#;; Dance with the Grinning Demon :: IC

[bruhstories]

touch-starved

summary: dante is touch-starved, and he thinks the only way for him to feel something is to get punched by you

pairing: dante x afab!reader | based on the netflix version but definitely canon divergent

warnings: dry humping, unprotected p in v, creampie, degradation kink, very light choking, lots of swearing, kind of soft dom dante and light pain kink if you squint, idiots in love, friends to lovers, bit of praise, fem bodied reader

w/c: ~3.2k

a/n: this is definitely not my best work but it's a warm up ig. lol anyway i absolutely loved the dmc netflix version, and i'm considering getting the games

"Punch me."

Not a question, but an indisputable demand coming from the demon hunter, which made you do a double take, place the barrel of your M4 carbine on the table, and flat-out refuse.

"No."

He snarled, yes, snarled at you, slamming his pistol against the table with a loud bang. You looked up from your own weapon, taken aback by Dante's reaction, concern written all over your face. Was he high??

"Come on, Y/N, just do it. Just one punch, one tiny little punch. I know you want to." His cocky grin did numbers on your nerves, but you still refrained from giving him the satisfaction of hitting him. It’s been years since you met Dante, by this point you were used to his shenanigans.

"Why, though?" You decided to focus on cleaning your weapon, the sharp smell of isopropyl alcohol filling the room.

"Because," Dante groaned, snatching the bottle of liquid from you, causing you to glare daggers at him, "I'm touch starved."

You blinked once, twice, trying your hardest to process both his honesty, and the logistics of his request.

"Why not ask for a hug, then? Or, I don't know, go to therapy?"

"Hah! I'm sure my therapist is gonna have a field day with me! So, my dad, a demon, disappeared without a trace, then my mother and twin brother died, but actually my brother is alive somewhere. My therapist is gonna need a therapist."

"Okay, okay, you made your point. Still, you could just rephrase it. Maybe leave out the demon bit." You wiped the barrel clean before setting it aside.

"I'd rather get punched. Now, please."

"Dante, a punch isn’t gonna solve it. Are you sure you don’t want a hug? I could cook you something. Or we could grab a few beers and watch a movie, or talk about your feelings." You shrugged.

Both of you had done this before — went out for drinks, danced, cooked together, fell asleep together — it was so intimate, almost like you were a couple. But the reality was that you weren’t. Not by a long shot. Unfortunately for you, Dante was protective of you in the way an older brother was. You thought that, perhaps, he missed Vergil so much that you were the closest thing he had to a sibling in years.

"A punch would be less time consuming. Cooome on, babe, just hit me!"

You hated when he called you babe. He called other girls babe, girls that were hot, pretty, girls that were his type, and it was the nickname that made you clench your jaw and purse your lips.

"Ugh, fine!" You sat up, rotated your wrist and flexed your fingers. "Are you sure this is going to help in any way?"

"Positive. Right here." Dante pointed at his cheek.

"What, in your face?"

"You're stalling."

Without a single ounce of hesitation you swung your arm, hitting the demon hunter square in his face, but it caused you more pain than it did him, and you stumbled back, holding your fist in your other hand.

"Son of a fucking bitch!" You cried out in pain, knowing damn well that would happen. Still, you couldn't say no to him. Ever.

"Are you okay?" Dante was visibly concerned — a rare sight since he was always cool and edgy, even when his own life was in danger.

"Fuck no! Feels like I punched a brick wall!" You practically growled at him, gaze quickly softening when you saw the pure look of terror in his eyes. "But hey, nothing a little ice can't fix, right?"

"Right." He nodded and got up, making a beeline for the freezer.

There was no ice in it, but there was a pack of frozen peas somewhere at the bottom of a drawer, which Dante picked up and brought to you. When you reached for it, he, instead, took your sore hand in his, gently pressing the cold legumes onto your knuckles. You winced, instinctively trying to retract your hand, but he held it in place, his fingers wrapped around your wrist to stop you from backing away.

The pain wasn't gone, but it was becoming bearable, and a relieved murmur escaped past your lips, one that sounded closer to a moan than a sigh. Dante's cheeks burned, tinted red with embarrassment and arousal because you were yet another girl in his life who just didn't want to be involved romantically with him. Not that he tried anything with you, because he always thought you deserved better. Sure, he was cocky and flirtatious, but he wasn't a dick. If no one reciprocated the flirting, he didn't push his luck. It was simple. And he wasn’t the type who did one-night stands, despite the rumours. Dante enjoyed having a connection to the people he took to bed, he became sexually attracted to those he knew on a deeper emotional level. But sometimes, when he was really, truly desperate, he would download Tinder and hook up with random girls.

And he reeked of desperation.

"Dante, you can let go of my hand now."  You told him, part of you hoping he wouldn't.

Who could blame you? He was an objectively attractive man, with a charming smile and a body sculpted by the gods themselves. Why would he ever want to get involved with you? Dante was your opposite — he talked, he sang, he danced, he was obnoxious. You were quiet, most of the time, and shy. In fact, when he first met you, he thought you had some form of speech impediment, with your nose in Boccaccio’s The Decameron, a book you stole from the public library because you were much too young to read. That’s when knew you were trouble, just like him.

"Yeah, of course." Dante stepped back. "How's your hand?"

"Better. How are you feeling?"

"Me? Why are you asking?"

"Hello?" You scrunched your nose and frowned. "You wanted me to punch you because you were touch-starved. Did it help?"

"I'll be honest, it felt more like a tickle than anything." He shrugged. "Are you sure you didn't pull your punch?"

There it was, the one thing that turned you from an introvert to a bat-shit crazy bitch — his stupid little mouth that he opened without ever thinking.

"Are you fucking kidding me? You're telling me I risked breaking my bones so you could feel better, only for you to not feel anything? I swear to fucking God, Dante, this is the last time I'm doing anything nice for you."

"Nice? You punched me!" He threw his hands up in exasperation, while your blood boiled inside of you, sending you into a blind rage.

"You asked me to punch you, you maniac! You should've fucked me instead!"

Your eyes widened at the sentence that came out of your mouth without a single thought, mortified at your own stupidity.

"Hugged. I meant hugged. Shit."

"No, no, hold up, you didn't say hugged." Dante tilted his head, one hand rubbing his chin. "Isn't that called a Freudian slip?"

"I- well- how the fuck do you even know what a Freudian slip is?" You tried changing the subject but he didn't bite.

"Google." He closed the gap between the two of you, and for the first time you felt intimidated by him. "Do you want me to fuck you?"

The bluntness of his question, coupled with the sudden change in the pitch of his voice made you feel like a cornered prey. There was no possible way he was serious. But he wasn't wrong — the nature of your jobs made it impossible for either of you to have partners, and besides, you've known each other for years. It was only natural that some form of physical attraction would have developed between you two, right? But why you? Why now? And the worst of all your questions, why not?

You didn’t want to think about how this would ruin almost a decade of friendship. All you could think about was the look of pure lust in his eyes as he held your gaze, and how months upon months of sexual frustrations accumulated inside of you, bubbling and boiling and exploding when you dropped the pack of peas on the floor.

"Yes. I want you to fuck me."

Without a sliver of hesitation, you felt him pick you up with ease, hands roaming up and down his back as he slammed you down onto the table, desperately pushing away all the guns and knives. How thoughtful of him. Your hands slithered under his blood red coat while he tugged at your t-shirt, pulling it over your head to expose your bare breasts to him.

"No bra? Kinky." Dante stopped to take a better look at you.

"Stop talking." You firmly told him, but the chuckle that erupted from your throat betrayed you.

He was the one person you felt most comfortable around, so much so that you didn't feel weirded out by him pressing his lips onto your neck, or his fingertips bruising the plush of your hips, or his tongue flicking over your sensitive nipples. No, it felt natural, too natural, like your skin was made to be touched by him.

With his coat on the floor, you tackled his shirt, effectively tearing it off of him because you were just as desperate as he was, and Dante pulled your body closer to his, your clothed cunt accidentally rubbing against the bulge in his trousers. You were aching from the lack of sex, and you uncontrollably moaned at the tiny bit of friction before mumbling a weak 'sorry.'

"Fuck, don't be. That's actually kind of hot." He shamelessly admitted, and you rose a brow.

"Yeah? Then you wouldn't mind me doing it again?" You chewed on your lower lip, but he could see past the fake innocence when you rolled your hips, frantically and feverishly rubbing your clit through the layers of fabric. "Shit, I could come just from this."

For a split second, Dante wondered if this was all real. What happened to your shyness? How was it possible that his best friend, the quiet, nerdy girl he'd known for such a long time, was worse than any demon he'd ever encountered? Not that he was a saint. Far from it, because when you threw your head back, desperate to climax, his is eyes darkened, black seeping into his sclera. It should've made you afraid, but it had the opposite effect. The thought that he could activate his Devil Trigger and quite literally snap you like a twig turned you on.

"Do it, then." Dante's hand snaked behind the back of your neck, forcing you to look at him. "Show me just how needy you are."

Beads of sweat trickled down your forehead as you fucked yourself on the half-demon, fog settling in your brain with each breath, each movement, each beating of your heart. Faster. Harder. Faster. Harder. Faster.

"Oh-" Any sentence you tried to utter stopped in your throat, replaced by a string of whimpers and curses. Whatever you were trying to babble was reduced to incoherent words.

"Well shit, I didn't know you were such a filthy little slut."

"Just- oh- shut up-"

"Hmm, I don't think you really want me to shut up." Dante sneered when you picked up the pace. "I think you like it when I talk like this."

"N-not true!" You yelped as he pinched your nipple, barely doing anything and yet you were a mess already.

"So, you don't want me to call you a fucktoy, then? Bet you're dripping right now. Bet you want me balls deep inside of you."

"Fuck, I'm gonna come!" You proved his point when your entire body quivered under his, mind blank and vision blurry.

"There, there." Dante pressed his lips onto your forehead. "I got you."

The noise of his belt unbuckling made you snap your eyes open, filling you with newfound desire and guilt — poor Dante, his cock was probably aching by now while you had the time of your life. He stepped back, letting his trousers pool at his feet, and you lifted your skirt to peel your panties off. You caught him staring at you, taking the sight in, and what a sight it was — locks of hair fell out of your bun, sticking to your sweaty temples, your legs still shaking from the orgasm, and your cunt dripping wet.

"I'd love to eat you out, babe, but my balls are genuinely gonna explode." He confessed, earning a giggle from you. Even with his eyes pitch black and his Devil Trigger on the verge of activating, Dante was still Dante. And you loved that about him.

"Hurry up and fuck me, then."

"Are you that desperate that you forgot your manners?" He dug his fingertips into the plush of your hips, violently pulling you closer to him.

"Please hurry up and fuck me?" You pouted.

"Good girl, that's better." Dante pushed your leg to the side with his elbow, dragging his cock up and down your slit.

You didn't get the chance to take a look at it, but the tip felt huge, so much so that you gasped, propping yourself on your elbows to see better, and you were not disappointed. In fact, you were concerned. You could not take it.

"Dante, it's not gonna fit."

He shook his head with a half-smile, finding your concern quite cute.

"I'll make it fit."

It was both a promise and a threat, but you trusted him. God, you trusted him with your life. He slowly and gently pushed the tip, your slick more than enough to lubricate his cock, but he stopped every time you looked uncomfortable to make sure you were okay.

"Tell me if it's too much."

"No, you can- it's fine, keep going." You closed your eyes, the discomfort causing you to clench around him instead of relaxing, which made Dande forget how to breathe or think.

But the worst came to a halt when he was fully in, stopping briefly to allow you to accommodate to the size. Your breathing went back to normal soon enough, and the last ounce of pain in your body was swiftly replaced by a surge of electricity when Dante moved, slowly and softly rolling his hips, unable to abstain any longer. And you didn't want him to when his cock filled you up so good, reaching places you didn't even know existed inside of your body. Your fingernails dug into his back, clawing at his skin with desperation and impatience, like you needed more than what he was already giving you.

"See? I told you I’ll make it fit. And you take me so well." Dante said, dragging his mouth over your neck, your scent overloading his senses.

But it just wasn't enough. No matter how painful, you wanted it-

"Harder."

Assertive, demanding, you wrapped your legs around his waist, and he pulled back to look at you, as if not believing your request.

"A minute ago, you were wriggling in pain, now you want it harder?"

"Yes." There was no hesitation. "I want it harder, faster, please-"

You were shushed by two digits forcing open your mouth, and you instinctively wrapped your lips around them, sucking obediently.

"You talk too much." He gave you a taste of your own medicine. "Should've known you were just a dumb little cocksleeve."

The degrading words caused you to moan and drool around his fingers, tears welling up in your eyes. Each thrust had you clench tighter, the tip of his ridiculously large cock punishing your cervix. Pain and pleasure bubbled inside of you, sparking through your body as Dante practically ripped his fingers from your mouth, only to wrap them around your throat. He was a hungry man, and you were dinner — arching your back to get closer, deeper, you fucked yourself on his cock with his name spilling from your lips like a prayer, and he revelled in your worship.

"Shit, you like it when it hurts, don't you?" He whispered, squeezing harder while you nodded eagerly. "Of course you do."

Of course you did. How could you not when he fucked you so good that your dignity and modesty were long forgotten? When Dante stripped you of your decency to bring out the worst in you? You felt your second orgasm build up, causing you to twitch under him, eyes rolling back as you slipped your hands under his arms, holding on for dear life.

"Again- gonna come again, Dante! Fuck!"

"Atta girl." He held your quivering body, his own hips stuttering, brutally thrusting into you with raw, animalistic passion.

You came undone on his cock, fingers carding through his hair, pushing away white locks to look at his pretty eyes while his arm slithered under your lower back to both support you and bring you closer to him. Dante was close, his throbbing cock still stretching your sore cunt out. He bucked his hips, splitting you open while you latched your arms around his neck, tits pressed against his chest and your lips ghosting over his earlobe.

"Almost there, babe." Dante promised. "You're doing so well." He pulled back, nearly on edge, but you squeezed your legs tighter around his waist.

"Don't pull out." You demanded, and that was enough to help him reach enlightenment.

He filled you up, and when he did pull out, watching his cum slowly leak out of you, you could've sworn he whispered 'marry me' under his breath. Surely it was just the brain fog, or the post-orgasm high. Your whole body was numb, and you stumbled into Dante's arms when you tried to get down from the table, muscles sore and aching.

"You wanna get pizza?" He nonchalantly asked, as if he didn't just fuck his best friend.

"I- shouldn't we talk about this?" You avoided looking into his eyes, opting to stare at the floor instead.

"About what?"

God, he was either insufferably oblivious or remarkably good at pretending.

"Us." You sighed.

"What's there to talk about?" Dante's fingers found your chin, and he gently lifted it up, forcing you to look at him.

"Don't make this harder for me, please. You know things won’t be the same now. We’re not in a relationship and-"

"I don't follow." Confusion was written all over his face. "Do you not want to be my girlfriend?"

"Girl- I- hold up, what? Do you want me to be your girlfriend?" You tilted your head, baffled by his question, because of course you wanted to. You just never had the guts to admit that you like him. It was even more shocking that he liked you back. Wasn’t this all just a one-time thing?

"I mean, I thought it was pretty obvious when I fucked you. What, you thought I nut and dip? That I shoot a load and go back on the road? That I cum n go?"

"Wow, please never use those euphemisms ever again." You cringed at his words, trying your best to hide the smile that crept on your lips.

"Christ, babe, you know I don't do one-night stands unless I’m really desperate. And here I thought you were my best friend. Guess I was wrong." Dante gasped, dramatically feigning offence by placing a hand on his chest.

"I’m not your best friend anymore." You said, voice serious and cold, and his charade was quickly replaced by actual worry and offence. "I'm your girlfriend now. And your best friend."

"Okay, I was genuinely concerned. Fuck you." He flipped you off and you sneered.

"You already did."

"Wait, that's my line!"

"Skill issue."

[gurugirl]

Says Who? | demonrry

Summary: Y/n goes to an underground club and meets the devil and she'll never ever forget it.

A/N: Something filthy and fun for Halloween! Not really scary, mostly just a smutty thing!

Word Count: 3.1k

Warning: smut, filth, spitting, major MAJOR size kink, creampie, unprotected public sex, Harry's a demon (or maybe he's just a dick - you choose)

⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧

Y/n could feel the base vibrating through to her marrow. The whole club was alive, a sticky hot sea of sweaty, dancing bodies, strobing lights, god-awful costumes.

She was less concerned about her white angel wings getting dirtied than she was about her drink getting something tossed into it. Some of the people making eye contact with her were… she didn’t know, but perhaps she’d keep her distance.

Though, as she looked down into her plastic cup, she realized it was all but pink melted ice. If she wanted something to worry about (other than her delicate white wings) she’d need a refill.

She figured she put a little too much effort into her costume. Her angel wings were made of real feathers and lace, lined with ribbing to make them look real, and her gauzy smock dress left little to the imagination for what she wore under. Of course, she doused herself in a healthy amount of soft shimmer and glitter and attempted to do the perfect winged liner –it wasn’t perfect, but it was pretty damn near close.

She'd gone alone to the club. A maybe not-so-smart move in retrospect, but still. She was there and she wanted to do something she'd never done before. Something outside of her comfort zone. Maybe even a little dangerous for once in her life.

The bar was packed with bodies, all lined up for a drink. Y/n waved her arm in the air, hoping to get the attention of the lone bartender. The poor guy was running his ass off and she could see sweat stains under his arms. It was rather stifling in the building.

Suddenly a very warm hand was pressed into her back, hot palm burning through the thin fabric of her dress down to her skin, “You don’t need another drink, Y/n.”

Turning to her right she saw a man with an imposing stature standing over her, his massive mitt cradling his own cup as he looked down at her, green irises practically glowing.

“Says who? I’ve only had one anyway. And how do you know my name?”

The grin that stretched over his face caught her off guard. He was handsome. She let her eyes wander from his broad shoulders up his neck and to the top of his head. He had thick dark waves with small pointed horns sticking out of the top just so. They looked real. The devil. How fitting a costume for a man who looked like that.

“Your name is printed on your cup,” he pointed. Y/n had forgotten that everyone was given a cup upon entry, their name scrawled across the smooth plastic, and told not to lose it. It was one of those underground club events and the cup was like your ticket to get in once you'd passed the initial pay-to-enter area.

She laughed and smiled, “Oh, I forgot,” she looked down at his cup again, noticing large rings adorning his thick fingers, “Harry.”

“What’s an angel doing in a place like this anyway?”

Another laugh puffed from behind her lips before she used her tongue to wet her parched mouth, “It’s a club. I don’t know. Saw an ad and it sounded fun. Why? Should I be worried?” Y/n bit her lip for effect. She wasn’t worried. But she did like this man’s vibe. He was flirty without being overt, his warm hand still sprawled along her back, face dangerously close.

“You should be worried. This is not a safe place, Y/n,” an evil smile worked its way over his features. He was teasing. Or maybe he wasn't.

She shrugged and looked up at him through her lashes before releasing her bottom lip, “But you’re here,” she looked back over her shoulder at the wild crowd behind them, “You gonna keep me safe from all the bad guys?”

“Is the angel asking the devil to watch over her tonight?” His grin grew lopsided, a dimple digging into his skin. God, he was attractive.

“Maybe. But you won’t let me get another drink so I don’t know…”

His eyes scraped over her face and down to her angel outfit, auditing, before he pushed into her back, moving her toward him closer. She watched him sit his cup down on the syrup-smeared bartop before his hand found her jaw, fingers digging into the soft part under her mandible, “Oh you’re parched, are you? Open up for me, angel.”

She felt her body swell and seethe in heat from his bold ask. But what else was she there for that night but to have a little fun with a stranger? So she parted her lips, slowly opening wider as he dipped over her frame and tilted her neck back until she felt the warm glob of saliva land on the tip of her tongue. She let out a pathetic moan when he licked over her lips, his spit moistening the dry skin like he was making sure she knew whose spit was sliding down her throat.

“Did you swallow for me?” He asked cooly as he kept her jaw in his hand.

Knocking her head up and down she kept her eyes on his and then suddenly she was being pulled away from the bar. He had an arm tucked around her waist, keeping her next to his warm frame until they’d moved into the shadowy edges of the club and he prodded her into a small space between a column and a metal air duct before he was pushing his hips and mouth against hers.

He tasted like autumn outdoors, hay, spit, burning leaves… Running her fingers into his hair she felt his hand on her hip, bunching at the sheer fabric until he was reaching into the thin wispy lace of the top of her white panties, palm gliding down her belly button until the pads of his fingers were pressed in a place she would normally never let a stranger touch. Especially not in public.

But it was Halloween, and this was what she’d been looking for. Something a little dangerous, a little crazy. This was the kind of place where one could get away with such iniquities.

Soon, the only thirst that remained was to feel more of him. To feel his hands, his fingers… He smoothed his tongue against hers as his middle finger rubbed tightly over her exposed clit after he'd torn the delicate fabric of her underwear. She was throbbing against him. Wetting his digits slowly until it was slippery and he could easily slide one and then two inside of her cunt.

“Love when I make angels wet. You’re just a good girl but this is exactly what you were looking for, wasn't it?”

She moaned and yanked his hair, hoping he’d put his lips back against hers. She loved his mouth, loved how he kissed her all dirty and raw.

“Yes…” She blinked up at him and then gasped when he shoved a third fat finger inside of her hole. It made her wobble forward into him, her cheek pressed into his solid chest. He fucked her just like that, on his fingers as he kept whispering into her ear, “Gonna change your life tonight angel. Show you what it feels like to really get off.”

Her mouth was wide open as he slid his fingers so deep she was certain nothing had ever gone in like that before. Not even Donny’s hard prick felt like that (what a disappointment he had been).

��Can’t even stand up straight and that’s just my fingers in there little girl. What are you gonna do when it’s my cock splitting you in half, hm?”

She groaned as he continued pumping his fingers through her gummy insides and she gripped onto his biceps so she didn't simply wither to the floor.

Y/n didn’t want anyone to see what was happening but it felt so good and she was so close. Already. The heel of his palm was bumping, sliding into her clit with every thrust of his wrist and she swore he was fucking into her to the beat of the bassy electronic music.

Her head began to spin and her ears were ringing, muffling the noise of the crowd and the music when she felt the delicious release of her orgasm.

Harry pushed her back into the wall quickly when he felt her shaking and with his free hand he held her face, smushing her cheeks with his thumb at one side and his pointer finger on the other, “Look at me when you come. Your orgasm belongs to me. Fuck that’s so pretty…”

She was stunned. It felt so good. Her body was writhing and being pushed and pulled at the hulking man’s direction. He guided her through it, plunging his fingers inside of her and dragging them over her slick spongy spot at the front of her wall. It was like he’d found a hidden switch within her insides and turned it on for her.

“You gonna keep being a good girl for me? Let me claim you and fuck an orgasm out of you on my cock this time? Want that, angel?”

Y/n’s rationale had gone out the window the moment he spit into her mouth and licked over her lips at the bar. So she nodded as he pulled his fingers from her cunt and brought all three, slimy, coated in her arousal, up to her lips, “Open up that thirsty little mouth. Suck.”

She wrapped her lips around his fingers and he pushed them past her comfortable gag spot as he made haste with his other hand, undoing his pants before pulling out his dick.

Harry removed his hand from her mouth and pulled at her neck, "Take a look. Think it'll feel nice and snug inside that tiny little angel pussy?"

Y/n shifted her eyes down to the hot engorged dick the man had brushing against her, his tip wide and ruddy against her labia. She inhaled, looking up at the man and then back down at the size of him, "It's… I don't know… It's so…" She bucked into him, feeling unsteady, her thighs still shaking.

"At least twice as big as what you've played with before. I know. But you get used to it. Come to love it. The way it plugs in so deep, carves into your insides, and makes a nice wet home… No one ever forgets it."

She clutched his forearm with a shaky hand and used her other to reach down and touch him. He was hot. So much warmer than she expected. Peering around his broad shoulders she could see people grinding and doing ungodly things on the dancefloor already. There were no rules in that club, except to not lose the cup you were handed when you paid to enter, and she'd already lost that at the bar somewhere.

When she felt him grip tight the meat of her thigh and perch it over his hip he slid his cockhead to her dripping seam and began to dip in.

"Oohh…" she warbled out a moan and then looked up at his handsome face, "Mmm…"

"Open that pretty mouth, show me your tongue."

She did what he said, parting her lips as her pussy spread open little by little. The feel of him slowly pushing into her was sticky, gooey, sharp. But the warm spit that dripped onto her tongue was salacious, made her pussy throb and flutter around his girth.

"There we go. Get that pussy spread apart for me. Let me have you, angel."

She was already letting him have her. She was his… whatever he wanted, however he wanted it. Right in front of everyone… sloppy, wet, deranged, disgusting…

"Mm ahhh…" she panted, her brows pushed together as he rutted in and in, filling up every bit of empty space she had available. Split open, stuffed full, slippery hot debauchery.

Harry threw his head back for a moment, basking in the tight pussy wrapped around him. Sopping. It was his chance to feel a bit of heaven.

Reaching down for her other thigh, he pushed her up and lifted her, making her wrap her legs around his waist so he could work into her deeper, really give her a taste of what the devil could do.

She yelped and gurgled wetly, eyes bulging as he buried himself in, "Fuck…"

"Yeah? Didn't know angels liked to say such words." He swiveled his hips, a harsh plunge in again, and the squelch of her pussy against his length meant she was as wet as she could possibly be. "Oh you're soaked, angel. No wonder you're so thirsty. All your juices are down here," He rocked up into her and she cried out, "So you can take me properly."

While no one much cared about the angel with her wings pressed into the wall, her legs wrapped around the devil's waist as he stuffed her pussy with his big cock, it was obvious what was going on in that dark little corner every time the strobe flashed over the pair copulating. If the look on her pretty face didn't give it away, all fucked out, wet lips parted, eyes rolling back into her head… it was the way the devil was rocking his hips sharply against her, making her legs shake with every thrust.

He knew he was hollowing her out, poking in beyond what was comfortable for her… he knew she'd never forget the way he felt inside of her. It'd stick with her forever and she'd never be able to come again without thinking about the devil.

She'd masturbate thinking about that night at the club and she'd release with the image of him inside of her. And any poor man who stuck his rinky dinky human dick into her pussy would never get her off –she'd be thinking of Harry, the demon with the biggest cock she'd ever had. That would be the only way she'd ever be able to come. A curse, but also a blessing because now she'd always be able to get off to the memory of him no matter who was fucking her. Everyone else would pale in comparison… but that's what he loved so much about fucking sweet human girls. They never forgot his big cock and he owned them in a way. At least he owned their orgasms.

Slushy, gloopy, splatting… his long dick dragged and kissed against her sweetest spot and she felt the tingle and the ache of it as she bounced with every drive of his hips.

"Give me that come, angel. Right on my cock."

She inhaled sharply as he laved his tongue over her lips, slicking his saliva over her mouth and spitting onto her tongue again, "Mine. It's all mine, isn't it? Cunt will never feel it like this again but she'll remember who owns her won't she?"

Y/n was simply done for… her body was putty, molten liquid, dripping, bowing to his whim. His cock would be forever imprinted within her womb as she felt him slide through her channel, thick and throbbing - it was as if she could feel his bulbous cockhead pushing into her tummy, bulging at the front. Microscopic tears around her gaping, wet, stretched muscle she'd need to tend to later. All worth it to be fucked like that.

Her eyes were bleary as she looked at him when she began to come. He was right and she knew it. Her body would never forget it. She was ruined for him already as her vocal cords hitched up an octave and she made his favorite noise. Every dip of his broad crown through her gushing walls smeared his leaking slit against her cervix.

Harry watched the angel fall apart around his cock, face crumpled, body reveling in her release, toes curled in her shoes, but when she moaned his name and gazed into his eyes with droopy lids he couldn't hold back the way she was milking around him. He slammed into her, one brutal thrust, cock burrowing in as he splattered and pumped into her. His warm spend, a mucusy mural for her tight little wet walls. Like his signature left behind so anyone else who entered would know he'd been there. That everything inside of her cunt belonged to him because he'd already claimed it…

She'd think about all that later. That she'd had unprotected sex with a stranger at a club. That he'd filled her with his sperm and spit into her mouth. She'd get tested and watch for her period and then get tested again. And when she turned out clean and not pregnant part of her would be disappointed that she didn't have some excuse to search for the man to let him know what he'd done so she could do it all over again with him. Get her brains fucked out and her little pussy stretched in a way that shouldn't have been as good as it was.

But she wouldn't regret that part. Her only rue that night would be that she hadn't gotten his last name or maybe a number. It was probably better to not know who he was, though. Because if she did she'd obsess. She'd fiend. She'd pine. She'd stalk. She'd make a fool of herself to just have another taste. And a guy like him would probably already be onto the next.

It was better to not know who he was because he wasn't really nice. When he was finished with her, when his come was fucked into her and he made her watch how he shoved it all back in with his huge cock, gripped her neck, and made her look at the way it dripped from her puffy, used pussy and how he took his dick and pressed it back into her stinging hole and told her to not to clean herself up –he left. He dropped her down to her feet, tucked his big cock back into his pants, patted her hot little cheek, and walked off without even turning back to look or check on her.

She watched him disappear into the crowd with her torn panties at her hips and his come dripping down the inside of her legs, chest heaving, heart thrashing in her chest… Her back and her legs and her pussy ached but she'd have him again if he just came back. So, it was better to not know.

It was better to not know because maybe he actually was the devil.

⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧

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[fandomfucker]

can I request a poly!judgement day x fem!reader, where she get stressed out and cooks and bakes as a stress response?

Baker-Poly!TJD x Fem!Reader

A/N: I’m sorry I’ve kinda disappeared lately, I’m dealing with a lot of mental issues on top of school and work but I’m jotting down ideas when I can, just don’t expect anything regularly😓

Word Count: 1,383

The sickly sweet smell of vanilla filled the kitchen, spilling out into the rest of the house. The harsh tempo of a metal song reverberated throughout the house, originating from the kitchen. Clanging noises emerged as various cooking utensils clashed against metal bowls. Hurried footsteps paced back and forth on the warm-tiled-floors. 

In the kitchen, pacing in front of the untidy countertops, covered in various spilled ingredients, was Y/n. She cradled a metal mixing bowl to her chest as she used a whisk and beat the dry ingredients laid in the bowl.

Small puffs of powder flew up as the whisk repeatedly hit the side of the bowl, coating Y/n’s ‘Kiss the cook’ apron as well as her face. She blew small streams of air out the corner of her mouth, fluttering strands of hair that had fallen from its updo. 

Her hips swayed gently to the beat of the music, the chilling voice of Spencer Charnas from Ice Nine Kills floated around the room. “Now I’m lost on my own, in search of something real.” She sang along. 

Lately, her partners, all four members of The Judgment Day, had all been on the road for almost a week now and for Y/n, work had been unbelievably stressful, what with the giant company-wide project she’d been leading. And when she’s stressed (which had gotten to be more often than not lately) she bakes. So, her partners had had her own pantry built with every possible ingredient for whatever she wanted, whenever. 

The four members of The Judgment Day were scheduled to return home tonight but their flight had been delayed, prolonging Y/n’s stress baking.

There was already an apple pie and pumpkin brownies baking in the oven, and a batch of chocolate chip cookies cooling on the counter. Even though it seemed like an absurd amount of sweets, she knew that whatever she and her partners couldn’t eat or didn’t want would go to either co-workers (the other wrestlers loved her and her diet-breaking-treats) or to some of the neighborhood kids to take home.

Her brows, furrowed in concentration, straightened shot up in excitement as she heard the telltale signs of her favorite song “THIS IS MY BRUTALITY!”. She began bumping along to the rhythm of the metal music. 

“Hey Siri, turn the volume up!” She half-shouted to be heard. The music got louder, now as loud as it could possibly go as Y/n finally began to loosen up. Jumping around the kitchen, mixing her wet and dry ingredients, she paid no mind to anything else around her. Not even the sound of the front door opening as her partners all walked in.

The four of them stood, shocked in a huddle just inside the door as they watched their partner belt out the lyrics to Rhea’s theme song. A favorite partner was never and never would be a thing between the group, however a favorite theme song was totally different. 

Rhea’s baffled expression slowly grew into a smug smirk, as she watched her girlfriend sing and dance along to her song.

It took entirely too long for Y/n to notice that other people had even entered the house, not to mention were right behind her, watching.

“The demon in your dreams, now hear me in your scr-AHHH.” Her timing was impeccable. 

Y/n bent over, one hand on her knee as the other clutched her chest, breathing heavily while her heart raced. “Holy shit, you guys scared me.”

Rhea grinned as she stepped forward, grabbing the back of Y/n’s neck, her fingers gripping her baby hairs, and gently pulling her upright as she kissed her forehead smugly. “Sorry, love.” She laughed.

Y/n all but collapsed against Rhea, laying her head against her chest, wrapping her arms around her waist tightly while Rhea held her waist with one arm, cradling her head in the other, snorting with laughter.

Y/n’s cheeks heated at the laughter, causing her to bury her face even further into Rhea until a beeping noise, one of the several timers Y/n had set, went off. 

Y/n practically threw herself away from Rhea, keeping her head down as she slid on her purple monster oven mitts and grabbed the pumpkin brownies out of the oven, leaving the pie in there for a few more minutes.

The end of Rhea’s song finally came around, much to Y/n’s delight. 

Until she remembered that she’d put the song on repeat to play again and the starting lyric had her partners doubled over in laughter again, much to her chagrin.

Shamefully, she walked over to her phone and took it off of repeat, skipping the song just before she turned off her phone and put it back on the counter.

Only for the next song to play to be Dominik’s theme song.

All four members of the Judgment Day were actively laying on the floor dying with laughter at this point. Finn began coughing uncontrollably in an effort to not throw up while Rhea tried not to piss herself.

Rolling her eyes, Y/n crossed her arms as she watched her partners squirm around on the ground. “Alright, guys. We get it. I like your theme music. Big whup.”

She turned back to the counter, laying out the dough she’d just mixed as she began to knead it against the flour-covered counter.

“Hey,” Damian’s hands gripped her waist from behind as he held her to him. There was still a bit of laughter in his voice but Y/n could tell he meant what he was saying. “We think it’s very endearing, muñeca. Nothing to be embarrassed about.” He kissed her temple lovingly as the other three finally peeled themselves up off the floor.

“Aht!” She yelled, almost as a reflex when she swatted Dominik’s wandering hand towards the still cooling cookies on the counter next to her.

His big brown eyes showed the hurt of a kicked puppy as he looked at her in betrayal,

“First of all, all four of you need to take a shower. Then we’re going to have dinner, then you can have a cookie. Okay?” Y/n explained, waddling towards Dominik, Damian’s hands still firm on her waist causing her to drag him along heftily.

Dominik nodded sadly, perking up significantly when Y/n placed her hands on his cheeks, bringing his face up to give him a quick peck on the lips. Sounds of protest came from around the room from the other three who had yet to receive a kiss.

“Hey!” Y/n silenced the four of them, staring into Dom’s big brown eyes. “We can have so many cuddles and kisses after dinner and showers, okay? We’ll watch a movie and have cookies, and brownies,and pie and make-outs. But after.” She bent his head down to kiss his forehead before gently pushing him away.

Prying Damian’s fingers from her waist, Y/n turned around to face him, gently pushing his chest as well in the direction of the stairs, gesturing with her finger for him to go up there.

“Dibs on the master shower! By myself,” Rhea added at the shared lewd looks from the boys.

Y/n laughed at the boys’ obvious pouting but they all made their way past her towards the stairs to use the guest bathroom upstairs, which was really about the same size as the master. 

As Finn passed Y/n, he lightly squeezed her waist and gave her a small peck on the cheek. “Your secret’s safe with us, love.” He laughed.

Y/n just grumbled in response as she went back to her dough. 

Rhea smirked as she got an idea, and walked behind Y/n to get to the stairs. She smacked her ass on the way, grinning wickedly at the gasp that Y/n let out. 

“Rhea!” She exclaimed, trying to contain her laughter as she held her stinging flesh. 

“Sorry, babe! I just couldn’t help myself!” Rhea giddily bounded up the stairs.

A small smile graced Y/n’s features as she went back to her baking. She was still stressed but now that her partners were home, they could help to carry some of the load. She didn’t have to do it alone.

[actuallybean]

Please Please Please

Dating Dean Winchester is all fun and fistfights until you’re begging him not to get arrested before breakfast. All you’re asking is please, please, please—don’t screw this up. Inspired by Please Please Please by Sabrina Carpenter *Contains lots of fluff Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader Tag List: @mostlymarvelgirl Supernatural Masterlist | Main Masterlist

"You Had One Job, Winchester."

You should have known falling for Dean Winchester would feel like dancing barefoot on broken glass — thrilling, a little dangerous, and guaranteed to leave you bleeding.

But you did it anyway.

You fell hard. Fast. Stupidly.

And now, standing in front of the sheriff’s office with your arms crossed and your blood pressure sky-high, you’re wondering if that was the dumbest decision of your life.

He comes stumbling out ten minutes late, limping slightly, bruised on one cheek and grinning like he didn’t just get arrested for breaking and entering.

“Before you yell,” Dean says, hands raised in mock surrender, “it was technically unlocked.”

You blink. “Dean. You broke into a bakery.”

“There were EMFs all over the oven!”

You deadpan, “You’re aware normal people just knock and ask questions, right?”

“But it was two in the morning���”

“Exactly.”

He winces. “Okay, not my best plan.”

You march over, grab his ear, and tug. “You think?”

“OW! Babe, easy—my reputation—”

“You should be embarrassed!” you hiss. “I spent the last four hours convincing a sheriff you weren’t a delusional criminal with a pastry fetish.”

Dean tries not to laugh. “To be fair, those croissants were amazing.”

You groan. “Dean. Please. I’m begging you. Can you go one week without getting us banned from a county?”

He smiles sheepishly, slipping his arms around your waist like that’ll soften you.

Spoiler: It does. A little.

“I can’t help it,” he murmurs. “Trouble follows me.”

“No,” you correct. “You chase it down in a muscle car.”

You’re not even mad that Dean’s reckless — okay, you are, but that’s not the real issue.

It’s that you love him. Desperately. Stupidly. You love him like a prayer you say with clenched fists and held breath.

And that means every time he walks out the door, you’re not just worried he’ll get hurt.

You’re worried he’ll do something so Dean it’ll blow everything up — you, him, your sanity, your future.

Because Dean doesn’t do quiet love. He does whiskey and gunpowder, fists first and feelings later. You knew that when you fell for him.

You just didn’t expect it to hurt this good.

“Why are you mad?” Dean asks later, tossing his duffel onto the motel bed.

You stare at him. “You really don’t get it?”

“No,” he says honestly, stepping closer. “I mean—I get that I screwed up the bakery thing. But you’re not mad about that.”

You pause. “I’m scared.”

Dean stills.

You wrap your arms around yourself. “Everywhere we go, I’m just… waiting for the other shoe to drop. For you to pick the wrong fight or flirt with death and leave me standing there, looking like a girl who should’ve known better.”

Dean’s voice is quiet. “You’re not a fool.”

“I’m in love with you. The guy who can’t walk past danger without poking it. That feels pretty foolish.”

He walks to you, slowly. Gentle hands cup your cheeks. “I’m not gonna ruin this.”

“You could,” you whisper.

“I know,” he says. “But I won’t. I’ve messed up a lot of things in my life, but you’re not gonna be one of them.”

You laugh shakily. “Please, please, please don’t embarrass me.”

He leans in. “Not unless you count sexy karaoke in roadside bars. In which case—I make no promises.”

You’d like to say Dean takes your fears to heart.

And he does.

For about 48 hours.

Then he gets into a fistfight with a possessed pastor at a gas station.

“I thought he was demon-possessed!” Dean defends, icing his hand on the hotel mini-fridge.

“Yeah?” you snap. “And what gave it away? His eyes? His Latin? Or the fact that he said ‘bless you’ and you took that personally?”

Dean grins. “It was the holy water. He didn’t flinch.”

“Because he’s a pastor!”

You throw a pillow at him, which he catches with a chuckle and no small amount of pride.

“You love me,” he says smugly.

You point at him. “Yes. Unfortunately. So much it makes me stupid.”

But for all the chaos, Dean tries.

He double-checks motel locks now. He leaves cheesy notes in your duffel. He lets you drive the Impala (once — you cried).

He listens when you need to vent. He softens when you break.

And one night, after a particularly rough hunt, he takes your hand and blurts, “I don’t want to lose you.”

You blink. “What?”

“I’ve screwed up so many things. I’ve lost people I didn’t think I could live without. But you—if I lose you—God, sweetheart, I won’t come back from that.”

Tears well in your eyes. “Then please don’t make me watch you destroy yourself.”

He leans his forehead against yours. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I promise. I’ll be better. For you. For us.”

And for once, you believe him.

Of course, two days later, he dives headfirst into a vampire nest without backup.

But he comes back with all his limbs, a bouquet of gas station daisies, and a hand-written card that says:

Sorry I made you almost throw up from anxiety. I love you more than pie. Please don’t kill me. P.S. I killed the vamps. You’re welcome. – Dean “Please Please Please” Winchester

You roll your eyes.

And kiss him breathless anyway.

[irishmammonagenda]

"So the rumours are true...well 'tis an honour, a great one at that; to have met the most fabled human of the the Devildom." The demon comes up to you, his horns glistening in the light of Diavolo's royal ballroom. You swallow the cupcake you had stuffed into your mouth like a squirrel moments prior, wiping the icing on the lace of your dress, pretending like you didn't see the demon's nose twitch at that action.

"Oh uh-yeah..." You nod, before deciding to be fancier. "Alas, 'tis I, MC" You say, being forced to learn Shakespeare really paid off.

The noble nods, his hand snaking around your waist, he smiles, showing sharp fangs "Pray tell, how did you manage to make pacts with the most powerful demons?...Forgive my nosiness, but rumour has it-"

You tilt you head, something stirring in your gut. "Rumour has what?"

"Rumour has it you managed to seduce them." The demon's eyes gleam. You don't have to be Asmodeus to feel the lust radiating of this man. Eugh.

"Oh! Well-" You begin feeling uncomfortable under his predatory gaze.

The demon smirks, "-Well, I would love to see what you've got-"

A deep chuckle sounds from behind the Noble, a dark, jewel-adorned hand places itself on his shoulder, the demon stills at the sight of the Prince.

Diavolo smiles a strained smile, golden eyes flashing with a fury that would send tsunamis ashore in the Human Realm.

"M-my Prince." He bows suddenly. Diavolo crosses his arms, speaking something in a language long dead. The demon's face completely pales, and he scurries off like a rat in the night.

Diavolo wraps a comforting arm around you, "Are you okay, MC?" His eyes soften as he examines your form." You lean into him.

The dragon in him preens.

Nodding you reply, "Mhm! I'm okay! He was really weird though....like I thought he'd whip out a Mikasa bodypillow. Bro had no rizz whatsoever."

Diavolo chuckles, pinching your cheek in his confusion. "Oh your human world slang.....would you care for a dance?"

You grin, nodding.

And so you move to the centre of the ballroom, Diavolo's arm almost stained into the small of your back as you glide alone the marble floors.

The Demon Prince finds himself glaring at any bystander who's eyes wrack up and down your frame for too long. He gives them a silent warning. Marking you as taken. Marking you as his.

Even if you didn't know it yet. :)

[yesihaveaobsession]

Fallin' Inlove

Alastor x female reader

Summary: Alastor takes the reader (you) ice skating and well he's a lot better then you.

A/N- I can roller skate (quads) because I use to play Roller Derby but aged out, but I'm not that good at ice skating so hopefully some can relate. But I do like it just not as much as roller skating

As the two of you stepped into the old-fashioned ice rink, tucked away in the depths of Hell, a mix of thrill and fear filled you. Although the atmosphere was lovely, with beautiful, soft lights twinkling over the white sheet of clean ice and the cold air nipping at your cheeks, it reminded you that you typically didn’t partake in winter sports like this. Your legs started to feel wobbly, while Alastor, with a snap of his fingers, had his skates laced up instantly.

Seeing you struggle, he held back a laugh with his notorious grin and helped you before holding out his arm, allowing you to stand and take it as you made your way to the ice. As soon as you stepped onto the ice, your legs wobbled, but you looked over at Alastor, who was calm as ever, gliding effortlessly beside you. You silently cursed yourself—if he could do it, then you should be able to as well, right? Wrong.

You thought to yourself, What can’t this man do? You’d seen him play the piano, exhibit great offense, and now, he was ice skating without a problem? You were looking down at your feet, watching them move, when you heard his voice, causing you to look up.

“Come now, my dear, it’s just like dancing,” he said, his eyes gleaming with amusement. You felt yourself sinking down and, without thinking, gripped onto his pinstriped coat for dear life, your skates barely cooperating as you attempted to move forward.

“Easy for you to say, Mr. Fancy Feet,” you muttered, feeling his crimson eyes on you the entire time. It was obvious he was making sure you didn’t embarrass yourself, but it was also clear that he was holding back a laugh. You knew he loved watching people fail. His lips twitched every time you stumbled, and the occasional chuckle slipped through, though he tried his best to stay composed.

“You’re doing wonderfully, darling,” he praised but continued to skate towards you. “Might I suggest you bend your knees?”

You looked up at him, confused. “What?”

“Your knees—bend them,” he instructed, and you did as told. “I must say, I’ve never seen anyone quite so… determined.”

You rolled your eyes and shot him a glare. “I’m trying, okay?”

You managed well for a while, even stepping away from Alastor a little. He held his hand out just in case you needed it. But everything went south when you encountered a rough patch of ice. Your grip tightened on Alastor's coat, and although your hand wasn’t holding his, it was still gripping his coat, probably leaving wrinkles. But the grip was no use; your balance betrayed you, and you found yourself falling backward. Alastor’s hand slipped from yours as you plopped onto the ice with a thud, successfully landing on your behind. You let out a surprised gasp, followed closely by a groan as you sat there, feeling the cold seeping through your clothes.

Alastor skated back over to you, his grin now stretching past his eyes with amusement. “Are you alright, my dear?” he asked, laughter bubbling beneath the radio static. You looked up at him, cheeks flushed with embarrassment and coldness. If he had to admit, you looked adorable.

“Go ahead and laugh it up, demon,” you pointed, trying to sound annoyed, but that clearly failed as a giggle escaped your lips.

He finally let out a full laugh that echoed through the empty ice rink. “I must admit, you do have a rather… unique way of making skating memorable,” he teased, offering you his hand to help you up. “Alright, up you go.” Taking his offer, he pulled you back up with ease, but your feet remained unsteady.

“Maybe I should just stick to walking on solid ground,” you suggested with a sheepish grin.

“Perhaps,” Alastor agreed.

With that, you both decided that was enough for the day. Soon, you were back at the hotel in warm clothing, with a mug of hot cocoa, because you most certainly deserved it. You sat in Alastor’s radio tower with him—surprisingly, he allowed you—and sipped your mug while listening in.

[kdh-tally]

don't know if you would write this but (I blame tik tok) for this idea

Bobby x male oc (name your choice)

Bobby is dating another manger of a group who is a demon and oc, sees the group disband and tries to get to Bobby before he gets under the demon kings control, but happy ending oc finds Bobby

Or where Bobby is overworked and oc helps him

Bobby x Male!ManagerOC

Prompt : Bobby almost dies and his man goes to hell for him

Author's Note : So this kinda ends abruptly but its only cause i didn't know how to even start the whole reuniting part. This means there will be a part 2 though!!! Happy Reading :D

“What kind of lyrics are these?” Jae scoffed, flipping through the song sheet with a theatrical roll of his eyes.

They were backstage at the Idol Awards, tucked into a private green room, waiting for their turn to perform. The Saja Boys lounged around him, dressed in black, purple and a smoky grey, their presence drawing demons and shadows into the corners of the room. 

Jae, unlike them, wore a simple fitted sweater and a scarf that didn’t match the boys concept at all. The only thing infernal about him was the faint flicker of patterns on his fingertips, glowing dimly under his gloves when his mood fell.

He stood out among them. Jae was a demon but one with absolutely no rhythm, no vocal range, and no ability to follow choreography. He had been found by pure accident. Running a cursed little tea shop in the inner circles of hell. 

The shop was a secret, unregistered realm, tucked between two forgotten punishment zones. It was quiet. Out of Gwi-ma’s sight, or so he thought. Jinu had stumbled across him one day when recruiting demons for his brilliant plan. None of them could understand how he’d gone unnoticed by the demon king for so long and honestly, neither could he.

But when the boys decided to infiltrate the human world under the guise of becoming idols, Jae had agreed to join them. Not because he cared about music, or fame, or even the end of humanity. It was because for once in his long life, he was curious.

He had no talent for singing or dancing, but he was efficient with schedules, budget approvals, press manipulation, and demon contracts. He managed the boys with extreme precision and the fondness of someone who had clearly never meant to adopt six demonic beings and yet, somehow had.

He even managed to negotiate with Gwi-ma himself to bring along a handful of minor demons for support roles. Jae was good at what he did. Always making sure things went according to plan. And they were.

He held the paper up as though it was a piece of trash. “‘You know I’m the only one who’ll love your sins.’” He turned to Jinu pointedly. “Could you be any more obvious?”

Jinu grinned, unfazed, as he adjusted his mic pack. “Why are you acting like I’m the only one with a minor obsession with one of the humans?” he said, kicking his feet up on the table. “You literally took out the hunters' manager last week for ‘ice coffee.’”

Jae scoffed, unbothered. “That was a business meeting.”

“That was flirting.”

Jae didn’t reply. He just folded the lyrics and tossed them onto a nearby tray table. “The best part of this song is Baby’s rap,” he muttered.

“Damn right it is,” Baby said proudly, leaning over his shoulder to glance at the discarded pages.

The six gathered around the monitor bolted to the wall, watching the broadcast of the performance live. On screen, Huntrix had taken the stage, the three girls dressed in white outfits with gold accents glinting under the lights like protective armor.

The opening chords of Golden echoed through the stadium but the boys were barely watching. They had already seen the rehearsals, the setlists, the many camera angles.

They didn’t care. They weren’t here to listen to this song. They needed to complete their mission. As the song came to an end, Jae stood slowly, brushing imaginary dust from his coat. “It’s time,” he said.

Jinu stood too. The others followed without a word.

–

Jae summoned the demons mid-step, two minor ones, bound to him by Gwi-ma and posing as illusions of two of the hunters who would remain unseen for now.

By the time they reached backstage, the posers had already slipped beside Rumi. The lights dimmed as Takedown began playing, the song was tense and nerving. The moment was perfectly timed.

As fans chittered in excitement over a new song,  Jae could already sense Rumi’s unease vibrating through the room. Her shoulders tensed. Her bright aura darkened.

And then, as expected, the reveal.

The two disguised demons edged closer. Pulling and pushing at her with malice, getting close enough to whisper and warn her of who she was. Of what she was.

She cracked.

Glowing patterns blazed across her skin, visible to every camera in the stadium. There was nowhere to hide from the crowd’s scrutiny so she ran.

And Jae, smiling to himself, teleported before she even hit backstage.

–

The penthouse wasn’t technically theirs but at this point, ownership was irrelevant.

He stepped into the building, removing his coat and pouring himself a cup of tea. Everything was going exactly to plan. The girls had disbanded, the boys were about to perform their incredibly good soul-stealing track, and Bobby…

Bobby was safe.

His sunshine. His softness. His reason.

Jae had done everything to protect him. He’d made sure the girls’ manager couldn’t intervene in the performance. He’d rerouted their label schedules, pulled Bobby away from press, moved his name quietly off the Idol Awards guest list.

Bobby had absolutely no reason to be there, and yet…

A flicker of unease crawled up Jae’s spine. It was too perfect. Everything was moving too perfectly. He set his tea down, turned off the TV and teleported.

–

The heat in the stadium hit him first. It wasn't just physical heat, but one that he could feel in the depths of his body. The boys were onstage now singing Your Idol and they sounded good.

Jae might have even enjoyed it, if not for the hypnotic magic buried within each line. His eyes lazily scanned over the crowd as the humans began walking into the flames that were the demon king. 

Until he saw him.

Then he froze.

It was Bobby. Standing near the front of the stage. His eyes were wide, almost hazy. Jae’s gaze dropped to the two men standing beside him. Their disguises were too clean and he could instantly tell they were not human.

The demons looked up right at him and smiled.

You didn’t think I was going to let him live, did you? The voice wasn’t spoken aloud. It slipped into Jae’s ears, cold and ancient and triumphant. His vision blurred, body halting in the air.

Gwi-ma.

The king’s presence stormed into his mind. His knees buckled, the pink markings on his skin flared violently as though trying to burn their way out of him. You’ve forgotten your place, Jae. Falling for a human… thinking you could hide it from me…

“No,” Jae gasped, the sound torn from his throat. He dropped to the floor, unseen by the humans, the magic cloaking his collapse. Only the demons nearby could see. And they watched, entertained.

Jae curled in on himself as the spell began to pull him under. Fire licked at the edge of his vision.You serve me not him.

“Not him,” Jae begged, choking on the words. “Please not him.” The pain was excruciating. His soul was splitting at the seams, clawed back toward the burning pit he’d crawled out of centuries ago.

Suddenly, a piercing sound flooded the stadium, overtaking the boys. A voice, female. Rumi. It wasn’t cheerful and enlightening. Her voice was haunting, almost rivaling Gwi-ma’s.

The boys froze, and for a moment their spell fractured.

Her voice was not a performance. It was a warning. Jae, still curled on the stadium floor, blinked through the haze of his agony and saw it. It was only a moment, but fear had filled the eyes of every demon in the stadium.

Rumi had found her voice, the girls were starting to fight back and the audience were waking up. Jae let out a trembling breath. He had failed Bobby. But they hadn’t.

With the last of his strength, he stopped fighting. The pull of hell surged like a tidal wave, and this time, Jae didn’t resist.

[polarisbibliotheque]

Dante & Vergil with their s/o hunting bloodthirsty mosquitoes (+Nero with Kyrie doing the same)

Pairings: Dante x Reader; Vergil x Reader; Nero x Kyrie Summary: Oh, summer. Heatwaves, short clothes, ice cream... And mosquitoes. A human hunting down a mosquito is one thing, but a half-demon? Well, those little hellish beings better be ready for it. Author's notes: You're probably thinking yours truly lost all her sanity, and you're probably right. It's the second day of spring here where I live and it's so freaking hot, the only thing I've been able to eat the last few days was ice cream. It's usually hot as hell here in Brazil, but not this time of the year - December/January/February are the most unbelievably hot months in my city. And, of course, the mosquitoes have to rise from hell itself to buzz in your ears while you try to sleep and suck your blood, ginving you terrible rashes in the morning. I killed four of them the past two days and yesterday, I had to enlist my sister to help hunt one of them down. This little fic might have something to do with that incident xD

I had to write something and laugh at all those goofs trying to be functional normal humans. That's it. It's all ridiculous fluff and laughs while melting from too much heat, hope you guys enjoy ^^

Dante

“Ya know, if ya clap those really fast, you might summon a demon.”

You just looked back at Dante with murder in your eyes.

The red devil stood by the stairs, having his arms crossed and leaning by the guardrail, that characteristic grin spreading across his lips.

You wanted to throw the flip flops in your hands right at his face – maybe that would get rid of that insufferable cocky smile.

Sometimes you understood Vergil in a soul level.

“If said demon decimates the freaking mosquito who’s been testing my sanity for the past hour, I’m all in.” You turned your eyes back to the ceiling, searching for that single little thing that took peace away from you that day.

The shop wasn’t the most comfortable place in the world, that you had to admit, but the last couple of days were hotter than the layers of fire in Hell itself – Vergil would argue, but even he realized it wasn’t wise to discuss with you when you were melting faster than an ice cream on asphalt.

The heat, however, brought along the mosquito wave.

Hence why you were on the top of Dante’s desk, barefoot, sporting your peak summer style, flip flops ready to kill. Hearing Dante making fun of that situation wasn’t really aligned to your mood at that moment.

“Eh, already…?” Dante still had the smile plastered on his lips, casually approaching the desk. He was one to talk: given how hot it was, he was wearing only his pants, completely barefoot and shirtless – and even then, you questioned how he could walk around with those heavy, black pants without falling apart. “Thought these little fuckers would take a lot more time to appear.”

“Well, apparently they thought the same and figured a surprise attack would be more efficient.” You just heard his giggle as you kept on looking everywhere near the ceiling, round and round the desk. Dante rested his arms on it, casually looking up to watch you.

He couldn’t deny, it was funny. All that made him smile and relax: it was so mundane, so… Human. To think one day he’d be at his shop with his most beloved being in all dimensions, worrying about heatwaves and nagging mosquitoes; watching as you practically danced around on his desk, hunting mosquitoes with all the might in the world. As if you both didn’t hunt demons for a living.

As if life was just like that… Perfectly mundane.

“You give’em more credit than they deserve, babe.” Dante leaned his head in one of his hands, watching you with dreamy eyes. At the peak of your annoyance, you never thought the son of Sparda would look at you so lovingly – then again, he wasn��t an ordinary man.

“Oh, I don’t think so, hot stuff.” Your answer was mindless, making Dante open a huge, radiant smile, sparkling as much as his eyes. “Those things come directly from the layers of Hell, I’m certain of it.” You finally put your arms down, looking back at Dante and finding him with that unexpected expression. “What…?”

“You called me hot stuff, hot stuff.” He winked back, making you realize your ‘mistake’.

It wasn’t really a mistake. But Dante would definitely become even more insufferable with that.

“I blame the mosquitoes from Hell.” Your answer was ridiculous but sure, making Dante burst into laughs as he circled the table to sit on his big chair.

“That’d be a great name for a metal band. The Mosquitoes From Hell.” He laughed even more, resting his feet on a small spot on the table, making sure it wouldn’t interfere with your hunt.

“There you go. You, Verge and Nero can play together now.” You didn’t have much fun in your voice, going back to searching your nemesis in the air. Dante snorted a laugh, knowing you were joking – even if you were too focused to make it obvious.

“Dressed as vampires, it’d be perfect!”

But you couldn’t remain too serious around Dante for a long time. As soon as he added that, you closed your eyes, resting your wrists on your waist, letting out a sigh along a laugh. Imagining them all dressed as vampires, playing together as mosquitoes from Hell was too much – Dante now had your attention, beating the rogue mosquito you couldn’t find anymore.

You eyed him back, having a half smile on your lips. Dante was relaxed as he could be, his arms on the back of his head, helping him rest as he watched you with all the interest in the world.

“C’mon. I’d be one hell of a vampire!” Once again, he had that smile on his lips – sprinkled with a little more happiness now that you were into it.

“You’d be the sexiest one for sure, Mr. it’s-too-hot-to-wear-shirts.” You pointed back at him with one of the flip flops still in your hand, making Dante smile even more – a little blushed, but that could be because of the heat. “Dante!”

Without thinking twice, he caught your hand and pulled you to him, making you both rock on the chair violently as you tried not to end up on the floor. But Dante was strong and used to a lot more difficult tricks, having you on his lap, both legs secured by one of his hands on his right side. You had to let go of the flip flops, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, as both of you laughed.

“A reckless vampire too!” You finally put some distance between your faces as you were finally settled, finding Dante’s blushed cheeks as he laughed while still looking at you with adoration in his eyes. “Well, well. You got my attention now, cowboy.”

If only Dante knew how much you loved seeing him like that – completely human, vulnerable, having fun, as if none of the heavy burdens from his past weighted on his soul anymore.

“I’m happy, then. I was feeling a little ignored, babe.” He chuckled back, still blushing. Whenever it was hot like that, Dante had a tendency to be as red as an apple – and you didn’t complain. In a certain way, it was cute. As cute as a half-demon son of Sparda could be.

“I’m never ignoring you, babe.” You murmured, brushing some of his stray white hair away from his eyes, giving room to those beautiful skies that always allowed you to see his soul. Dante would always allow you to see him like that. “You better be ready for some undivided attention.”

“Hmmm, I could use a little o’ that…”

You barely waited for Dante to finish his sentence, catching his lips in a slow kiss. Dante rested one of his hands on the back of your neck, after brushing some of your hair back.

It was hot as Hell, yes. But not even that would stop you from loving your red devil.

Only one thing ever could.

mmmmmmMMMMMMMMMMeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEppppPPPPP!

“Fuck, you weren’t kiddin’…!” Dante immediately let go of your lips, having the peak of annoyance in his beautiful blue eyes. “Where’s that little shit?! Did you hear it too?!”

“That’s precisely what I’ve been through for the last hours, my beloved.” You had the most annoyed smile plastered on your lips, eyes closed as if you were trying to maintain yourself calm. “I told you. When you least expect it, that spawn from Hell will meep furiously in your ears, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Oh, there is.” Now Dante put you aside, taking your flip flops and climbing on the desk. “I’m gonna obliterate that lil’ bastard!”

“Now that I’d love to see.” Oh, how tables had turned. There you were, sitting on his big chair, arms crossed, cocky grin in your lips, watching that brick house of a man using his enhanced demonic senses to find the darn mosquito. “Who would’ve known. Good to deal with demonic pests and mundane pests.”

“Oh, look who’s bein’ all funny now!” Dante glanced you again, but he himself couldn’t refrain from laughing. “Guess I’m the full package, huh?”

“That just makes you hotter, if you wanna know.” You had a matter-of-fact tone, leaning back on the chair and resting your feet on the table. “Nothing like a man who can fight and love like Aragorn as well as cook some damn good potatoes and look after the house like Samwise Gamgee.”

“You know what they say, get yourself a man who can do both. Found ya!”

You could swear Dante’s voice had a tinge of his trigger distortion as the red devil finally found his foe flying around his head. Dante tried a few slaps, but the mosquito was too close for him to be able to kill it. Using the flip flops to fan it away from him, you both lost the mosquito for a while, remaining quiet. Dante used all of his senses to finally see it nearing the couch – with a deadly aim, he one-shot his pray with your flip flop, too fast and lethal for the thing to run away.

The mosquito was no more – its remains were glued on the sole of your flip flop in a stain of blood.

“That was so hot.” You were mesmerized and a little bit jealous of his abilities not only to hunt demons but now, to hunt mosquitos as well. Dante really was the whole package.

“I’m startin’ to question your definition of hot, babe.” Dante let out a good laugh, sitting on the edge of the desk, legs dangling by your side.

“Everything you do, basically.” You shrugged, getting up from the chair to be at least almost his size. Standing between his legs, you wrapped your arms around his neck, ruffling his soft white hair back in order to see his eyes – those eyes you loved so much, so vulnerable and loving towards you. “Thank you so much for saving my desperate human soul, hot stuff.”

“I’m always at your service, pretty eyes.” Dante’s answer was almost a murmur as he leaned to catch your lips with his one more time. “No interruptions this time.”

You laughed between his words and kisses, ready to spend the rest of the night loving him unconditionally.

That is. If you both didn’t hear another approaching MEEP into your ears.

“You gotta be kidding me.” You sighed, throwing your head back.

“Get all the shoes, babe. Those lil’ shits have no idea what they got themselves into.”

Of course, you both had other plans for that night – involving a lot of love, kisses and giggles between you, as time stopped and you could enjoy yourselves, even with that relentless heatwave. The night was spent, though, with you both viciously hunting mosquitoes, keeping scores, making bets between yourselves, drinking beer and eating the leftover cold pizza in the fridge.

It wasn’t what people would consider a perfect evening – but, whenever you were together, things were certainly a lot more entertaining. As you and Dante took refuge in his room, finally getting rid of all the mosquitoes, you lied tiredly in each other’s arms, laughing about your hunt that night, until you fell asleep without a single meep to wake you up.

And that, you would say, was perfect.

Vergil

“I need to enlist your help for a mission, my love.”

Vergil was immediately serious. It was funny how you could watch him change his demeanor – you once told Dante it was like when Marilyn Monroe put on her persona and suddenly people were aware she was there and Dante never allowed his brother to have a single moment of peace upon knowing that.

But it was true. It took some time, but Vergil slowly allowed his shoulders to rest relaxed whenever you were around. His eyebrows weren’t as harsh, his jaw wasn’t tensed all the time. You could see how his forehead remained smooth, how his long hands rested calmly somewhere instead of constantly gripping some invisible weapon. His breath turned slower and smoother, his focus allowing him to plunge completely into his beloved books instead of remaining always with a steady eye on his surroundings.

Whenever you were around, Vergil was safe – of that, he was sure. He had his moments of slipping up, of having his survival instincts make him suddenly tense up and remain vigilant. But you managed to bring a peace to him he never thought he would experience before – and Vergil always allowed himself to slowly, very slowly, relax again.

When you were serious, though, survival-mode Vergil came back to the surface: shoulders tensing, eyes turning into steely blocks of ice, hands closing in fists, gazing you intently while waiting for anything to suddenly appear so he could kill it with just a glare. It was his famous ‘dark aura’ as you called, and not even Dante had that – it was Vergil’s special power and it could make the bravest of demons run away with just a stare.

“What happened?” Vergil’s voice was cold and low, carrying not only all his worry, but his rage.

“The worst creature from Hell has ascended to test us.” You spoke solemnly but there was something quite not right with your tone. Nevertheless, Vergil was even more weary: he was ready to void-cut your way to Nero’s place so you could be safe while he dealt with whatever it was that decided to haunt you. “There’s a huge mosquito in the bedroom. I can’t work properly and, trust me, we will never get a good night of sleep with that thing buzzing around.”

“A… Mosquito…?” Now Vergil slowly crossed his arms, looking down at you. He still had his shoulders tense, jaw locked and stoic look in his eyes, but you knew those would water down after a while – the most important thing was the ‘dark aura’: as soon as he realized you were both safe and there was nothing to worry too much about, it vanished just like Marylin Monroe did whenever she didn’t want to be recognized.

It was impressive, really.

“Yes. And don’t you dare mock me.” You pointed right at him as soon as it seemed Vergil was ready to scold you for being foolish – something that looked quite similar to when he was about to go in a fight. “You can be my guest and try to sleep with the mosquitoes, I’ll sleep on the couch if I need too. But those things will not rob me of my sanity.”

“Hmmm. It’s been a while I don’t see one…” With those words, Vergil followed you to your shared bedroom, having just come out of his shower into that mess. “It makes sense. I believe they come out when the weather is hot, right…?”

“Oh, c’mon. You have to have these little things in Hell. It’s practically a mini-demon spawn with wings and tiny horns imbued in it to drive you crazy.” As soon as you finished your description, Vergil had to close his eyes and do his best to not snort a quick laugh – something he wasn’t really successful at. “You can’t possibly make me believe those weren’t made by the forces of evil to suck blood and endlessly annoy all living beings.”

“We have worst in Hell.” Vergil’s look at you was still strict, but his silver eyes had a tinge of care. He would never admit out loud – and he almost wouldn’t admit even to himself – but the way you talked, the way you eloquently described things to amuse not only him but yourself as well always seemed adorable to Vergil.

You, in the other hand, eyed him with notes of annoyance while resting your hands on your waist. You were the face of the summer that day, having seriously considered being only in your underwear during a few moments, completely out of not being able to tackle the sudden heatwave. Vergil had his dark pajama pants on, his torso covered by a white sleeveless shirt, completely barefoot and his hair slicked back – still wet from the almost cold shower he just took.

Whenever you questioned his heat resistance – afraid that he would die from the heatwave out of not wanting to show too much of his skin ‘like his stupid brother’ all the time – Vergil would just glare you and answer with ‘I’ve had worse”.

You knew he was talking about Hell. In a way, Vergil was quite different than everyone else because of all the things he got used to or desensitized in Hell – heat was only one of them. Vergil could go days without eating, without sleeping, he could endure a lot of pain and dismiss lethal wounds to keep on fighting, and so on… But his sense of taste was also a lot more sensitive, specially regarding sweet foods, as well as his sense of smell – when it came to delightful scents Vergil could notice them a mile away but he could also feel sick from being overwhelmed after a while; with foul scents, though, he had a higher tolerance, getting used to them after only a few seconds. Soft textures and lullabies could also get him by surprise, making him always wonder if there was something hidden behind those.

You could make a list of things that Vergil reacted differently or had been desensitized after his long time in Hell – and the heatwave from that day was certainly one of the items in your list.

“Well… Where is it?”

“It was on the ceiling. I climbed up on the bed trying to reach it, but it’s too far away for me.” You sighed, looking back at him. “I don’t know where it is now. We’ll have to hunt it.”

“You are aware that climbing furniture is very dangerous, right?” Vergil spoke slowly, in the same rhythm his steps casually walked around the bedroom.

“Oh, yes. I hunt demons for a living, but climbing a bed to kill a mosquito is going to be my downfall.” Having your flip flops already on your hands, you couldn’t refrain from answering him with sarcasm.

“Even Achilles had his blind spots.” And as much as you hated it, you had to recognize when Vergil was right. “It will take too long to find it this way. It’s easier if we allow it to come to us.”

“Hmmm… That’s a very good idea, hadn’t thought of that before.” You stopped by his side, both of you observing the room with smart eyes.

“You once mentioned they are attracted to breathing.” Vergil looked back at you, making you nod in return. With that confirmation, he started breathing heavily in order to attract the mosquito.

“Good idea. I’m going to turn off the lights too, they seem to leave wherever they are in search for another light source.”

Vergil just agreed with his head as you turned off the lights and stopped by his side, both of you breathing heavily, trying to lure your prey out of its hiding spot.

In all his life, after all he had done, all he sacrificed and all the souls he destroyed – including his own – Vergil never thought he would be doing something so… Ordinary. Stupid even. There were you, in the dark, breathing weirdly to attract a simple mosquito in order to give you some peace of mind.

He couldn’t stop himself from smiling, even if a little bit. If he could wish for something, he would wish for ordinary days with you for the rest of his life. Dealing with broken showers in the bathroom, fixing a leaking sink in the kitchen, having all the lights go out and depend only on candles, sit by your side reading thousands of recipes trying to understand why a pie backfired in the oven… All painfully mundane things, but so human. So heartwarming to the soul.

It was a kind of peace Vergil knew he did not deserve after all his actions – after all the blood he had shed. But it was something for him to hope for; and human hearts always kept hope inside even if it was an unlikely sort of hope, right?

As you turned on the lights once more, you and Vergil remained with your breathing technique – but none of you could see even a wing of the mosquito. After a few seconds, you had to look at each other.

“We look quite ridiculous, don’t we…?” With your question, not even Vergil could keep serious – both of you started laughing, shaking your heads in unison.

“We can always wait and see if it appears again.”

But as soon as Vergil let those words out of his lips, both of you picked up the characteristic buzzing of a mosquito around the room. Turning your heads immediately, you could see how Vergil had his hunting glare on: carefully scanning his surroundings, the mosquito wouldn’t escape the vicious Dark Slayer.

“Over there!” You threw one of your flip flops towards it, missing for just a little bit.

The shoe was followed by a small, bright blue summoned sword – and that one didn’t miss.

“Wow. Who would’ve guessed, summoned swords have domestic purposes as well.”

“They are very useful for a great number of things.” Vergil shook his head, letting out a breathy small laugh. But then, his hunting eyes were back. “Did you hear that…?”

“What…?” You froze in place, glancing around the bedroom, trying to listen to what he had picked up. Vergil took one of his fingers to his lips, signaling for you to listen carefully right after, making you focus even more.

Those things didn’t happen all the time – but they would be as unexpected as a shooting star crossing the sky. All of a sudden, catching you by surprise, Vergil’s hands rested on your hips, his lips planting a kiss on your forehead.

“Ah!” But of course. Even if Vergil was careful and didn’t do things as suddenly – or as aggressively – as his twin brother when it came to surprises, you did get startled, tripping on your own feet as he kissed you. “Verge!”

“Y/n! Be careful!” Vergil tried to hold you as best as he could. Your hands entangled, one of his arms trying to embrace your waist and pull you back to him. He lost his balance, though, tripping alongside you and trying to stop whatever was happening – as long as you didn’t get hurt, it would be alright for him.

As unexpected as his kiss was, you both ended up falling on the bed – which, at least, was a fluffy fall. Until, that is, a loud crack resonated through the room. Vergil still held you tight in his arms, your fingers intertwined as you felt the bed giving in under your weight.

When all went silent, you and Vergil both exchanged looks, still trying to understand what happened.

It didn’t take too much to remember your bed was a little wobbly – because of Vergil’s recurrent nightmares, you had a couple accidents with the Yamato, chipping at the bed and having to fix it until you had time to buy a sturdier one. With the weight of the both of you falling on it, the bed couldn’t take it anymore and cracked in pieces.

“I blame the mosquito.” You whispered silently, making Vergil immediately bury his head on your neck.

You could hear a muffled laugh – not loud, but comfortable, as he would always be around you. Resting one of your hands on his wet hair, you smiled as you felt his shoulders finally relax, his jaw losing the tension as Vergil kissed your neck.

“We will look for a new bed tomorrow morning.” He sighed, still wondering if all of that was one of Mundus’ illusions before he woke up once more in Hell, having his soul broken even further.

If it was, Vergil closed his eyes and wished for it to last a little longer this time.

“I don’t mind sleeping on the couch for a while.” You ran your fingers through his hair, making Vergil lean his weight on his arms in order to look into your eyes. There was nothing in there that could point to Mundus’ tricks – your eyes were filled with adoration and a slight tinge of melancholy, a mixture particular to you that always made him secretly breathless and completely vulnerable. “As long as you’re around, anything works for me.”

Vergil always found something quite interesting when you were around. All his life, he believed there were words for everything – and all could be expressed through prose, through a painting of words into a masterpiece. Upon meeting you, though, he realized some things had no words in any languages he knew that could express what he wanted to say – the only thing he could do was to kiss you back with all the admiration that stirred inside his chest.

Indeed, sleeping on the couch was far from perfect. But having your head safe and sound on his chest while he played with your hair, with you listening to his heartbeat as you always enjoyed to do��Vergil thought not even Heaven could be more perfect than that – and he asked whatever could listen to allow him to live such an ordinary, human life for as long as he could.

Because as long as you were around, anything worked for him.

Nero

“Hey, Kyrie…? I was thinking maybe we can move those shelves from the bedroom to the…”

If there was a thing Nero used to do quite often, that thing would be already talking without even making sure the other person was listening. Usually while still walking towards them, screaming in the distance, barely paying attention to said person.

He seriously questioned why he and Kyrie decided to clean and solve all the little issues in their house on the hottest day of the year – but then again, it was a sudden heatwave and no one was expecting it. Nevertheless, his white tank top was already drenched in sweat, his pair of jeans definitely too hot for that day and he was doing something he never did in his life: working barefoot.

Having a piece of furniture he was tinkering with in his hands, he approached the living room so he could tell Kyrie his brilliant idea of moving the shelves to the garage – decluttering the bedroom and having more storage where they actually needed. As he looked up, though, Nero most definitely didn’t expect that sight.

Kyrie was wearing the shortest pair of shorts she could find at home – flimsy, delicate, from her pajamas – and a sports bra. That’s it. Her hair was tied in a bun, while she had a spatula on one of her hands, completely barefoot on top of the kitchen counter island. Her skin glistening with sweat, while she viciously looked for something.

Nero didn’t want to blush. He wasn’t going to blush. He pursed his lips and did his best to control all of his feelings – after all, he could control his devil trigger, controlling blushing because of seeing that goddess of a woman right on their kitchen wearing almost nothing and being absolutely gorgeous shouldn’t be harder, right…? Right…?! It shouldn’t. Nero wasn’t…

He was blushing. Like a bell pepper.

“Oh, Nero! I didn’t listen to what you said, I’m sorry…!” Kyrie was a little startled upon seeing him – and she certainly took the blushing as his response to how hot the day was rather than anything else.

“What… Did you know climbing furniture is dangerous?!” After the initial shock, though, Nero’s protective instincts towards his loved ones had to kick in. Approaching the island in a hurry, he had his hands on his waist, but ready to get Kyrie out of there.

“Oh, I do, don’t treat me like a child.” Even though her answer was annoyed, Kyrie dismissed his comment with a sigh and a slight smile: she would never complain about how protective Nero was towards her. She would always appreciate that. “But I’m trying to solve a problem on my own.”

“Well, the only problem I see here is you on top of the counter, beautiful.” Nero rested his hands on the cold stone, slightly considering laying down on it to get rid of the heat. Maybe standing on it wasn’t that bad, but he would never endorse such dangerous behavior on her side. “C’mon. Lemme help you down.”

“Hey! I’m doing some hunting, I won’t climb down now!” Kyrie now had her hands on her waist, finally looking down at Nero and finding his always attentive but loving aquamarine eyes. She could never get angry at those eyes, he definitely was her soft spot. “I’ve been doing this for the past half-hour. It’s ok, Nero.”

“Wait, what? Huntin’? What’s the matter?!” It was like she flipped a switch in Nero. Suddenly, there was the devil hunter, always aware of his surroundings, ready to sucker-punch any clueless demon that appeared in front of him. All of this got amplified with the fact that Kyrie was around and he would be damned if anyone even thought about touching her in his presence.

She had to giggle. It was almost a natural response even. Nero could have all the pose he wanted – he could be the troublesome punk with a dirty mouth and short-tempered behavior all he wanted – but Kyrie could always see the man he was underneath all that. In his aquamarine eyes, Kyrie has ever seen a sweet man, gentle, worried about his friends, loyal and caring, ready to sacrifice everything and anything for his loved ones. The punk attitude could fool everyone else but her.

And Kyrie had to admit, Nero looked as cute as a badass demon hunter could be when she saw everything that was under his short-tempered answers, ready to get into a fight – the love, the care and the immediate instinct to protect at all costs.

He looked up at her, clueless for a few moments. Kyrie would always look like a little angel in Nero’s eyes, with a giggle resembling little silver bells on a golden morning. Her cheeks slightly blushing, her beautiful hair starting to fall over her face, her rose-pink lips so delicate as her warm brown eyes watched him with care.

“It’s nothing like that, silly…” Her voice was always soft, so different than everything else Nero had always heard. Since the beginning, he was always used to being treated harshly or with indifference, but Kyrie was the first one to offer him comfort and love. He always thought falling for her was inevitable, as they were meant to be from the moment their eyes crossed for the first time. “I’m having mosquito problems.”

“Mosquito problems…?” And suddenly, all that wave of adrenaline washed off his body. Nero could be calmer, it wasn’t anything to be horribly worried at. Leaning over the kitchen counter, he smiled up at his little angel. “All that ‘cause of a lil’ mosquito…?”

“Oh, don’t downplay it like that!” Kyrie pretended to be mad, lightly slapping one of his arms with the spatula. As Nero giggled, she started looking around again. “I’ve been on that for the past half-hour. I’ve been trying to catch it but it’s too fast!”

“We can always try some pesticide.” As soon as Nero suggested, Kyrie glanced at him.

“Nero. Last time we tried pesticide, you almost died from the smell. We had to ask Dante to sleep at the shop, remember?” Of course, he didn’t. Nero had probably erased that memory out of his head, but Kyrie would forever be there to remind him: out of the two, he was the most sensitive with strong chemical smells, specially cleaning products and pesticides, given his demonic heritage. Nero would never want to admit it out loud, but it was true.

“Oh… Yeah.” As always, Nero would do his best to change subjects – thanking the heatwave for the first time for serving as a perfect cover for his blushing. “But ya know, killin’ it with a spatula isn’t the best thing in the world. Actually, killin’ it isn’t like you at all.”

“Well, I get rashes every time they bite me. I must be allergic to something.” Kyrie sighed, finally approaching Nero on the counter. He stepped back for a bit and she put the spatula away, sitting in front of him, legs hanging from the counter. “And you were sort of allergic too when we were kids.”

“Ah, yeah, I remember… Got some pretty nasty itches all over my arms.” Nero let out a quick laugh, unconsciously resting his hands on Kyrie’s thighs. She was warmer than usual – not as much as him though – and her skin was soft, slightly damp. As a reflex, he lightly caressed her tights with his thumbs while talking – and Kyrie thanked the heatwave for hiding the real reason she was blushing at that moment. “You’re right, I’ll give ya that. Mosquitoes aren’t allowed in this house.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was a small whisper, Kyrie still trying to control her heartbeat. She wasn’t half-demon like Nero though, and her human heart would always follow her own feelings instead of whatever her mind was trying to control. “Do you think you can help me with it?”

“I can always help you with anything, princess.” His aquamarine eyes sparkled with care as Nero leaned forward to place a very not rushed at all kiss on her angel lips. Kyrie cradled his face with both of her hands, smiling into his lips – Nero always tasted honey-sweet to her, no matter the situation. “Alright, angel, time to deal with your mosquito. Where’s the lil’ bastard?”

“It was flying around the ceiling. I managed to slap it a couple of times but, as you said, spatulas aren’t that efficient.” She let go of him, watching lovingly as Nero got a couple of shoes he had left in the kitchen while cleaning the bedroom floor. “What are you going to do with so many shoes…?”

“Well, I got a trick up my sleeve.” With a wink, Nero’s ice blue trigger claws appeared behind his back like a set of wings, catching one shoe in each of its hands. Kyrie couldn’t stop laughing. “Ya know, demons have their domestic uses, we can be pretty handy at home.”

“That was awful, Nico would love it!” Kyrie couldn’t stop laughing and giggling as Nero climbed on the kitchen counter, armed with two pairs of shoes.

He wasn’t lying: his trigger could be very helpful when doing chores. That was how he always did whatever he needed to do around the house in half of the time: Nero literally had control over another set of hands to help.

As Nero used all his enhanced senses to find the mosquito and start hunting it with four relentless shoes, Kyrie watched him with what one would think it was too much admiration in her eyes for such a trivial thing. Even though it was mundane, it wasn’t trivial to her: nothing was trivial when it came to spending time with someone she loved, especially Nero.

When others would see a half-demon creature, Kyrie would see the human she loved so much. And not only that – they started dating when they were teens, yes, they grew up together and soon that young love matured over time – Kyrie didn’t see her boyfriend, but a man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with and who would be such a great husband and father.

Nero would deny if she ever told him that, of course. But Kyrie could see how he played with the children, how he scolded them in such a fatherly way when needed, how he always seemed to have so much patience even if he hid it under a short-tempered demeanor. Nero would make the best dad jokes, he would build the best pillow forts, he would stay awake into the night to care for his children when they would get sick… Kyrie could make a list of things Nero would certainly do as a father – and would excel at it.

“C’mon… Where did it… A-ha! Found it! No escape now!”

She was brought up from her thoughts as soon as Nero exclaimed those words, all four pieces of shoes ready to attack. The mosquito had nowhere to go: he threw one shoe, calculated the route the mosquito would fly over, and threw the other three in a row – faster than she could even think about it. The mosquito was caught in the second shoe, but, if that hadn’t happened, it would had found certain death in the other shoes.

“Job done, princess! Your nights will be peaceful and mosquito-less again!” Nero’s trigger hands disappeared as he bowed to Kyrie – who just laughed and applauded as he did so.

“Thank you so much, brave knight!” She had to joke around. Nero had this thing of calling her princess ever since they were teens – and he never knew how much her heart jumped inside of her chest every time he did that. To counter it and be able to hide how much she loved him in Fortuna, Kyrie would always call him something like that back as a joke, so the elders would think they were just playing. It sort of became their thing after a while – and she quite enjoyed it. “I think it’s my turn to repay you.”

“Eh, no need…” With a sigh, Nero sat by Kyrie’s side on the counter, legs dangling from it as well. He was a lot taller than her, but not even his feet couldn’t reach the floor from where they were sitting. “I’ll do it a thousand times if I have to.”

Looking at her, Nero allowed a caring smile to fill not only his lips but his eyes as well. While so many people saw only fire and rage, Kyrie had the privilege of seeing love and vulnerability inside that aquamarine sea.

Placing one of her hands on his cheek, Kyrie pulled Nero for a kiss – soft, long and calm. Nero was taken aback for a few seconds before melting into it, placing his hands on her hips and finding her soft skin. It seemed like a bolt of lightning went up their spines as Nero caressed her sides and ran his hand on her silky, slightly damp back.

“Oh, what were you saying about the bedroom before…?” Her question was a whisper as Kyrie parted the kiss – both of them blushing and vaguely breathless.

“Nothin’ that matters. The shelves can wait.” Nero dismissed it quickly, pulling her back to a kiss – both of them laughing between each other’s lips.

The house was a mess as they were cleaning everything: the kitchen and the bedroom seemed like they were torn apart, with clothes and shoes lying everywhere, books finding temporary solace somewhere else, and everything looking like it was turned upside down.

Spending time with each other, though, was a bigger priority. They would order some pizza and sleep on the couch under a light bedsheet so they wouldn’t get caught by surprise in case Nico decided to visit all of a sudden in the morning – but they wouldn’t pass the opportunity of loving each other.

As the night settled, they rested on the couch, Nero cradling Kyrie safely in his arms, as they talked the night away, always blushing from being so intimate with each other – that would never change, no matter how many years had gone by.

While watching Kyrie giggling from one of his stupid jokes, looking like an angel resting her head on his chest, Nero blushed even more while laughing alongside her and playing with her hair. He would always be a fool for her.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to get a glass of cold water for you?” Kyrie whispered into the night, the humming of the fan they found in the back of the garage making the weather a little bit more bearable. “You look like a tomato, dear.”

“Oh, it’s ok. It’s chillier now, my temperature will go down soon.” Nero smiled back at her, wondering how Kyrie could be so radiant. No supernatural creature could top that. “No need to worry, angel. Thank you.”

Obviously, he would never say he was blushing because of her - having only one thing in his mind… Thank whatever forces that be for that heatwave.

[aquagirl1978]

Little Lion Man

Pairing: Leon Dompteur x Reader

Prompt: Day 1 (Love), Day 4 (Brothers) and Day 6 (Dance) for Leon Dompteur Sequel Route Release event (hosted by me)

Word count: 1330

Tags: Fluff (with a brief appearance from Chevalier, Jin and Leon's young son)

A/N: This fic was inspired by Leon's recent Halloween gacha card in JP as well as @ikeprinces-stuff artwork with an alternate Leon costume that can be seen HERE. Jin and Chevalier's gacha cards are also referenced throughout the fic.

“You are going to be the cutest little lion cub at tonight’s party!” you squealed as you adjusted the lion ears on top of your son’s head.

“Do you think Papa will like my costume?”

“Like it? He will love it!” You picked your son up in your arms, thankful he was still light enough for you to carry, and held him against your chest as you both looked in the mirror. “I think Uncle Yves did a great job with both of our costumes this year, don’t you think?”

Your son looked up at you and smiled. “You will be the prettiest bunny rabbit tonight, Mama.” He looked back into the mirror and opened his mouth wide to let out a tiny little roar. “And I will be the fiercest lion at the ball!”

Beaming with joy, you put your son down and took his little furry paw in yours. “Are you ready to go to a party now?”

He jumped up and down excitedly; his smile, bright as the sun, was a near replica of his father’s. “But where’s Papa?”

You looked out the nearby window, the darkening skies telling you it was already getting late in the day. “He said he had something to do before the party, and that he would meet us there.”

*****

“This is what you came to my office for, Black?” Chevalier let out an exasperated sigh as his ice blue eyes met Leon’s amber eyes in a cold stare.

“Yes! This is an important matter!”

“Your ridiculous costume does not concern me,” Chevalier remarked, his eyes returning to the documents on his desk. 

“I found out that Silvio is going to the Halloween Ball as a vampire.  I was supposed to go as a vampire. I’m the King, I can’t be wearing the same costume as someone else!”

“I don’t think you’ll have that problem now,” Chevalier commented with a smirk. “I can assure you, no one else will be dressed like that tonight. Although, the color is very fitting for you, Black.”

Leon grumbled loudly at being called this nickname, but refused to dwell on it. Unfortunate as it was, he needed Chevalier’s help.

“Please. You read more books than anyone I know.”

“Yes. And you read none.”

“That’s not the point,” Leon growled. “I’m asking for your help.” 

Chevalier straightened in his seat and rested his chin in the palm of his hand, his icy gaze silently saying speak.

“Belle read a story to me the other night. It was about a masked, sword-wielding hero and his swashbuckling adventures.”

“And this is who you are supposed to be?” Chevalier asked wide-eyed.

“Yes! His name was…ah, Zoso or something?”

Chevalier was polite enough to cover his mouth when he snickered. “You mean Zorro.”

“Isn’t that what I said?” No, wait. Don’t answer that.” Leon pulled out the rapier that was sheathed at his waist and dramatically flipped his dark cape. “I am Zorro, the dashing masked vigilante!”

Leon put down the rapier and stared at Chevalier. “That was believable, right?”

“The masked part certainly was.”

Leon’s brows knitted in frustration. “You’re a bully. You know that, right?”

“You’re the one who came to me,” Chevalier replied with a snort of laughter before returning his attention to the papers on his desk.

“Oh hey, Chevalier. What costume are you wearing tonight?”

“Evil demon,” he replied without looking up from his desk.

“Ah, well, that makes perfect sense. You could go as yourself, no need to even dress up,” Leon muttered under his breath as he made his way towards the door.

“I know,” Chevalier called out. 

Leon didn’t have to turn around to know there was a wicked grin plastered on the face of the second prince.

*****

“Have you seen Leon?” you asked Jin when you ran into him at the dessert table.

Jin looked around the room slowly, looking for his younger brother. “I haven’t seen him since I got to the ball. When I saw him earlier, he did mention he might be a little late this evening.”

“Did Papa forget about the ball?” a quiet little voice asked.

Jin crouched down and held out a lollipop to his nephew. “I’m sure your Papa didn’t forget. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was still at his desk, finishing up some work that just couldn’t wait until tomorrow.”

Still crouched, Jin noticed a familiar figure dressed in black approaching. Leon held a finger to his mouth, to which Jin gave a quick wink.

Standing off to the side, you smiled as you watched Leon walk on tiptoe, trying to surprise his young son.

Jin leaned in closer to his nephew, whispering loudly in his ear. “I heard there will be many mysterious visitors at the ball tonight. Some might be friend, others foe. I need you to be on high alert and let me know if you see anyone suspicious. Can you do that for me, buddy?”

“Yes, Uncle Jin,” the small boy answered seriously.

“I think it's best if you turn around then. You won't be much of a lookout if all you're doing is looking at me,” he said. He put his hands on his nephew's shoulders, ready to turn him around at the right moment. “On my count. One, two…three!”

On three, Jin spun the young prince just as Leon was a few feet away.

“Papa!” the boy exclaimed, breaking from his uncle's hold and running to his father.

“Whose Papa? I don't recall raising a lion cub!” Leon scooped his son up in a big bear hug, gently tickling him until he began to squirm with laughter.

“It's me, it's me,” he squealed in between peals of laughter.

“What do you think?” Leon winked, gesturing to his costume. “Do you know who I am?”

“Yes. You're Zoso, the dashing, masked vigilante from the book Mama read to us!”

Leon threw back his head and let out a loud roar of laughter. 

Like father, like son, he thought to himself as he pulled his son into another hug.

“Hey!” Leon called to you, extending his hand. “Don't think you're hopping away so fast!”

Joining him in a tight hug, your heart filled with warmth. “I thought you were going to be a vampire,” you whispered in Leon's ear.

“It's a long story, I'll tell you later.” After Leon set the tiny lion cub on the ground, breaking the family hug, his hand searched for yours. “I heard…” he started in a very excited voice, “that there is a haunted maze out in the gardens. Who wants to go?”

“I do, I do!” cried a young voice.

“And you, my bunny?” Leon asked with a smirk. 

“If you're going, I'm going.”

“Hey, what about me?” Jin asked, a small pout forming on his lips.

Leon looked over his older brother for a minute. “ I'm not sure they're letting in any lazy mummies this year…” Leon let Jin stew only a few moments before clapping him on the shoulder with a wide smile. “Lucky for you though, your brother happens to be king.”

Leon led the group to the haunted gardens, his hand still clasped in yours, while Jin and the young prince ran up ahead.

“I was really looking forward to seeing you as a vampire tonight,” you said, trying to mask your disappointment.

“Oh?” 

“Not that this costume doesn't look amazing, but….” you smiled at Leon, “…you know…”

“Know what?”

“Vampires…biting….” you replied, quickly looking away as you felt heat rise to your cheeks.

Leon pulled you closer, so close he could feel that heat as he whispered to you.  “I can always change later. I still have the vampire costume.”

“Let's hurry then,” you said softly, not wanting to be heard by anyone but your husband.

Leon quickened his pace, excited to continue the haunted festivities. His arm wound around your waist as thoughts of what this evening would later bring were already dancing in his head.

Tagging: @redheadkittys @alixennial @rhodolitesroseforclavis @chaosangel767 @queengiuliettafirstlady

@queen-dahlia @ikehoe @ikemen-writer @talfollowingstuff @kpop-and-otome

@kisara-16 @altairring @lucyw260 @lordsisterxotome @umi-adxhira

@crypticbibliophile @lancelotscloak @tele86 @nightfoxqueen @melodiousramblings

@wendolrea @aceuuuu @randonauticrap @aria-chikage @nightghoul381

@maries-gallery @xbalayage @xenokiryu @alydra @drachonia

@ranhanabi777 @silver-dahlia @lunaaka @portrait-ninja @sh0jun

@ikesenwritings @justpeachyteastea @kalims-pessimist-bestie @shadowylakes     @writingwhimsey  

@ikeprinces-stuff @candiedcoffeedrops     @kookie-my-little-sunshine

[super-ion]

Such Lovely Fur

Chapter 1

[Chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4]

The wind howls horribly as I stagger through the drifts of snow. It tears at my cloak and dress, digging icy fingers down to my bones. My teeth are chattering and I can barely feel my hands as I tug the cloak tight around my shoulders.

I find myself wondering for probably the thousandth time if this whole endeavor is a fool's errand. Many men have attempted this very mission, most have never returned.

What hope does someone like me possibly have?

I pause beneath a rocky outcropping, desperately trying to rub feeling back into my numb hands when I hear the voice. It comes in the form of a song in a language I do not recognize, piercing through the storm unnaturally (though there is hardly anything natural about this storm in the first place).

Were I in my right mind, I would ignore it, but I am cold and delirious from exhaustion. Instead I stagger forward blindly through the wind driven snow, drawn inexorably towards the haunting voice.

What I find is a cage, hanging from a sorry looking tree and woven from rough hewn strips of wood and covered with glowing symbols. Within sits the hunched figure of the singer. Her back is to me, so all I can see is a cloak that appears to be covered in dusky feathers.

“Hello?”

She stops singing and whirls to grip the bars. What I previously mistook for a feathered cloak is in fact a pair of wings in place of her arms, three fingers with wicked looking claws emerging halfway down their length. Curling horns and pointed ears sprout from beneath the raven dark tresses of her hair, framing a face with pale mottled gray skin and a sort of flattened nose and tilted eyes like a cat’s. The eyes themselves… they are jet black with glowing flecks like sparks dancing within.

She… I don't even know if this is a she… regards me hungrily with those eyes.

“Hey!” she says desperately. “Get me out of here and I'll grant you your heart's desire!”

Her husky voice snaps me out of my shock and I stagger back.

“Demon!” I gasp.

Her face falls and she makes a sulky pout at me.

“Please?” she asks. “Judging from the spells inscribed on this cage, there are sorcerers about, no doubt intending to carve out my hearts and drink my blood. I would really rather not be around when they return.”

Still in shock at the sight of her, I stumble backward, turn to leave and…

Her words are finally catching up with me.

She could help me save my betrothed.

“You… you can grant my heart's desire?”

She blinks in surprise and her ears twitch. She crouches in the cage, beckoning me closer. I take a few cautious steps forward.

“That might have been a slight exaggeration on my part,” she confesses. “But it is within my power to grant you boons to aid you in achieving such a heart's desire.”

“What sort of boons?” I ask, trying and failing to hide my shivering.

She makes a pointed glance at my cloak, fine dress and thin shoes, all of which are wholly unsuited for the ice and snow whirling around us.

“Well, that depends on what you need,” she replies. “If, as I suspect, you intend to brave this cursed storm and climb the mountain, it is within my power to grant you such tools to assist in such an endeavor.”

I should say no. I should not deal with demons, caged or no.

I also should not be out here in the elements attempting something so foolish. I am far outside of my realm of experience. I will surely freeze to death or worse before getting anywhere close to the top of the mountain.

“How many boons?” I demand.

A hopeful spark shines in her eyes and she grins, revealing sharp teeth.

“Three,” she says. “Standard package. Very powerful number, three.”

“Just so we're clear, I let you go and you grant me three boons?”

“You release me from this cage and I shall grant you three boons spread over three days of your choosing. I swear it on the skulls of my ancestors.”

She points eagerly to a surprisingly simple latch holding the cage closed. I know very little about magic, such things are anathema in civilized society, but I can only assume the glowing writing on the cage is meant for something like her and not something like me.

Regardless, I am reluctant to get too close. I find a long stick amongst the snow at the base of the tree and poke fumblingly at the latch from a safe distance. After a few attempts, I finally manage it and she comes tumbling out in a great squawking bundle of feathers.

She dusts the snow off of herself, revealing great birdlike feet with wicked talons and a whip-like tail that lashes excitedly behind her. She uncurls her body to full height and extends her wings in a languorous stretch.

I am not a short person, but I find myself dwarfed by her. At full height, she is nearly a full head taller than me, and her outstretched wings are nearly twice that height.

She cracks her neck and folds her wings close, ruffling her feathers and puffing up to ward off the cold.

My heart is hammering in my chest when she finally turns her attention back to me.

“What manner of person are you?” she asks as she begins circling me. “Man or woman? Something else maybe?”

She pauses behind me, craning her neck to get a look down my collar. I wrap my cloak around myself tightly in an attempt to preserve my modesty.

“I am a woman!” I snap indignantly.

She cocks her head.

“Indeed?”

When I was fifteen, my household hosted a delegation of merchants from a land across the sea. I remember them ogling and leering at me and asking the most inappropriate sorts of questions. I hated every minute of it, but the trade interests were too important for any sort of argument my father had told me. So I played the dutiful daughter. I made my family proud.

Out here in the wild, so far removed from any sort of propriety, this demon seemed to possess a genuine desire to understand, without a hint of derision. Perhaps… perhaps I could have a conversation with someone unburdened by any preconceived notions of the dictates of gender, neither from my homeland or distant lands with backwards beliefs.

The old familiar traitorous thoughts send a thrill through me and I quickly shove them aside. It is not proper to question my place in society or my role as a daughter or a bride. Nor is it proper to hold any such conversation with a demon.

(Nor is it proper for a woman of my station to be out in the wilderness such as I am, but these are special circumstances)

“Indeed I am,” I say. “Now tell me of these boons.”

She scowls in disappointment at the change of topic.

“Fine,” she sighs. “But first, answer me this: what is it that you seek? What is it that your heart desires?”

“I was to be wed at the end of summer, but the night before the wedding day, the Lady of Winter came down from her mountain and stole my bridegroom away. He is the nephew of a merchant prince, they are a very wealthy and-”

“You're out here risking your life for a man??” she interrupts. “No man is worth trifling with the Lady of Winter, trust me.”

“I am doing my family a great honor!” I reply defensively. “I will prove my devotion and earn my parents an even greater brideprice than what has already been agreed upon.”

She cocks her head the other way and leans forward, raising an eyebrow dubiously.

“But do you love him?” she asks.

“He was one of my dearest friends when we were children,” I say, forcing myself to meet her gaze. “On my naming day, a soothsayer read our fortunes in the stars and determined that we were a most auspicious match.”

She leans closer, too close now.

“You didn't answer my question,” she purrs.

“What is it to you?” I demand, jerking back.

She smirks and gives a little shrug.

“Nothing to me,” she says. “I'm simply gauging your conviction. These sorts of things come with a cost, and if your head and heart possess different notions of that cost, it can complicate things.”

“A cost??” I sputter. “But I freed you-”

“In exchange for the privilege of receiving my gifts,” she enunciates slowly with a roll of her eyes. “Listen, my friend. I can't make something from nothing, so everything costs something. It's called equivalent exchange.”

She taps her chin thoughtfully and sweeps me head to toe with her gaze.

“For example,” she continues. “A fur coat would serve you well… something nice and cozy to keep the chill at bay. I can't simply pull one out of thin air, I need something from you first.”

“What do you need?” I ask nervously.

“Your skin.”

“My…?”

I recoil in horror and she bursts into cackling laughter.

“Your face!” she wheezes as she doubles over. “You should see it!”

I feel a rush of embarrassed indignance and I'm surprised to find my fists clenching.

“This isn't funny,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Oh, but it is,” she says as she wipes tears from her eyes. “Seriously though, we'll need your skin. The best, easiest way to do this is to trick part of your body into forgetting that it's human.”

I stare at her, mouth agape.

“You mean… fur. Literal fur on my body? You can't be serious.”

“I am,” she says with a wicked grin. “That's how my magic works. How far are you willing to go for this man?”

I think of the pride in my father's face when my brideprice was negotiated. I think of the face of my bridegroom, the way he looked upon me the last time I saw him, the desire and satisfaction that I would soon be his.

I shouldn't even be out here, it is not a woman’s place to conduct such a rescue. If I returned now, empty handed, the dishonor I would face would be unimaginable. It would be far, far worse than if I had never left at all.

For better or worse, I am committed. I am also woefully unprepared and my success is now dependent upon the gifts this demon has to offer.

Fur would not be such a terrible thing, would it? I already shaved my body daily. This would just be one extra step to my morning and evening routines.

“Do it,” I command.

She claps her hands in delight.

“Close your eyes," she drawls, "and try not to think. Don't fight it.”

I close my eyes and stand shivering in the cold. I try to force my thoughts into quietude. It is difficult, with each stray thought I supress, it seems that two more appear to take its place.

I feel a jolt and a tingling feeling spreads throughout my body. I know instantly that it is the demon's magic, writhing and worming its way through me.

Don't fight it. Don't fight it. Don't fight it.

An itch starts at the back of my neck, spreading down my spine and across my back and down my arms and legs. It is not painful, but it itches more and more terribly with each passing second. I clench my fists tighter and tighter as it takes every shred of willpower not to scratch.

Then, so abruptly that it makes me gasp, the feeling is gone and I am left blessedly warm. I can still feel the chill of the wind, but it is a distant discomfort now, as if I really were wearing a thick winter coat.

I crack my eyes open and look down to the backs of my hands. From beneath the sleeves of my dress pale silver-grey fur pokes out, with darker spots like the rosettes of a leopard.

“Oh,” the demon gasps. “Fascinating...”

She steps forward and rubs the back of a clawed finger against the exposed fur on my neck, sending a thrill through me and setting my heart racing.

“Such lovely fur,” she croons.

(next chapter)

[darcydarlingdabbles]

The Static Between Us~

RadioApple + Static 🍃Voyerism 🍃Omega!Alastor /Alpha!Lucifer

🍃Explicit🍃Vox Cucking ~ 4.8k

A/N: Happy Thanksgiving! Thanks for 160 follows, 2.5k likes on Tumblr...and holy shit 27k reads on Ao3!!! Have some crack/smut to celebrate with me XD

🍃🍃🍃

The sleek drone hummed almost imperceptibly as Vox guided it through Hell's smog-choked skies.

His screen flickered with anticipation, cyan teeth bared in a grin as the newly remodeled Hazbin Hotel came into view.

"Let's see what you're up to, old pal," Vox purred, his clawed fingers dancing across the controls.

The drone glided silently over the hotel's new rooftop gardens, a stark contrast of lush greenery against Hell's desolate landscape.

Vox's pupils contracted as he spotted his targets.

Alastor and Lucifer were strolling among the foliage.

Alastor's crimson hair gleamed in the hellish light, his ever-present smile a mask of amusement as he kept his hands folded neatly at the small of his back.

Beside him, Lucifer's smaller frame radiated power—as much as it echoed frustration with every gesture of his blackened hands. .

“What do we have here?" Vox mused, zooming in on the pair. "A lover's quarrel?"

He strained to hear their conversation, cursing the limitations of even his most advanced technology. He reached for a dial, tunning away.

"Just wait," Vox muttered, his screen crackling. "One of these days, I'll catch you slipping, Alastor. And when I do…" He trailed off, lost in visions of finally besting his rival.

Alastor's body language spoke volumes, however—the tilt of his antlers, the sharp gestures of his gloved hands. Classic Radio Demon needling.

"I'm telling you, the color scheme is fine!" Lucifer's shrill voice carried through the audio feed. "The pink would be perfectly fine if you weren’t always covering it in blood splatters!"

Alastor's static-laced chuckle grated on Vox's nerves.

"My dear, I believe you're overthinking this. The sinners won't care about aesthetics when they're being tortured."

“Alastor,” Lucifer huffed, rubbing at his temples with the long fingers of his right hand. “They’re not being tormented, they’re being redeemed.”

“I fail to see the distinction.” The Radio Demon said brightly.

Alastor’s permanent grin was etched onto his face as always, but his usually relaxed posture was now tense. His ears flicking constantly with irritation.

Next to him, Lucifer's normally suave demeanor was replaced with an obvious groan of frustration.

They were a pressure cooker about to pop.

As he watched, a pang of something uncomfortably close to jealousy twisted in Vox's gut. He pushed the feeling aside, focusing instead on the potential for chaos unfolding before him.

Vox's screen flickered with desire and disdain as he manipulated the drone's camera, panning slowly down Alastor's lithe form.

Even fully clothed from neck to wrist to ankle, the Radio Demon's silhouette was maddeningly seductive. The crimson pinstripe suit hugged Alastor's slim waist, flaring slightly at his hips before tapering down long legs.

Hiding the soft curves of an omega’s body beneath sharp angles and layers of fine fabric.

"Damn you," Vox muttered, his teeth gritting in frustration. "Why do you have to look so good?"

He zoomed in, capturing the subtle sway of Alastor's hips as he walked.

The Radio Demon's backside was pert, perfectly small in his mind. He imagined gripping those hips, claiming that body, making the omega writhe—until his circuits buzzed with want.

The TV demon's fingers twitched and Vox refocused on the conversation unfolding before him.

"And the plumbing is atrocious," Alastor's voice crackled through the feed. "Really, sire, one would think the King of Hell could conjure better pipes."

Lucifer's face tinged gold with a flush. "Don't push me, Alastor. You’ve treading on thin ice."

Vox leaned closer. What was that supposed to mean?

“Treading?” Alastor's grin widened. "My dear, I’ve been tap-dancing on it." He leaned down to the angel’s level. “You’ve simply failed to crack, yet.”

"Last warning," Lucifer growled. "Red light. Quit while you’re behind."

Red light? What kind of threat was that?

On screen, Alastor's ear twitched, his head tilting in a coquettish manner that Vox had never seen before.

There was something in Lucifer's posture, a coiled tension that spoke of barely restrained power.

Alastor's laugh rang out, sharp and challenging. "Make me, your majesty.”

“You asked for it!”

Lucifer's hands shot out, grasping Alastor by the lapels of his precious coat and slamming him against the gnarled trunk of a nearby tree. The impact sent a shower of crimson leaves cascading around them.

"Oh my," Alastor purred, his voice crackling with static. "How terrifying, I’m simply shaking in my boots."

Vox's screen glimmered with excitement, his grin stretching wider than should be possible on his digital face. "Come on, old man," he urged. "Put that pompous asshole in his place."

Lucifer's grip tightened, his knuckles like ash against the deep red of Alastor's coat. "You never know when to stop pushing, do you?" the fallen angel growled, his face inches from Alastor's perpetual, petulant smile.

"Where would be the fun in that?" the omega replied, his tone light and teasing despite his precarious position. "Besides, I do so enjoy seeing your feathers all…ruffled."

Vox's brow furrowed in confusion. He had expected Alastor to fight back, to summon his shadows or at least attempt to break free.

Instead, the Radio Demon seemed almost…relieved?

As he was being tossed around by the devil himself.

On the screen, Lucifer leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper that Vox had to strain to hear. "Are you sure you're prepared for the consequences, Bambi?"

Alastor's eyes glinted with mischief, his grin widening impossibly. "Oh, I'm counting on them."

Lucifer yanked Alastor down by his lapels, crushing their lips together in a fierce kiss. The action was so sudden and shocking that Vox's digital eyes widening in disbelief.

"What the actual hell?" the TV demon sputtered, his voice glitching as he processed the scene before him.

The kiss was rough, brutal, and anything but loving. Lucifer's hand snaked up to grip Alastor's hair, tugging it sharply as he deepened the kiss. For a moment, the omega seemed to melt into it, his usual rigid posture softening.

But then, just as quickly, Alastor's hands flew up to Lucifer's chest, shoving hard against the angel.

It was like pushing against a stone wall—Lucifer didn't budge an inch, but he did pull back, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Is that all?" Alastor taunted, his voice husky and slightly breathless. "I expected more from the mighty King."

Lucifer's eyes flashed lethally, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Oh, you want more?"

The angel gripped Alastor's shoulders and forced him down. Until the Radio Demon's knees hit the ground with a dull thud.

Vox's excitement intensified, a thrill running through his circuits. "Now that's more like it," he chuckled darkly. "Look at the high and mighty Radio Demon now, on his knees where he belongs."

He watched the devil grab for the demon’s hands in one of his. Lucifer's grip tightened on Alastor's wrists, pinning them roughly against the gnarled bark of the tree.

The fallen angel leaned in, capturing Alastor's lips in another searing kiss. Alastor's eyes widened momentarily before fluttering shut, a soft hum emanating from his throat.

Vox's screen flared in disbelief.

"Since when do you put up with so much mouth to mouth?" he muttered, his voice tinged.

With one hand still restraining Alastor's arms, Lucifer's other hand deftly popped open the buttons of the demon’s shirt collar. "Such a needy little omega," Lucifer purred, his breath hot against Alastor's ear.

"Needy? Al? " Vox scoffed, rolling his digital eyes. “As if.”

Lucifer's lips curled into a smirk. "If you need attention so badly, Bambi, you could just ask."

Alastor's permanent grin widened, an impish glint in his eyes.

"Now where," he drawled, "would be the fun in that?"

Lucifer's hand shot up, gripping one of the Radio Demon’s antlers and yanking his head back. The deer let out a startled gasp, exposing the pallid column of his throat.

Lucifer's gaze fixed on the spot where Alastor's mating gland lay hidden beneath his skin.

"Is he going to…?" Vox leaned forward, his circuits humming with anticipation, half-expecting Lucifer to tear into Alastor's throat for his insolence.

Lucifer's mouth descended on Alastor's exposed neck, lips latching onto the sensitive mating gland.

Vox watched intently, still expecting gore, when suddenly Alastor's ears drooped and a sound escaped him that the TV demon had never heard before—a deep, throaty sigh.

"What the hell?" Vox muttered.

Alastor's eyes fluttered closed, his usual sharp grin melting into an expression of blissful surrender. Another moan vibrated through the air, sending a jolt of surprise through Vox's circuits.

Vox's digital jaw dropped.

He had never, in all their encounters, heard Alastor make a sound like that.

Nights spent tangled in silk sheets, Alastor's lithe body beneath him, cool and unresponsive. The Radio Demon's smile fixed in place, eyes half-lidded with boredom rather than interest. Vox had always assumed Alastor was simply cold, uninterested in physical intimacy beyond using it as a tool for manipulation.

But this... this was different. Alastor's usual rigid control was crumbling, his body arching into Lucifer's touch.

Another moan escaped him, lower this time, almost a purr.

"Since when do you make noises like that, you smug bastard?" Vox muttered, his voice glitching.

He zoomed in closer, drinking in every detail.

Alastor's chest heaved with each ragged breath, a flush creeping up his neck to stain his greyish cheeks. His ears, usually perked and alert, were drooped in capitulation.

And his eyes…Vox had never seen them so dark, pupils blown wide with unmistakable desire.

Lucifer's hand slid lower, teasing at the waistband of Alastor's trousers. The Radio Demon's hips bucked forward, seeking more contact.

A whimper—an actual fucking whimper—fell from Alastor's lips.

Vox's circuits buzzed with arousal and indignation. He remembered countless nights of trying to coax even the slightest reaction from Alastor.

The Radio Demon had always lay there, occasionally offering a sarcastic quip or rolling his eyes.

At best, he'd been a pillow princess. At worst, a corpse in bed.

Vox's gaze snapped back to the screen, drawn by another breathy sound from Alastor. He cursed under his breath, realizing he'd missed a crucial moment while lost in his own thoughts.

"Thank Satan for recording," he muttered, his eyes widening as he took in the scene before him. Wincing when he realized he was thanking one of the men on the screen.

Vox shook the idea off.

The Radio Demon’s usual sharp tongue seemed to have deserted him, replaced by breathy gasps and needy whines. When Lucifer nipped at his collarbone, Alastor threw his head back with a keening cry that sent shockwaves through Vox's system.

It was so fucking over the top that—the tv demon seized on the realization with both clawed hand hands.

Alastor…had to be acting. Overacting.

He was the manipulative little dandy from Vox’s bed—it must be Lucifer’s ego that needed all this porn star shit.

"You little minx," Vox snarled. "You were holding out on me all this time?"

He watched, transfixed, as Lucifer's hand dipped lower, disappearing between Alastor's legs.

The Radio Demon's reaction was immediate and intense. His back arched off the tree. His antlers scraped against the bark, leaving gouges in the wood.

Lucifer had Alastor pinned against the tree, the Radio Demon's coat and shirt pulled open to reveal a torso marred with a myriad of scars.

Vox's receivers flickered, desire and resentment coursing through him at the sight.

"Not as untouchable as you pretended to be," Vox sneered, watching Lucifer's hand disappear beneath the waistband of Alastor's slacks.

Vox scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping him. "Good luck with that, sire. Our prudish deer boy never—"

His words died in his throat as Alastor's head fell back against the tree, a low, staticky moan escaping him.

Vox's circuits nearly short-circuited at the sight.

"He always smacked my hand away if I even tried to get him off!"

Realization dawned on Vox as he watched the way the devil’s wrist moved. He wasn’t stroking at the omega’s cock—he was shoving those fingers inside Alastor.

"Good luck getting him wet, old man," Vox scoffed, his voice laced with bitterness. "Our dear Radio Demon's about as responsive as a dead battery."

Alastor's voice, dripping with disdain, echoed in his mind. "Such an unpleasant chore. But if it'll shut you up for five minutes…”

"Just another performance to stroke a more powerful ego, eh, Alastor?” Vox's grip tightened on the control panel.

The deer demon always seemed to prefer the fighting over the fucking—before and after.

On the screen, Lucifer slowly withdrew his hand from between Alastor's legs.

Vox leaned forward, anticipating the look of bored arrogance on the Radio Demon's face.

Only to see the glisten of omega slick on the fallen angel’s fingers.

Alastor's ears flattened against his head, a rare display of embarrassment that sent a jolt through Vox's system. He watched, transfixed, as Lucifer brought those fingers to his mouth, cleaning them with slow, deliberate swipes of his forked tongue.

Alastor's voice crackled through the drone's speakers, impatient and breathy. "Enough teasing, you insufferable alpha. Hurry up and fuck me already."

Vox's screen quivered violently, a chaotic swirl of jealousy, anger, and a perverse fascination he couldn't ever shake when it came to Alastor.

"Hurry up and get it over with," he mimicked in a mocking tone. "At least that’s familiar."

Lucifer's hands moved to Alastor's trousers, fingers deftly working at the fastenings.

In a sudden flourish, the fallen angel's magnificent white wings unfurled, their span impressive even through the drone's limited view. The feathers, tipped with crimson, created a shimmering curtain around the couple.

"Oh, come on!" Vox groaned to the sky at being denied his peep show.

To his surprise—and Lucifer's—Alastor's voice rang out, clear and commanding despite its underlying breathiness.

"Put those away, would you?" Alastor purred, his grin sharp and hungry. "I want to get my legs around you properly, darling."

Vox's screen crackled with static, his own shocked expression reflected back at him. Since when did Alastor ask for anything in bed?

Lucifer hesitated, confusion evident in the tilt of his head. "But I thought you'd prefer some privacy, my wicked little doe."

Alastor's laugh was dark and rich, sending an involuntary shiver down Vox's non-existent spine. "Privacy? In Hell? How delightfully naïve."

His clawed hands traced down Lucifer's chest. "Now, be a good alpha and do as you're told."

“You’re gonna pay for that one, too, Bambi.” Lucifer's eyes glowed as his own horns extending from his disheveled blonde hair.

“With interest, Darling.” Alastor purred, his voice a static-laced croon.

With a bemused smile, Lucifer complied, his wings folding back and disappearing from view.

Vox found himself leaning even closer to his monitors, arousal and bitter envy coursing through his circuitry.

The rough bark of the ancient tree scraped against Alastor's back, his shirt just hanging off his shoulders, as Lucifer pressed him firmly against its trunk. The radio demon's fingers dug into the wood, leaving deep gouges as his long legs parted, wrapping around Lucifer's smaller frame.

His hooves brushed the ground, but the archangel's supernatural strength kept him effortlessly pinned.

A sharp gasp escaped Alastor as Lucifer snapped his hips forward—the alpha obviously burying his cock inside the omega.

The warbly moan that followed sent ripples of interference across Vox's screens.

"Fuck," Alastor managed, his smile taking on a strained quality. "I suppose that's one way to compensate for your stature."

Lucifer stilled immediately, his brow furrowing. "Are you alright, Al? We can stop if—"

Alastor's laugh crackled through the air. "Don't you dare, you infuriating cherub. I was merely making an observation."

Vox seethed silently, the barbed compliment stinging more than he cared to admit. He'd never elicited such…enthusiasm from the Radio Demon.

"An observation, hmm?" Lucifer's voice was low, dangerous. "Perhaps I should give you more to pay attention to."

Alastor's grin widened impossibly, his head tilting at an unnatural angle as he met Lucifer's blazing gaze.

To Vox's utter astonishment, a sound unlike any he'd ever heard from the Radio Demon escaped those sharp-toothed jaws—a cloying, submissive omega croon.

"Alpha," Alastor purred, his voice dripping with honeyed venom. "Don't keep me waiting. Show me what that divine strength can do."

Lucifer's eyes narrowed, a wicked grin spreading across his angelic features. "As you wish."

With a growl that shook the very foundations of Hell, Lucifer began to move.

The ancient tree groaned in protest as he slammed Alastor against it, setting a brutal, punishing pace that had the Radio Demon gasping and clawing at the bark.

Vox writhed in his control room. His screen flickered wildly as he watched, certain that at any moment Alastor would start his usual routine—taunting, teasing, urging the alpha to hurry up and finish.

But the cutting remarks never came.

Alastor remained uncharacteristically hushed, not silent, save for the tuneless gasps and moans that escaped him with each thrust.

"This can't be real," Vox muttered, his voice tinged with static. "He's faking it. He has to be."

Vox's screen crackled with incredulity as he devoured Alastor's reactions.

The Radio Demon's perpetual smirk had vanished, replaced by open-mouthed gasps of pleasure.

Each thrust from Lucifer was met with unbridled enthusiasm, Alastor's lithe body bowing to meet the smaller alpha's powerful movements.

"Inconceivable," Vox hissed, his digital eyes narrowing. "Since when does the great Radio Demon submit and simper like a common whore?"

But the evidence was undeniable.

Alastor's crimson eyes were half-lidded, his antlers scraping against the tree bark as he threw his head back in abandon.

Lucifer's hand snaked between their bodies, his fingers curling around Alastor’s hard prick.

Vox leaned forward, a cruel chuckle escaping him. "Good luck with that, old man. The prude never wants to—"

His words died as Alastor not only allowed Lucifer's touch but seemed to revel in it. The omega's arms draped around Lucifer's shoulders, pulling him closer.

"That's it, darling," Alastor purred, his voice rough with need. "Don't stop."

Vox's screen flashed violently.

Alastor's composure crumbled entirely, his usual theatrical flair replaced by raw, primal need. His claws dug into Lucifer's back, slicing the fabric of the vest the devil wore.

"Alpha," Alastor implored, his voice crackling with static.

Lucifer growled, a sound that sent shivers through both Alastor and the watching Vox.

He captured Alastor's lips in a bruising kiss, hips snapping. Blood red leaves began falling from the tree with every tremble.

Vox's screen wavered erratically, mirroring his inner turmoil.

"This can't be real," he muttered. "It's another one of his tricks. It has to be."

As Lucifer and Alastor's coupling intensified, the air around them crackled with demonic energy.

The fallen leaves at their feet began to smolder, wisps of smoke curling upward.

Alastor's usual composure shattered completely, his carefully cultivated image crumbling under the onslaught.

"Alpha, please."

Lucifer's eyes glowed with hellfire as he growled, "Such a needy little doe. Is this what you wanted all along?"

He punctuated his words with particularly brutal thrusts, each one drawing a keening whine from the Radio Demon. Alastor's legs tightened around Lucifer's waist, trembling down to his red hooves.

Alastor's ears flattened against his head, a whimper escaping him.

"Alpha, please," he chanted, the words dripping with submission. "My alpha."

Lucifer captured Alastor's lips in a searing kiss, swallowing the Radio Demon's moans.

His hand moved faster on Alastor's cock, thumb swiping over the sensitive head with each stroke. Alastor's hips bucked wildly, caught between the dual sensations of Lucifer's hand and his relentless cock.

The tree behind them groaned, its trunk beginning to splinter under the force of their fucking. Cracks spread through the bark, mirroring the fractures in Alastor's usual mask of control.

His radio dials eyes spun wildly, tuning in and out of different frequencies as pleasure overwhelmed his senses.

"Lucifer," Alastor gasped, his voice breaking.

"Come for me, Bambi," Lucifer commanded, his voice resonating with unearthly power. "Show me how good I make you feel."

With a final, brutal thrust, Lucifer buried himself to the hilt inside Alastor.

The Radio Demon threw his head back as a cry of pure, unadulterated pleasure tore from his throat.

Lucifer stilled against him, grabbing the splintered tree trunk as his hips stuttered and finally stilled.

Vox's screen dimmed, a hollow ache spreading through him.

In all their time together, he had never seen Alastor so…content to surrender. And so satisfied with having done so.

They clung to each other, riding out the waves of pleasure.

Vox watched, transfixed, as Lucifer peppered Alastor's face with gentle kisses.

Soft laughter broke the silence, the tangled lovers falling to the soft grass and leaves at the base of the tree, arms still wrapped around each other.

Alastor's smile, for once, reached his eyes. “You will not hear the end of it if you ruined my coat.”

"You're incorrigible," Lucifer murmured, nuzzling the omega’s cheek.

"You wouldn't have me any other way."

The omega shifted, a small frown crossing his features.

"Well, this is a predicament," he mused, his radio-static voice tinged with amusement.

Lucifer chuckled, his golden hair falling across his forehead, until the Radio Demon’s hands started to right it.

“Hope you don’t need to be anywhere else, Bambi.” The angel chuckled, settling Alastor more comfortably into his lap. “Cause we’re gonna be stuck for a while.”

The realization hit Vox like a surge of electricity.

Alastor had allowed Lucifer to knot him.

The same Alastor who had always used his shadow powers to escape being tied down to Vox.

Resentment, hot and searing, mingled with a deep-seated anger that made his screen crackle—a painful truth began to crystallize.

"He never…not once…" Vox muttered, his voice distorting.

Alastor's fingers intertwined with Lucifer's. His gaze drifted to a fallen magnolia blossom near his hooved feet. With an elegant motion, he plucked it from the ground, his perpetual grin fixed in place, even as the delicate petals withered and browned at his touch.

Melancholy just flashed over that smile, but both alphas caught it.

Lucifer's eyes softened, sliding his other hand into Alastor's.

A warm, golden glow emanated from their joined fingers, enveloping the wilted flower.

Alastor watched, fascinated, as life surged back into the blossom.

Its petals unfurled, pristine and luminous, more vibrant than before.

"How curious," he mused, his radio-tinged voice barely above a whisper. "Your touch brings life, while mine—"

"Dont," Lucifer interrupted gently, tucking the rejuvenated flower into the lapel of Alastor’s coat. "We balance each out."

A genuine smile, softer than his usual manic grin, tugged at Alastor's lips. "I suppose we do, don't we?"

Suddenly, Alastor's head snapped towards the stealthy drone, his radio-dial eyes locking onto the camera.

His lips didn’t move, but that unmistakable voice crackled through the speakers around Vox.

"Enjoying the show, old friend?"

Vox sputtered. "How did you—"

On the screens, Alastor’s grin sharpened, turning wicked as his pupils began to spin.

Vox's face blue-screened with panic.

The air crackled with electromagnetic energy as Alastor's power surged.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you? It's rude to spy."

Vox's meticulously crafted surveillance network disintegrated in an instant, leaving only snow and static in its wake.

"No, no, no!" he snarled, his voice distorting with digital feedback. His fingers flew across the console, desperately trying to salvage the feed. "You smug, Bambi, bastard!"

The screens before him erupted in a cacophony of pixelated chaos.

The footage was gone, corrupted, irretrievable for blackmail. Or Vox’s private collection.

He slammed his fists on the console. "Damn you, Alastor!" His scream reverberated off the metal walls.

Back in the garden, Alastor's smirk widened, a mix of triumph and mischief dancing in his eyes. He savored the moment of Vox's frustration cast across the radio waves.

Then, the omega nestled closer to Lucifer.

His ex could have a tantalizing little show, but the afterglow…that was just for his alpha, and himself.

Alastor turned his attention back to Lucifer, a contented sigh escaping him as he settled more comfortably in the fallen angel's lap.

The knot tying them together pulsed gently, sending pleasant aftershocks through both their bodies.

"Now then," Alastor purred, his voice a low, staticky rumble. "Where were we?"

Lucifer's arms tightened around the Radio Demon, one hand coming up to cradle the back of Alastor's head. His fingers threaded through the soft red hair, careful to avoid the sensitive bases of Alastor's antlers.

"Right about here, I believe," Lucifer murmured, drawing Alastor into a slow, languid kiss.

Gone was the fire of before, replaced by sweetness and affection.

Alastor's lips parted with a soft sigh, allowing Lucifer's forked tongue to slip inside. The fallen angel tasted of brimstone and honey, an intoxicating combination that had Alastor melting further into his embrace.

When they finally broke apart, a dazed smile playing on Alastor’s lips.

Lucifer chuckled, pressing a series of feather-light kisses along the demon’s jaw.

"You're beautiful like this," Lucifer murmured against Alastor's skin. "

A faint blush colored Alastor's cheeks. "Flattery will get you everywhere, darling," he quipped, but there was no real bite to his words.

A faint buzzing filled the air as the drone, now useless, plummeted from the sky. It crashed behind the hotel with a satisfying crunch.

Lucifer, still knotted deeply inside Alastor, jerked around. "What was that?"

Alastor's grin never faltered. "Oh, nothing to worry about, darling," he purred, his voice a silky blend of amusement and innocence. "Just another one of those pesky flying cameras being zapped by your magnificent barrier."

Alastor shifted slightly on the fallen angel’s lap, drawing Lucifer’s attention back to him.

The garden around them was a vibrant tapestry of hellish flora, the air thick with the heady scent of sulfur and sweet blossoms. Alastor's ears twitched, picking up the faint rustle of leaves and distant screams of the damned.

"Now then," Alastor purred, his voice carrying the crackle of radio static, "I believe it's time for a little…privacy, don't you think?" His crimson eyes glinted with mischief as he gazed at Lucifer. "You can bring out those magnificent wings of yours, darling."

Lucifer's lips curled into a smirk, a mixture of amusement and affection dancing in his eyes.

"Oh? And here I thought you enjoyed putting on a show, scandolizing the plants and all."

Despite his teasing words, he unfurled his six majestic archangel wings, their pearlescent feathers catching the eerie light of Hell.

Then, they were wrapping around them both in a cocoon of soft white feathers. The air grew warmer, filled with the scent of alpha contentment and omega bliss.

“Now, why would I ever want to share you?” Alastor hummed, cupping Lucifer’s face close to him.

As the wings enveloped them both, creating a cocoon of ethereal beauty, Alastor felt a rare moment of true contentment wash over him.

The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of them in this intimate sanctuary.

Lucifer's voice, low and rich, broke the silence. "You know, Alastor, if you're needing attention, you can simply ask for it. No need for all this…taunting and provoking."

Alastor chuckled, the sound a mix of static and genuine mirth.

"Oh, but my dear Lucifer," he responded, his grin widening impossibly, "where would be the fun in that?"

That was the thrill of their little game, the push and pull that made their relationship so deliciously unpredictable.

"Besides," Alastor thought to himself, tracing a finger along Lucifer's jawline, "half the enjoyment is in the chase, isn't it?"

Alastor shifted, a mischievous glint in his radio-dial eyes. He rolled his hips experimentally, relishing the sensation of Lucifer's knot still buried deep inside his ass. An unmelodic moan escaped his lips, mixing with the ambient sounds of the garden.

Lucifer's hand shot out, gripping Alastor's hip where fawn spots adorned his skin.

"Easy there," he warned, his voice a mix of amusement and desire. "If you're aiming for another round in our room, you might want to pace yourself."

The Radio Demon's permanent grin widened. "Why would I take it easy on someone with infernal stamina?" he purred, leaning in close. "After all, aren't you the one who boasted about your…endurance?"

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, a challenge in his eyes. “ I thought you might be, done, for the night."

"Oh, mon cher," Alastor chuckled, his voice dipping into a lower register. "I just needed to break the seal, so to speak." He closed the distance between them, capturing Lucifer's lips in a searing kiss. As they parted, Alastor's expression softened ever so slightly. " When we return to our room…well, I might be persuaded to show a sweeter side."

Lucifer's eyes widened a fraction, recognizing the rarity of Alastor's offer.

The Radio Demon leaned in, his breath ghosting over Lucifer's ear as he whispered, "That side of me is just for you, after all."

[saints-who-never-existed]

Davechella Week 10 : Edward Little

Enjoy! :)

Ballad of Accounting - Ewan McColl Did you learn to dream in the morning?/ Abandon dreams in the afternoon?/ Wait without hope in the evening? Did you stand there in the traces and let 'em feed you lies?/ Did you trail along behind them wearing blinkers on your eyes?/ Did you kiss the foot that kicked you, did you thank them for their scorn?/ Did you ask for their forgiveness for the act of being born, act of being born, act of being born?

Anthem for the Already Defeated - Rock Plaza Central Well, they can take our bones/ And bury them deep under the river/ But we'll still be together/ And we cannot be defeated They can take our fists/ And chop them off at the wrist/ And we will shake our arms with bloody stumps/ And we cannot be defeated When we dance, we dance together/ Under the moon and under the weather/ We will lock our eyes forever in the night

Ballad for Beelzebub - Graveyard Train The colder the nights, the hotter the lights/ Your sweat drips down and the crowd starts fist-fights/ They hear nothing/ Nothing at all But the air on stage is burning our lungs/ And we're all going deaf from the beating drums/ And you can't see a thing for all the blood/ And sweat in our eyes Yeah we played 'til we died, and now we're all dead/ But the man says "You gotta get up there again/ And you can't come down 'til the brimstone turns to ice"

A Better Son/Daughter - Rilo Kiley But you'll fight and you'll make it through/ You'll fake it if you have to/ And you'll show up for work with a smile/ You'll be better and you'll be smarter and more grown up/ And a better daughter or son/ And a real good friend You'll be awake, you'll be alert/ You'll be positive though it hurts/ And you'll laugh and embrace all your friends/ You'll be a real good listener/ You'll be honest, you'll be brave/ You'll be handsome and you'll be beautiful/ You'll be happy! Your ship may be coming in/ You're weak, but not giving in/ To the cries and the wails of the valley below/ And your ship may be coming in/ You're weak, but not giving in/ And you'll fight it, you'll go out fighting all of them

So Far From Your Weapon - The Dead Weather There's a bullet in my pocket burning a hole/ You're so far from your weapon/ And the place you were born/ There's a bullet in my pocket burning a hole/ You're so far from your weapon/ And you want to go home I tried to give you whiskey but it never do work/ (I tried to give you whiskey, but it never do work)/ Suddenly, you're begging me to do so much worse/ (Suddenly, you're begging me to do so much worse)/ But I knew it from the get go the bullet was cursed/ (But I knew it from the get go the bullet was cursed)/ Ever since I had you every little thing hurts/ (Ever since I had you every little thing hurts)

House of the Rising Sun - Alt-J Like a bird flying over forest fire/ My father feels the heat beneath his wings/And in debt he leaves for another town/ Where he gambles and, drunk, he still drinks My mother hides from pleasure/ And thinks of father on her knees/ Lifted in the arms of God/ Away from New Orleans Happy, happy, happy/ Happy, fun day, day

David - Noah Gunderson I try to k-k-k-keep my conscience clean/ I try to k-k-k-keep myself out/ Of your bad dreams/ I try to wash my hands for you every night/ Lest you find my strangling/ Fingers wrapped around tight I want to hunt like David/ I want to kill me a giant man/ I want to slay my demons/ But I've got lots of them/ I've got lots of them

Black Dog Sin - Joshua Burnside There's a black dog beneath my skin/ Eyeless, grinning... ...Well, I spoke to the captain/ He won't turn around/ He said "The sun is an orange/ And the wind's just the sound/ Of our brothers and sisters/ Lovers and those that we'll never know" I am no leader/ I'm just a soldier/ And they're going door to door/ But I can't fight anymore Cough syrup and amphetamines/ We could sleep under the evergreens/ I'm a little saint, I'm a little sinner/ Every day I'm looking thinner

Hope in the Air - Laura Marling Why fear death, be scared of living/ Our hearts are small and ever thinning/ There is no hope ever of winning/ Oh, why fear death, be scared of living I have seen men provoked/ And I have seen lives revoked/ And I looked at my life and I choked/ From there no more ever I spoke I can't give up that quick/ My life is a candle and a wick/ You can put it out, but you can't break it down/ In the end we are waiting to be lit There's hope in the air/ There's hope in the water/ But sadly not me/ Your last serving daughter

Song with No Name - Johnny Flynn As I search for the solace the hills might give me/ Heavy the tread of the dead on the way/ The path in the rain and the sun won't gleam/ And the ground is made with death and decay/ And an echo of the ones who've walked before me/ And joy for the ones who walk beside me And the beech is lifting me, ash is reaching me/ Wind is holding me, time is folding me/ Under the trees, down through the Lea/ And on to the path that you came to that day/ My heartbeat quickens, my breath it deepens/ My footfall falters, your memory's salt/ To the wound of calling your name/ Is balm to the rain, I see you in forest dreams Oh the distance gives the ask its answer/ I rise up tired, but continue my journey/ There's a light in the window, the first star is here/ I find just enough peace to make my way home with Sadness for the ones who've walked before me And joy for the ones who walk beside me

[dxncingwithastrxnger]

bring a friend who loves to play, we'll eat all the candy canes (Obey Me!)

A/N: A day late, but here's Belphie's story!!! This one is so cute and I loved writing it sm, it's so fun. Actually had a few others in the story this time, but it's still mainly Belphie, I promise <3

Pairing(s): Belphie x MC

Prompt(s): 7. Belphegor

Summary: A Christmas Eve walk turned epic snowball fight.

Tag(s): Super fluff, a snowball (or two) to the face, and my Belphie-really-really-loves-Christmas-time headcanon :D

Word Count: 1,547

Song Inspiration: Candy Cane Lane by Sia (A very Belphie type of song imo)

Not beta'd, all mistakes are my own.

~*~

[Series Masterlist]

[Read on AO3]

[Author Masterlist]

~*~

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21] [22] [23] [24] [25] [26] [27] [28] [29] [30] [31]

~*~

Snow flurries dance on their way to the ground, a blanket of white already covering everything within sight. It’s the middle of a long winter’s night in the capital of the Devildom and everything is quiet. Any shops or businesses open at this time of night are sleepy and slow. On the road leading away from the House of Lamentation, all that can be heard is the crunch of fresh snow and ice alongside the quiet giggles and whispers of a human and a demon on their way to the center of town.

Spinning in a circle with their arms out on either side of themself, facing the sky and trying to catch snowflakes on their tongue, the two are full of amusement as they accidentally run into each other in their lack of attention to how close they are to each other.

The Avatar of Sloth takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around the other and rest his chin on their shoulders, trying to walk backwards while tugging them along, grinning all the while.

MC tries to stay rooted in place, eyes intensely fixated on a very specific snowflake. “Wait, wait, I’m gonna get this one.” And they stick their tongue out and wait.

The demon holding onto them waits as well, staying perfectly still. Only when the snowflake is about to land right on their tongue does he jostle them, trying to tug them along again, effectively causing them to startle and the snowflake to land somewhere else. Belphie is laughing before MC even turns to face him, a dramatic look of offense on their face.

“How dare you, you- you- you demon!” They say, hand above their heart. Despite their words, the look of mirth in their eyes is plenty clear.

Belphie very poorly schools his expression, forcing himself not to smile in any way. “It’s your own fault, human. You shouldn’t be messing around at a time like this, anyways. You could slip and fall and die.” He says in a very familiarly stern and deep tone of voice.

MC tilts their head to the side slightly, a grin growing on their face. “Was that Lucifer?”

“Duh.” Belphie confirms, his voice back to normal. “Pretty good, right?”

A snort leaves the human as they shake their head at him. “It is actually, the best one I’ve heard besides Levi’s.”

He nods in agreement. “Yeah. It seems all that cosplaying has helped him learn a lot about doing voice impressions. At least it’s good for something.” He holds his gloved hand out to MC.

“Hey, be nice to your brother. I think Levi’s cosplays are really cool. Plus, dressing up is always so fun, I love when he lets me join him.” They take his hand and lock their fingers together happily.

Belphie shrugs. “I’m not allowed to be nice to my brothers. That’s the rule.” The two of them continue walking down the road side by side. “Well, except for Beel. Twin’s are an exception. …And Satan. We’re allies.”

MC holds back a giggle but cracks a grin. “Whatever you say, babe.”

Belphie nudges them playfully in return. “Do you think anyone at Purgatory Hall is still awake?”

Thinking about it, MC shrugs. “Probably. There’s like a 99% chance of Solomon being awake, a 76% chance of Simeon being awake and about a 50% chance for the other two.”

“Perfect.” Belphie smirks mischievously as he catches his partner’s eye. “Do you think they’d be up for a snowball fight?”

They match his look immediately. “They better be.”

The two of them find themselves walking through town a few minutes later, making a beeline straight for Purgatory Hall right by all the many shops and such. They approach the front lawn and both of them share a look before leaning down to gather snowballs. They even take the time to make a small pile of them, stocking up on their ammo ahead of time. Then, with one last one for each to hold in their hand, they’re ready.

“You go knock, then run back over here.” Belphie gestures along with his words.

Nodding, MC walks up to the door and knocks firmly three times, ensuring it’ll be heard, before running back to where Belphie waits by the corner of the building, but far enough out that they both have a direct eyeline of the doorway.

They don’t have to wait long. The door is opened by Simeon less than a minute after the knock, a curious look on his face. Before Simeon can even process that no one’s there, MC throws the first snowball, the packed snow landing right in the middle of the man’s face. His face is covered in snow and he’s frozen in place.

MC puts a hand over their mouth in surprise, not intending to actually hit him in the face, while Belphie whistles quietly, both of them holding back laughter. But as Solomon appears behind Simeon, Belphie throws his own snowball, hitting Solomon square in the face as well, though if the exclamation he lets out afterwards is anything to go by, it was intended.

“Oh?” Simeon is already stepping out of the house, barefoot and without a coat, though seemingly unbothered as he gathers his own snowball. Solomon is quick on the uptake and follows suit as the pranksters dive for their own ammo, a war quickly beginning between the four.

The front door to PurgatoryHall is still wide open, light from the front hall spilling out and lighting up the yard as packed snow flies back and forth. The loud laughter and squeals is probably what draws out the other two members of the household, both of them in pajamas but appearing to be wide awake, looking out at the commotion in surprise.

“Luke! Raphael! C’mon!”

“We’re losing here! We mustn’t let the intruders win!” The last line was said jokingly as Simeon and Solomon wave the other two over.

They didn’t need to be told twice. Suddenly, it was four against two, but MC and Belphie didn’t even think of backing down. Even quicker now, they were tossing out snowballs left and right, walls of snow being built as barriers on either side. They don’t know how long passed, but eventually, the war was over, the “intruders” successfully thwarted, a truce offered out and accepted.

As MC helped Belphie up from his spot on the ground, a snow angel left in his place, Luke waved them towards the door. “C’mon! Simeon’s gonna make hot chocolate and the cookies I was making should be cooled off by now!” Belphie and MC turned to each other with happy smiles before following the angel inside.

Inside of the large house, the fire is going, soft christmas music is playing in the background, and everyone is gathering in the living room. Solomon and Raphael are on one couch together and Belphie and MC sit on the one across from them. Luke comes in with a tray full of cookies, which he sets in the middle of the coffee table, Simeon not far behind him, juggling all six mugs of hot cocoa, all topped with whipped cream. They get passed out and Simeon sits on the other side of MC, Luke choosing to sit on the floor with his back against MC’s legs.

MC turns to Belphie and watches him nibble on a cookie, his mug held close to his chest in his other hand. He’s beaming with happiness, his eyes filled with excitement. It’s so rare the sleep demon is ever wide awake for this amount of time, he’d usually be passed out by now. But according to his brothers, Christmas is Belphegor’s favorite holiday. He’s much more awake around Christmas time than any other time of year. And it’s certainly noticeable. He looks the perfect picture of energy as he chats excitedly with all the others about tomorrow’s celebration plans. It makes them smile happily with clear affection and adoration for the demon in their eyes.

“Why don’t you guys stay here until morning? We can all head to the House of Lamentation together. I’m sure Lucifer wouldn’t mind if we saved everyone a trip to here and the castle.” Simeon points out.

“That’s true, if we all go to their place first thing with all of our presents, it would make things a bit easier. We’d even have some time to relax before getting ready for the Christmas dinner with Diavolo and Barbatos.” Solomon says.

“Oh! Do you think Lucifer would be okay with me using their kitchen to bake all the treats I wanna take to the castle?” Luke asks excitedly.

“I’d like to spend Christmas morning with all of the brothers.” Raphael says quietly, a smile on his face at the thought.

“That’s all fine with me. I don’t mind staying here for the rest of the night. What do you think, MC?” Belphie turns to look at them, a hopeful smile on his face.

MC leans forward to give him a quick kiss before replying. “That sounds fun. Let's do it.”

Belphie grins and kisses them again. “I love Christmas. Especially with you here.” He says softly.

“Good. Cause I don’t have any plans to go anywhere else.” They tell him.

“You better not.”

~*~

A/N: I think this one is my favorite one so far, tbh. I still wanna get Barbatos' out tonight, but I gotta let my laptop charge, so it'll def be out after midnight my time (it's currently 10:05pm)!!!

~*~

Taglist:

@dutifullyuniversallykingdom

@om-adventcalendar

@the-ancient-fae

Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!!

[cerseimikaelson]

15. Is so Everlaya coded.

20. Selena messing with Lord Milori. Something tells me she’s been grounded before.

Ooh, let's see what I can come up with.

"I'd kill for a coffee... literally."

Milori's head snapped up at that, even though he had been fully immersed in the book he was reading (a rather fascinating tome on how the fairies before them used to carve symbols on the ice to channel Winter's magic through them in times of war) only a few seconds ago.

His eyes- a well-rested glacier blue today, one of the rarer hues- narrowed as he took in his second in command. She had just plopped down on the plush rug beside him, the firelight dancing off her white hair and casting the scar on her face into stark relief. It might have been off-putting to their warm season kin, unused to anything that went against their ways as they were, but those that knew what it was like to survive a volatile threat in the shadows of the Winter Woods against all odds had nothing but respect for her.

Even reverence, on occasion, which Milori knew she detested.

"I am sincerely trying to come up with a version of what you just said that doesn't put me in a very precarious position, but I am coming up empty. For my peace of mind alone if you have any respect for it, please tell me I won't find you scrubbing any suspicious stains off the carpet in the near future."

She raised an eyebrow.

"You really think I'd be that sloppy?"

"That's what you got from this?"

"What I got is that you're permanently crossed off the list of people to call when in need of burying a body." she huffed as though sorely disappointed by his lack of enthusiasm at his most trusted advisor entertaining casual murder over a hot beverage.

"Why is there such a list and why was I ever considered a suitable candidate?"

Everlaya rolled her eyes at how his voice had gone higher, and crossed her legs, having removed the armor after their earlier patrol. The hour was dreadfully late, and Milori could only hope most their fairies were already in bed, otherwise they'd be falling asleep standing up at their post tomorrow and he'd be forced to give a lecture.

Again.

And that couldn't happen. Not until the end of the week, at least, when he'd be free to make up for the lost time.

"Is your bet with the demon still running?" Everlaya grinned wickedly, enjoying his misery.

"I can totally last for more than a week without lecturing someone on safety regulations." Milori persisted as he'd done no less than 67 times this week- to Everlaya, Dewey, Basil, even Selena herself. It was remarkable that this many people had the same reaction.

"Some frost talents have started a betting pool on how long you'll last, you know."

"Our fairies need to learn to handle their money better." Milori grumbled under his breath, then froze when he realized exactly what he'd said.

Everlaya cackled.

"Don't worry, I won't tell Selena."

He was touched at the rare bout of empathy.

"I didn't know you were on my corner, Ev."

She stared. Milori stared back. Her eyebrow went up again, prompting, challenging. Milori blinked, then groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face.

"You're in on the bet? I- you- seriously, Everlaya, she's never going to stop pestering us if we just keep enabling her!"

"Quit pretending you aren't wrapped around that girl's finger." Everlaya waved her own pointer right under his nose. "Besides, the entire Winter Woods agreed you could do with some pestering. The vote was unanimous."

"You had a meeting over this?!"

"You can ask Dewey for the minutes."

Milori buried his face in his hands and gave a muffled groan. "You're all menaces."

"I am your very dedicated second in command and leader of your army that just spent the past six hours tracking down a yeti hideout and then warded the whole place so none of your subjects that consider poking their noses into a magical creature's lair is an adventure instead of obscenely stupid end up becoming popsicles."

Milori slowly raised his head.

"... I'll get the beans. Milk and sugar are in the cupboard."

"I know, genius. I told Selena where you put your groceries so she can replenish your cookie stash before you realize she's been sneaking into your kitchen."

"Everlaya!"

[justaninchident-f1xreader]

max verstappen x reader

themes-

ferrari female driver jealousy enemies to lovers possible spice (i will put the warning accordingly)

warnings- none in this chapter, so don't worry lovelies

chapter 1 - the ferrari firecracker

The Monaco air crackled with a tension sharper than any Pirelli slick. The first Grand Prix of the season hung heavy in the humid night, and its whispers all swirled around one name: Y/N L/N.

Y/N, the Ferrari firecracker, the girl who'd rewritten headlines and defied history by snagging a seat at the Prancing Horse. The girl who, in her debut race, had dared to breathe down Max Verstappen's neck, crossing the finish line a tantalizing 0.09 seconds behind him.

Max, the Dutch demon, the reigning champion with an ice-pick stare and a lead foot. He tolerated this new intrusion - her audacity, her talent, her unwavering smile - as much as he tolerated a pit stop with a loose wheel nut. Their encounters were barbed exchanges, icy glares traded across the track like bullets.

"Just a lucky rookie," Max had sneered after that first race, his eyes glinting with something that might have been grudging respect or simmering fury.

"Verstappen, i'm just getting warmed up," Y/N had retorted, her grin wide and unapologetic, the taste of champagne still sweet on her tongue.

Tonight, in Monaco, the tension was about to explode. The narrow, unforgiving streets were a crucible, their unforgiving turns a test of both skill and nerve. Y/N thrived in this chaos. Her Ferrari seemed an extension of her, dancing through the labyrinth, her instincts razor-sharp.

Behind her, Max lurked, a predator biding his time. Every lap he closed the gap, a menacing orange shadow chasing a scarlet spark. Their radios crackled with a tense interplay of strategies, engineers sweating over every millisecond.

Then, chaos. A misjudged corner, a tangled mess of metal and carbon fiber. The safety car came out, a yellow dragon swallowing the race whole. In the pit lane, the atmosphere was electric. Ferrari, smelling blood, gambled on an aggressive undercut. Y/N emerged ahead, the first time all race Max didn't hold the lead.

The final laps were a masterclass in controlled aggression. Y/N held her line, refusing to give Max an inch. Every corner was a chess game, every straight a duel of wills. The crowd roared, their partisan cheers a cacophony in the night.

As they crossed the line, it was Max again, by the slimmest of margins. But this time, there was no sneer, no dismissive shrug. This time, Max met Y/N's eyes, a flicker of grudging admiration mingling with the fire in his own.

Y/N grinned, a shark's smile in the fading light. The message was clear: next time, it wouldn't be so close.

This was just the beginning. The girl who had rewritten history was far from done writing her own. The grid may have embraced her youthful spirit, but Max Verstappen had finally acknowledged her as a worthy adversary. And that, for Y/N, was a victory in itself.

The Monaco night held its breath, a promise of fierce battles to come, a dance of fire and ice between a Ferrari phoenix and a Dutch lion. The season had just begun, and the world was watching, eyes wide with anticipation. Because on this grid, under the unforgiving spotlight, Y/N L/N and Max Verstappen were about to ignite a rivalry that would scorch the very tarmac of Formula One.

grab some popcorn lovelies ^^

[starswritewhispers]

Dragons & Denial- 3

A03

Chapter 2.5

Lucy’s father had an uncanny ability to ruin any semblance of happiness she dared wrap her fingers around.  She had received word earlier that week that he forbade any of her ladies in waiting to travel to Dragnoff so they may accompany her in her new life. Lucky, she had also received word this morning that her best friend was on her way anyway. A small smile tugged at her lips as she remembered Levy’s rant, scrawled mindlessly on parchment paper that held tears from being gripped too tightly. 

“You lost in your head, blondie?” Gajeel’s gruff voice broke her out of her thoughts and she huffed out a long sigh, turning her head to face the young lord.  His long hair was tied up in a makeshift bun with a strap of leather, making the odd piercings in his face that more eye catching.  She hadn’t even known people could pierce their face, much less that they’d want to. “Just excited for Levy’s arrival,” she admitted, eyes flicking back towards the sky. “Nervous, as well, I suppose. Zeref’s demons seem to only grow in numbers and size and I–” Lucy cut herself off, reaching to pluck a flower by her thigh. “I just hope she arrives safely.” “Of course she will,” Natsu snorted, as if the idea of worrying was frivolous, “She’s being accompanied by Dragnoff’s finest knight personally.” He waved a hand idly as he plopped down next to Lucy, his grin spreading over his face. “I almost pity the beasts they may run into.”

“I do pity them,” Gajeel grumbled. “And envy them, they no longer have to fear Erza’s blade once vanquished,” A snort of agreement sounded from Natsu and Lucy blinked. “Is this Erza really that terrifying?” She asked, looking between the two dragons. “Surely, one knight can’t–” “She’s a menace,”

“I still have nightmares about the last time I upset her.” The two answered at the same time, a matching shudder running through both of their bodies.

Lucy opened her mouth to respond but was cut off by a blood curdling scream that sent ice rushing through her veins.  She leapt to her feet, eyes scanning the surrounding area as the two males beside her began to sniff the air. “Coming this way,” Gajeel murmured at the same time Natsu let out a string of curses under his breath. “One of Zeref’s,” he confirmed, flames dancing off the edges of his fingertips. “Hunting a–” he paused, sniffing again. “Mother and child.” “Fucking hell,” Lucy could only watch in slight awe as the sword sheathed on Gajeel’s side lifted itself out of the scabbard and broke apart, the shattered pieces floating in the air around him.   Her moment of amazement quickly ended as a woman staggered into the clearing, a bleeding girl clutched tightly in her arms.

“Help him!” She pleaded, stumbling towards the trio. “Bring him back, please.”   Lucy took a step forward, only to hit Natsu’s outstretched arm, holding her back from moving any closer to the scene. She glanced up at him, an insult ready on her lips before she froze. His expression was steely but not the kind she’d seen on soldiers readying for war.  

No, Natsu looked pained as he stared at the woman, eyes moving over her to the fields behind her. His expression of pity darkened into rage as they finally caught sight of the demon hunting her, a foul thing that reeked of so much blood even Lucy could smell it. The creature was a whirlwind of nightmares– shadowy spider-like legs tumbling out of a scorpion’s belly, its mace-like tail coiled to strike the nearest living creature that dared move in its presence– but its eyes were so undeniably human that Lucy felt herself stumbling backwards in horror. Shards of the sword lunged forward at the same time Natsu swung his arm out, a wall of fire separating the woman from the beast. The demon hissed, nimbly moving out of the way of the broken shards, while its tail deflected the few that made contact.  “Shit,” Gajeel breathed, reaching for a dagger as Lucy finally pulled herself out of her stupor and ran to the woman. She stumbled to a stop in front of her, taking the sobbing girl out of her arms and beginning to check over her injuries. “Please,” the woman begged over a broken sob. “Don’t kill him, it wasn’t his fault.”  Lucy’s fingers froze from where they were wrapping the child’s scraps with pieces of her dress– a new feeling coiling in her gut as she realized the woman was begging for the demon’s life. “What?”  She whispered, unsure if her question could even be heard over the crackling flame and sounds of the battle beside them. “You–you know that thing?” She looked back down to the bleeding girl, the woman’s daughter, who had been injured by the monster. “He–” another sob and Lucy turned her focus back to patching up the young girl. “Our Vidia was sick and we couldn’t afford the medicine.” Lucy looked down at the young girl in her arms, shaking and clearly terrified, but other than a few scrapes, seemingly healthy. “A young man made a deal with my husband for the medicine.” The woman was practically wailing now and despite Vidia being sufficiently patched up, Lucy couldn’t bring herself to meet the woman’s gaze. “He promised that my husband would be fine but when he returned he was–” A loud snarl cut the woman off and she fell into another fit of sobs, her body shaking from the force of them.  Despite being next to a burning fire, a chill ran up Lucy’s spine as the weight of the woman’s words sank in. She began to lift her head to answer, to offer something, when her eyes landed on the frost lining the grass in front of her. Frost. 

In the middle of summer.

The fire was diminished in moments from a gust of ice and snow and Lucy looked up in time to catch spears of ice shooting for the creature. The creature turned to run, only to be met with a wall of water in its path, a garbled shriek escaping its lips as the spears found home in the cracks of its shell.  Lucy quickly covered the girl’s eyes, trying to swallow her guilt at the pain in the mother’s. 

“About fucking time, Fullbuster,” Natsu’s loud voice rang out through the clearing, cheerful despite the battle they had just raged. “Where’ve you been?” “Juvia,”  Gajeel’s voice, for once, seemed decrepit of rage. Softer, the way an older brother may greet a beloved sibling. “Icebrain free you yet?” “What’d you call me?” An unfamiliar voice demanded, but Lucy was willing to wager she knew the owner either way. Gray Fullbuster, Lord of the Fullbuster clan, the most powerful family of ice mages on the continent. “And no but I’m–” “Gray’s trying,” another voice cut in, soft and melodic in nature. “He isn’t evil, Gajeel,” Lucy looked up at the note of exasperation in the woman’s voice and froze. The woman was beautiful.

She had milky white skin, waves of dark blue hair, and–

Pointed ears.  A fae.

Most likely, the last of her kind.  “Who are you people?” Lucy demanded, still holding onto the shaking child in her hands. “And have some decency this family just lost their father!”

“They lost him long before we killed him,” Lord Fullbuster–Gray– commented dryly, arching a brow. “And you must be Natsu’s girl, Lucy?”

“I’m not Natsu’s girl, I am Lucy,” she snapped back, straightening her spine slightly.  “Princess of–”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard the spiel,” he waved her away and Lucy spluttered, pink rising quickly to her cheeks. “I’m Gray, that’s Juvia.”  A smirk curved over his lips. “Hopefully, you’re not too big on formalities, we don’t do that here.”

The blue haired girl waved at Lucy.

Lucy needed a drink.