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maleficar | reg

@maleficarwrites.bsky.social

1.3K followers 120 following 1.2K posts

🔞reg. she/her. multishipper 🔶💧🔶,⛓️‍🌧️,☀️🍷🔄🆗| fixed🆗|🌧️☀️|🔶🐋✨ banner: @tasketeonegai maleficarwrites.carrd.co/ maleficarwrites.straw.page/

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maleficar | reg @maleficarwrites.bsky.social · 5h

yesss so glad to have fed you the meal you were looking for :3

1 1

maleficar | reg @maleficarwrites.bsky.social · 5h

it's extremely horny but also pretty sweet and a little funny :3 i hope you enjoy!

maleficar | reg @maleficarwrites.bsky.social · 9h

The Dragon Slayer's Guide to Dragon Breeding—When the Lady of Merusea asks Wriothesley to help with the local dragon, he expects the dragon will need a good slaying, not a good breeding.

🔗 archiveofourown.org/works/72542156

#wriolette

And the dragon, rather than gutting him with his claws, presses his body against Wriotehsley’s and his face into the crook of Wriothesley’s neck, and he inhales deeply with a lurid moan.

That answers that, then.

“You must go,” the dragon says while sinking his claws into Wriothesley’s leathers, holding him by the bases around his thighs and giving him absolutely no quarter to do as bidden. His breath is hot on Wriothesley’s neck, and his tongue, when it pulls over Wriothesley’s pulse, is hotter still. “You should not have run.” He fits their bodies together, and Wriothesley feels the hard line of the dragon through his armor. “But you must go. You must. I am not—” The dragon groans.

“You’re sending mixed messages,” Wriothesley says, closing his eyes, tipping back his head, and trying very hard not to put his hands on the dragon’s hips to pull him closer still. For fuck’s sake, what is it with him and beautiful, dangerous men? “Can’t go if I can’t run. Can’t do any of that if you keep doing this.”

The dragon whines in the back of his throat, mouthing the underside of Wriothesley’s jaw. “You must bind me,” he says. “And then walk—walk—out. Otherwise, my instincts… my desires…” He shudders. “I will want to chase you. Bring you back here.”

2 6 13

maleficar | reg @maleficarwrites.bsky.social · 1d

Reflected Happiness—Wriothesley discovers the impact that praise has on Neuvillette and uses it to devastating effect.

🔗 archiveofourown.org/works/72489251

#wriolette

Wriothesley knows he has to moderate his compliments, but he can’t help doling them out at every opportunity. Making Neuvillette happy makes him happy, and that’s the most he’ll ever have, this reflected sort of happiness. He may be a duke, but they’re so far apart from each other in every meaningful way. So he contents himself with the compliments, with Neuvillette’s shy, curving smile.

Until one day he says, “Have you done something different with your hair? It looks nice today,” and Neuvillette, canting his head to the side, replies, “You are uncommonly complimentary of me, Your Grace.”

Wriothesley, seated behind his desk, goes still. “No more so than usual,” he says, trying to deflect.

“Perhaps not,” Neuvillette agrees, crossing one leg over the other, so prim and proper that Wriothesley wants to push those legs apart with his shoulders and devour every inch of Neuvillette’s skin with his mouth. “But I have noticed in these recent months that you almost always have something kind to say to me.”

6 14

maleficar | reg @maleficarwrites.bsky.social · 2d

me and my sanity like "there are two weeks of kinktober left we can do it" i'm screaming toward the finish line like a maniac

maleficar | reg @maleficarwrites.bsky.social · 2d

To His Last Breath—Mydei gives control of himself, his body, and his very breath to Phainon.

🔗 archiveofourown.org/works/72429766

#phaidei

A hand curves around Mydei’s throat, and Mydei gasps. His hips jerk forward, but Phainon grabs him with his free hand, yanking him back, driving deep.

Pleasure burns through him, intensified by the weight of Phainon’s hand. His own hands wrap around Phainon’s wrists, not to restrain but to hold, to cling. He groans low in the back of his throat, grinding himself backwards.

It’s good, it’s wickedly good, and it’s even better when Phainon’s hand tightens around his throat, the pressure divine.

From anyone else, Mydei would take this as a threat. From Phainon, it’s about control, about exerting his own and stripping away Mydei’s.

The fingers around his throat curl tighter, and Mydei gasps. Every breath becomes a struggle, but rather than frighten him, this just intensifies the pleasure burning through him. He’s a conflagration of need, every sensation magnified. And just when he thinks it’s too much, when his lungs begin to burn, Phainon releases his grip.

1 3 12

maleficar | reg @maleficarwrites.bsky.social · 3d

pls imagine me crouched in my desk chair like a gremlin just going "hahahaha yes... yess..... vent sex yessss!!!" to myself

1 1

maleficar | reg @maleficarwrites.bsky.social · 3d

me: i need to stop writing 8.5k fics for kinktober
friend: please take care of yourself
me: i think 8.5k of dragon vent sex counts as self care

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maleficar | reg @maleficarwrites.bsky.social · 3d

Romantic Gestures—Phainon offers Mydei a sensual massage, much to Mydei's confusion and eventual delight.

🔗 archiveofourown.org/works/72366326

#phaidei

“What is this?” Mydei demands, rounding on Phainon, who’s rising from a kline as if he’s been waiting, a sheepish expression on his face.

“I wanted to do something nice for you,” he says.

Mydei stares around his room, baffled. “So you drew all the curtains and lit candles?”

“It’s for atmosphere,” Phainon explains.

“Atmosphere.”

Phainon gestures in an incomprehensible way, beckoning to the whole of Mydei’s room. “You know,” he says, but Mydei doesn’t, so he just keeps staring at Phainon. “It’s supposed to be romantic.”

“Open flame all over my room is romantic,” Mydei says.

“Well, when you put it that way.” Phainon rakes a hand through his hair, defeated.

6 10

maleficar | reg @maleficarwrites.bsky.social · 4d

Gone at Midnight—For Crown Prince Phainon's twentieth birthday, his parents host an elaborate masquerade ball to which every eligible bachelor in the realm is invited. Despite losing everything to his stepmother, Mydei manages to attend.

🔗 archiveofourown.org/works/72303826

#phaidei

“Look,” he says, making a sweeping gesture.

The rose gardens spread out before them. Beneath the starlit sky, everything is silvered and ethereal, and Mydei thinks it the loveliest thing he’s ever seen until blue-eyed Kephale touches his jaw. In the starlight, his eyes are shadowed, but the planes of his face are even more defined, and he is hauntingly beautiful beneath his mask.

“This place is beautiful,” Mydei says.

“And yet it pales in comparison to you,” blue-eyed Kephale murmurs, his thumb brushing against Mydei’s lower lip.

His breath catches. “How many others have you led to this place to flatter with that line?” he asks.

“You wouldn’t believe me.”

“No?”

“No. For I have shared this place with only you.”

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maleficar | reg @maleficarwrites.bsky.social · 5d

Those Heirs Uncrowned, ch19—Things go from bad to worse when Kephale rampages out of control and the black tide breaches Okhema's walls.

🔗 archiveofourown.org/works/66251176/chapters/188098246

#phaidei

Kephale wastes no time pretending to be mortal. He blasts them all back with tremendous force, giving himself meager seconds—seconds he takes to transform into something grotesque and monstrously glorious. A goat’s head emerges alongside a lion’s from a lion’s torso. A long tail slithers across the floor, ending in a snake’s head that hisses at them. Kephale stands on his hind legs, two humanoid, golden arms sprouting from either side of his abdomen. Wings of white ivory burst from his back, and he hovers off the ground, not unlike Lygus. Flowers sprout along his limbs, glowing with verdant life.

Mydei swears. Thanatos says nothing but growls low in the back of their throat. Phainon, who has seen all these parts in different configurations, feels his heart drop.

“A chimera,” Anaxagoras says, adjusting his hold on his blade. “Don’t let the snake head bite you.”

“He’ll have all the powers of the Titans at his disposal,” Phainon warns.

A hand touches his back. “Good thing you have me to reinforce you,” Eunomia says. She slaps her hand between his shoulder blades, and he launches himself forward at a superhuman speed.

5 9

maleficar | reg @maleficarwrites.bsky.social · 5d

Sacrificial—Wriothesley is offered as a sacrifice to the god of sea and moon, Neuvillette.

🔗 archiveofourown.org/works/72238901

#wriolette

Sigewinne leads him through these partitions to what serves as a bedchamber, for there is a large, circular bed there covered by a froth of ivory bedsheets, and among them a man of palest white with hair like moonlight.

Neuvillette.

The water god.

He pushes himself up from his repose, and he is haggard and wan, with heavy circles under amethyst eyes. His cerulean rhinophores, which always glow in the depictions of him, are limp and dull. He looks sick, but that cannot be, for gods do not get sick.

Sigewinne approaches the foot of the god’s bed and bows deeply. “An offering,” she says, flicking her red-eyed gaze toward Wriothesley.

Wriothesley knows he should bow, too, but he goes to his death, and he has no desire to submit himself before his own demise. He remains upright.

1 9 17

maleficar | reg @maleficarwrites.bsky.social · 6d

Refraction—Phainon forces Mydei to watch in a mirror.

🔗 archiveofourown.org/works/72192501

#phaidei

Phainon pushes Mydei’s naked body against the cool glass of the mirror, curving over him from behind, and Mydei, panting, arches his back to grind his ass against the hard line of Phainon’s cock. Pleasure burns through him, his own cock hard and aching, dripping precum. All day, Phainon has been in a strange mood, a possessive mood, and Mydei can’t quite figure out why, but he doesn’t particularly care, not right now. Not when Phainon’s mouth is on the back of his neck and his cock is between his legs, fucking against his thighs.

Hungry hands pull down Mydei’s sides, Phainon’s calloused fingers stroking over the ladder of his ribs until they curve around his hips. Phainon yanks Mydei’s hips backward, into the curve of his own, forcing Mydei’s back to arch, and he groans, dropping his head against the glass. The position feels absurd, and absurdly vulnerable—embarrassing, almost, to know his body is on display.

“Your body,” Phainon groans, grinding harder between Mydei’s legs. He whines in the back of his throat, thin and needy, and rubs one hand up the length of Mydei’s spine. “Fuck, your body, Mydei.”

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maleficar | reg @maleficarwrites.bsky.social · 7d

Bite Inhibition—Neuvillette begins hoarding Wriothesley's used teacups in advance of his heat. Wriothelsey notices.

🔗 archiveofourown.org/works/72137271

#wriolette

The trouble is that he brings all the teacups with him to work that first day of his heat, and he arranges them on his desk just so, because he simply has to, and when Wriothesley comes in for their regular catchup, he notices the teacups right away, because of course he does.

“Starting a collection?” Wriothesley asks, dropping into the chair across from Neuvillette’s desk.

“I’ve begun to find teacups exceptionally fascinating,” Neuvillette replies, doing his best not to lie. He’s become very good at obfuscating the truth where Wriothesley is involved.

“Fascinating, huh?” Wriothesley props his chin on his hand and lifts both brows. “What about them has you so enraptured?”

And Neuvillette, who isn’t in the throes of it yet, who is still quite reasonable, replies, “They’ve touched your mouth,” without thinking. He freezes, immediately horrified, his face flaming.

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maleficar | reg @maleficarwrites.bsky.social · 8d

kiss kiss fall in love, as they say

maleficar | reg @maleficarwrites.bsky.social · 8d

THEY WERE SUCH GOOD FRIENDS THEY LITERALLY SHARED A BODY FOR 75 MINUTES

1 1

maleficar | reg @maleficarwrites.bsky.social · 8d

Desirable Outcomes—When Phainon's ruined suppressants cause him to go into rut unexpectedly, Mydei helps him through it.

🔗 archiveofourown.org/works/72073461

#phaidei

They’re deep in the ever night beyond Okhema when Mydei notices the subtle change in Phainon’s scent. Phainon has always smelled pleasant enough, aside from the disgusting musk that comes with him being another alpha, but now that musk is more pungent and the other notes more subdued.

No one talks about someone else’s cycle. It’s just not done. But here they are, in the middle of nowhere, three days from the nearest civilization, and this is a problem that can’t go unaddressed.

“Deliverer,” Mydei says. Growls, really. He’s already annoyed. Phainon should’ve done this math before they left, and now they’re both about to be horribly inconvenienced.

“Hm?” Phainon, several steps ahead in the thick underbrush of a denser forest, pauses and turns back to him. He has a machete in one upraised hand, which just annoys Mydei more, prickling at all his own latent instincts to fight off another dangerous alpha.

“Why are you going into rut?” Mydei asks through a jaw that is tight, not clenched. He’s not that upset. He isn’t. He just wants to tear Phainon’s arm off and beat him over the head with it.

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maleficar | reg @maleficarwrites.bsky.social · 9d

A Love of Mechanics—After Neuvillette's first heat with Wriothesley doesn't go as well as they hope, Wriothesley comes up with a plan.

🔗 archiveofourown.org/works/72013481

#wriolette

“So, I have an idea,” Wriothesley says as Neuvillette lets him into his townhome. He carries a box large enough that requires both arms, though it’s not particularly heavy.

“An idea,” Neuvillette says, regarding the box with a curious expression. “An idea about what?”

“An idea about your next heat,” Wriothesley says.

Neuvillette cants his head to the side, lifting a brow. “You’re thinking abut my heats?”

“I was thinking, specifically, about how the last one was… rough.” The last one was Wriothesley’s first. His dick chafed so much it turned a startling shade of red, and they’d had to call in Sigewinne because they couldn’t trust anyone else to say quiet. As if that hadn’t been mortifying enough, Wriothesley was so burned out after those four days that he hadn’t wanted sex for another four weeks. Neuvillette had been hurt, he’d been frustrated, and neither of them was happy. “And figuring we don’t want to go through that again, I’ve got a potential solution. A thought.” Wriothesley gestures to the box. “An idea.”

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maleficar | reg @maleficarwrites.bsky.social · 10d

no no i mean that's the goal of fics like this lbr :3 i'm glad he got to you

maleficar | reg @maleficarwrites.bsky.social · 10d

Silk and Lace—When subtle invitations fail to get Alhaitham's attention, Kaveh dresses up in lingerie to make his desires crystal clear.

🔗 archiveofourown.org/works/71940066

#haikaveh

It’s not exactly easy to get Alhaitham’s attention. Kaveh’s learned, over the past few months of being with him, that when Alhaitham focuses on something, it’s usually to the exclusion of everything else.

So Kaveh, tired of his subtle passes and invitations being ignored, takes matters into his own hands. Which is how he ends up standing in front of Alhaitham in the living room in a slinky silken robe of red and gold silk.

Alhaitham frowns. “If you want my attention, you just have to ask,” he says, and Kaveh could choke the life out of him because he’s been asking for Alhaitham’s attention for the last five days.

Instead of dignifying that with a response, Kaveh pulls the knot of his robe undone and lets the silk spill from his shoulders and pool around his bare feet.

Alhaitham’s eyes do this thing that Kaveh can’t quite explain where they go dark and glassy all at once, and that’s the reaction Kaveh wanted from him. That’s why Kaveh’s put on a rich, teal corset of lace and silk, why he’s wearing a scant pair of sheer lace panties that accent his ass, why he’s got garters wrapped around his thighs, and a chain of delicate gold hanging between his pierced nipples.

1 10 21

maleficar | reg @maleficarwrites.bsky.social · 11d

A Tenuous Patience—Neuvillette sits on Wriothesley's cock one evening while Wriothesley finishes up some paperwork.

🔗 archiveofourown.org/works/71871416

#wriolette

Humming softly, Wriothesley lifts his hand and curves it around Neuvillette’s throat, a loose cage. “Just a little longer,” he says, but he’s been saying that for ten minutes. He flips a page with his other hand, leaning forward, which bends Neuvillette forward, which pushes him deeper onto Wriothesley’s cock.

A moan catches in his throat, and he immediately glances toward the stairwell. He can’t see the door to Wriothesley’s office, but he knows it’s locked—one of his conditions—because he locked it himself. That doesn’t stop the pounding of his heart and the fear that someone has heard his moan. That someone might come in. That someone might see—but that makes his cock twitch with strange interest, and he doesn’t know what to make of it. He doesn’t know what to make of the arousal simmering in his veins, the desire to have Wriothesley bend him over the desk and fuck him.

But that’s not the point of this.

The point, from what Wriothesley explained, is to tease and titillate them both, to play with the edges of propriety and control. But where Neuvillette unravels already, Wriothesley is staid and unaffected.

1 8 25

maleficar | reg @maleficarwrites.bsky.social · 12d

Those Heirs Uncrowned, ch18—Phainon and Mydei arrive in Okhema to warn the city of the black tide's approach and beg for help, only to receive a cool welcome not just from Aglaea but nearly all the Titans.

🔗 archiveofourown.org/works/66251176/chapters/186915006

#phaidei

All of the Titans are present—except for Sky and Reason—and Phainon is as relieved as he is frightened. In no previous cycle have the Titans all gathered together like this. “You’ve done the impossible,” he says to Aglaea. “How did you manage to bring them all together?”

“You used me, Phainon of Aedes Elysiae,” she says in lieu of answering him.

He inclines his head. “And you, me. So maybe we agree to let bygones be bygones and focus on the larger issue of the black tide.” He extends a hand to Aglaea.

She doesn’t take it.

Law steps forward. “Indeed,” she says, “we are convened to discuss the black tide. And we must thank you for bringing its source to us.”

“The black tide is Strife’s ancient enemy,” Phainon protests, bewildered.

“A ruse,” Law declares.

2 8

maleficar | reg @maleficarwrites.bsky.social · 12d

Cold Snap—Wriothesley employs his Cryo Vision to help Neuvillette through his heat.

🔗 archiveofourown.org/works/71798801

#wriolette

“Monsieur.” His voice is so gentle, and Neuvillette can’t help but wonder what it would sound like purring his name as Wriothesley moves inside him. “Are you quite alright?”

He isn’t, but he can’t tell Wriothesley that. Can’t admit the truth of what’s wrong with him. Humans don’t go through bi-yearly heats, and while he hasn’t precisely been secretive with his identity since the Traveler came to Fontaine, he doesn’t want to broadcast the truth.

Closing his eyes, he touches his thumb and middle finger to his temples. “I have… been better,” he admits, and then he is surprised to feel fingers against his forehead. He drops his own hand and looks up at Wriothesley, who has leaned across his desk to press the backs of his fingers to Neuvillette’s skin.

“You’re burning up,” Wriothesley says without removing his fingers. Neuvillette pulls away, looking to the side to avoid the critical light in Wriothesley’s sharp gaze. “Why are you here with a fever?”

“Because it isn’t a fever.”

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maleficar | reg @maleficarwrites.bsky.social · 13d

Riddles in His Voice—In the small hours before dawn, Varka attempts to trap Flins with a riddle he can't solve.

🔗 archiveofourown.org/works/71744596

#varflins #knightlight

“What’s on your mind this time?” he asks.

That Varka will go with the rising of the sun, that Flins is not canny enough to keep him. In ages past, he might have used his knowledge and his magics to bind Varka to him. He has Varka’s name, and names have power, but respect has changed. No longer does he wield names as weapons. Varka will go, and Flins will not stop him, either. “Nothing of great consequence,” he hedges. Though he may not weaponize names, he is still fae, and he is still bound by many rules; he cannot lie, and so he doesn’t. He prevaricates, dissembles, minimizes. “The way your voice sounds right now.”

Varka rumbles with laughter. “My voice is it?” he asks, turning his head to press his lips to Flins’s ear. “And what, exactly, do you like about my voice?”

Everything. He likes everything about Varka’s voice, and about Varka, but that is too honest, so he practices synecdoche. “The rough and rumble of it,” he says, tracing ancient runes into Varka’s naked chest.

2 11

maleficar | reg @maleficarwrites.bsky.social · 14d

Wrapped Around His Fingers—When Phainon won't stay focused in the agora, Mydei grabs his collar to help direct his attention, to interesting results.

🔗 archiveofourown.org/works/71670801

#phaidei

“You—you grabbed my collar, and it—” Phainon breaks off, groaning, and grinds himself against Mydei’s hip.

Ah. Well, then.

Mydei lifts one hand from Phainon’s hip and slips two fingers beneath Phainon’s collar. “Like this?” He tugs once, twice.

The sound Phainon makes is obscene as he works himself harder against Mydei’s body, as he squeezes around the length of Mydei’s hardening cock. “That.”

A frisson of delight goes through him, an erotic thrill that hits low in his gut and makes him ache with need. He’s never enjoyed wielding power over other people despite his birth—perhaps because of it—but knowing he can pull against Phainon’s collar and elicit this kind of response is intoxicating. He pulls again, and Phainon moans into his throat.

2 11