#*Bury the Light blasting in the background*

[hopelesslonelyghost]

18+ ghoap x fem!reader

soap with a pretty bird back at home who he facetimes all the time bc they just miss each other so much. they’re so clingy for each other.

you’re always relaxing when you call him. in a t-shirt and sweatpants and are either sitting on the couch with a warm lamp on beside you or laying in bed with only the fairy lights on. you’re always giggling and smiling and making sure to keep your entire face within frame so that johnny can see all of you.

and you know that his lieutenant is always somewhere beside him even if johnny denies it, but you know. because the two of you have spoken about it.

“i showed ghost a pic of you.” he spoke one night after the two of you had finished some…salacious activities.

you immediately lifted your head up from where it was laying on his chest, “which one did you show him?”

“don’t get upset.”

you side-eyed him instantly, “john…” you smacked him lightly, “which oneeee?”

after a bit of pestering, he showed you. it was a mirror pic of you in some oversized sweatpants and a thin tank top. your hair was tied back and you were brushing your teeth. it was a silly pic, one meant only for him.

“oh my god, mactavish I can’t believe you!”

“wai’ bonnie lemme explain.”

you were pretty sure you were bright red, trying to hide your face in your hands, but johnny wasn’t letting you.

gripping your wrists, he pushed them both besides your head, getting between your legs, forcing them open, “he loved it.”

your mouth fell open, “johnny how the fu-! HOW?! I look like shit! my face is greasy and I’m pretty sure I hadn’t showered that day when I sent that picture!”

he chucked and pecked your nose, cheeks, and finally your lips, “you weren’t there to see his face. fuck lass, he was exactly like you are now, ears red and all doe-eyed.”

you felt him hardening again, rubbing up against your already soaked cunt, before slipping in with ease, “gonna bring him home. have him fuck this pretty pussy. show him how much of a good girl you are.”

with that in mind, you sometimes say, and do, some out-of-pocket stuff. one time you were complaining to your boyfriend how the birth control pill was making your tits sore and how much bigger they were getting.

“look!” you turned on your nightlight and faced it, giving your boyfriend, and subsequently ghost, an unfiltered view of your tits through your nightie. the low cut helped accentuate them.

your grin was hidden off camera when you palmed one of them and whined, putting on a show for both men, “they’re so swollen babe. i wish you were here to massage them.”

“steamin’ jezus bonnie.”

you could hear a choked off groan somewhere in the background. bingo.

“you’re coming home soon, right baby?” you moved the camera back to your face, pouting and batting your lashes.

“fuck yes. coming home real soon, I promise.”

and it was sometime past three in the morning when he got home a few days later. you were already sleeping, the heat during the summer nights was enough to have the a/c on blast, and wearing just a cropped tank top and a thong to bed.

the sound of the unit running made it easier for both soap and ghost to make their way to your shared room. there you laid on your side, facing away from the door. thin sheets had been kicked off and were now tangled up around your thighs, your bare ass was in full display. the string of your thong tucked nicely between your perky cheeks.

both men swallowed their groans, soap turning to the taller man and elbowing him softly, “better than a phone call, eh l.t.?”

ghost swallowed roughly, eyes never leaving your moonlit body, “way fuckin’ betta’ sergeant.”

and then both men pounced. they’d both requested extended leave, and they planned on using all of it buried deep inside you.

[bullet-prooflove]

Started talking and the line went dead

Tagging: @kmc1989

Judd worries about the job you do, the cases you take on, the shit you deal with. He knows the stats when it comes to women in law enforcement, they face higher rates of violence, sexual assault, abuse. That’s not including the misogynistic crap you take from your less enlightened male colleagues, the ones that call you sweetheart, that ask you to fetch their coffee. You’re fighting a war on two fronts, both in the precinct and on the front lines and every day he’s in awe of you.

Which is why he tries not to worry when the solar storm hits, when the phone cuts off when you’re in the middle of explaining how you stopped a woman from killing her neighbour today because she thought she was a lizard person.

“Did she even resemble a lizard?” He’d asked you as he cradled the phone against his ear, fiddling with the dials on the coffee machine.

“Not even in the slightest.” You’d told him as you slammed your locker shut. “Think more like Judge Judy.”

“COVID’s made everyone freaking nuts.” He mumbles as he gives up on the machine and instead begins to fill the kettle. “You heading home?”

“Yea.” You’d told him and he hears the zip of your coat in the background. “The first thing I’m going to do is sink into a nice hot bath.”

His mind drifts to this morning, to you undressing for him, that cotton robe slipping from your shoulders until you were standing there in nothing but God’s own glory.

“I wish I was there to run it for you…”

It’s then that it happens. There’s a blast of static in his ear and his phone starts glitching out like it’s something out of The Matrix.

He spends the rest of his shift trying to get back in touch with you in between calls but there’s nothing. Dispatch can’t get a location and every other single line of communication is down. Judd has no illusions about what you’re up to. You’re out in the field, the same way he is, helping folk because that’s the job you do, that’s your calling.

It’s twenty four hours later he finally lays eyes on you. You step into the firehouse looking like complete hell. There’s Lord knows what in your hair, your APD windbreaker is a little torn and there’s a little dust smeared across your cheek and you’re still the most beautiful damn thing on God’s green earth.

He drops everything to go to you. The equipment he’s holding it crashes to the floor and he’s in motion, gathering you up into his arms, kissing your nose, your mouth, your cheeks, everywhere he can reach.

“Oh baby, I was so worried.” He murmurs, burying his face into your hair. “I thought the lizard people got you.”

You laugh then and that sound, it just lights up his entire world.

“Not today Judd.” You smile as his forehead comes to rest on yours. “Not today.”

Love Judd? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[whoisneo404]

Can you do one where y/n is secretly gay and had the hugest crush on nick since he was 7 but never actually acted on it but y/n gets tried of pretending to be straight so he breaks up with his girlfriend and then goes sees nick crying and ends up telling him he's gay (you can add smut if you'll like.)

Start Over. (part 1)

Summary: You break up with your girlfriend after behing tired of hiding your feelings for Nick.

Tw: cursing, a bit of anxiety.

Note: Nicks texts are purple and yours are blue.

I look at my phone as it rings, a message from Nick pop ups in my phone, the background of him and me in the beach playing in the water lights up. Lila always told me to change it to a picture of her but I always brush it off telling her that it was a special memory.

I tap on it and when the chat opens a picture of the both of us playing on a park in Boston pops up, we are maybe 7 or 8 years old. I smile at my phone and a little message appears.

>You were soooooooo cute, what happened to you?

I feel my cheeks burn a bit and I type back.

>I got even cuter, can’t say the same about you.

I send it and I can picture his grin and his eyes rolling. I miss him, when I feel the acrylic nails dig into my shoulder I remember where I was.

"Are you paying attention?" Lila asks and I look at her, suddenly I remember where I was, the sound of the football match blasting on the TV, our 'friends' screaming and chanting at their teams. I feel my body grow tense.

"No. I-... I need to get some air." I get up but her hands are still on my body.

"Want me to go with you?" she asks.

"Not really, I’ll be back quickly." I try to not make kt a big of a deal as I walk outside the house, I sit on the porch and let out a sigh as I bury my face on my hands. "Shit." I mumble to myself.

My phone rings again. I grab it.

>Whatever loser.

>How is the game going? Is your team losing? I hope it is.

I smile again, my heart flutters and I try to swallow my feelings. Because I shouldn’t feel this way about my best friend, I shouldn’t feel this way when I have a girlfriend, I shouldn’t feel this when I like girls... Or do I? I have never really looked at Lila the way the guys on the movies we watch look at the girls, I never get the urge to kiss or cuddle her. I like her company, she's a great friend, and I’m sure most people would think she is an amazing girlfriend but I just don't feel the same. Do I not like her? No, I don't.

Shit.

Fuck.

I hate this.

>Hey, Nick. Call me, please.

>Everything okay?

>No.

>Code Sink??

>Yeah....

>Kay, I’ll call you in 3 minutes. Make sure everyone hears that you have to go.

>Thanks.

I take another deep breath. I stand up and walk inside, everyone was still screaming and laughing, I sit back on my spot, Lila asks me something and I only nod, my palms sweat, my head feels dizzy. Nick, get me out, please, get me out. The sweet perfume of Lila hits my face as she leans on my shoulder, I try to not move, I pat her head and she smiles. I feel bad, I like you but not like you like me.

My phone buzzes, I pick it up and a few friends look over at me.

"What? He is sick?... okay I’ll be there. Yeah, don’t worry, I'll buy that. Hm... No, it’s okay. Bye, Dad." Nick talks quietly on the other side. He tells me what to say and I repeat it. I feel Lila squeeze my arms as I speak. I put my phone down.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah... I mean, my cat ate something bad and puked, my dad is worried. So, I better go check on them."

"Oh no. Poor kitty, I hope he is fine." She kisses my cheek. "Go, text me." I kiss and kiss her forehead; I stand up and say a quick goodbye to everyone. I walk outside and when I close the door behind me, I feel my world crumbling.

What would he think of me? What would he say? Will he hate me? Will she hate me? Will they be disappointed?

Fuck.

I call Nick. It rings twice and he picks up.

"Hey, everything okay? why did you called sink?" Nicks voice sounds worried and sincere, it calms me down.

"I just felt overwhelmed." He hums. "Talk to me while I walk home." I say as start walking on the cold night.

"Okay. So, today we took a few pictures for Instagram, I was going to send them to you so you can pick which one I upload but you were busy with your friends and-..."

"Never busy for you. You could have just texted me."

"Whatever."

"Don't roll your eyes at me." I chuckle.

"HOW DO YOU-? you are spying on me, you creep." I can tell he is smiling.

"No, I just know you too well. Keep going."

"Whatever. I haven’t posted them yet, so you can choose. We also bought these gross gummies of different flavors; we will try them on our next video but I also want you to try them."

"Hell no."

"Please, it will be fun. Plus, Ill invite you to sleepover."

"I can just invite myself; I know you don’t mind." I see the building of my apartment; I sit on the front stairs because I don’t want him to hear that I have arrived. I don't want to end the call.

Nick and I talk for a good time. I know he knows I’m home; he isn’t stupid.

"Would you still be my friend if I told you I kind of don’t like Lila...?" I drop suddenly.

"What?... WHAT?" I feel my eyes water. "Shit, that came out wrong. Of course, I’ll still be your friend but why would you say that??"

"Nick... I, shit, Can I go to your house tomorrow? I’ll talk to you then." I hang up and rush to my room. I hear my phone ringing and buzzing but I don’t pick up. I turn it off. I throw myself in my bed and cry.

Guilt and shame fill my heart. I feel sorry for Lila, I feel sorry for myself, I am afraid to lose him. Eventually I fall asleep.

Friday morning, I get ready to go to uni. The day is heavy, my mind filled with thoughts and my heart rushing. By the end of my day, I walk to the outside of campus when I feel two small arms around mine. Lila...

"Where have you been? I have been searching for you all day." I see her friends behind us. I gulp and look down at her.

"Lila... can we talk?" Her eyes widen, maybe she knows what I will say.

"Of course, what happens?" Maybe it’s because she is the one initiating our kisses or cuddles, maybe it’s because I call her baby just because she asked me to. Or because my wallpaper is my best friend, but she knew, and something inside of me knows that she found out.

"I like a guy..." I whisper. Her grip on my arm tightens, her eyes water and mine do to. "I’m sorry, I really am."

"Don’t be..." her voice cracks.

"I hope we can still be friends and-..."

"Give me time. I hope it goes well for you." She turns around and walks away to her friends, they quickly hug her. her face hidden by her hands. They all look bad at me, I get it, I would have done the same. I have done the same, I also looked at myself with hate.

I walk away. I grab my phone and call Nick.

"Jesus, I was so scared. What happened?"

"I broke up with Lila..."

"Oh shit... I- Are you okay? Where are you?" I hear him walking and opening a door.

"Walking to your house. Are your brothers there."

"No, they left. I’m here, I’ll wait for you on the porch."

"Kay, thanks. I’ll be there."

I walk to his house, it’s a bit far. But it gives me time to breath, hold back my tears and swallow my anxiety.

I hope he doesn't hate me...

Taglist: @freshloveforthefit @shywolfapricotfan @sturnphilia @matty-bear @thenickgirl @stvrniolvsp @paige05 @soursturniolo @miloisdone1 @teenagetrash00 @lovely-calypso @h3arts4harry @malirosee

[roboticnebula]

Trick or treat!

You get a… trick?

This is a snippet from a fic concept I’m exploring but still hesitant to actually write! It started out as a silly ‘Barry and Jay are in a passive-aggressive argument and Alan and Hal do not understand how is it the speedsters are fighting instead of them’. And then it got... sad.

Background AlanJay and Halbarry.

Jay is aware he and Barry are arguing over two barely distinguishable shades of beige paint for the guest room, but their fight isn’t really about the paint color anyways. Alan and Hal made themselves scarce a few hours ago, the moment Jay commented he didn’t want his guest room to be the same shade as Barry’s sweater vests, and Barry immediately retorted it was a good thing Jay wouldn’t actually be the one sleeping in the room then.

This was after a long debate over paint swatches, where both Alan and Hal’s inputs that the room should have a nice non-beige color, had gone entirely unheard. The lanterns had realized they were standing in the blast zone and been unwilling to risk becoming collateral damage. Jay is glad to see that after all these long years with them, the GLs are finally starting to be smart about the whole fearless thing.  

It’s a good thing they left when they did too, because paint started flying quickly after. The walls of the guest room are absolutely atrocious right now, randomly sploshed with paint and primer, a whole gallon wasted and spilled all over the floor, but Barry and Jay have retreated to the kitchen to wash up and calm down. Jay is leaning against the counter, waiting for the water to boil for his tea. He’s got paint in his hair, but hasn’t bothered to try and get it off, only rolled up his sleeves and washed his hands. Barry is very quiet as he scrubs his arms and forehead free of the paint, his annoyance is palpable in the air, and Jay doesn’t know why he’s so irritated when he insisted on helping out with repainting the room.

Barry won’t leave him alone these days, it’s annoying.

“Did you go get that extra gallon from the garage, yet?” Jay asks him, gruffly.

Something flashes in Barry’s eyes: sad, scared, quickly buried, and Jay realises it’s not the first time he’s asked.

“Yes,” says Barry.

For the first time all day, his tone is light and neutral, instead of passive aggressive, and the patience behind it annoys Jay even more, a flush of rage crawling up his throat. The phone is deadly quiet on the countertop between them, and Jay vacillates between grateful and irritated that Barry is handling him with kid gloves.

They both know what diagnostic is coming: it’s why Jay hasn’t actually kicked Barry out of his house yet, even if he’s still mad at him for confronting him about this and convincing him to go get tested. Jay didn’t want to be alone when he got the call. Jay didn’t want to get the call at all, doesn’t want to have to break the news to Alan and have Barry, Wally, Bart and the others worry. He wants to stay in denial, wants more time. At 90, Jay hasn’t been bitter about slowing down until this very moment: when it gives his own damned mind the chance to fall apart at the seams.

Barry is saying something about the quality of the wall primer when he’s interrupted by the shrill ringtone of the phone. They both fall quiet and stare at it, their fight entirely forgotten. Barry practically falls in the seat in front of Jay, but doesn’t press: they’re both stretching the seconds of this moment, remain on the cusp of change before it becomes irreversible.    

Jay’s first instinct is to run the phone to the Atlantic Ocean and chuck it, but he focuses on Barry and catches his own reflection in the oven door behind him. They both look ridiculous, the first two Flashes, covered in paint, and childishly arguing. He laughs, slightly hysterical, but also absolutely delighted. He looks at Barry and thinks: this man is my legacy, I would not choose any other and it gives him the courage he needs. He stays standing up, picks up the phone and places it down on speaker between them.

“Mr. Garrick, this is Dr. Brady. I have your test results in front of me and I’m sorry but I have some bad news.”

---

The idea would be to explore speedster physiology as they age/effects of the speed force long term/what that healing factor can handle, but also how chosen family can rally around you when you’re dealing with something like Alzheimer.

Apart from some stray notes and drafts, this snippet is all I have to show for it for now.

Thank you for the ask, I hope you enjoyed! Happy Halloween!

[halfsizehellboy]

wilson being primarily sensory avoidant makes so much sense to me. He’s on the quieter side, I've mentioned light sensitivity before, and he is super tame compared to house, who is definitely sensory seeking in a lot of ways. We've seen both of them forgo crowded parties or social events, either together or separately. wilson can’t keep his mask that long, and house just doesn't get along with people. I also don't think wilson likes the complexity of noise that is dozens of conversations, eating noises, background music, and appliance electricity that makes up a social dinner event. He likes to attend the talks and lectures because then at least only one person is talking. He likes it to be quiet and dark when he’s tired, and it’s the one thing he’s been able to enforce in his and house’s apartment. I think wilson’s got that light-touch aversion, so if you bear hug him and slap him on the shoulder every once in a while he’s all good. He definitely owns a weighted blanket. 

Which makes poetic sense that house is sensory seeking— his nerves are fucked from surgery and vicodin, and he doesn’t always feel stuff like he used to, but he still looks for stimulation everywhere. He blasts his music, throws his ball around, and starts arguments because that’s a fun thing for him. Sex is sensory, and he seeks that out too. He drinks alcohol because it makes him feel more that he wants and a little less of his leg. Jumping off the balcony into the pool? Sensory seeking that adrenaline rush. He spends that entire episode trying to drown out his bad feelings with good feelings. 

Their apartment is insane, and it took a long time to balance it. Their bedroom is soundproofed for many reasons, and once they’ve organized it how they like it it rarely changes (sometimes wilson will feel insane and reorganize the kitchen or bathroom). Their bedroom has always stayed the same. Wilson has a home office in the other bedroom that is always supposed to be a quiet zone, and House doesn’t take home work. They have two wheely office chairs though, because sometimes house’s leg can’t be weight bearing and he still needs to get around the apartment. There’s a designated sensory sheet, which is for hiding under or dimming lights. 

They sleep in ways that accommodate house’s leg, but wilson usually smashes his face against house’s chest/neck/back. sometimes wilson scratches his scalp more as stimming/compulsion or a habit, but it can quickly get to be harmful because it’s so often a bad times thing. if they’re at home, house will replace wilson’s hands with his own and scratch more with his fingertips than his nails, or just pets his head for a while. At the hospital he just slaps at wilson’s hands because it’s funnier. 

wilson does not have many sensory toys/fidgets or external regulation things, if he needs one he’ll usually just borrow one of house’s (with permission bc house needs to know where things are all the time). But he does have two rubbery sensory brush things (I'm projecting they're called tactile tigers. I have cried over almost losing one and I will be buried with mine. I also have two because one stays in my room and one goes everywhere outside my room) that he adores. He doesn't need them all the time but he always has one. He rubs it on the back of his neck, in his hands, all over his arms, even on his face. He absolutely keeps stealing the shot blockers from the peds wing because they’re awesome for fidgeting, and sometimes he needs one for his patients too. 

Ok, hear me out on this: I usually get tired of cgi/ newer movies because they don't interest me a lot, and I can like. Tell whats computered and what’s real. there’s less joy in it for me to figure out how they did it. I think wilson is the same way. Older movies had less tech, so they had to get creative with how they make things: jurassic park’s giant animatronic t rex, chocolate syrup blood in black and white movies, and all those other practical effects that lower/mid budget movies used to use. It’s often so much more interesting to recognize the spray painted oven mitt slug or the tinsel-wrapped terrier, than it is to see a completely computer generated creature. I am not shitting on CGI or CGI artists!! It’s super cool tech and an awesome profession!! I just have eyes that fatigue very easily, and older movies aren’t as HD ergo not as hard on my eyes. And I like figuring out how they did practical effects and I think wilson would really like that too. 

I think next i’m gonna ramble about sexy things?? I feel insane

[bowsie22]

Whumptober 2023 #1

Whumptober 1 - "How many fingers am I holding up?"

His head hurt, why did his head hurt? Wu Xie groaned, not wanting to open his eyes. After so many head injuries he already knew what would happen. He'd open his eyes, light would hit them and then Wu Xie would wince and move, making his head hurt even worse.

It really was a sad state of affairs that he was this familiar with head injuries, wasn't it? Taking a deep breath, Wu Xie cracked an eye open, hoping to find some answers. He remembered standing at the entrance to the main room in the tomb while Xiazi argued with Pangzi over how much dynamite was needed to blast through the door. Everything was a bit of a blur after that. Xiaoge shouting for him, Xiao Hua swearing, loud noises. Then a lot of pain.

Wu Xie swore, realising what had happened. He’d been caught up in the explosion. And separated from his friends, which was just typical of his luck. Taking a deep breath, he prodded at the sore spot on his head, hissing at the sharp pain that burst through him. That was a lot of blood, wasn't it? Xiaoge was going to be furious with him, he promised the other no more head wounds, at least not for a month. And that was only three weeks ago.

Oh, his eyes were going weird. Had there always been that many torches on the walls? Or so many figures on that mural? Were they dancing? Wait, Wu Xie squinted, no. That was Xiaoge and Xiao Hua moving through the rubble. Wu Xie starts humming, trying to get their attention. He cycles through a few different melodies, settling on Baby Shark. Annoying but effective if the hurried scrambling he heard meant anything.

Xiaoge fell to his knees beside Wu Xie, fingers probing his head wound, ignoring the wounded look sent his way. “Xiao Hua, let the others know he has a head wound and it’s bleeding a lot! Wu Xie, look at me sweetheart. How many fingers am I holding up?” Oh, he wasn’t falling for this again, Xiaoge has tricked him too many times with this. “You’re not getting me this time Xiaoge, the thumb is not a finger.” He hears Xiao Hua snort in the background. “God, I forgot how annoying concussed Wu Xie is.”

Xiaoge hummed, more concerned with getting Wu Xie to his feet. Turns out more than his head hurt. The older shushed him as he whined, “I know. You got a bit more buried than the rest of us, there’s a lot of cuts and bruises. We’ll get you out and to a hospital and you’ll feel better in no time, ok?” Wu Xie nodded, always trusting Xiaoge. He could relax now; Xiaoge and his friends would look after him, like they always did. Wu Xie giggled to himself, he had good friends, the best, he was so lucky. He should tell them that! “You guys are the best and I am so lucky you came into my life. Otherwise, I’d be stuck with my uncles, and they suck.”

He rambles as he’s lead out of the tomb and deposited into the car, continuing through the medical examination in the hospital, everything that came into his mind being said. Wu Xie only stops talking when he’s settled into a hospital bed and told he can sleep for a while. Xiaoge sits at his bedside, holding his hand while Pangzi and Xiazi argue over what to watch on the TV in the private room. Xiao Hua, ordering food to the room, takes the remote and switches to the news. Laughing, Wu Xie relaxes into the bed as the familiar routine carries on. He really was lucky.

A/N First entry for Whumptober 2023. The plan is to do all 31, but we’ll see how that goes

[vixlenxe]

Bury the Light chorus blasts menacingly in the background.

[kasiers]

HOT 'N COLD — IWAIZUMI HAJIME

pairing: husband!iwaizumi hajime x reader

synopsis: his body warmth makes cuddling tough for you due to him running naturally hot while you ran naturally cold, he realizes this and feels guilty but makes it up to you <3

contains: gn!reader, timeskip iwaizumi hajime (27) athletic trainer YESS! established relationship, domestic fluff, pet names, cuddling

word count: 1.5k

a/n: shout out to mn gc <3 this ones for u guys and to my ghost writer LOLLL i love u guys i got this prompt from them :p

Summer mornings weren’t that hot, though as the day progressed the heat became almost unbearable. Despite the air conditioner running at full blast, the nights remained suffocating. It didn’t help that your husband ran naturally hot. 

You always found it a bit funny how warm he was, especially since it contrasted you, who was the complete opposite in terms of body warmth. Yet, his body heat felt like an oven almost.

Even so, you never complained. Hajime loved to cuddle, it was his comfort after coming home from a long day. You could see the stress melt from his face every time he held you close, his tense muscles relaxing as he buried his face in your hair.

"Missed ya today hon," he would often murmur, his voice a soft rumble against your ear. You would simply hum in response, tracing soothing patterns on his back, knowing that your presence was what he needed most.

Tonight was no different. You lay tangled together in bed, the weight of the day melting away. His body radiated warmth, an almost cruel heat in the summer night. You held him close, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours.

The AC whirred quietly in the background, your mind wandered, thinking about how much you loved these moments despite the discomfort. You mostly found yourself unable to sleep, tossing and turning and laying in his arms.

The sticky feeling of sweat forming between your bodies, the way your skin clung to his— it was all worth a few uncomfortable nights. You didn’t mind because you knew how much he needed this, needed you. 

It took him a while to realize how much the heat bothered you. Often, you’d wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat. Hajime would wake too, asking you what’s wrong. You’d brush it off as the AC turning off overnight or the ceiling fan not working properly, offering excuses that seemed believable in the faint light of dawn.

One weekend morning, after yet another restless, clammy night, you woke up to find Hajime already awake, watching you with a concerned expression. He brushed a strand of hair from your forehead. 

“You good baby? You look like you ran a marathon in your sleep,” he jokes. 

You laughed softly, trying to hide your discomfort, “Yeah no I’m good, the AC is probably acting up again.” 

Hajime’s schedule as an athletic trainer meant that he often had early mornings, but on weekends, he allowed himself to sleep in a bit later. You, on the other hand, woke up earlier to prepare his things for the day, ensuring he had everything he needed for his exhaustive schedule.

You would pack his meals, cook him breakfast, and make sure his bag was ready to go.

Regardless of your efforts to hide your feelings from your husband, he’d start noticing the signs. The dark circles under your eyes, the way you’d wake up glossy, and the occasional comments about the room feeling too warm.

He’d conclude that it must’ve been the seasonal changes, but now he was beginning to see a pattern.

He frowned, his brow furrowing in confusion. “The electrician came last week babe, he said everything was fine.”

You paused, realizing that your usual excuse wasn’t going to hold up anymore. “Oh, well… maybe I’ve just been running a bit warmer than usual. Could be the weather or something.”

His expression shifted from concern to consideration. “Still.. you’ve been looking pretty wiped out lately, maybe you should see a doctor, just in case.”

You tried to reassure him, not wanting to worry him further. “It’s probably nothing serious. Just a little extra warmth. I’ll be fine dear, really.”

He didn’t look convinced but let it go, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “Okay, but if you’re feeling off, let me know. I don’t want you to push yourself.”

You nodded, determined to keep your thoughts to yourself. It was a small price to pay for after all. The next few nights, you tried different tactics to minimize the heat, like sleeping in lighter pajamas and turning up the ceiling fan a bit more. 

Despite it all, you still found yourself waking up in a sweat, but you brushed it off with casual comments about the weather or the AC.

Another evening followed, but this time it felt unbearable. You jolted awake, forehead covered with beads of sweat. You tried to slip out of bed without waking your husband, but he stirred and noticed your discomfort.

“Baby? You okay?” Hajime mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. Keeping a light grasp on your wrist as he squints at you through the dim light of the room. You were sitting up on your side of the bed, “Yeah, just feeling a bit too warm. I’ll be fine, ‘m gonna grab water,” you whispered, brushing it off once again. 

But Hajime wasn’t convinced. He followed and sat up, rubbing his eyes and trying to piece together the situation. His brow furrowed in concern as he noticed how flushed your face looked. 

“Hey,” Hajime said gently, his eyes filled with concern. “You don’t look so good. Why don’t you stay here? I’ll get the water for you.”

You shook your head, trying to muster a smile. “No, it’s okay. I can get it myself, I’ll be quick.” 

Hajime’s eyes softened as he watched you try to stand. He placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, guiding you back to the bed. “No, really. I want you to rest. Let me get it.” 

You reluctantly sat back down, letting out a sigh, the exhaustion apparent in your posture. “Okay, fine, thank you.”

He nodded, then went to the kitchen, moving quietly. As he filled a glass with cool water, his mind continued to turn over the situation. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

When he returned, he found you sitting on the edge of the bed, still looking uneasy. He handed you the glass of water and sat down beside you, his expression serious. “I’ve been thinking,” he said quietly, “about why you’ve been feeling so uncomfortable. It’s not just the room temperature, is it?”

You looked at him, your eyes reflecting a mix of exhaustion and a touch of guilt, “honey..”

His brows knitted together in thought. The gears in his head turned as he replayed the past nights in his head. It hit him with a sudden clarity— he was the source of your discomfort. His body heat, his need to cuddle, had been making your nights unbearable.

“Baby, I… I’m sorry, baby,” he said, his voice filled with genuine remorse. He gently cupped your face with his hands, looking deeply into your eyes. “I had no idea I was making you uncomfortable. I should have noticed sooner. I know I can be pretty warm, but I never meant to make you feel miserable.”

A small, understanding smile formed on your lips, you let out a soft sigh and shook your head as you put the glass down on the nightstand. “Hajime, it’s okay. I should have told you earlier, too. I didn’t want to make you feel bad.”

Hajime’s face remained with concern as he brushed a stray lock of hair from your face. “No baby, I still feel awful about it. I just wish I’d noticed sooner, I’m sorry beautiful.”

He buries his face in your neck, his breath warm against your skin. You could feel the slight shake in his sigh, the weight of his guilt evident in his touch. His arms tightened around you, seeking comfort and offering it at the same time.

You ran your fingers gently through his hair, smoothing the back of his head as you whispered comforts softly, “Haji, it’s okay. I promise….”

His grip on you relaxed a bit, but he stayed close, savoring the soothing motion of your hand. You pressed a tender kiss to the top of his head, your lips lingering for a moment before pulling back slightly to meet his gaze. “You work hard and I know you care about me more than anything. That’s enough for me.”

You both settled back into the sheets, the silence of the room comforting. As his breathing evened out, he stirred slightly, pulling you a bit closer.

“We should get a better mattress tomorrow,” he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep but carrying a note of determination. “One that helps with temperature regulation.”

You let out a soft, appreciative laugh, feeling the warmth of his words as much as his body. “That sounds like a good idea,” you agreed, your voice gentle.

He nodded against your shoulder, his head resting comfortably. “I’ll look into it first thing in the morning.”

You felt nothing but gratitude and affection for him. “Thank you, Haji. I really appreciate it.”

He tightened his embrace slightly, his breathing settling into a steady rhythm. “I love you,” he said, his voice a soothing whisper in the quiet room.

“I love you too,” you replied softly, your hand continuing its gentle strokes along his back. 

[magnumversumplus]

Crescendo Part II: Doom Of Dr. F.

Written By Joseph M.

Tiana Lerouz and Noira Fariz walked down the hallway, Petra Red and Jairan in tow. Thunder roared, rain pattered against the windows and the entire mansion of Alizandra Laban was all but noisy. There was the quiet rattling of the leaves and twigs as a bit of wind blew through the shutters, but there was not a single peep apart from the swaying of potted plants.

Noira Fariz swept around the corner, drawing a longsword from her sheath. Tiana, Jairan and Petra followed her, all of them remaining in the shadows whilst she bathed in the blistering glow of the lightning, which illuminated the entire bedroom. Her hair was glistening. Short and matte black–it fluttered slightly.

The room around them was decorated with all sorts of fabrics. Orange, teal and purple drapes lathered the ceiling, hung down over windows and smothered the giant mattress and the wooden frames around it. There was a bathtub on the balcony–bubbling and boiling, it looked over the entire city.

Above the mattress there was a painting, a portrait depicting Alizandra Laban’s side profile with a background of swirly warm blasts of oranges and yellows. Her gray eyes slightly looked towards the viewer–the frown she had in the portrait and her stare almost gave Noira a feeling of unease and a bad stomach ache. This portrait was not safely nailed, and only held to the wall by one nail, slowly coming loose.

The background of the painting reminded Jairan of something, a memory he’d rather forget. He remembered bright flashes of lights, waking up in an operating room and seeing Dr. F.’s face staring over him menacingly. He saw all of the red flags, all of the signs that Dr. F. wasn’t exactly as who he appeared to be, yet he didn’t do anything,

There was a loud crash in the hallway bordering the bedroom, followed by a series of thuds and a boom. A loud air horn ruptured all of their ears, sending Joran back into reality and all of them against the back wall. Alizandra Laban entered, initially shrouded in a veil of smoke and gas, her hair long and black and blowing in the harsh winds, her suit remaining completely straight and ironed out as she drew a kitchen knife and cried, “Who are you all?

“Step forth and fight, intruders!”

Petra Red rocketed forward from the back of the room–blistering flames emitted from his boots as he was whistling towards her at full force. Alizandra cut off one of his rocket propellers, then the other and then grabbed him by the neck. Petra struggled for a little, trying to stall her while Tiana, and Jairan tried to swarm at her from her left and right–Noira took her own head on with her saber.

Alizandra seemingly was buried by all of the people swarming her, but she emerged–this was much of a surprise to them. She used her kitchen knife to slash apart one of Petra’s scarlet gloves. Then, with great force, she sliced Noira’s sword into two. The blade end flew through the air, landing point-first into Alizandra’s mattress.

Tiana threw herself forward and punched Alizandra in the nose, sending her stumbling into the hallway where Noira and the rest waited. The knife fell out of her hands as she staggered into a wall and was quickly retrieved by Noira.

While Alizandra initially had the upper hand, four people and a sword had too much strength against one person with a kitchen knife.

Now that Alizandra had been kicked to the floor, Petra sharply accused her: “You are working with Dr. F. He paid you to keep quiet about the transactions he makes!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Alizandra shot back. “I check Technopolitan Limited’s bank account transactions every day when I wake up in the morning and I see no such name!”

“Don’t play pretend,” said Noira, pointing her longsword at Alizandra, its blade flashing as lightning shot down from the sky and cast light onto it. “You know something, so talk.”

“Alright, alright! I’ll talk!” Alizandra got to her feet and pushed them away, then began explaining herself: “Dr. F. walked into my office one day with several of his cronies and told me that he needed to use our bank account to make payments!”

“Who was he making payments to?”

“S–some man named Criman L. I swear, I don’t know who exactly that is! All Dr F. told me is that he’s paying this man to build him a medical facility to hold all of his things!”

“Where is that?” Noira got closer, so close she could hear Alizandra’s panicked fidgeting and see the tears rolling down her eyes. Again, she demanded, “Where?”

“The address was 33907 Kanemarr Street, Barrundy Way! He said s–something about purchasing an old power plant!”

“That’s where I met Tiana and Petra,” Jairan noted, helping Alizandra to her feet before pulling out a pair of handcuffs and cuffing her arms. “We know where that is, Noira.”

Dr F. walked across the facility, his plucky little voodoo-mecha-dolls perched on his shoulder–their arms hung loosely, only attached by wires. He had a gas lantern in one hand, a knife in the other hand and a wide, malevolent smile on his face as he dragged his shoes across the floor.

Five figures waited for him at the end of the dark room: Noira Fariz, Jan-Pitr Rasvisr, Tiana Lerouz, Petra Von Red and Alizandra Laban from left to right. Tiana had her silver blade, Petra had a crimson dagger, Jairan had his gadgets but the rest only had their fists.

“What brings you all here?” grumbled Dr. F. “I assume Alizandra told you about this secret lair.”

“What are you using this facility for?” cried Jairan. “What do you need all of this for?”

Dr. F. set down the gas lantern and knife. He tangled his fingers together, joining them into intricate weavings, folding his thumbs over each other, revealing the burn marks on his arms. “I’m creating an army of voodoo robots, servants to aid me as I take my company back. You took everything from me, Tiana. Now I’m taking it back.”

Petra looked at Tiana with a confused stare, a tilted eyebrow hidden behind his red visor. He whispered, “Tiana, what’s he saying?”

“Dr. F. used to own the company,” Tiana responded with a growl. “One day, he was charged with personal fraud. As it turns out, he was borrowing money to pay for his other evil schemes. When the company found out, the board of directors removed him as CEO and I was elected to take his place.

“He’s a liar, Jairan.”

“There’s so many things you don’t know about each other–I admire that you all banded together to stop me.” Dr. F pursed his “lips”–if one could even call the two crusty, dry halves of his mouth that. “Five people may be able to take on one man alone, but with my army of–”

BANG.

Alizandra fell into a cabinet full of medical supplies; syringes, IV bags, heart monitors, AEDs, and other miscellaneous medical things once held behind glass windows fell onto his face, as well as the cabinet itself. He felt his consciousness momentarily fading, then awoke to the sounds of a steadily beeping heart monitor and the dozens of heart monitors whose beeping rhythm followed his.

A nurse next to her called for the doctor and shouted, “She’s awake! She’s stable!”

Noira, who was standing next to her as her consciousness returned, said, “I pulled you and the others from the lab’s basement one by one as it blew up.”

“What about Dr. F.?”

24 hours earlier…

Tiana stood before Dr. F., a doctor–no–a monster so deranged and distanced from Hippocrates’ oath that the last inch of humanity he had in him probably laid there in the mixture of plasma, IV fluid and Benadryl that gathered up in a puddle below him, enough liquid to fill six bottles of Coca Cola. The scar on his face, once stitched up and healing, began to open up.

Tiana drew something from her pocket–it was a small, serrated, silver dagger. She screamed, charging at Dr. F. and the voodoo doll cronies behind him. Dr. F. quickly reached into his purple jacket–his despicable outfit was also worthy of hate: purple leather jacket and khakis, black shoes and cane and an arrogant, wicked smile.

Tiana didn’t know why he wanted to blow up his own laboratory, a little hidey hole underneath the power plant. She didn’t even know if he orchestrated the explosion, only that he wanted chaos. Flames blasted heat and wind through the crumbling building, her dagger and his cane meeting while rubble and ash fell in the background.

Tiana looked to Noira, staggering while trying to pull Petra’s lifeless body out of the fire. She slashed at Dr. F.’s sleeve, revealing his oil-drenched skin, and she said, “Your reign of terror in my company is over.”

Dr. F.’s face went pale–his hands and knees started to tremble as if they had seen ghosts. He started wailing, his eyes bursting uncontrollably with tears as he collapsed to the floor. He grabbed Tiana by the throat, begging her to do something as the room’s lights turned a luminescent neon lime and green smoke filled his and Tiana’s sight.

Ghostly moans filled the air as hands reached up from the ground. Dr. F. looked around urgently for Tiana, but she had already escaped. People on the outside saw the green smoke rising but assumed it was just the laboratory’s vicious experiments. Little did they know, inside the lab the spirits he kept were taking him to the same place he kept them.

Their dead hands crawled up his skin, pulling him deeper and deeper into the mess.

There were three men still inside, watching in terror–Lavashian, Stevens and their boss–but these men also did not wish to help. The last thing the doctor saw before he drowned in cement was the manic faces of the robot voodoo dolls he made looking over him.

48 hours later…

Noira told the story to her friend, Prince Avis of the kingdom of Serranda, of how she met Alizandra, Petra, and Jairan. It was a complicated one to explain, but she tried her best to relay the tale to the best of her abilities. “I was ruling over my kingdom when I received a letter from my friend Tiana, who I already was close acquaintances with for quite a long time.

“She told me she needed to meet with me, and we met in a back alley, behind a dumpster somewhere in New York. While we talked, the rest of her friends approached me.”

“Strange experience,” Prince Avis commented, picking up his steaming cup of tea, holding it to his face and taking a long sip. “Why would she want you to meet there?”

“She told me that one of her friends had gotten into trouble with the authorities.” Noira picked up a glass of water from its coaster and mixed in some vitamin juice, stirring the two liquids together with a spoon. “I think it was Jairan. He got fired from his job for aiding in vigilante work”–Noira put “vigilante work” in air quotes–“and not following the orders of a commanding officer. They gave him his job back after Dr. F. was stopped.”

“What are your plans now?”

Noira put on her coat and buttoned it up. She walked towards the balcony, already hearing the proud shouts and bellows of her kingdom. Cheers and roars filled her ears, her eyes filled with the thousands of hands waving and applauding her arrival. “I have a kingdom to rule. My people need me.”

[soir-rouges-esprit]

xv1: Eyes of Glass, Tick Tick Tick… is the sound of a non existent clock that plays its monotonous sound in my mind, as if to break the silence in the dark room with the mirrors like eyes. I still lay there�� fixated on the color of the ceiling… a kind of… never ending darkness, one that's absence of color leaves the mind to imagine the ones that aren't actually present… like feelings for another never spoken in truth or out loud, these colors are only imaginary scenarios that are another attempt at a drowning mind… trying to cope with a flood of depression and loneliness, or the lack thereof from love. I turn on my left side, arm stretched out completely. I feel it… the Red dawning disappointed brow, the eyes that split atoms with their focus and could look straight through a person of importance no longer relevant. A Red long lost or more so buried… The Irreverent Red… this shade was less caring, more so in general, not just for things/beings of importance laced with serious tones. This was… a problem… no… this was unfortunately necessary… I heard a voice deep from within the darkness, he said in a somewhat calm and soothing voice "You're so close… just a little further drifter… It'll all heal soon"... I stand up in slow… and yell out of anger and disappointment… COME THEN AND FUCKING SHOW ME!!!!... the only response was my own echo… then through the abyss, another voice wrang out… Sword-Maiden… "I Miss You"... I stopped momentarily… this was painful to hear in truth… then… I heard the criminal speak finally… the slaver himself… the dreaded other half of the deformed amalgam that is Body… and Mind… Mind spoke with a calm voice and low roar "No she doesn't"... "No one does... even the ones on the search for you here and now… they all lie… and even if they don't… they cannot give you the love you seek… that's why you're here… give up on this charade… pick… up… The Torch." I stood there… although my legs were numb, and all feeling was lost… I stood… I spoke out into the void… back to the Sword-Maiden… I asked… Does it suck that this is happening? My absence? My silence?... she replied with "It sucks, but that's being a person, and if people don't respect that then FUCK EM" I understood the message and her healing she was trying to provide. But in truth my takeaway was… It sucked what was happening … I do not respect anyone non willing to give me my freedom already… they don't exist anymore… the people who were invading my privacy were in truth scared for my well-being, which is why they did the things they were doing… Knight, The Imp and even The Jester. She didn't know any of that… So I accept her words as truth against Minds clawing disapproval… I pull my hands in front of my face as to look at them… as to look at me, with the hopes to stop this painful dissociation… but then I noticed, in the background through the windows… were my hands up in the same position as mine but on the outside… I lower my hands… and so did the outside me… In that moment I was filled with so much rage… so much pain… I couldn't hold it in any longer… I yell out as I start to run towards the windows, This will stop now… I won't die here, Not Yet… Not from YOU… NOT LIKE THIS!!!... So go... FUCK YOURSELF!!!... I jump into the right window… blasting through it… the crimson light became blinding as I passed through the window… an ear piercing noise wrang throughout… then silence… then… then I was back… back at the beginning edge… of The Desert.

[polarisbibliotheque]

Vergil with his s/o using Yamato in a fight

Pairing: Vergil x Reader

Summary: Vergil had been training you on the art of yielding the power of Yamato. When one of his jobs alongside Dante and Nero went wrong, it was up to you to save the Sparda's - even if you weren't totally ready for it.

Author's notes: I just marathoned The Matrix and watched the 4th movie and, well... How can I put it into words... All the feelings I have were summed up by Trinity in the 4th movie and I am SCREAMING at how amazing she is and how much the power of love™️ is the thing that saves these two in ALL the movies (and everyone seemed to have missed the point that yeah, the movies are about a bunch of phylosophical things, but also love. My kind of story). So, here we are with Vergil, his ass-kicking s/o and the power of love™️ :D

*TRIGGER WARNING*: Vergil has a panic attack during one paragraph. It describes the feeling and I'm gonna keep it in purple in case you want to jump that part!

Vergil couldn’t precisely say when things got out of control.

He was effortlessly slaughtering another powerful demon when, suddenly, Nero appeared. He got used to fighting alongside Dante – it was something Vergil didn’t think he could enjoy but, secretly, he found it was better than doing things alone. But Nero…?

He wanted him out of the way.

The boy thought it was because his father didn’t like him – but Vergil knew that wasn’t true. With Nero around, he had a disadvantage. He got worried. It threw him off his focus – and that, for Vergil, could be lethal.

Of course, he was too proud to explain that to his own son. It was better if Nero believed he didn’t like him – that way, the kid would have a good reason to stay away. It weighted in Vergil’s heart, but he was already used to dealing with that kind of weight.

“Nero! Get out of here!” He didn’t want to be the kind of father who would always scold his son, but there he was.

“Why, huh? You’re that annoyed to have me around, ol’ man?” Nero had one of his sarcastic smiles plastered on his lips, already fed up with all that avoidance from his own father whenever they were hunting. “Guess what? No way to get rid of me now!”

“Of course. As foolish as your uncle.” Vergil muttered while using one of Yamato’s attacks to sever through multiple enemies, sparing both him and Nero.

That only made Nero angrier.

“Ei! This is between you two!” Dante hit another demon as if he was using a baseball bat, sending the creature flying in the skies never to be seen again. “Don’t drag me into this; you’re the one who needs to learn to deal with people!”

“Both of you need it!” Nero exploded in rage, using his anger to sucker punch a demon right in the face before it could even think about attacking them. “You two have issues, ya know?!”

“Ei, kiddo, I’ve been around longer than ‘Mr. Power’ here.” Dante didn’t even look at the demons, resting his sword on his shoulder and just shooting at the ones who dared to approach too much.

“It didn’t do you too good.” Vergil rolled his eyes, keeping demons at bay with long distance cuts from Yamato.

Nero laughed, agreeing with his dad. Something inside him wanted to kick himself for being nice to Vergil – but, as soon as he saw a slight smile on his father’s lips, Nero thought maybe his reaction wasn’t that bad.

“See?! It’s so much easier if we get along, you ass!” Yes, he wanted to sucker punch Vergil. And Dante. And whatever approached him at the moment.

Nico mentioned he might have anger management issues – and honestly, Nero just disagreed because it was Nico. But she probably was right.

“You need to learn to listen…”

Vergil stopped everything he was doing to stare at Nero – and he would drag the kid out of there if he needed to, but it was too late. The demon who sent all his minions to do its bidding appeared – crowned in the helmet of an Angelo Commander. One of the creatures who used to hold the ones like Vergil on a leash back when he fell on Hell.

“A son…?” The demon’s voice reverberated through the ground, making Vergil’s blood boil. It was the first time Nero saw such rage in his father’s cold eyes. “He will make a good addition to my army.”

“You will only try.” It was the last thing Vergil muttered before disappearing in a blur right in front of Nero and Dante. They exchanged looks while searching for the blue demon – but Vergil was already unleashing all his rage on the Angelo.

Dante immediately triggered to fly into battle. He could see how emotional Vergil was – and that was never good. Vergil losing his temper could only mean two things: either he would bring the whole city down in his rage or he wouldn’t be focused enough, falling right after that big burst of energy.

Dante considered both a disaster – he had to do his best to bring Vergil back to his cold and calculating state.

Nero jumped into battle right after his uncle – he didn’t need to be protected; he could do it himself. They were very aware Nero was stronger than both of those fools together and now they treated him like a child? He didn’t want to admit it was an instinct from both of them to protect family – after all, what did Nero and Vergil know about paternal instincts? – so he settled with them being dumb and belittling Nero’s power.

It was the most logical explanation after all.

That was why you couldn’t believe your eyes as you approached the fight. You were helping Trish and Lady with other demons, but, after finishing your job, you decided to check on them with the big guys. And that’s when you found Dante being held down by a bunch of demons, Vergil struggling against a good batch and the Angelo Commander trying to assimilate Nero as the boy fought viciously to survive.

It was when Nero heard his father being hit by a demon that his focus shifted. With that, the Angelo Commander managed to grab his opponent – Nero struggling as much as he could. Vergil screamed something no one could understand, because at that very moment, a swarm of demons launched themselves at him, knocking Yamato out of his hands.

That never happened before.

Nero watched in disbelief as his father was brought to his knees right in front of him – Vergil lost his beloved Yamato for trying to protect him. It downed on Nero that, after all, it was an instinct.

His dad was trying to save him.

“I waited long enough to have you in my ranks once more, son of Sparda.” The Angelo approached with big steps as Vergil kept being held on his knees, trying to make himself free. Dante screamed something, but with all the demons holding him face down on the ground, it was impossible to understand – he was trying, though, to reach his sword and save his brother and nephew.

Nero couldn’t understand what was going on. What did he mean by “once more”? No one ever told him what happened to Vergil. Did that mean his father was made into one of those mindless demons and managed to break himself free? Nero wasn’t aware of that but… Well. It was something to be respected. He couldn’t let Vergil fall again.

Specially not because of him.

“Hey, you ass, you already got me! Forgot it already?!” He tried to get the Angelo Commander’s attention, but it was to no use. The demon already summoned an Angelo helmet, ready to assimilate Vergil into his army.

Those silvery eyes were never as scared and angry as they were at that moment. Vergil had all his memories of his first “coronation” coming back like a punch on his stomach – he thought he would be sick. He couldn’t breathe. He wanted to break away, but his body was trembling, and he wasn’t able to fight. Vergil couldn’t feel his fingertips, nor his legs, and it looked like the world was slowly crumbling apart around him. His heart raced and it seemed like he would die – as if there wasn’t enough air in the world to help him fill his lungs. His eyes overflowed with anger and fear – and Nero was speechless.

He had never seen Vergil having a panic attack before. He thought Vergil wasn’t able to feel all that.

“Welcome back… Nelo Angelo.”

Dante and Nero struggled once more, screaming while trying to break themselves free. They had to save Vergil. They had to do something.

And, as the helmet was inches away from Vergil’s head, the Yamato stopped it from touching him.

“Round four, bitch.” You had a cocky smile on your lips, holding the blue and white hilt of the katana with pride, piercing through that hellish helmet, and breaking it in half.

“Y/n?!” Nero couldn’t believe his eyes. With a swift movement, you made the Angelo stumble back, the helmet breaking into a thousand little pieces. Vergil looked up at you with relief mixing with the despair in his rapid beating heart – if he didn’t know better, he would say you were an angel.

“You are not… The blood of Sparda.” The Angelo was honestly confused as you yielded Yamato to swiftly kill a bunch of demons in a matter of seconds, making his way towards him.

Focused. Powerful. Staring at your prey. Just like the Dark Slayer.

“No. But I do have the heart of one of them.” You raised your head with pride, getting into position with Yamato right by the side of your face. “And that is enough to yield his power.”

Running towards your enemy, the Angelo Commander did the same, finally letting Nero go. It wouldn’t be easy, of course: he was immediately surrounded by a swarm of bloodthirsty demons – Nero did his best to kill them as fast as he could to help you.

He thought you wouldn’t be able to tackle a demon that powerful – you were human, after all. You could get seriously hurt. And, even if Nero didn’t want to admit it, he couldn’t allow you to get hurt because of their foolishness.

You had been training, though. Night after night, you and Vergil got together so he could teach you how to use the Yamato. You weren’t ready to yield its whole power, but you knew a thing or two. And, if it meant saving Vergil from that doomed Angelo fate, you would do everything in your power.

The demon didn’t even know what happened. You hit it with a powerful combo, making it take a few steps back. You took your time to think and stare at the demon, figuring out your next move. It tried to hit you with its sword, but you managed to dodge every blow, not taking a single hit – if you did, you’d probably be dead, though. Sheathing the Yamato, you took it as an opportunity to block a few blows, using your own energy to help you.

Yielding the Yamato demanded a lot. You studied enough occultism to be powerful on arcane arts, but you had never seen anything like that before. You were always astounded by Vergil’s seemingly effortless use of his power – both his arcane and martial abilities at the same time – making it seem like it was the easiest thing in the world. You would be drained after that fight, but you wouldn’t allow any of them to fall.

“How…? How can a human…?” The Angelo was as astounded as Dante, Nero and Vergil watching you, the three of them trying to set themselves free from the ever-growing population of demons used to hold them down.

“Love. That’s how.” Those were the only words you would say, unsheathing the Yamato so quickly all the Angelo could see were the rapid slashes of a void cut engulfing it. Stepping as quickly as Vergil had taught you, the next combo used both the blade and the sheath to stun the demon – who fell to its knees.

“You… Cannot win.” The Angelo panted as you approached slowly, the same look of the Dark Slayer in your eyes. The demon could see it – and fear it. “You will all die.”

Taking a look around, you understood what it meant. His minions wouldn’t stop breaking down the Spardas and you, a mere human, could kill an Angelo Commander – but could you kill all those demons as well, before one of the Sparda’s fell?

Vergil could. But, in all your training sessions, you never managed to pull that off. He tried to train you, to teach you to hone your power, to focus and bring nothing but death to those pitiful demons around, but it was to no avail. You always ended up exhausted, never able to finish the attack.

You raised your head, taking a deep breath. Sheathing the Yamato, you tried to remember everything Vergil had ever taught you. It was time to calm down, to focus. Closing your eyes, you lowered in your legs, getting into the posture Vergil had corrected a thousand times.

Dante immediately realized what you wanted to do – and it could be your victory or your demise. You were human. Even if you had honed your skills up to that point, a judgement cut of that scale would probably kill you. Dante tried to reach to his sword in a desperate attempt to help you – his fingers brushing on the hilt, but never enough to grab it and break free from that mess.

Nero screamed your name, but you only ignored it. He tried to shoot his way to get to you, losing his Red Queen and Blue Rose in the process. Nero kept calling you, now trying to punch his way through those damn demons – but they were too much. He would never get to you in time.

Opening your eyes once more, the Angelo Commander could see in you the same determination he saw in Vergil himself before he fell on Hell. Holding tightly onto Yamato’s hilt, everyone felt as if a storm was approaching. Time seemed to bend, everything around being engulfed in a dark blue aura.

That was it. You always failed at that point. Risking a look to your lover by the Angelo’s side, you met Vergil’s silvery eyes – now filled with something so different than the motivation you were all so used to.

Vergil looked at you with a mix of hope, love and respect.

And that was all you needed – for the Dark Slayer only respected the power of a few beings in this world. And you were one of them.

“Yamato… Slay all.” You whispered to yourself, letting all that power be released.

You moved faster than the eyes could see. None of the Sparda’s, none of the demons and not even the Angelo Commander could watch your form as you killed every single damned soul that tried to take away your family. It was only when you appeared once more, your back facing the Angelo Commander as you kneeled on the floor and slowly sheathed the Yamato, that they understood what happened.

“How…?!” The Angelo Commander tried to ask again, but the blade was finally covered on its hilt. And, when it did, every demon gushed blood and fell on the floor – lifeless in their doomed existences.

You managed to get up and take a look around only to see Nero running towards you as Dante got himself away from the pile of demons it took to hold him down. As you tried to turn around to find your lover, you felt your world spinning violently while your legs simply couldn’t take your weight anymore, giving out as soon as you tried to move again.

Before you could hit the floor, though, Vergil managed to catch you. Your hands never left Yamato, holding tightly to their family heirloom.

On Vergil’s eyes, you could see nothing but pride.

“Y/n! Are you crazy, huh?! You could’ve died!” Nero quickly approached, almost breathless, as if he was competing with Dante who would arrive faster.

“Y/n might be dyin’ at this point. Verge?” Dante nudged his brother, who ran his fingers on your face, proudly watching you.

“Drained, not dying.” Vergil noted, raising your limp body from the ground on his arms. “It is normal after a perfect judgment cut.”

Dante and Nero just exchanged looks. Did it mean Vergil, when he first learnt it, spent his time trying to recover himself all alone, tossed on the ground until his body had enough strength to bring him to his feet again…?

They rather not think too much about that.

“We should see Kyrie. She’ll know what to do.” Nero concluded, a little less exasperated.

“Yeah. You call Nico to grab us here, kid?” And Dante decided to take the lead for a while. It seemed like Vergil’s attention would be all yours for a while.

“Well, we need to find a phone in this hellhole.” Nero sighed as they started walking towards what was left of civilization in that town, being slowly followed by Vergil’s silent steps.

As you were left alone, Vergil looked into your eyes �� a faint, proud smile hidden in his lips.

“Love…?” It was the only thing he would ask, for he knew you would understand.

The Dark Slayer never thought love would be the source of your power – he could have never imagined it was what you needed to tap into to pull that off. But it was exactly what he saw in your eyes before you commanded Yamato to slay all.

“Love.” You agreed with a calm smile coloring your lips, as you closed your eyes to allow yourself to rest. “Sometimes… It’s more powerful than rage.”

No one was paying enough attention to see Vergil smiling at those words. You were right, indeed – love was more powerful than rage.

And now, he knew.

[corpulentmamamercie]

Edelgard, I present you a dancing pug to help motivate you!

"I find it hilarious that you think I need extra motivation, but I appreciate the sentiment

[beachbabey]

i've been so bad at sleeping and just want daddy!jake or daddy!rhett to make me sleepy and cozy :((

word count: 1.1k

Daddy!Jake x Little!Reader

warnings: fluff, age regression, sfw

a.n - this is such a cute request 🥺🥺🥺🥺 I get so sleepy on car rides too so I consider myself an expert on this

pspspspsppsp @sebsxphia

He tried to hide his worry as he saw your curled up form on the couch, some old 90's gameshow playing on the tv in the background, he quietly took his coat off and placed it on the hook, walking over to you, he can see your glazed over eyes, it was as if you were sleeping with your eyes open

Smiling, Jake leaned over the back of the couch, placing a gentle kiss on the side of your temple before sitting down next to you, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, letting his hand rest there.

“There you are, what are you doing down here?? it's 2am baby, I told you I'd be back late” he chides you. Looking shyly up at him, you hugged his hand tightly to your face.

“Hi dada” your voice barely above a whisper, turning your head back towards the screen.

"Hey sweetie," he said softly, realising the headspace you were in, you must've regressed after he left, and weren't able to get to sleep, you could never sleep without him. You let your head fall onto his shoulder, yawning and rubbing your eyes.

"Oh angel c'mere, come to daddy" he cooed, reaching over your shoulder to turn you towards him and cuddling up to him, your face buried into his chest.

"Couldn't sleep, little one?" He asks you tentatively, stroking the side of your face, intently watching your facial expressions as you stare off into space.

"Mhmm, just can't, feels weird without you dada, now I'm too awake" you whined, feeling frustrated at how hard communicating was for you.

But Jake somehow always knew what you meant, and what you wanted.

"Oh bubba, it's okay baby, it's okay," he said in a hushed tone, scratching at your scalp with his fingernails, squeezing you and keeping you as close to him as possible. Letting the silence fall over the room, seeing if it would help you doze off with no such luck, feeling you move every few minutes and huff angrily at how hard it was to feel sleepy. Jake sat and thought for a few minutes before an idea struck him, moving his head to perch on top of yours, humming in thought.

"What is it daddy?" you ask him, moving forward to look up at him

"Do you think if we went for a drive, it would help, Angel?" He questioned looking down at you inquisitively, you sat and thought about it for a minute, you did love car rides when you were little, and road trips always made you sleepy, especially when it's this time of year when there's flurries of snow and icy winds for weeks on end and it gets dark before 9pm. Jake usually blasts the heater on in his truck and keeps a blanket in there for you to snuggle up in on long journeys. Even going as far as to keep a spare paci in the glove compartment for you

"think so, dada, i like car rides" you mumbled, rubbing your eyes, trying to get rid of the itchy sensation from staring at the tv for so long, Jake gently takes your hand in his own, rubbing his thumbs over the back of your palm, bringing them up to his lips, brushing your knuckles over them before pressing a small peck to your fingertips, the light, ticklish sensation making you smile sleepily, you perk up a little as he looks at you, eyes all soft and loving, so much so that they shine in the soft light of the tv.

"Come on then honey, let's get you all wrapped up and go on an adventure" He reaches towards you and boops your nose, scooping you up into his arms and carrying you to your bedroom, unceremoniously dropping you onto the mattress, making you squeak and giggle as you bounce up as down, flopping down and watching him flitter around the room, getting your slippers and dressing gown out of the wardrobe and laying them on the bed, helping you sit upright so he could slide the sleeves over your arms, tying the belt snugly, grabbing your hands and pulling you up on your feet

After you were layered enough to battle the cool night air he places your paci gently in your mouth and clips it to your shirt, kissing it, before handing you your favourite plushie for you to cuddle.

"You ready angel?" He asked watching as you nodded your head sleepily, grabbing your hands to lift you onto your feet. Leading you downstairs before picking up his keys. Getting you into the passenger seat, buckling you in, before going to the driver's side, getting in and starting the car.

"You want the radio on Angel?"

"Nuh uh, like it quiet dada" you hum, settling into your seat, reaching out and feeling the hot air from the fans flow through your fingers, reaching for one of his hands, bringing it to rest in yours on top of one of your thighs, his thumb immediately rubbing circles into the back of your hand.

After around half an hour of driving, the feeling of small potholes in the road, the warmth of Jake's hand on your thigh and the gentle hum of the engine were enough to make you close your eyes, the fuzzy feeling of drifting into sleep taking hold of you, soft snores escaping your lips as you fall into a deep sleep. Jake looks over, hearing the snores, seeing your paci had dropped to your lap and softly chuckles to himself, a soft smile rests on his face as he circles back and begins to drive home.

Finally arriving home, Jake switches off the engine, reaching over to you, he slowly unbuckles your seatbelt before getting out and circling around to the passenger side, unlocking your door gently, and carefully, trying his hardest not to wake you. Gently getting his arms under your knees and across your back, lifting you up and settling you onto his hip, gently shushing you as you began to stir, hip bumping the door and locking his car.

Using one hand to unlock the front door and closing it with his foot, you whine and squirm in his arms, the bright lights of the hallway waking you up, squinting and hiding your face in Jake's neck.

"It's okay honey, we're back home, gonna get you up to bed real soon" He whispers to you, bringing a hand up to the back of your head, keeping you stable and comforted, carefully walking upstairs with you still on his hip, he sets you down on the mattress, pulling back the covers and taking off your dressing gown and slippers. Bringing your paci up to your lips as he moves down to bring you into his arms, pressing your back into his chest, wrapping his arm around your stomach, your hand unconsciously coming to cover his, interlocking your fingers with his, placing a peck to your temple before closing his eyes.

"G'night angel, dada loves you"

[chrisbitchtree]

Hooked on a Feeling

I don't really know where this came from, but please accept this humble gift of Steve finding confidence through loving on himself, with some Billy at the end.

1.7k - Smut

***

If they were asked to describe sex with Steve in one single word, most girls that had the pleasure of being bedded by him would say “vanilla”. That’s not to say that any of them left the experience unsatisfied. The way he used his substantial size to give girls maximum pleasure was the stuff of legend in Hawkins. The graffiti announcing that for a good time, girls should call Steve that littered almost every public bathroom in town wasn’t for nothing.

It was just that he’d never really experimented in the bedroom. Most girls were happy with missionary, and he was happy to give them what they wanted. The closest he’d gotten to kinky was one time when Tina had asked him to slap her ass as he was buried inside her. He’d been happy enough to oblige, wanting to make her feel good, but he’d blushed something fierce, barely able to look her in the eye as he did it.

When he jerked off, his fantasies all centered around the same few scenarios. A pretty girl moaning as she took his dick, telling him how good he felt. It was nothing special but it worked.

***

During a dry spell a few months back, he’d decided that he was going to use the time to learn a few things. He hadn’t intended to change completely.

He’d stumbled upon the life changing photo in a porn rag that he’d picked up in a little unmarked shop two towns over. For years, there had been rumours that the squat grey building held wonders beyond your wildest imagination, and finally, Steve worked up the courage to see if it was true.

Donning sunglasses and a baseball cap, he’d sauntered in, trying to look like he belonged. After a few minutes, he’d found what he was looking for. A rack of magazines catering to anything that tickled your fancy. Steve grabbed the first few that looked half decent, along with a bottle of lube, and made his way to the front, trying to look nonchalant as he paid. The bored cashier paid him no attention, flipping through a magazine of his own as he rang up Steve’s purchases.

***

Supplies secured, Steve drove home as quickly as he could. He took his time looking through each magazine, poring over each image. He’d intended to just have a little fun, and maybe learn a thing or two to spice things up in the bedroom. That was if he could ever get a girl to come home with him again.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from one image though. It was a close up of a guy with his hand on his dick. There was a girl in the background, eyes closed, like she was waiting to take a load in the face, but all Steve could focus on was the silver barbell going through the head of the guy’s dick.

Steve couldn’t count the amount of time’s he’d jerked off to the image in the following weeks. He couldn’t really pinpoint what made it so hot, but he couldn’t get enough of it. He wanted to feel that confident and sexy. Maybe that would help him get his game back.

The problem was he didn’t know where he could even get a piercing like that. There wasn’t a piercing parlor in Hawkins, and he didn’t think the Claire’s in the mall a few towns over would accommodate such a request. He wasn’t about to give up though, so he went to the only person he knew with a body piercing, Billy Hargrove.

***

There was once a time that Steve wouldn’t dream of asking Billy such a thing, but things had really turned around for them after Steve’s senior year ended. Bored and lonely, Steve started to drive up the quarry after work to drink and smoke. More often than not, he ran into Billy, who would also be sitting there with his own beer, blasting music from his car’s speakers.

That had progressed into talking one night when Steve forgot his lighter, then soon enough, they were spending most of their lights laying back on the hood of one of their cars, looking at the stars together as they drank.

About six months ago, on one hot July night, Billy had pulled his shirt off, revealing nipple piercings; silver barbells that glinted in the moonlight. Steve hadn’t commented at the time, but now that he wanted piercings of his own, he knew who to go to.

He tried to act natural as he turned to Billy that night as they drank in his car, passing a bottle of cheap whiskey back and forth. “Hey, you have your nipples pierced. I’m wondering, uh, where you got them done?”

Billy’s eyes narrowed. “A shop in Indy. Why? Are you thinking of getting some jewelry of your own?”

Steve’s cheeks coloured. “Um yeah, I’m thinking about it.”

“Cool. I think it’d look awesome. I can take you if you want? I know the piercer.”

Steve shook his head. “No, that’s ok. Can you just tell me where it is?”

“I’m just trying to be nice, man. You shy? It’s just your nipples, pretty boy.”

“Ummmmm,”

Billy’s eyes widened, a curious look on his face. “Oh, it’s not your nipples?”

Steve ducked his head, not meeting Billy’s eye. Thankfully, Billy dropped it, scribbling an address on a piece of paper before he silently lit up a cigarette.

***

Steve went to the piercing parlour, enduring the most painful experience of his life, feeling proud of himself and full of confidence every time he looked at it. It felt like the healing process took forever when all he longed to do was get his hand on the piercing.

Finally, the wait was over, and he was free to touch himself. His fingers went right for the piercing, twisting it and sliding it back and forth, groaning as it felt like sparks of electricity were shooting through his whole body. He positioned himself in front of the bathroom mirror, eyes glued to his cock like a magnet. His face was flushed, and his breath was ragged. He was clutching the counter for support, his knees feeling weak as he moaned, his eyes rolling back. He’d never felt hotter in his life.

Once he’d started, he couldn’t stop. He had a hand on his dick almost constantly, always thinking of the piercing. In the shower and while he watched TV. Sometimes he’d even idly stroke himself while he read the TV guide. One time, he’d been so turned on while making dinner that he’d had to turn the pot of soup off, then come back to it after he’d pounded one out in the powder room down the hall.

He didn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed because it felt so good, so right. He went through lube at an alarming rate, alternating where he bought it, so he didn’t seem like too much of a freak, buying so much lube, but no condoms.

***

He thankfully managed to avoid answering Billy’s questions of where the piercing was for the next few months, but he knew that couldn’t last forever. Billy wasn’t the kind of guy to let things go. He would just lie in wait until you least expected it, then he’d pounce.

One night, Billy had come to pick him up to go to the Hawk, their friendship somehow having evolved to doing things that didn’t involved getting intoxicated together.

Billy had arrived early, before Steve had had a chance to shower, so he’d told the blond to just sit and watch TV while he got ready. Steve had undressed, fully intending to just shower, as promised, but as per usual, he found impossible to keep his hands off himself.

That’s how Billy found him, fresh from the shower, staring at his own reflection, as he slowly slid the piercing back and forth. He was tweaking his nipple, in the middle of a low groan when the door opened. Steve was sure he’d locked it, but he clearly hadn’t.

“Hey, Steve, are you almost…” Billy stopped dead in his tracks, eyes locked on Steve’s dick. “Well, well, well,” he said. “So, I was right. It was your dick, you naughty boy. Can’t get enough of it, can you? Doesn’t it feel amazing, pleasure shooting through your whole body?”

Steve nodded, tugging on his lower lip with his teeth. His hand was still on his dick, but it was frozen in place.

Billy slid in behind him, leaning in close. “Need a helping hand, pretty boy? Want me to make you feel good?”

Steve nodded again, and Billy slipped his hand around Steve’s, so that they were stroking Steve’s cock together. He rutted up against Steve’s ass, his other hand tugging at Steve’s chest hair and tweaking his nipples as he sunk his teeth into the meaty flesh of Steve’s shoulder.

“You’re fucking beautiful, princess. I don’t think I need to tell you though. You know how fucking sexy you look.”

Steve was panting heavily as their hands slid over his cock, Billy’s other hand sliding down his chest and stomach to play with the piercing. Steve bucked into the touch, moaning loudly. Fuck, it felt so good to have Billy touch him like this. He felt so confident, so hot. Billy was right. He knew how good he looked, putting on a show.

“Faster,” he urged the blond, who happily obliged, pumping his cock quickly with their joined fists. It wasn’t long before Steve was shooting onto the counter, vision whiting momentarily as Billy used their hands to continue to stroke him through it.

Finally, oversensitive, he batted Billy’s hand away, leaning back into the other boy’s arms. “Well,” he said, chuckling, as Billy kissed his neck. “Looks like the dry spell is over.”

[sapphirelycoris]

Ship: Kūgo Sakamata (Gang Orca) x fem!reader (she/her)

Warnings: Sexual innuendos? Spice, my lack of scene writing skills

Author's note: I want to fuck Kūgo…. 🤨 fuck. I’m a hopeless romantic. I wanted a rain scene and it evolved. So I didn’t have the motivation to finish it but I’ll give you guys some Gang Orca content since I’m pretty sure I’ve never given him a happy fic on my blog.

Unfinished Gang Orca Spice ft: brief NSFW content

When you accepted Kūgo's invitation to get a drink on a roof top bar, you didn't expect to get stuck under a bridge while it poured buckets. You had his jacket wrapped around your body, the cold rain slapped your face so you buried your face in the collar of his coat.

It hung on your shoulders, it was clearly too big for you by the way the sleeves swallowed your entire arm.

"Sorry, I thought it would be a nice day to get outside..." He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.

"Don't worry about it. I had fun with you tonight!"

He smiled at your reassurance and tightened the grip on his wrist. Kūgo was a gentleman in every sense, from the way he talked to his mannerisms. You took his hand and stepped right next to his side.

For a while, you rested against his arm and listened to the noise provided by the weather and the city. Not many people were out, they were in the safety of their cars. It was a waste of a perfectly lovely rainy night. It seemed that only you and Kūgo were the only ones who were appreciating the rain. The sound it made against the pavement and the rushing water down the slanted sidewalk.

"Oh, the rain is letting up." You commented.

It wasn't raining as hard as it had been for the past hour. The deluge was reduced to a light rain. You returned his jacket to him, folded up in a nice square.

"Do you want to run back to the car?"

"No," This was a spur of the moment idea but you were feeling excited. The night couldn't end here, you still wanted to be with him.

The time you spent together was special. He was very busy, picking up after other pro-heroes and handling his agency. Kūgo worked tirelessly to keep people safe. You had a feeling that he was going straight back to work once you parted ways. He deserved a break.

"Come here." You grabbed his hand and ran out from under cover.

Now the idea was crazy and it totally defeated the whole purpose of standing under the bridge. But you'd always wanted to do this. And who better to do it with than Kūgo? You two were getting wet, his white shirt stuck to his body and showed off his well toned stomach.

Waltzing, who would've thought that he knew how that the number 10 hero knew how to dance. Viennese waltzing too. You were getting dizzy from all of the spinning. He was a man of culture.

The leather in his car was dampened now. He had the warm air blasting to get you two warm. Kūgo slid into the driver's seat and quickly closed the door to avoid anymore water in his car.

"What's your address?" He asked just loud enough to be heard over the soft background music.

"Oh, here." You reached out for his phone and typed your home into the GPS.

During the drive, you glanced over at his sharp claws wrapped around the steering wheel, wondering what they would feel like caressing your bare skin. Suddenly it wasn't just the air condition making you hot. Fuck.

The window gave you something to look at besides Kūgo so you focused on your reflection in the glass. You tried to stop your fantasies from completely taking over your mind. It wasn't really working. Your cheeks heated up when you imagined all of the things that you'd tell him to do to you.

It didn't even feel like a long time, he was already in the driveway of your house. He came around and opened the door for you like the gentleman he was. Kūgo walked you to the front door just to be close to you once more.

Once he walked you to the door, Kūgo started saying goodbye, "Thanks for coming out with me tonight."

"Thank you for inviting me." Kūgo turned to get back in his car but you stopped him. Your heart raced, your body moved on it's own. You didn't want your mouth to speak yet it called out his name. "Hm?" He questioned.

"Stay. It's supposed to rain even harder, the storm is going to be bad. Worse than what it was. Your home is far from here, right? I- I have a guest bedroom." You fumbled over your words. Shit why did you have to do that? It was going to be so awkward if he declined your invitation.

He looked speechless but entered through the door when prompted. You made drinks for you two and sat up at the kitchen counter.

Maybe it was the mood and the sexual tension or the Irish whiskey in the coffee but Kūgo was looking sexier than usual. Black iron lights concealed the incandescent brightness from the bulbs. But it gave a nice glow around his frame. You liked him so much better in a non-work setting. He loosened up and you felt proud that he showed you this side of him. The conversation topic was thrown back and forth. Somehow it ended up being about your first time having sex.

"I've never had sex before." He shrugged, tensing his body up at the mention of not loosing virginity.

"Really? Someone like you has never even had his dick sucked?" You gasped, a bit jokingly but quite seriously.

Kūgo was reluctant to say yes because he was afraid you'd laugh at him. He slowly nodded his head and looked away. "Yeah..."

"Well... I could change that for you." You claimed.

"Pardon?"

So now Kūgo found himself sitting on the edge of your bed, waiting for you to come into the room. He was fidgety and messed with the hem of his white dress shirt that he had bought just for your date tonight. He felt like he was taking advantage of you even though you extended the offer to him. You leaned up against the door frame with your arms crossed. Cute.

Kūgo's eyes trailed down your body. He tried really hard not to come off as creepy early that evening but the tight shirt that hugged your breasts was hard not to glance at every now and then. Your skirt was loose but it was a bit short and it didn't protect you during the colder months so you wore black stockings with it.

You strode over towards him and straddled his lap. "Just tell me if you feel uncomfortable and I'll stop immediately." He nodded his head, unsure of where to place his hands so you helped him out.

He obediently let you have free rein over him. You placed his hands on your lower back, dangerously close to your ass.

"You're so tense. Relax sweetheart, I got you." As you spoke softly to calm him down, you ran your nails down his torso. His buttons came easily undone until his whole upper body was exposed.

Your hand held the back of his head while you trailed kisses down his neck. The other one was preoccupied with undoing his belt. Kūgo got a little more confident and slid his hand under your shirt.

[erenoir]

# MITSUYA’S PLAYLIST

💿: mitsuya takashi made a mixtape for you.

❥ what mitsuya’s taste in music would be like + a playlist of his favorite songs at the end <3.

warnings: light smut, mitsuya is an artist + madly in love w you.

up next: draken’s mix

mitsuya blasts his music from his room, his head buried in a sketchbook while you lay beside him, watching the blades of his fan fade into a dizzy mess as they spin around. you feel your eyes flutter shut and your head start to nod, a tap from his pencil to the tip of your nose jolts you back awake. a smirk spreads across his cheeks, “sleepy?” he leans over to place a chaste kiss to your lips, soft and sweet as he lays next to you, the two of you watching the shadows of the fan flicker across the ceiling. “put some music on ‘suya,” you yawn, watching him scroll through his phone for the perfect song. “this good?” he asks you, looking over at your already sleeping figure and laughing under his breath.

mitsuya listens to a lot of indie pop, bedroom pop, and rap. he is the epitome of what “soft” feels like, you listen to his music and you instantaneously know that he’s just so sweet. he listens to music while he draws, nose deep into his beat up sketchbook that he takes everywhere. it’s the soundtrack to the hours he spends in his studio, something he can work to, something he can feel inspired by. soft and never too upbeat, it’s euphoric, dreamy, and makes you feel like you’re floating. you could spend hours watching him work, enamored with his drive, he only lifts his head up from his table to give you a kiss or sweep you across the room to his favorite song.

the muse to his art and his partner in crime, when he listens to music he thinks of you. it’s what plays in the background while you two lock lips on the couch, his hand clutching the back of your neck, the other twisting around the collar of his jacket he put on you. mitsuya always thinks you look best in his clothes. it’s the music that plays while you two play dress up in your room, twirling around in his clothes, laughing as they hang off your body. “put this on for me,” he whispers into the side of your neck as he wraps his arms around your waist, a pretty skirt hanging in front of your legs, “think it’d look cute under my sweater, don’t you agree?” you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, turning around to nod at him as your cheeks heat up.

it’s what plays while he slips his hands under that same skirt, fluttering his fingers against the insides of your thighs. his tongue pushes at the inside of his cheek as he watches your body react to his touch. “gonna be good for me? don’t ruin my favorite skirt,” he whispers, while you feel his warm breath on your skin, goosebumps prickling up your legs. it’s what plays while his fingers interlock with yours, your back arching into your sheets, while his head bobs up and down under his favorite skirt. while you whine his name, your moans mix with the hazy melodies, his name becoming one with the chorus.

it’s the music that plays while your back rests against his chest in the bathtub, your hands swaying back and forth under the water while you pick up bubbles in your palms. his lips rest on the back of your head while he rubs his fingers into your shoulder blades. “think i’m gonna draw you next,” he whispers, your fingers tracing circles into the tops of his knees.

“oh yeah?”

“yeah.”

© 2021 sxkunas - do not repost my work to any other platforms

tags: @arte-misa @shdwgarden first song is for u guys ♡︎