)

Chimera Falin (Dungeon Meshi, giant cuddles would be so comfy, esp tiddies covered in feathers! Plus I love to cook giant meals. Giant meals for giant bird GF and make her happy <3)

Thomas O'Malley (from the Aristocats... LOOK HE'S A GREAT STEPDAD AND HE'S SO SLY AND COOL.)

Scylla (from Hades 2. Scary Bivalve baddie who looks like a drag queen and has a fantastic singing voice. I'd let her drown me <3)

Nikola Orsinov (The Magnus Archives... Giant plastic puppet who is down to clown and murder! Her voice is so addicting I would love to hear her talk for hours and she ran her giant murder claws through my hair <3)

Gelidon/The Nightmare in Ivory (Critical Role Campaign 2... YES THE GIANT FUCKING MURDEROUS WHITE DRAGON WITH NO EVER SHOWN HUMAN FORM. Look, it started off as a bit but it spiraled. She's loyal, she'd kill for you and Matt Mercer standing up for her gender was just *chefs kiss*)

So, yeah, i think the summary here is: Irish name, horns, bright colors, addicting voice, a stepparent who stepped up, likes to cuddle, and loyal.

[maxmagic]

LONG post featuring my opinions on this design and her concept and also Vivs character design decisions in general

This design singlehandedly made my account rise from the fucking dead because of how much opinions I have on it

TO NOTE : I LIKE Helluva Boss as a show. Is it perfect? No. Do I think it has issues from both writing and design aspects? Yes. Do I like it regardless? Also yes. You can like a show and still have criticisms of it. Also Viv has answered some criticisms about Beelzebubs design and I will talk about them too

Final warning cuz this is LONG and rambled at points

By this point we are all aware that once a new character gets revealed in Helluva or Hazbin , there's always opinions on it.

But Beelzebub truly takes the cake on how divided people are on her design. People either adore it or hate it with a blinding passion (and some just don't like it cuz they have a Viv hate boner).

I have to say I actually really like it as a stand alone design. Remove her from the story and context it's genuinely an appealing design with fun and bright colors. I personally don't mind the early 2010's sparkle dog look. It has a nostalgic charm to it and if you followed Viv for long enough you know she really likes that aesthetic. She has good colors and color placement and my main real dislike is the weird hair.

And she's animated BEAUTIFULLY !!! Real props to the animators for being able to make this design look nice in motion because god lord is it complicated. This will be a criticism later, but again, its really amazing on how they made this design look good even though we all know this must have been a real bitch to animate.

The real issue that come to me with her design is when you put her in the show and have to think about who she is, what she is, what her lore is ect.

Firstly: Her not being 'lore accurate' kinda falls flat given that none of the designs thus far have been accurate to what they're based on. Like Asmodeus has elements that tie him to his demon name counterpart (with the rooster tail and 3 faces) but they're more allusions then design inspirations. Lucifer is literally just a top hat twink and Mammon (even tho we haven't seen his full design yet) is clown/jester themed. Viv has made it clear that this version of hell isn't supported to be an accurate depiction of biblical hell. So she can really do whatever she wants with her interpretation. Her not being an insect, although disappointing since we don't really have that in the show, is only just a matter of personal taste.

HOWEVER there's still a lot of discrepancies with her design.

So she's supposed to be a Bee-Fox hybrid... Where's the bee??? Like take away the hexagon background, where is the bee part of her design? She has antenna and wings but... They don't really do much. The antenna are fine and its smart they placed at the tip of her ears, but the wings are straight up not bee wings!!! They look more like pixie wings and they're so small half the time I forgot they were there. Couldn't you have added.. idk some stripes?? she has stripes on her ears but they don't look like bee stripers more so general Viv design details. It's weird given she uses stripes so heavily in other designs yet the BEE character doesnt. Maybe add some fuzz like how bumblebees have?? Maybe trade that stupid lava lamp tail/hair if its too complex. I really don't like how she has normal hair and also a weird liquid part and liquid tail. It adds too much visual noise and just doesn't gel well wit the rest of her design. Her lava lamp stomach too just feels like needless addition of animation work for something that just doesn't add anything. Her colors ( despite being nice) kinda clash against all the other hellhounds who have a muted black/grey/red color pallate. It makes her look like an 13 year olds OC thats been edited in

Literally the only things that changed are her colors, size and eyes. In my opinion this should have been her base design because the colors and bug eyes lean into more of the bee aspect. Plus with these colors she fits more with other hellhounds.

Like right now the normal design feels 97% fox with just the most subtle bee elements slapped on. If it wasn't for the background, look me in the eye and tell me this design is a fox bee hybrid.

She also doesn't feel like a prince? She's dressed very casually and doesn't have nearly have enough of an imposing vibe. I didn't know she was a prince until it was said in show. I thought she was just some high rank demon performer. Its kinda disappointing given how grand, larger then life look and energy Asmodeus had. They were introduced in the same way via big song number, but Asmodeus felt like a Prince of Lust, Beelzebub felt more like a performer of Gluttony rather then a ruler.

Also why if she a hellhound in the first place? i saw somewhere on twitter that its cuz her people are hellhounds but that doesnt make sense. Lucifer isn't a human and Asmodeus isn't a succubus, so why does Bee have to be a hellhound? We know that hellhounds are the lowest ranked amongst hell natives, so how do people outside of gluttony feel about her? She is treated like royalty but is also a hellhound, the lowest demon. It causes a needless paradox that makes you question the worldbuilding of the show.

Also why are hellhounds the lowest rank in hell ? and why are they associated with gluttony of all things? I am going to be honest when I say I completely forgot they were native to gluttony because gluttony has a beehive aesthetic and like wtf do dogs have anything to do with it . Like other demons shown have themes that tie them into their respective prince or sin, but we aren't shown why hellhounds in particular are gluttony. Like it feels like a minor thing but when you present information about worldbuilding and show stuff that contradicts it, people will question it.

And why is she dating a hellhound? Or more so why is she so open about it. Like its been shown in the show that Stolas and Admodeus dating imps is a taboo thing so her being so open about her relationship with someone whose even lower then an imp. Again its going back on lore and worldbuilding being contradicted. If you're going to make rules for a show, stick to them.

I'm putting these two side by side cuz I have the same complaint about them.

How are we suppose to know this?? First the gluttony ring severally lacks any circus motifs (it has more of a bee theme then a circus one), but Bee ESPECIALLY doesn't have ANY hints at being circus themed, let alone animal trainer.

I knew that all the princes had a circus theme but from I (and from what ive seen in other comments) though she was an acrobat or like dancer of the sort. Literary nothing in her design says she is an animal trainer. And also the hippie 60s spirit is also not anywhere in the design. Just because a design choice is clear to you doesn't mean its clear to everyone else. A good design makes its points across loud and clear so everyone can understand it. This really feels like she's making it all up as people ask. She probably isn't but it really comes across that way. You cant just say something about a design that just isn't in the design or its not shown properly. This is an issue a lot of Helluva and Hazbin Hotels characters have (look up any of their trivia and you'll see how bad some designs are communicated), but with Bee its emphasized tenfold because she's suppose to represent all these different things (fox, bee, prince, party girl, animal trainer, DA sparkle dog, 60s hippie free spirit) at it just isn't conveyed or is put in such a way where you cant clearly tell what it is. It honestly feels like Viv had in mind to have a Kesha pop party girl character and just made her a prince. Shes trying to justify all these things and saying them like they're obvious when they're clearly not!

This design suffers from having too many ideas slapped on it that just don't work and actively work against each other.It makes me less excited for the future prince designs

If youve come this far good for you for sticking around to this way too long of a ramble about a probably one off character in a popular indie cartoon :D

[thethirdvoerman]

Kumiko Takemura, Lasombra Primogen of Phoenix, Former Archbishop of Midtjylland, Wharf Rat Mitsuhara, and so on and so forth~

For the last while I've wanted to talk about my NPCs on here, but as my players read my blog, I have to restrain myself to not spoil plot beats to them. However, Kumiko has been a prominent figure in the chronicle so far, so I can tell a lot of stuff about her without giving out new information.

So, Kumiko Takemura's a Mythic Bitch, much like any Lasombra, and much like any Lasombra, her presence in the Court poses a question of "why". Kumiko can answer that question; Kumiko keeps a large collection of murder trinkets, and her prized exhibit is the head of one Tzimizce Elder which she brought as a gift to the Prince of Phoenix way back in 1946. Now the situation's changed, and she got more power once the Ventrue were overthrown in the city, but somehow, having two childer in security and an illegal casino isn't enough.

Nothing is.

Kumiko Takemura works miracles. Kumiko Takemura ruins lives. Her childer revere her in a way a Blood Bond cannot truly replicate. Her Toreador ex-husband spontaneously develops Obfuscate whenever she walks into the room. Kumiko keeps a collection of wraith fetters. Kumiko has distanced herself from True Oblivion in favor of Protean. Kumiko despises the Malkavian Primogen. Kumiko uses his name and his businesses for her financial machinations.

Kumiko Takemura is predictable. Kumiko Takemura managed to take her dear sire by surprise and murder an Archbishop.

She then chased her accomplice across the sea and ripped him to shreds.

Former courtesan becomes a pet of a fledgling becomes matricidal Archbishop becomes Camarilla's Murder Jester becomes Primogen of a Locked City.

She invented herself a name, a reputation to fear and a power to behold, yet she still remains the wharf rat she always was, because vampirism is stasis and stagnation.

To hell with that.

Kumiko enters another gamble, because she wants to be something.

"Beings of our stature are above someone else's leftovers. The majority of us aren't scavengers, after all. Clan Hecata aside, of course. Still, I can't really push my opinion onto others, can I? If Mistakemaker wants to suck up to one whom I drained completely of anything that made him a someone, who am I to stop the poor lad."

[unicyclehippo]

top 5 moments of your fave character from each cr campaign

oh u DO think my memory is better than it is but i will give it a go

1. c1 - everything vex has ever done. when vex rises up out of the ocean on her wedding day, furious, & summons a bow made of light & pike gives her a golden arrow to shoot sylas……h-hot. woman hot. delilah WAS a bitch. i am a twin myself & that whole deal was..a lot for me. do not go far from me. there’s a kind of loneliness that only twins get to feel & vex&vax nailed that.

2. c2 - beau with her shitty strength steps back into the room w the laughing hand & hauls her BROTHR her CAPTAIN her FRIEND onto her shoulders & gets him out of there she goes BACK for him she has no MAGIC she LOVES him she risks everything to get her hands on him & pull him away she risks an awful death she would die for any of them she means it she proves it she loves so hard her hands are in fists all the time she can’t let people see what she wants she can’t let people see that she wants she takes her bloodied hands& picks up her FRIEND & gets him OUT she LOVES him.

3. also c2 jester cupcake moment. i think it’s the only moment in cr where everything just….clicked. to me, that’s THE jester moment. everything stripped away. that’s CHARACTER baby that’s the good shit.

4. c3 laudna in the tree matt giving up his seat for her to speak to imogen for the most brutal like. ten seconds ever. laudna hunger of the shadow the first time. Marisha does this thing where she like. visibly dissociates for like. i don’t rmbr. i want to say fully forty minutes but that might just be me having felt it so powerfully. ten minutes ? the way she diminishes her presence, hides at the table, sits SO perfectly still. my heart aches.

5. exu calamity laerryn BLIGHT. who has done more in the history of exandria? who has changed the world more than her? NO ONE. NO. ONE. who had the power the skill the vision the LOVE to do what she did, to see avalir move not only over the face of the world but between every world? That ALONE would put her into top tier. & then yeah ok with a single spell she broke the pen that wrote the runes of protection across the world & shattered the ancient tree but who hasn’t wanted to kill a tree that was killing their friends? everyone would do that. it hurt her friend it hurt her husband (ex) it KEPT her BEST FRIEND in its BRANCHES who she has tried EVERYTHING to save. so yeah FUCK that tree! & then when everything went to shit she SAVED the world. she SAVED THE WORLD. laerryn literally has done the most anyone has ever done. & in some ways she did succeed in making it so that people could travel between realms im just saying she very much did succeed at that even if there were a few consequences

[spectrechosts]

Dressed Up To The Eyes - Chapter 2

Okay, Jester made a fool of herself but everyone has pretty much forgotten by now.

Right?

Full Series

Things were something approaching normal again.

Jester was- well she was still the clown of the platoon, but for something different now, which felt a lot better. She had misjudged how much clearance she had to boost backward and sent her entire rig tumbling ass over head during a drill, and in the wake of her new hilarious screwup everyone stopped bothering her about trying to kiss Medusa. Or worse, bothering Medusa herself.

Do you know how badly you have to fuck up that people tease Medusa about it?

Faceless, emotionless, stone-cold hardass bitch Medusa? Kill you with a look Medusa? Once was outnumbered six to one by zealot dreadnoughts and came out unscathed with a shiny new thermal lance Medusa?

The one that Jester made a complete ass of herself in front of?

That one?

Some rookie had gone up to her while they were still on leave, asked if Jester had really kissed her. His buds who had been around longer got halfway through dragging him away and apologizing before Medusa just said: "I imagine she would have some trouble finding my mouth."

Huge laughs all around, but if anyone had earned the right to dunk on Jester she had, so she couldn't really be upset about it.

And so things were almost normal, because Medusa seemed content to pretend nothing had happened.

But you know.

It had happened.

And the whole smooshing her into her faceplate and bullying her thing hadn't exactly gotten rid of her whole horny for the ice queen problem. Quite the opposite, if she was being honest with herself.

Gave her a whole new thing to think about in her bunk though, that helped a little.

So when Medusa asked her to come with her to run through calibrations, she was a bit taken aback.

"Doesn't Scáthach usually do that with you?" She asked.

"And yet, I am asking you." Medusa said.

So she went with her to run through calibrations.

The two of them packed into the cockpit of her mech, and Jester hooked up a diagnostic rig and perched herself beside the pilot's seat.

"Alright, first up is-"

"I am familiar with the checklist."

Jester shut her mouth. Medusa booted up her mech and started running through the calibration checks from memory.

She clearly didn't actually need Jester to help her with this, which meant there was another reason she was here, which meant Jester was fucked.

"All boot checks green." She said, her mouth dry.

Medusa silently engaged the rig's engines, piloting it through a basic combat drill.

"Dusa?"

"Jester."

"Why am I here?" Jester asked warily.

"You said 'it was this or retail', I recall."

"I mean why am I in your cockpit."

"Protocol dictates calibration checks be run with a co-pilot." Medusa said, eternally deadpan, the hilarious bitch.

"Why me Dusa? Why am I in your cockpit?"

"Anyone can sit around. Felt like bringing you."

"O-Oh."

"Boring work. Thought you at least would enjoy being in an enclosed space with me."

Jester glared holes in the side of Medusa's head, which she completely ignored.

"How very fucking gracious of you." She hissed.

"I try."

"I was wasted, you know I was-"

"Exercise complete. Read results." Medusa interrupted, bringing the suit to a halt.

"…All green." Jester seethed.

"Excellent. Thank you for your assistance."

Medusa propped her elbow on the arm of the pilot's seat and held a hand out toward Jester; palm up, middle and ring fingers extended.

"Uh, what is-"

"I know I frustrate you. Feel free to use this to relieve any tension resulting from our proximity."

Jester looked at her, and then at her hand, and then at her, and then her hand again.

"…I'll pass, thanks."

"You considered it." Medusa said, retracting her hand, and even through the monotone filter Jester could feel the smugness in her voice, see it in her eyes.

"I was just- I was trying to figure out if you were serious!"

"And now you will never know. Sad."

Jester glared at her in silence, her face red.

"Exit my mech at your convenience." Medusa said.

Jester had unleashed a fucking monster, she had.

And, just for good measure, that monster winked at her again.

[lifmera]

Hello! I would like to request a Hazbin match up!

•my name is Angel and I go by she/they, I’m pansexual and I don’t have a preference!

•I’m 5’8 and tower over all my friends (and I hit my head a lot but we don’t speak of that)

•I collect bones of all different kinds of animals! I find them quite beautiful :)

•if I were to try to describe my aesthetic it would be witchy Victorian jester vibes (I have a red Victorian skirt that I absolutely adore!)

•people think I’m funny but in reality I’m just mean :))

•I don’t take crap from anyone and I will call people out if they do me or my friends wrong (yet I’m still too scared to order my own food)

•I draw a lot and one of my love languages is drawing on people’s hands!

•I am a huge bookworm too and I’m currently reading the acotar series!

•I’m pretty introverted, but I will take charge and be “extroverted” when needed (for some reason teachers always assigned me as a leader-)

•I have a resting bitch face and I always look pissed (I promise I’m not, I’m just not making an effort to look friendly!)

I hope that was enough information for you!!

~Angel <3

HI HUN!! I SAW YOUR LIKES !! YOU ARE A SWEETIE!

I’ve decided to match you up with …. ALASTOR!

He’d probably still tower over you- but he’s definitely impressed by your height.

He would LOVE your animal bone collection. Probably for different reasons- but he’d definitely be intrigued by it and want to learn more!!

He would LOVE the victorian style. (So do I.) he’d probably introduce you to Rosie cause of it too. It caused you to become best friends with her!! You both totally gossip about him.

I think he’d like it if you were mean. He doesn’t really laugh much, unless they are dad jokes. And… hah… so funny… old ass..

He loves that you can stand up for yourself. Although he LOVES to kill- he probably would feel like its a burden to do. Similarly to Mimzy.

Since Alastor isn’t huge on physical touch, I honestly think he’d be okay with it. I also think he wears gloves though, so he might hide them. But he might not if it makes you happy!

Honestly I see Alastor as a huge bookworm too. I think he’d love more horror-y graphic stories though. Probably shit about dismemberment.

I think he’d also prefer someone introverted. Someone who can keep to themselves. Although he loves charlie- that is also partly because she is lucifers daughter after all. I think for romantic stuff he’d like someone more quiet.

I think he’d also like someone with an rbf!! It shows people that they wont mess with you, and then they’ll have to deal with him.

~~~~

THIS WAS ENOUGH LOVE!!

[utilitycaster]

13 and/or 23 for the ask game

13. the core 3 Vanguard generals. Someone remarked how no one kept insisting that like, Vecna or the Briarwoods or Trent had a point - they had their fans, but they were either the cool kind of villain stans of the "hell yeah ruin everything and be evil! can't wait until you get murdered but it will be fun while it lasts!" or in a handful of cases, unhinged weirdos mad about unrelated shit, mostly re: Caleb's relationship choices, who decided Trent wasn't threatening enough. There were people who were very sympathetic to Lucien, but they were largely people who thought Molly was more present within him instead of, essentially, the bitch in his ear, so this reduces to Molly Blorbification and can be solved as such. But like, people are like "what if Ludinus is right?" and it's like. he's done a little too many "destructions of entire cities that were nothing but at minimum tolerant of him" for that. Moving on, Otohan has no personality, never did, and so if you treat her as anything but a dope-ass stat block in a leather bodysuit you've blorbified too much, and oh, let's talk Liliana. Because the thing is: I do think Liliana is extremely sympathetic. She is, in fact, the character my "a character can be sympathetic and wrong" post is about, though obviously it's much more widely applicable. But something that recently struck me is how many people who were filled with nothing but vitriol for Relvin after episode 48 have, despite no new information other than "Liliana thinks fondly of him", suddenly acted like this was a deeply touching moment from Imogen (which it is! but if you've been a dick about Relvin it's like ?????) and it's like...given that it was clear he still loved her from his appearance, it feels extremely blorbo-centric morality. Liliana skipped out on Imogen to join a cult, and I get why, but it was all "Imogen's trying to connect with her MOTHER" well a cool way for that to have happened is for her mother to have BEEN PHYSICALLY PRESENT. All of which is to say I think Liliana is redeemable, and she's slowly (pushed by Imogen the whole way) been moving in a heroic direction, but she's still done an immense amount of harm to her family and to the world, and it feels like a lot of people cannot wrap their heads around the possibility that you can be both a victim and also hurt others simultaneously.

23. I wouldn't say it was unwilling - you can't really make me do anything I don't want to in fandom, to be totally honest, because I am an adult confident in my opinions and intelligence - but Callow/moore is something I didn't expect to like and ended up greatly enjoying. The early shipping of it was like. there's some vague flirting but you're all kind of projecting the same generic manic pixie dream girl narrative people put on Jester's relationship with Caleb (and, to a lesser extent, Fjord). It also, to me at least, felt really pair the spares early on, and I still have several shippers of it blocked for being absolutely vile towards Chetney, like, genuinely saying shit "my wish list is that Ashton cockblocks Chetney this episode", like, not even Ashton and Fearne kissing, just Ashton spiting Chetney. (Said shippers are also, to be honest, some of the worst offenders of refusing to understand that Fearne is nonmonogamous). HOWEVER the canon ship is actually a lot of fun.