#;; Dance with the Grinning Demon :: IC

[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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[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. :)

[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.

[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.

[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

[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.

[valentine-cafe]

˖⁺. meet me there, I'll give you your roses .𖹭 ݁

﹙ characters. ﹚ ─── our selection of decadent desserts ” 

. . . darling specials !! 🍰 : we highly advise that you read our wiki to understand some character lore 

꒰  verse 781  ꒱

tiramisu . . . . . . alessio arias

the unkillable mercenary ˖ male ˖  a punk goth immortal mercenary with a bad boy esque. flirty, charming and a cocky, chaotic bastard with a love for music and dance. an antihero taking down an evil anti-inhuman organisation with his reckless nature. 

strawberry shortcake . . . . . . rishen herrera

the hybrid hero ˖ genderfluid amab ˖ a mantis-moth-spider hybrid and stem genius university student. a nerd with a heart of gold a determination to protect the city. switches between red smart and preppy aesthetic.

mango pudding . . . . . . zhào talisen

the poetic naga reaper ˖ male ˖ a dark academia poet. a grim reaper and naga who is quiet and aloof in nature. a hero in alias and an english literature student with a love for threatre. a beautifully macabre soul with a tongue of poetries.

black forest cake . . . . . . rishima singhania

the head scientist ˖ female ˖ a genius in all fields of science and a woman of stoicism. her cold heart gives way to surprisingly motherly tendancies. monochromatic 1960's aesthetic. the leader of a hero organisation across the multiverse and a renowned sceintist in her city.

 

꒰  verse 209  ꒱

croissant . . . . . . jìngyí herrera

the snake monster mad doctor ˖ male ˖ a yandere mad doctor who experiments on non-humans. all prim and proper, ever charming and serene on the outside - but is in fact a calculating and manipulative man. a poet tongue that knows how to deceive and twist the narrative.

red velvet cheesecake . . . . . . rishen herrera

the hybrid mad scientist ˖ genderfluid amab ˖ a yandere ceo of a science and research company. effortless and charismatic. a man of cunning intelligence. classy red aesthetic and an indulgent individual that masks evil ethics and sadistic non-human experiments with deceptive charm. 

lemon meringue cheesecake . . . . . . zhào hǎitāo

the demon reaper mercenary ˖ trans male ˖ a cold and calculated member of the resistance against the . a grim reaper with a demon symbiotically bonded to him. intelligent and ruthless. he feeds off vengeance and vows to bring justice to this foresaken world. dark male aesthetic. 

 

꒰  verse 1311  ꒱

​​​​​​egg tarts. . . . . . . jìngyí agresta

the naga mechanist.˖ male ˖ a cunning and ice cold mechanic. a naga and grim reaper who performs as an electric guitarist. deadly silent like a predator with a knack for torturing those that cross him in his workshop. if people see him as a villain for fighting back against discriminating humans then so be it. 

vada. . . . . . . . . . . rishen herrera

the femme fatale admiral ˖ genderfluid amab ˖ the leader of a special agent originisation. and assassin and spy. a man of great intelligence and seductive charm. effortless and femme fatale esque with a sharp tongue. a master strategist with a sense of justice. sassy, sarcastic and a natural leader. scary never wore a smile before him. 

churros. . . . . . . . . alessio agresta arias

the rockstar rebel leader ˖ male ˖ an arsonist and rebellion leader. a callous man with a sick sense of humour with the destructive power of kinetic energy manipulation. a punk rockstar when he is not causing explosions and stirring fear. flirty, humorous yet ready to do whatever it takes to avenge all fallen inhumans. 

ba bao fan . . . . . . . . . zhào hàoyú

the demon casino owner ˖ male ˖ a grim reaper possessed by a demon that feeds on lies. always ready for a good gamble at his casino. villainous yet charismatic. quite the possessive man who enjoys taking sadistic measures. dark male aesthetic with twisted grins and manipulation. 

 

꒰  verse 164  ꒱

key lime pie . . . . . emerald mania ( alessio agresta )

the master of magic ˖ male ˖ the first sorcerer who is considered a corrupt magic god. charming yet sadistic, he takes on the appearance of a demon and dwells in twisted forest. catching poor wanderers and experimenting on their souls. all magic originates from him and he intends to make people remember that. the gods fear his name and the very earth quakes in his presence.

rhubarb and strawberry crumble . . . copper resentment ( zhào talisen )

the snake deity of deceit ˖ male ˖ a siren-like monster that dwells in a large, cursed lake. considered a corrupt god with the power to destroy and reshape universes. a poettic tongue that spills lies and stirs chaos despite his divine and proper appearance. often said to lure beings into the water and challenge the gods. the gods fear his name and the very earth quakes in his presence.

 

꒰  verse 9948e  ꒱

milk tarts . . . . . . alessio agresta arias

the malefic sorcerer ˖ male ˖ a vintage goth sorcerer with a destructive amount of power. dry, sarcastic and chronically tired. a former rockstar who grieves the loss of his lover. now known as a cold-hearted spellcaster on a mission to bring the dead to life. 

lemon coconut tart . . . . . . zhào jìngyí

the wandering guarding reaper ˖ male ˖ joyously whimsy, a grim reaper who roams the afterlife after his early passing. always cracking a joke, poet in his own way and soft in nature - yet able to switch instantly on those that underestimate him. he ventures through the realms to aid in missions of the gods. soft aesthetic. 

tres leches cake . . . . . . rishen aryielus

the devil in angel's robes˖ genderfluid amab ˖ a charming and attractive angel of pure divinity. raised by the gods with seemingly a heart of gold. but a frightening presence and terror amount of sword skill despite his benevolent appearance. making most believe that he might indeed be a demon. 

passionfruit custard tart . . . . . . zhào hàoyŭ

the rebel reaper˖ male ˖ a dramatic and charismatic grim reaper with a knack for art. ever as flirty and adorned in a punk goth aesthetic with vintage twists. ever as flirtatious and sometimes chaotic. the heart of a rebel who fights to change the system of his world and the divine while he's at it. a vexer of the gods. 

almon jelly . . . . . . zhao yìzé

the mercenary reaper ˖ male ˖ an aloof grim reaper who delves into mercenary. taking out his anger in weaponry and kills. a caring soul who would rather remain cold as to not wear his heart on his sleeve more than he already has. cyberpunk aesthetic with a rebellious flair. 

mango pancakes . . . . . . zhào hǎitāo

the instigator reaper ˖ trans male ˖ an mortician who also delves into the black market as an informant. calm and collected yet ample times cunning. ready to strike down those that deserve. an instigator in nature. soft boy blue aesthetic.

red bean bun . . . . . . yuè mèng yáo

the grim reaper mother ˖ female ˖ a woman of great serenity and traditional in her culture's ways. known for her wisdom and peace - yet also the frightening presence that she brings in her wake. the leader of a grim reaper sanctuary and a mother protective of her kids.

bungeoppang . . . . . . . kyung seong-jin

the diurnal reaper detective ˖ male ˖ a supernatural detective with no filter. a grim reaper who is cold in nature. the heir of a renowned reaper family with a dark male aesthetic. often considered rude - yet dutiful. he has no restraint in his blunt tongue - yet has a warm heart for those he holds dear. 

revani . . . . . . . rasui

the fire elemental mercenary leader ˖ male ˖ a mercenary leader who is ever as regal and serene. cold on the exterior and strict in nature. a sometimes domineering fire elemental who tries to remain as callm and collected as possible. proper and formal in aesthetic. 

sakura pudding. . . . . . . shimada takara

the killer kitsune ˖ genderfluid ˖ a kitsune masking their nogitsune nature. chaotic and wild with a bite for thrill and danger. constantly seeking a way to keep themselves from boredom. he finds himself in rasui's mercenary syndicate to manage his violent tendencies. a mix of traditional and cyberpunk aesthetic. 

 

꒰  verse 9819  ꒱

​​​​​​​​​​​​caramel cheesecake . . . . . . . . alessio agresta arias 

the serial killer magician ˖ male ˖ the effortlessly charming leader of a crime specialist syndicate. a sort of robin hood and outlaw with a dark male aesthetic. serial killer of several politicians. cunning, witty and justice seeking. evading capture and playing games with the government council like the illuionist he is 

strawberry cupcake . . . . . . . . denara agyros

the darling sorceress heir ˖ female ˖ a lunar sorceress and heir to a renowned magic family. gothic in aesthetic and a lover of horror. yet soft and optimistic. a tender soul with a dark side. a kind nurse fighting off her jealous nature. burying into her love for thriller writing. 

red velvet cookies . . . . . . . . zhào xīyáng

the grim reaper mercenary boss ˖ male ˖ a collected and deadly quiet mercenary boss grim reaper. frightening with a taste for danger. a mix of oriental and refined white aesthetic. cold in nature and has ever the blunt tongue mixed with dry humour. he shakes hands with the devil to protect his city. 

 

꒰  verse 9948v  ꒱

kulfi. . . . . . . . rishen herrera

the mad cultist composer ˖ genderfluid amab ˖ a blank cultist with the ability to manipulate blood itself. a composer who writes with the very crimson he sheds. monotone with a dark sense of humour. cursed to glitch into phantom versions of his doppelgangers across the multiverse. a nercomancer with red esque.

mooncakes. . . . . . . . zhào hàoyŭ

the vengeful phantom ˖ male ˖ a phantom that haunts his world. sadistic and psychotic. careless with the souls he pulls from the afterlife to aid in his brutal massacres. possessive, obsessive and yandere in every way. with a morbid sense of humour and a smile etched on his face at all times. 

 

꒰  verse-less  ꒱

berry crumble . . . . . . . . jìngyí verseless

the demon alchemist ˖ male ˖ a demon with a frightful reputation. silent, sadistic and intelligent. best known for his alchemist shop in the dephs of hell. a dark oriental aesthetic with hints of modern. ever as graceful and beautifully macabre. loves to tempt his anger and remind others why he rose through hell's ranks.

kourabiethes . . . . . . . . valerius ariti

the hex demon lord ˖ male ˖ a serene demon lord who casts hexes through the multiverse. indifferent and ever ready to accept a deal so that he might play around with a mortal. regal and strewn in gold. divine to the point some consider him a god. refined and charming despite his brutal nature and vanity. 

cherry custard tart . . . . . . . . orion

the abyssal angel general ˖ male ˖ a silent and poetic angel who ranks as a general. known for his watchful eye over the abyss. cold in exterior and a strategic warrior. yet beyond caring with those he holds dear. a wise soul who can be a bit of a trickster at times.

[mandiemegatron]

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕡 𝕞𝕖

Reader x Doflamingo [reader x Rosinante if u squint reeeeal hard]

Rated 18+ // mentions of sex, Doflamingo fantasizing about killing reader then decides 'nah'.

A/N: My first song fic in YEARS. This song has been on repeat for a few days and I've been itching to write something for daddy doffy 🥵 I hope you guys enjoy 💖💋

Please listen to the song Worship by Ari Abdul while reading this, it will make more sense lmao

It isn't often that Doflamingo takes time out of his busy day to search for you around the manor. There was a prickling feeling over his skin as he thought about you, a deep frown etched into his face as the time ticks on. Door after door opens - eventually, the Heavenly Demon gives a low growl of displeasure, ripping open another door only for you to not be there either.

As he moves deeper into his home, he stalls for a moment as the sound of a piano meets his ears. 'Of course,' he thinks to himself, rolling his eyes at himself as he made his way towards the music room.

He peeks through the cracked door, his frown softening slightly as he takes in your shape at the piano, humming under your breath as your fingers dance over the keys. The frown returns in full force as he notes Rosinante sitting across from you, an almost dreamy look on his face as your kept your focus on the piano.

When you finally figure out the right notes, you give a triumphant "Ha!" as you play it out a few times, clearing your throat gently before singing out,

Worship me...

Ice runs through Doflamingos veins as his frown deepens once more, leaning against the outside of the doorframe as he stares down the hall.

Make you believe,

I'm what you need,

So beg, darlin', please...

The King felt like he'd been thrown into an ice bath set on fire. The burning started at the bottom of his feet, coursing through his skin until the tingles reached the top of his head, a soft huff brushing past his lips in irritation at the feeling. He crossed his arms, his fingers digging into his clothed flesh. He couldn't place it, the unknown feeling of either anger or hunger running through him as the words flooded from you.

Who were you to demand to be worshipped?! He was the King, the Heavenly Demon, the one who deserved and demanded praise. He brought entire villages and peoples to their knees and burned them alive - he was both saviour and destroyer.

Baby, don't lie,

It's okay that you crave me -

Your eyes on my body, you're shaking,

Get high on me for you're forsaken...

While you had strength that caught his attention, he found it nearly repulsive at the thought of you being worshipped. The more he thought about it, the more rage filled his stomach, hating more and more about the thought of some worthless whelp showering you with attention and praise, your name falling from their mouth as a prayer.

He swore it made him sick.

He peeked in again, and the rage grew tenfold, his teeth clenched tightly as fire bubbled up in his chest at the sight before him.

Pretty when you're looking up like that,

Pray, but Heaven won't let you back,

Good on your knees...

His brother leaned on the piano, a cigarette hanging from his lips as he stared you down, a dark blush on his painted face. While Doflamingo knew his brother had the world's largest crush on you, Rosinante knew better than to try and take something that belonged to him.

Though, at that moment, it was your expression that infuriated him the most.

Worship me...

Your cheeks were tinted pink, doe eyes wide and staring back up at Rosinante as the words tumbled out of you. Your fingers brushed over the keys almost mindlessly, the motion a second nature to you even as you kept your attention on the man in front of you. One of Rosinantes hands went under your chin, his fingers slightly curled under it as his thumb traced over your bottom lip for just a moment, retracting his hand with a cheeky grin as your cheeks darkened.

Neither of you were aware of the seething King outside the door.

Whisper, give me your life,

Yeah, we're both sinners;

Your body is close, your tongue lingers,

You feed me the taste of your fingers...

Something snapped in Doflamingos head at your words, the intelligent man finally coming to the conclusion that it wasn't the song, or the fact that you were singing it -

It was the fact you weren't singing to him.

If Doflamingos glare could crumble stone, the manor would have been a wreck by now. He loved his brother, but this felt like betrayal - his heart clutched in a vicegrip as he wondered lightly if you were worth keeping around anymore. While you were an asset to him, his family always came first.

Worship me-

Make you believe,

I'm what you need,

So beg, darlin', please;

The longer Doflamingo remained outside the door, the stronger the feeling of crushing your throat under his grip rose. His fingers twitched, itching to summon threads and simply remove your head right from where he stood. As your song came to a finish, you cleared your throat again before asking Rosinante timidly,

"S-so? What did you think? Do you think he'll think it's stupid?"

Doflamingos' mind came screeching to a halt. The only sound his brother gave in response to your question was clapping, causing you to laugh and retort,

"Wonderful! I thought it was kinda corny at first but, the more I kept writing, the more I just... I don't know. It just, came out of me."

There was a sound of scribbling, a flicker of paper being slid across the paino and you sighed. Doflamingo strained slightly, trying to listen as you murmured out what Rosinante had written down. Your response surprised the king somewhat, his frown washing away from his face as you spoke,

"Cora-san, I don't expect him to love me back. At the end of the day, I'm a goddamn nobody and I accept that; But I'm his goddamn nobody, and that's all I could ask for."

Doflamingo remained for only a moment longer before pushing off the wall, making his way towards your room. He began thinking of the ways to tease you about this, a wicked grin slowly coming over his features as he ripped your door open, nearly shaking as he thought about how your expression would look as he pushed you down onto your knees.

The feeling of your warm mouth around his cock, tears staining your cheeks as he fucks your face, demanding that you worship him for the rest of your life. A chill ran up his spine as a low chuckle left him, a dark look painting his face as he sat in a chair, facing the door and waiting for you to return.

He would never let you live this down.

A/N: HEHEHEHEHEH a tasty lil snack for my fellow Doffy/Cora-san lovers 💖 I've been wanting to write something with both of them for a while so this is what my lil brain burped out. If you see any mistakes, no you fuckin' don't! 💖🥰 maybe I'll make a part two if it's something the people want 👀

I love u all my lil tangerines! Be good! 💖💖✨️✨️

[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)

[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 ^^

[miitgaanar]

Whumptober prompt!

No. 21: BODY HORROR

Body Horror | Tattoo Gun | Spirit Possession | “Let the bedsheet soak up the tears.” (Apparat feat. Soap & Skin, Goodbye)

Okay. So. Hear me out. This is an incredibly self-indulgent crossover/AU. I started writing it back in December of last year, and slowly chopped away at it. When I saw that there was a Whumptober prompt that (loosely?) applied, I forced myself to get to the finish line.

And so this was borne of my friends and I saying "Surely Lemuel would allow a sadistic, hedonistic demon to share his body if it meant he got all of the power that came with it?"

Anyway. You can read this if you want. But. Yeah. <3

***************

There was a shift in the air as Addilyn approached him.  She had no talent for pymary, no sense for the khert and its delicate intricacies—and yet the air felt heavier here, thicker in a way she could not explain.  It was as if the khert had shrunk away from this place, unwilling to be tainted by the slaughter that had occurred.  Blood and viscera had turned the earth to mud, her every step sounding with a revolting squelch as her boots sunk into the fetid sludge.  

And in the middle of it all stood Lemuel Adelier, drenched in gore and bits of flesh, a grotesque grin splitting his features.

A laugh then pierced the quiet, the sound grating and manic, and Addilyn froze.  It was not at all the charming chuckle she’d become so familiar with.  Even when dancing on the edge of madness, she’d never heard Lemuel emit such a shrill cacophony.

“Oh, what a day,” he said, the laughter tapering off into an almost euphoric moan.  He sounded wrong; that delightful tenor dipping into a sinister baritone.  Had she not known any better, she would have sworn that an entirely different man stood before her—but his golden hair shone bright in the light of the setting sun, Ataret and Kossaul in hand and streaked with Gefendur blood.

And yet her blood turned to ice in her veins as she watched him, her skin prickling with unease.

“Captain,” she tried, her voice low, hardly even a croak as her too dry throat forced the simple word from her lips.

Almost lazily, Lemuel turned to face her, a strange expression crossing his blood spattered face.  It was akin to irritation, but with the slightest undercurrent of curiosity.

Her confusion only mounted as he stared at her, unrecognizing.

“If you’ve come to grovel, your head’s a bit high for my liking,” he said, the words cold and lacking any playful bite.

“Sir,” she tried again, her heart stuttering out a staccato rhythm as a thin trickle of fear began to slither its way down her spine.  Wrong.  Wrong, wrong, wrong.  “We’re regrouping to the north.  We need to head out if we’re going to link up with the battalion.”

He stared at her for a beat longer, his annoyance seeming to momentarily morph into something closer to anger, but it quickly vanished, and at last there was a flash of recognition in his eyes.

“Ah,” he said simply, that monstrous grin returning, and Addilyn had the brief thought that she rather preferred his ire.  “The Lioness.  And here I thought I’d never have the pleasure of a formal introduction.”

A nervous laugh was all she could muster, her body going rigid with the inexplicable urge to flee.  “Very funny, sir.  Never heard that one before.”

“You haunt his every thought,” Lemuel continued, stalking forward with the preternatural grace of a predator on the hunt.  “It was fairly fucking irritating that he worked so hard to keep me at bay where you were concerned.  You and his doe-eyed brat.”

The sun hung low in the sky, but still painted the area in a bright, crimson glow.  The shadows grew long and deep and dark as dusk loomed, and so Addilyn had not questioned the shadows that seemed to fall over Lemuel’s features.

But as he drew closer, she realized it was neither shadows nor streaks of quickly drying blood that coated his face, but solid black markings.  They lined his jaw, symmetrical in their placement, starting from the corners of his eyes and ending at his chin.  A single slash of ebony crossed the center of his nose, while a strange symbol sat painted upon his forehead.

It left her speechless, and she fought the urge to step back as he closed in.

“But it looks like he didn’t account for how hard it would be to shove me back in my cage once he deigned to set me loose,” he drawled, his voice entirely unfamiliar.  At this proximity, she realized that his eyes glowed an insidious shade of red, their warm, golden hue entirely absent.  “Such is the usual gambit borne of human desperation.”

Addilyn moved to draw her blade, muscle memory taking hold as alarm bells rang out loudly in her mind.

WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG

The sword was scarcely out of its scabbard when he moved, nearly too fast for her eyes to register.  One moment her blade was in hand, the next a loud clang resounded through the piercing silence, a sharp pain shooting up her arm as the weapon was knocked free of her grip.  It fell to the earth with a dull splat a few feet from where she stood, the heavy steel sinking slightly into the putrid mixture of mud and viscous fluid.

And all the while, she stared up at Lemuel in horror.  She knew how he fought down to her very bones.  There was strength behind each movement, though there was always a thoughtless precision that came with each slash and parry, drilled into him from decades spent on training grounds and battlefields.

But there had been no finesse in how he had disarmed her, no elegant violence, merely raw power.

A horrifying realization dawned, and it left her near paralyzed with utter terror.

“What are you?” she demanded, a pathetic tremor undercutting her words.

The creature wearing Lemuel’s face grinned lasciviously and raised Ataret to her throat.  Just beneath each eye, a second pair of smaller, crimson colored irises stared back at her.  “A question your dear captain probably should have asked, Lioness.”

Not him.  Panic gripped at her lungs tight enough to burn.  Not him, not him, not him.

Addilyn didn’t think, couldn’t allow herself to think.  She ducked back and out of reach of the blade’s tip, knocking the scarlet stained steel away with her armored forearm.  She turned to bolt, unsure of where to go, only that she had to get away.  Away from this thing that had claimed Lemuel’s visage as its own.

But it hardly mattered, a deranged cackle splitting the air as the creature reached for her.  Her head jerked back as she felt its fingers bury themselves in her hair, the clawed tips of its gauntlets digging painfully into the flesh of her scalp.

“Now, now,” it chided, tugging her back toward it.  She latched onto its wrist, desperate to wrest herself from its grasp—but its hold remained solid, immovable.  Even without Lemuel’s plate armor in the way, she doubted her feeble attempts would have amounted to much.  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.  I haven’t dismissed you yet, Private.”

“Where is he?” she ground out, her jaw clenched to the point of aching.  Tears welled in her eyes from the pain along her scalp, blurring her vision.  “What have you done to him, nuofhen?”

“Ever the loyal little soldier,” it crooned, its free hand coming up to grip at her chin.  “More sacrificial lamb than fierce lioness.”

Belatedly, Addilyn realized it no longer wielded Lemuel’s blades.  It had likely discarded them when she tried to run.  In a stroke of hysteria induced insanity, all she could think about was how furious Lemuel would be to see his prized swords festering in a pool of blood and entrails.  

“Answer me.”  Her voice continued to tremble as she glared at it, warm rivulets of blood beginning to soak into her hair where the gauntlets had cut through skin.  Nausea ate away at her gut as she met its gaze.  She had never seen such gleeful malice etched into Lemuel’s face before.

“He lurks,” the creature said, the claws at her chin digging into the sensitive flesh as it angled her face upwards.  “He’s been quiet since the culling began.  Willing to sit back and let me have my fun.”  It chuckled darkly, the sound an ugly and repulsive thing.  “Oh, the sins etched upon his soul, Little Lamb.  So ready to do whatever is necessary, the consequences be damned.”

It pulled her closer, its nose nearly brushing her own.  It smelled of death, of sickly sweet rot and the metallic tang of blood.  There was no lingering scent of vliegeng musk, no heady aroma of sweat and hodo.  It was as if the creature had snuffed out Lemuel entirely, like a flame smothered beneath a woolen quilt.

“Though every human has a line they won't cross.  No matter their resolve.”  The creature licked its lips, and Addilyn’s stomach turned, the urge to rip the flesh from its face all consuming.  Anything to tear away the depravity etched into Lemuel’s features.  “Why don't we find his?”

A fresh agony burst to life at her scalp, ripping a strangled cry from her lips as the creature forced her to her knees.  The panic that had curdled within her veins melted into white hot fury as thick, pungent muck soaked through her trousers.  Fury at the debasement, at the shame that flooded her like a burst dam.  And all at this creature’s hand—this hellish thing that appeared to her wearing Lemuel Adelier’s face.

The throwing dagger was in her hand before she even thought to reach for it, torn from the sheath built into the armor at Lemuel’s hip.  Rage clouded her mind, her eyes unseeing as she drove the knife into its thigh, relishing in the give of flesh beneath a freshly sharpened blade.

But the creature did not cry out, nor did it so much as loosen its hold upon her.  A low chuckle instead filled the silence, fiendish and foreboding in its tenor, chilling the fire that had sparked to life within her.

“And so the claws finally come out,” it rumbled, its gaze never wavering.  Its eyes unblinking.  Addilyn’s hands began to shake.  “Brazen little wretch.”

It struck fast, swift as an adder as it sent her sprawling with a backhand that made her vision go white.  She fell to the ground, her ears ringing with the force of the blow as she struggled to push herself to her feet.  Her cheek burned like hellfire, and she realized it had likely sliced at least one sizable gash in the skin.

But then there was a sudden weight at her back, pushing her down into the putrid muck.  Pressing the air from her lungs.  Dragging a pitiful mewl from her throat.

“Bleat away, Little Lamb,” the creature said, its breath tickling the shell of her ear as it dug its knee further into her spine.  Addilyn clawed at the earth, trying not to think of what slimy bits were tangled between her fingers.  “He’s yet to stir.”

“Maafit!” Addilyn bit out, only for a ragged scream to leap from her tongue as it stabbed the throwing knife through her hand, piercing the meager armor lining her glove.

“Careful, girl,” it purred, the tips of its clawed gauntlets dancing up the length of her arm.  Addilyn could only sag where she laid, her fingers twitching helplessly as the dagger continued to cut through muscle and tendon with each minute movement.  Bile churned within the depths of her stomach and she swallowed the urge to vomit.  “You’d do well to mind who you bare those teeth to.”

The crushing pressure suddenly lifted as the creature rolled her onto her back, allowing her a brief moment to suck in a greedy breath—only for its weight to settle at her hips.  Straddling her.  Trapping her.

And then its hands were at her neck, its teeth bared in depraved delight.

Logic fled as instinct took hold.  Addilyn thrashed beneath it, her feet struggling for purchase in the slippery mud.  Her back arching in a vain attempt to escape.  Her fingers tearing at its steel bracers.  Desperate to dislodge its grip.  Desperate to get away.  Desperate to breathe.

“Writhe all you like,” it said, its voice like honey.  Deep and sultry.  Though its eyes were wild.  Manic.  Addilyn dimly thought of how frighteningly familiar the expression seemed on Lemuel’s face.  “It seems he’s left you to your fate, Lioness.”

A soft wheeze was all she could manage, her lungs spasming violently within her chest as her vision narrowed.  The hands at her neck were cold, the armor like ice against her feverish skin.  She tried to pry them away, but her fingers had grown numb, her limbs like unwieldy lead blocks as that dark void loomed, pulling her under…

“... —ilyn!”

“...dilyn!”

“Addilyn!”

Addilyn jolted upright with a gasp.  The earth seemed to tilt beneath her as she choked and gagged and heaved, only adding to the vile concoction of bodily fluids seeping into the ground.  Her throat throbbed in time with the erratic beating of her heart, the muscles beneath the abused flesh aching with an intensity that could only suggest severe bruising was yet to come.

And then there was a weight upon her back, the touch gentle and tentative—and she immediately knocked it away with a strangled yelp, moving to scramble back from it.  She had to get away.  She had to—

“Addilyn!”  Lemuel grabbed for her, keeping her in place.  “Addilyn, it’s me.  Stop it.  Stop!”

Addilyn froze, daring to meet his gaze, her hands trembling as she tried to keep herself from crying.  From begging and pleading.

But his eyes were a warm, welcoming gold, and his face devoid of the black markings that seemed to signify the presence of the creature.  The only sign it had been there at all were a pair of small scars below each eye.  Where that extra set of scarlet irises had stared back at her.

She gaped at him, shaking like the last leaf on a dying tree.  Her horror must have been clearly written upon her face, as Lemuel’s gaze softened, his brow furrowed in what she could only assume was concern.

“Are you all right?”  he asked, his voice soft, thick.  A far cry from the malicious drawl that had come from his lips before.  “Say something, da lledeol.”

Lemuel reached up toward her face, as if to brush the hair from her eyes or to wipe the blood from her cheeks, but she flinched back, a pathetic whimper leaping forth unbidden.  He froze, something like hurt flashing across his features.  Hurt, and maybe the slightest hint of guilt.

“Addilyn, I—”

“What—” she rasped, a violent coughing fit wracking her body.  It hurt to talk.  It hurt to breathe.  Each breath akin to a thousand shards of glass shoved down the length of her throat.  But still she stared at him, unwilling to rein in the fear.  The anger.  The revulsion.  “What did you do.”

His face fell, and he let his arm drop back down to his side.  She expected shame to be reflected back in his gaze.  Shame for what he had done.  For what he had almost done.

But his eyes only darkened, his mouth set in a firm line as he pushed himself to his feet.  And in that moment, she could see a shadow of the creature that had so delighted in her torment.

“What was necessary.”

[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.

[hienekenfuckyeah]

Kinktober Day 2: Thigh Riding

Sanemi x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Sexual content , thigh riding, choking, Fem! Dom! reader at the end

"Damn~ just like that angel... feels good~" Sanemi brows furrowed, concentrating on how you pushed deeper and deeper into his contracting muscles. He growled slowly, throwing his head back in pleasure as he looked over to her dancing hands which magically took out the sore knots in his bulky build.

He let out another groan, coming out more guttural as his breath hitched and he arched his back away from your touch. Your fingers felt like ice to him as he hissed at the feeling when you reached his lower back, causing you to chuckle at his reactions.

"I can't massage all those bothersome kinks out if you keep squirming away from me, Sanemi" you said sweetly as you moved your hands back over to the junction of his neck and shoulder, pushing deeply into his tissue.

This caused him to hiss and glare at you for that comment, "your hands are cold as hell, they remind me of a corpse" he muttered angrily, the tension still bothering him in his muscles. "How would you know what a corpse's hands feel like, Sanemi?" you asked, cocking your brow to his comment.

"Because I'm married to you woman" he replied in a joking manner as he'd rather not bring up his time in the demon slayer corps. This only caused a violent force to hit him in the back of his head, namely your hand. "OW WHAT  HEL-"

You gave him a glare as he rubbed the back of his head and looked up a t you causing him to go wide eyed with his mouth agape in silence. He moved his gaze down before muttering a quiet 'sorry', you sighed as you moved his head, his gaze towards you. You placed your chapped yet soft lips against his rough ones and made out with him slowly. 

Sanemi simply compiled by kissing you back before yanking you down into his lap. You almost scolded him again before refraining yourself from doing so when his hands had caressed the soft skin on your sides.

You let out a small moan and grind your hips against his lap causing him to instinctively let out a low guttural moan into you mouth before he trailed his hands to the top of your dress and pulled down the fabric until your breasts popped out as he began to suck and the areola of one breast than the other. 

You tangled your fingers in his hair as you let out a breathy moan, feeling his mouth wrap around that area and his teeth slightly nipping you, occasionally he’d flick his tongue on your pebbled bud back and forth. You sighed as you relaxed on his lap and felt your arousal build up just beneath the skirt of your dress. You winced a bit when Sanemi bit the junction between your neck and shoulder. You tensed up slightly but he had expertly moved you so you’d straddle his thigh causing you to let out a gasp of pleasure as he bounced his thigh up slightly. 

Your senses slightly becoming dull to the bite marks he began to litter around your skin as you felt his leg bounce up at a rhythm and your clit rubbed against the meat of his clothed thigh. Your body became more slick and began pooling on the fabric of your dress, Sanemi took notice of this and lifted the skirt up revealing your dripping cunt. “Can’t have that dress in the way, you won’t be able to make a mess on me.” He spoke softly as he watched your sex now allowing your syrupy slick to drip onto his thigh as you both could hear the shlick sound being created from you humping Sanemi desperately and him bouncing his leg up and down as he watched you with a grin on his face. “Sanemi- mmmm’ feels good~” you whined as he glanced at you with an obvious smirk and chuckled.

“You’re so gorgeous when you moan like that” he said and you swore you could hear his voice lower an octave as you looked at him through lidded eyes and began babbling in pleas as you were about to reach your high. Sanemi put a hand around your throat and gave it a small squeeze which caused your heat to clench around nothing while you were being stimulated. It hit you almost immediately after and your thighs clenched around Sanemi’s thigh as he had to pry them back open to help you ride out your high as your juices leaked everywhere, staining his pants and even dripping on the floor as you let out small breathy moans.

Sanemi allowed you to collapse into his arms before he started to caress your cheek and praise you for your efforts “There you go, good girl. You did amazing, angel” he said while he kissed your forehead. You mustered enough strength to push yourself up and get between his legs, he looked down on you with a wide eyed look of confusion “Angel what are y-” you palmed the bulge in his pants causing him to hiss in an attempt to hold back guttural moan in his throat “I’ve got to return the favor obviously, though since you did such a good job i’ll return the favor to you twice the amount you made me come~” you said in a sultry voice as Sanemi breath hitched. 

“Angel please~” Sanemi said as he bucked his hips up into your hand. You gave him an alluring look as you began to pull his twitching member out. “Just relax for me, Sanemi~”

Work by @menacinggh0st

[asterkiss]

Random MaBill set in Reverse Falls - a freeform drabble with a twist on reverse!Bill. I really wanna write something substantial for this AU verrsion:-

-SUPERNOVA

Mabel Gleeful was a Supernova. A beautiful star exploding with a brightness a billion times stronger than the sun, and with enough energy to outlast the entire galaxy. One couldn't help but be captivated by the beauty even as the force of the explosion caused only burning pain and destruction.

Bill had been unable to look away from the moment they first met.

"I'm Mabel, but you can just call me the girl of your dreams~ Everyone else does."

He was utterly enraptured. The demon would do anything for her.

And he did. No matter how cruel or vindictive. No matter how many people were caught and hurt in the tide of his supernova.

It was all for the beautiful awaited end.

>

'Hey, is there anything you would say "no" to, if I asked?'

Bill glanced down at the girl sat before him. They were in her dressing room prepping for a show, the brunette seated at a dresser as he ran a brush through long locks of hair.

He met the reflection of her gaze in the mirror, her piercing blue eyes drilling through him, face impassive. She often said things out of the blue with the intention of catching others off guard.

His grip on the hairbrush tightened as he pressed his lips tightly together.

'There is.'

She tilted her head, gaze burning with the intensity of an exploding star. His skin prickled beneath the crushing weight of it.

'Oooh?' she asked, lips twitching into a wry grin. Tell me.

'I won't leave you,' he said, expression stone-faced. 'If you ask me to, I'll refuse.'

She giggled, amusement dancing in her eyes. 'That's it? You'd do anything else, though? What if I asked you to, I dunno, kill yourself?'

'If it was your wish, then gladly.'

Her smile wilted slightly. She didn't look amused anymore. After a moment the teenager abruptly stood upright, turning on high heels to peer down at him. Ice-like eyes scrutnised his face.

'And what if I asked you to kill me? Would you do it?'

Bill regarded her with a neutral face for several tense seconds before something shifted in his gaze, and his lips twitched slightly. 'Do you know what supernovas are?'

Mabel frowned, sensing the change in atmosphere as a wariness entered her vision. 'Yeah, of course I do,' she replied curtly. 'They're stars.'

'Dying stars,' Bill corrected, twirling the hairbrush in his hands. 'They happen when a star reaches its last stages of life, whose dramatic and catastrophic destruction is marked by one final explosion as it collapses in on itself.'

Her gaze hardened, the temperature in the room dropping several degrees as the gem in her hair piece began to glow.

'What are you trying to say, Bill?' she asked, voice laced with a dangerous warning tone.

He smiled brightly, amber eyes burning to combat her frigid gaze. 'I've been around a long time, and have seen the collapse of millions of stars in my time. But I think you will be the greatest and most beautiful of all, and I fully intend on keeping a front row seat until that time.'

Mabel's face twisted into one of disgust and shock. That made sense, he usually acted much more docile.

The demon narrowly avoided a knife embedding itself in his skull as it flew across the room with impressive speed. He chuckled when she grabbed him, fist twisting in the material of his shirt as she swung at at him in aggravation. Then she began to yell. 'Dipper! Come here-!'

Ah, ah, that wouldn't do.

He snapped his fingers, sighing as he regarded the frozen form of Mabel Gleeful glowering down at him. Oops. He'd gotten a bit too chatty, hadn't he? How was this going to work out if he laid all his cards on the table so early?

'Welp, time to rewind a bit.'

Then:

'Hey, is there anything you would say "no" to, if I asked?' Mabel regarded him through the mirror reflection, seated at the dresser once again.

Bill returned her gaze with a smile. 'If you were to ask if I thought of you as anything other than drop-dead gorgeous, I would have to say absolutely not.'

Her face split into a coy smile. 'Well, duh. I'm the most beautiful girl in town.'

'I would argue the world.'

'Flattery won't get you out of chores.'

[sanriokamabodo]

Hello there, darling! I just wanted to remind you of your incredible talent as a writer and about your great potential ❤️❤️ oh, I also have a small request:

How would Douma react upon discovering the immense power of a reader who possesses an extraordinary ability, similar to quirks from MHA ?

A/N: I wrote this in two ways because ur my favourite dabi stan. also... ur too kind to me, stop inflating my ego! crying in the club rn

CW's: not proofread, duh. second part's ... kinda fucking toxic.

Super strength

The two of you were playfighting, Douma however can be ruthless.

Your bones felt like they would shatter in his grip as he hovered above you. Sharp nails burrowing themselves into the thin skin of your wrists.

"Oh no, my dearest lotus flower." He cooed. "However would you escape from someone's hold without me?" A playful grin plastered across his face, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"I've let you have your fun." You sighed.

"Eh?"

You threw the tall demon off of you with one swift motion causing him to topple over backwards and land flat on his face. A fall as dramatic as himself.

He went quiet for a moment, looking up at you with a shocked face. He flashed that same toothy grin again, however this time something devious hid behind it.

"See, petal? You can take way more than that!"

Blue flame

The two of you were like fire and ice. Both figuratively and literally.

Fights weren't an uncommon occurence considering you were more in touch with your feelings and Douma... well is just Douma.

He knew exactly how to push your buttons though, even going as far as throwing oil on the raging dumpster fire that was you guys' argument by undermining everything you said, a bored expression ever present on his face.

God, did that make you want to scrach both your and his pretty, little, rainbow eyes out.

He would get bored of arguing sooner or later however, using his blood demon art to make a small lotus flower.

"For you~" He'd smile innocently, ignoring the previous events or the fact that he should maybe apologize.

Not sparing him or his pathetic attempt of a sorry a glance you pointed your finger towards the icy lotus, a small flame emitting from it, melting the gift in the blink of an eye.

"Well, doesn't that just make things ten times more interesting?" He'd say to himself, having found something new to keep him entertained, or maybe even a pawn for his twisted plans.

[may--hawk]

clawed dreams all (an always crashing digression)

you guys I am so sorry about this but:

Hell’s annual offices parties have been in the form of a carnival for, oh, millennia. Except it’s Hell, so, you know. This year, the prizes are somebody’s idea of a sick joke, the only kind Hell knows, really. The only prizes available at this year’s carnival are...a host of stuffed angel effigies arranged on the back walls, each of them bearing an unsettling resemblance to one angel or another, all of them unspeakably vulgar. Crowley’s got to win the Aziraphale one, just so he can see the angel’s face when he brings it back.

A completely gratuitous, self-indulgent spinoff of footnote #34 in always crashing (in the same car). For Benjamental, who keeps encouraging my weird head-canon of Hell’s annual office parties.

(I promise, back to our regularly scheduled programming soon)

One of the advantages of the annual Hell parties was that, being Hellish, they were always ahead of the trend. 1 Sometimes too far ahead. For instance, the dance rave in 1346 complete with plague masks and real live plague rats. Crowley’s never been sure, but he thinks Pestilence had let a few plague rats escape the buffet line when Beelzebub’s back was turned, and, well, there you were. There was the sock hop Hell had in 902 BC. 2 Or the MTV themed party in 32. At least the variety was something. Rather unmercifully, somewhere around the 1500s, Satan had developed a mania for carnivals, so the yearly ‘do became a carnival, and did not stop.3 Satan had particularly enjoyed the American mid-2000s carnivals, full of flashing neon lights and nauseating rides and a bevy of fried foods. All the bands played “The Devil Went Down to Georgia,” with new and improved lyrics. Hell’s carnivals had all kinds of things: carousels, 4 freak shows, 5 the holy water dunk tank of Erics. The hall of mirrors was not to be thought of.

All Hell turned out. It was compulsory.

In the mid nineteenth century, Crowley had shown up as bidden. 6 Demons of every shape and size swarmed the midway, clutching ice cream cones that melted down your hands (or claws, or talons, or flippers) as soon as you took them, ganged up to jeer back at the demons running the booths (torture duty, it was considered, manning them). This particular year, though, Satan, tired of winning all of the games, every year,7 had sat the year out. Satan had told them all at the opening ceremonies he wanted to see a little more initiative out of the demons. “It should hurt you if you don’t win,” he’d said, grinning.

Crowley’d skulked around the edges of the carnival, considering and passing up in turn the ring toss (Cerebus was not letting anyone win that one), the shooting galley (the splatter was disgusting) and the duck game (Dagon was a shoe-in; she rose to the surface as Crowley passed, hissing, her teeth full of feathers). Besides, the prizes were, as far as he could tell, the same across every booth. It was somebody’s idea of a sick joke, the only kind Hell knew, really.8 The only prizes available at this year’s carnival were …a host of stuffed angel effigies arranged on the back walls, each of them bearing an unsettling resemblance to one angel or another, and each of them unspeakably vulgar. They’re being handed out by the surly demons behind the counter who took your tickets and a bit of your skin, or scales, or feathers with them.9

Continue reading the rest and footnotes at:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55403731