#I was gonna draw them in fancy clothes but then i realized I have like. no time to do that

[pachirobi]

Agent 12 but something looks a little bit weird

eh. must be my imagination

Happy yurimas, everybody [4/3]

[eowynstwin]

a wake-up call

previous - neighbors - next

You deal with the aftermath of the previous night. cw: masturbation reference

Three knocks on your front door wake you up.

The sound feels at first like the thump of your own throbbing brain against the inside of your skull. Awareness comes back to you slowly, in gradiated shades of stiff joints and greasy skin. You shift, and find you’re still on your couch, still in your clothes from last night. Your eyes are filmy, sticky with dehydration—you blink several times to clear them, to little effect.

The knocking, a three-beat staccato, comes again.

“One second,” you croak irritably, cupping your forehead with your hand. Your skull might come apart, you think, if you move too much.

Your entire body feels like it is suspended from loose, tangled marionette strings as you struggle to sit up on the couch, and you wobble to that effect as you stand. Somehow, your flat has tilted at thirty degree angle, likely sometime in your sleep. You make it to the door at an oblique, having to lean on the jamb as you open it, and to add insult to injury John is standing on your doorstep like a clean, shining beacon of sobriety.

He’s in a dark shirt and jeans. His hair is casually neat, as if he’d styled it with his fingers. He looks fresh-faced, as if he’s been awake for hours already.

“That’s not fair,” you groan. 

His brows draw together over cool blue eyes. “Jesus, love,” he says, looking you up and down.

You think you should say something back. But your head is too full of ache and interrupted sleep—and the bright shock of his presence—to produce anything intelligent.

“John,” is all you say, and you sound absolutely pathetic.

“Was gonna accuse you of standing me up,” he says ruefully, “but I see that’s not the case.”

“No,” you say dumbly. The fact that he’s come to seek you out gets tangled up in the strings. “Um.”

It is so far out of the ordinary as to be dreamlike. John’s knocking belongs on the other side of your wall, not your door. His boots belong on his own doorstep, making room for your house slippers at the time of your choosing, not his.

“Am I still drunk?” you wonder aloud.

John gives that little huff-laugh of his. “I doubt it.”

You rub your face. “Have I overslept?”

“Just a bit,” he replies. “I’ll admit, when I didn’t hear you move around this morning, I got worried.”

“I fell asleep on the couch,” you confess. You put a hand to your forehead as your brain throbs again. “Oh, I shouldn’t have drank that much.”

“Love,” says John, gentle and soft, “why don’t you let me in, and I’ll make you some breakfast?”

You blink, and you’re sure now that you’re still drunk. 

John. In your flat. Cooking?

“I’m not fancy in the kitchen, but I manage alright,” he suggests further. His gaze is warm on yours, brows lifted encouragingly.

“…Sure,” you say, and shuffle to the side to let him in. If this morning is determined to be strange, you might as well not get in its way.

He gives you a small smile and crosses the threshold. 

Your flat shifts again; as he enters your living room, it seems to shrink, or maybe it’s just that John fills your home in a way no one ever has. His body, his presence, casts new light on the interior that throws its existence into unfamiliar repose. Details—the softness of your furniture, the cozy clutter of books and knickknacks spread across every available flat surface—offer unmeasured insight into who you are, more than you might ever have intended to reveal to John.

It’s only when he’s halfway to your kitchen that you realize one detail—the bright fucking pink of your vibrator, still on your coffee table—is glowing like a neon sign.

And your previous night’s activities come flooding back. 

Your body, draped over his. The scrape of his beard on your hand, your face. 

The furious grind of your mons against that toy as you pictured him taking you, drenched in hot shower water and pressed bare to the tile wall.

You are fully, painfully awake now. You stare, frozen in shocked terror, waiting for him to catch sight of it, but his head does not turn in its direction. He passes by it with no indication that he even noticed.

You dart over and snatch it behind his back, shoving it deep into your dress pocket, and grab up the empty water glass for an excuse. Then you have to put a hand to your head as your vision swims from the sudden movement.

“Have eggs?” John asks over his shoulder. He enters your kitchen. “I can make ‘em any way you like. Fried, over easy, sunny side…”

“Um,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut, “scrambled.”

You follow after him, and lean against the wall to watch as he opens your fridge. His hand engulfs more of its handle than yours ever has; the musculature of his powerful body visibly shifts beneath his clothes as he has to bend down to root around the shelves.

He is broad in your kitchen. As broad as he’d been between your legs, in memory and in fantasy.

You don’t realize you’re staring until he straightens and puts the eggs, butter, and milk on the counter. Your breath hangs suspended in the shallows of your lungs when he catches your gaze.

His brows crease again. “You look like you’re about to fall over.” 

“Um,” you say, again, because it’s the only sound your brain will reliably supply.

To your horror, he comes to you, and—oh, god—takes your face in both hands.

“You’re warm,” he says. “Do you feel sick, love?”

Your brain supplies nothing now. It is so unfair, how good he looks the morning after drinking nearly half a bottle of scotch. His features are velvet-soft, so easy and wonderful to look at that you stop feeling your headache entirely.

“I really think I might still be drunk,” you admit, sounding pathetic.

His thumbs rub into your temples as he smiles at you. “Hell of a hangover, then.”

The pressure of his fingers is an incredible relief, and you close your eyes as you give into it. You feel, if your knees suddenly gave out, that he would easily be able to hold you up like this, as if you weighed nothing. His hands are a little cool from rooting around in your fridge, and the rest of him is warm, standing close enough that his body heat reaches out to you with the freshness of a recent shower. You want to fall into that warmth, bury your face in his chest…

Your eyes fly open. You hear your own voice again—I wanted to touch you, and I wanted you to hold me. You feel, again, the echo of his body between your thighs. Your heart starts beating wildly in your chest as embarrassment, hot and acidic, pumps through you.

“I think I need to sit down,” you whisper.

He strokes your temples, and surveys your face with a gentle gaze. “Sure, love. Go ahead.”

And then he releases you, and you try to remember how to walk as you return to your living room. There is no relief to be found as you sit down on your couch, which is indented by the dissatisfied night.

“How’d you sleep?” John asks from the counter. You hear him crack a few eggs into a bowl. This is the first time cooking has happened in your kitchen with you outside of it, and the cognitive dissonance of it does not help to steady you.

“Like the dead,” you say, rubbing your sore neck. Then, you decide to lie to him. “I—I think I passed out before the door even closed last night.”

John looks over his shoulder at you, and he smiles. The vibrator sits cold in your pocket. Are you imagining that glimmer in his eyes? “Wouldn’t be surprised. You were pretty out of it.”

“I didn’t end up drinking the whole bottle, did I?”

A chuckle. “Not quite.”

“Didn’t you drink as much as me?” You try to recall, and think you can remember him matching you glass for glass. “Why aren’t you out of commission?”

“The army never cares if you’re hungover, I’ve found,” says John. “Guess I learned to stop caring too.”

You hear the sizzle of whisked eggs spreading over a hot pan, and for a while there’s only the sound of John moving a spatula around.

You watch him in your kitchen, his back to you as he stands at the stove. His long-sleeved shirt clings to the breadth of his shoulders, planes of shifting muscle underneath casting shadows through the soft cotton. The collar hangs a little low down his neck, leaving enough room for the dark hair at his nape to curl as it dries.

It makes something in your stomach twist, twinning your nervous hunger with unstable desire. It’s something that wants to walk back into the kitchen and wrap your arms around his trim waist, press your cheek between his shoulder blades.

“Want anything else?” John asks. “Could make some toast.”

“Eggs are fine!” you say too quickly.

The spatula scrapes softly against the pan again. As he turns to open your fridge, you swear you see him grinning. 

Heat blooms across your face. SAS. Of course he could feel you looking at him.

It does not take him very long to finish cooking. Space bends once again as he leaves your kitchen, as he comes to you with a plate balanced on one hand and a glass of orange juice in the other. You feel smaller than you ever have as he approaches, and sets the meal in front of you on the coffee table. 

“Hope it tastes alright,” he says, sitting down beside you. He sinks into your couch cushions, far more dense than you are, and looks quite comfortable doing so. “I made ‘em how I like ‘em, but no guarantee you’ll feel the same.”

You look from him to the eggs, which are golden yellow and steaming pleasantly. “You didn’t make yourself anything?”

There is a softness in his eyes when you look back to him. You’ve seen it before—it’s there every time you hand him a new book. “Don’t worry ‘bout me. Just eat.”

You can’t protest when he’s looking at you like that, so you obey, suddenly ravenous once a forkful is between your teeth. The eggs are whipped to a wonderfully soft fluff, salted perfectly, and you think you can taste the barest hint of butter. You can’t help shutting your eyes to savor the taste.

“Good?” John asks. “I’ll admit, I’m not much of a cook, but I think I’m all right at eggs.”

Usually you like to add things when you make the same dish—potato chips, broken up into little crumbs, or a dollop of sour cream and salsa. For once though, right now you’d be disappointed by all that. 

They wouldn’t be the eggs John made for you.

The thought makes your stomach twist again. “Delicious,” you say. “Thank you.”

He watches you eat, and you try not to feel self-conscious. He seems almost—satisfied by this, by feeding you, more than you would expect him to be. But then, this has always been the case with John. You have never understood why the smallest of things you do have such an impact on him, but they do nonetheless.

“John,” you say. “About last night…I wanted to apologize.”

Dark brows crease as you set the empty plate down. “What for?”

“I got so drunk,” you say. You won’t look at him, face heating, strangling your own fingers in your lap. “You—you had to carry me home, and I’m so embarrassed by the things I said, I was so inconsiderate.”

“That’s not—”

“You must have felt so uncomfortable,” you continue, “you were so nice to take me out, and there I was acting like a lush with no self-control—”

“Darling, it’s fine—”

“And then after, the way I—I pawed at you—”

He says your name—fully and clearly, firmly—and it catches you so off guard that your words halt in your throat. You finally meet his gaze.

John’s eyes have always been windows. Portals into the truth of him, freely offered, without hesitance or fear. You think John knows himself in ways few men do—knows every corner, every crack and crevice, and refuses to hide any of it from himself or anyone else. As if he is not afraid of being seen for what and who he is; as if he has seen it all already, and cannot be daunted by it.

What you see now is undisguised. Untempered. John Price wants you. And he has no fear that you can see it.

“Did you mean any of it?” he asks, voice low and deep in his chest.

The question catches you off guard, throwing you with its directness. The only thing keeping you upright is his gaze, the steady certainty of its own intention. Strong even under the weight of suspense. 

You swallow, and take a shaky breath. “John,” you say, “I was so drunk...”

His eyes flash. John moves, leans forward, and you are speared, held in place much the same way you had been at dinner, by his presence alone. “I know. But did you mean it?”

The breath trapped in your lungs calcifies, solidifies into hard, pressing nodules of catalyzed fear and desire that trap the seeds of any response in your chest. You tear your gaze away from him, finally, stare at the empty plate on your table. He does not touch you, but you feel the phantom weight of his hand on your knee. The warmth of his body against yours.

“We hardly know each other,” you whisper shakily. It is a flimsy scrap of an excuse, even to you. “We—we barely know each other at all.”

“Love,” John says, low and soft. You turn to look at him again. His lips part—

Your phone rings.

You exhale hard, strings suddenly cut. John closes his eyes, breathes out, and then leans back again.

You retrieve your phone from where you’d flung your purse last night, off the couch and to the opposite wall where it lays on the floor. When you see the caller ID, you want to throw the phone back across the room, but you take a deep breath and answer anyway.

“Ben,” you sigh, and to your furious embarrassment it comes out as a croak.

“Hey, sweets, Liv is—wait. You sound awful,” comes your coworker—and ex-boyfriend’s—voice through the earpiece.

“Rough night,” you say, closing your eyes against sweets. You then look at John. His gaze is fixed on you.

“Oh, sorry,” Ben says. “Anything I can do?”

He could have not called. “Tell me about Liv,” you prompt him.

“Right! She’s out. Flu.”

“Oh.” You blink, and watch John retrieve your plate and glass. He takes them to the kitchen and runs the faucet low, so the sound won’t interfere with your call. 

You’re not sure how you know that that’s his intention, but you do. 

“That’s awful.”

“And inconvenient. We need another instructor for the trip.”

Can John hear what Ben is saying? He looks up from the sink, lifts one brow when you meet his eyes. There’s humor there, a kind of rueful empathy for dealing with the nonsense of coworkers.

You want to hang up. You want to answer his question right then and there. 

“When?” you ask.

“Two hours. I know! I know it’s short notice,” he says, animatedly contrite. “Sorry. But we’d love to have you, it’ll be fun! I can even pick you up, if you like.”

“No, that’s alright,” you sigh. “But okay, I’ll start packing. Just send me the details, yeah?”

“Sure, sweets,” Ben replies, “can’t wait to see you! I’ve missed hanging out, you know? Even after…everything.”

The gravitational force of John’s presence—the shift and bend of your flat around him—snaps in half. Reality asserts itself like a recurring headache. 

Suddenly you’re in your flat, phone to your ear, unshowered from last night and coated in a layer of grease. The vibrator is a useless weight in your pocket. You are a useless girl hungover in day-old clothes.

“I’ll see you soon,” you say noncommittally, and hang up.

John gazes at you expectantly from over the sink.

“Work trip,” you say, and you wonder if you sound as dazed as you feel. “Last minute, I…I need to get ready.”

John blinks, and then grins, amused. Crow’s feet gather in the corners of his eyes. “You know, I’m usually the one in that situation.”

Suddenly he is too much to look at. You tear your gaze away, look at your phone in your hands. You feel very exposed, ashamed somehow. “I’m sorry,” you say.

You hear the easy drum of John’s boots out of your kitchen, across the room, and then he’s in front of you. His hands are in his pockets, arms slung loose at his sides. “What for?”

“For…”

He steps closer to you. Your heart leaps in your chest, and you have to look up at him, unable to resist the pull he has on you.

The line of his mouth is gentle, and you stare too long at the divot of his Cupid’s bow. Beneath the soft lines of his brows, his gaze is soft, fond. More so than you deserve.

“I don’t really know.”

The long muscle in his neck shifts as he tilts his head. You swallow, unconsciously mirroring the gesture.

“John…I…”

His gaze drops—rests on your lips, and returns to yours.

“Love,” he murmurs, low and humming. “Did you mean it?”

His voice slides across you like physical touch, and every hair feels like it’s standing on end.

Yes. Yes, of course you meant it, every word. It feels so obvious to you, so blatant, and the shame of it holds you by the throat. You are not important enough to inflict upon John Price. You are trembling, meek, afraid of stepping outside your own door sometimes. What is that in comparison to him? Him, who comes home shaking off the dust of places you’ve only ever heard of. Him, who you’ve learned can swear in six different languages. Him, who has stuffed more life than you thought possible into only a handful more years of living than yours.

Of course you want him. Moths are always drawn toward flame. How could you not?

“John,” you say in your smallest voice. You hate the way it sounds—like an admission of guilt. “What if I did?”

He doesn’t move, but you see the shift in him anyway. A coiling, almost,  energy banking as he studies you, searches your face. His hands remain in his pockets. He watches you for a long moment, and you can’t possibly imagine what he might like in what he sees.

“Ball’s in your court, then,” he finally says, soft and low in his chest. “Whatever you want from me, love, you can have.”

You want too much. You can’t give enough back.

“I don’t want to ruin this,” you say on a shallow breath. “Our—us. What we already have.”

He steps closer to you. Close enough that his shirt brushes the front of your dress. Close enough that his clean, soft warmth near-envelops you, the exact same way you’d been wishing for earlier. He does not reach out, like he did when he thought you were sick. You cannot decide if this disappoints you or not. You feel shaky without his hands on you, feverish and embarrassed, and you fear desperately that he can see that as he holds your gaze, that you are completely open to him in a way that leaves no space for the truth to hide. 

“You won’t,” he says, steady and solid.  

You take a trembling breath, swallow to clear your throat. “I…”

He withdraws one hand from his pocket, slowly, and brings it upward. Feather-light, he curls his index finger under your chin, caressing his thumb so terribly gently beneath your bottom lip. You cannot help flinching, anticipatory want recoiling from the very thing it was aching for in surprise, and for a split second you are newly scared that he’ll take his touch away.

But he doesn’t. The windows of John’s eyes stay open, and there is nothing but intent behind them. You realize he knows. He knows that you’re reluctant, that you’re unsure, that you are pulled to him like a falling star to earth and also terrified of burning up in the process. 

He understands.

“I’m a patient man, love,” he purrs, and you realize too that he is excited by this, by you. “I can wait. As long as you need.”

[leaentries]

Please can we talk about Nico when his gf is having a bad body day, just feeling a little sad/insecure. (me atm)🥺

I love how your blog is for chubby girls btw💗

my heart ❤️ he would be so sad and his big ole brown puppy dog eyes would get so big

here’s a lil blurb to kick off my return to writing 🕺

also i’m writing this on my phone so the format might be slightly different…sorry😋

your mind was cloudy, the world just seemed darker today. something about the way your outfits clung to your body just didn’t seem right.

your floor was littered in different items of clothing, having tried on what seemed to be everything hanging in your closet.

tonight was the first night in a long while that nico was able to plan something nice for the two of you. making reservations at a fancy restaurant, booking a hotel room for the night, the whole nine yards. you should be happy, ecstatic that you are finally getting your boyfriend all to yourself, but, in this moment, all you wanted to do was cry.

tears threatened to spill as you stared into the mirror. the fabric of the dress hugging your body in all the ways you hated, you felt suffocated.

you choked back a sob as you violently unzipped the dress and threw it somewhere amongst the rest. sitting on the edge of your bed, clad in nothing but a bra and some panties, you looked helplessly at the tsunami of clothes. you wanted nothing more than to feel beautiful in your own skin. to feel worthy of going out with nico.

the salty drops cascaded down your face faster than you could will them away. you were lost, not knowing what to do from here. a loud knock echoed through your apartment, drawing a small, “Fuck,” from your panicked lips.

nico was here and you weren’t even close to being ready. dread filled your chest knowing how excited he is and how his beaming smile is what’s gonna greet you the second you open the door. you quickly grab the nearest oversized sweater, throwing it over your head as you make your way to the entrance.

you take a deep breathe before gripping the metal handle and carefully opening the door.

your heart melted and broke all at the same time. nico stood tall, dressed in his all black suit, the one he knew you loved, holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers. you felt a new batch of tears quickly begin to build in your vulnerable state.

you didn’t want to ruin nico’s night with something a minuscule as being insecure. you wouldn’t hurt him like that. before your tears could fall, you plastered on a small smile, letting nico walk in the apartment.

his happy features dropped slightly upon seeing your sweater, “What’s wrong, schatzi? Why aren’t you dressed?” his tone filled with worry.

you shook your head, opting to give him a little fib, “I’m just having a hard time finding something that fits tonight, Neeks.”

He smiled cheekily, taking it upon himself to place the flowers in a mason jar, “Let me put these in water first, then I will come help.” You gave him a slight nod, before returning to your cluttered room. A deep sigh left your lips, realizing that Nico is gonna see the inside of your brain that now lays upon your bedroom floor.

“Oka- Whoa.” nico’s words died in his throat as he glanced around the space.

You buried your head in your hands, embarrassed at the mess. “I know, I know! I just couldn’t find anything to wear! and i felt like i needed to try on everything and nothing worked and-” Nico cut you off.

“It’s okay, baby. I’m not judging. I think you forget I have a sister, i’m not new to this.” He walks in, eyes scanning the pile carefully. He picked up a black dress, once that just-so-happened to match his suit. “Here!” he flashed his dimples at you, “This is perfect. Put this on, f’me, schatzi, you’ll look beautiful.”

You gently took the dress, clutching it to your body.

He placed a quick kiss to your temple before walking out, “I’ll wait outside the door, just shout if you need anything.”

You stripped yourself of the sweater, pulling on the black dress. Normally, you’d admire the way the intricate details of the fabric or the way it tied gracefully in the back, but you only found yourself criticizing as you stood in the floor length mirror once more. Your eyes dragged over each spot you hated.

The way you thought your legs didn’t look quite long or skinny enough, or the way your tummy wasn’t flat. Even the way your hip-dips stood out more prominently in your opinion, it all just seemed overwhelmingly visible. Too lost in thought, you missed the door opening and a certain swiss making his way into the room.

Nico’s eyes focused on the way yours filled with disgust at your body, the way you were picking at every inch. He wasn’t oblivious to your insecurities, although he would never understand why you felt that way. In his eyes, you were the most gorgeous and genuine woman he’d ever met. You were perfect and even better, you were his.

He took his place behind you placing his hands gently on your hips. You jumped slightly startled by his sudden appearance.

“This is more than just finding an outfit, schatzi.” His eyes meet yours through the mirror, “What’s really going on?”

His soft words broke the damn that you’d been trying so hard to keep from cracking. Your head dipped down as a sob left your throat. Nico immediately moved to stand in front of you, pulling you into his chest.

His hand came up to stroke your hair softly, as you cried into his shirt, “Shh, shh. It’s okay, baby.” Nico tried his best to console you, whispering comforting words into your ears.

“C’mon, take some deep breaths for me.” He pulled your head from his chest, hands moving to cradle your face. He began to breathe slowly, encouraging you to breathe with him. One you had regained some air, you looked up at him.

“M’ sorry, Neeks.” You sniffled, “I’ve just been having a bad day and I kept putting on different outfits, but I just felt…” You trailed off, trying to find the right word. His big doe eyes bore into yours, waiting patiently for you to continue. “I just feel ugly.”

Nico felt his heart physically throb. How could his beautiful girl see herself as ugly? Doesn’t she know that he wishes he could see her for the first time, just so he could fall in love with her all over again? Nico was at a loss for words. He genuinely couldn’t grasp how someone, let alone yourself, could ever think you were ugly.

“No.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at the simple word that left the man’s mouth.

“…No?” You were confused.

“Listen to me,” He turned your bodies back to your original position, “You see these legs? These are the most gorgeous, most soft, most warm legs that I could ever want. The way they work as a perfect pillow,” His lips brushed against the shell of your ear, “Or the way that they wrap around my head.”

Your breath began to pick up as he began to list off every part of your body and the reasons why he loved them. He picked apart your insecurities and replaced them with love and desire.

“But more of all, this girl.” His eyes rose to meet yours once more, “This girl is the most beautiful and precious person that I have ever had the privilege of knowing. This girl is my girl. My pretty girl.”

You felt a new flood of tears, this time because of the vast amounts of love radiating from Nico.

“Thank you, Neeks” You felt the need to thank him, thank him for dealing with you.

“Don’t thank me. I would give up anything just for the opportunity to tell you how pretty you are.”

His hands began to untie the back of the dress, only stopping when your hands came up to hold his in place.

“What about dinner?”

He smirked at you, “Screw dinner, let’s just go to the hotel room.” You turned in his grasp as the dress slowly fell to pool at your feet. Nico tugged at his bottom lip with his teeth at the slight of your exposed skin. “Because right now I want nothing more than to spend the night between my favorite pair of legs.”

[once-upon-an-imagine]

Yay then!!!

Hmmmm…

So, for hurt-comfort, I had another idea, but I realized it's too big and would prob work as a one-shot better, so this is the scenario idea:

James finding his gf (the reader) crying after someone was bullying her for being muggleborn, (if u wanna make it more extreme maybe they also cast a spell that ruined all her hw, or drenched her in water, or something like that) and by the end she's just kinda asleep in his arms and he promises (to himself) to protect her

Also, I swear, for some reason the bad liar update never showed up on my page, so I'll be reading that tmr

always yes to protective Jamie 🥺🥰 Warnings: reader gets bullied for being a muggle-born Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter 😊 gifs aren’t mine 😁

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Bullied

"Hey, sweetheart, I was starting to think you forgot about me" you heard your boyfriend's voice coming from the bathroom, as soon as you stepped into his dorm. He walked out and his smile instantly dropped when he saw you. "Princess, what happened?"

You were an absolute mess. You looked completely drenched, covered in mud, your knees and hands were wounded, and your bag looked like it had been burned.

"I w-was coming b-back from the library" you said, between sobs as James walked closer to you and took your bag off your shoulder. "A-and they- they started yelling at m-me" you cried as James walked you over to his bed and sat you down.

"Who?" he asked, feeling his blood boiling.

"S-some kids from Slytherin" you said, trying to calm your breathing. "I'm not sure what their n-names are. They just started yelling 'm-mudblood'" you cried on James' shoulder. "A-and then they threw water a-at me with their wands a-and mud" you said, looking up at him before you grabbed your bag. "A-and they ruined m-my bag. I had all of my assignments here" you said, opening it but nothing more than ashes came out. "I worked on m-my Charms essay for t-two weeks" you said, crying harder and James pulled you closer to him.

James took a deep breath to try and calm himself down so he wouldn't run out to find the shitheads who did this to you because he knew you needed him here.

"Come on, love" he said, getting up and bringing you with him.

"But my things-"

"I'll take care of that, princess. I'm gonna draw you a bath, and we're gonna use Padfoot's fancy salts and soaps, just don't tell him, okay?" he said, kissing your forehead.

You smiled a little as James prepared the warm bath for you and as soon as you got in, you instantly felt at least ten times better.

"Where are you going?" you pouted when he walked towards the exit.

"I'm gonna get you some clean clothes, love" he said, giving you a peck on the lips before he walked out of the bathroom.

After you were clean and changed into James' pajama pants and your favorite sweater of his, you walked out to the dorm and saw James trying to salvage what was left of your bag.

"It's ruined, isn't it?" you asked, feeling a few tears in your eyes again, sitting down next to him.

"It's okay, princess. We're going to Hogsmeade this weekend and I will buy you any bag you like, okay?" he said, kissing your temple.

"Love, you don't have to do that" you insisted.

"I want to. I love spoiling you" he smiled, kissing your cheek.

"Still, I don't think I'll be able to go to Hogsmeade this week" you said, as James brushed his thumb against your cheek to wipe away your tears. "I have to redo my Charms essay" you explained. You noticed James tense a little before he took a deep breath. "What?"

"Alright, if I tell you something, do you promise not to get mad?"

"What did you do?" you asked, wiping your remaining tears with the sleeve of your sweater.

"W-well, sometimes when we're too busy with Quidditch or... well, pranks, Padfoot and I grab your homework and Moony's and... we kind of make copies of it" he said, going over to his nightstand and taking a few parchments out, handing them to you. You saw your Charms essay, the one that you had worked on for two weeks and had just finished at the library. It was just missing the last part, but everything else was there.

"How often do you do this?" you asked, going through the papers.

"We don't use them, we just, you know, make our own version of them. Only when we have Quidditch practice" he insisted but you looked up at him with an arched eyebrow. "Or when we forget there's homework" he admitted. "I'm sorry, love. I should have told you but-"

You cut James off by throwing your arms around his shoulders and kissing him on the lips. "I love you so much" you smiled.

"Y-you're not mad?"

"I'm not entirely happy about it and I doubt Remus will be either" you told him. "But you just saved me from having to re-write this entire essay" you smiled, bringing him closer for another kiss. "Thank you" you smiled.

"You're welcome, princess" he said, kissing you again. "Do you want to go down for dinner? You can point those kids to me so me and Padfoot can-"

"No" you said, hugging him. "Can we just stay here a little longer?" you asked, looking up at him, knowing he wouldn't be able to say no to you.

"Of course, princess" he said, lying down on his bed and bringing you with him. "Whatever you want" he said, kissing your temple as you rested your head on his chest. "I love you" he said, stroking your back, noticing you were almost asleep.

"I love you too" you said, closing your eyes and falling asleep in his arms while he mentally thought about letting Sirius in on this and plotting his revenge against the Slytherins.

The End

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

A/N: hope you liked it, loves :)

[shieldofiron]

One subby billionaire Steve please with dom blue collar worker Billy

Oh coming right UP! CW: We're doing a little daddy dom, light bdsm (they're just getting started.)

Steve doesn't take off the suit until Billy tells him. He doesn't do anything until Billy tells him, but he especially doesn't take off the suit. Billy's fingers, tipped with callouses, burn through the layers of expensive fabric, and Steve whimpers. His blood feels like it's on fire, his head is feverish, and he burns, he pines, he perishes.

Billy taught him that. Billy, who reads Moliere and giggles in the bath, who moved in and brought his box of books and bright clothes and color and life to Steve's sad sterile penthouse. Billy, who makes him groan and cry and laugh and delights him beyond belief.

"Fuck, so good for me, angel, were you waiting long?" Billy whispers in his ear, moustache tickling. He smells like motor oil and cigarettes and the detergent that Billy swears works better than Steve's fancy stuff.

Steve whimpers, "No, daddy."

Billy's laugh tickles along Steve's back where Billy's chest is pressed, sends goosebumps scattering across his skin.

"Long day?" Billy whispers.

Steve has a tension headache between his brows, and he groans, leaning back into Billy's chest, "Yeah. Just... yeah."

"Poor little angel, not enough workers to exploit?" Billy shakes his head.

"The charity set up is taking longer than I expected, and I'm just... fuck... Daddy, please?"

"Okay, I'll quit teasing ya," Billy nuzzles his nose against Steve's neck, "Let me wash up."

"Can I-?"

Steve trails off and he can feel Billy stare at him, "You want to come with me?"

Steve nods, "I'll wash your hair, maybe?"

Billy smiles against Steve's cheek, "Yeah, baby? You gonna take care of me?"

"Yes, please. Always."

Billy digs his fingers into the knot of Steve's tie, tugging at his clothes, "Fuck, angel, you're being so good for me."

"I could be bad," Steve whispers longingly, following as Billy tugs them into the bathroom.

"No," Billy laughs, pulling at Steve's Italian wool jacket, "Not you. Never you."

Steve warms to the compliment, burns under Billy's hungry gaze as he strips Steve and asks him to draw them a bath.

"Got so many ideas Angel," Billy smiles, sitting on the edge of the tub, "Get in and grip the sides. Don't move, okay?"

Steve complies, realizing only when he grasps the sides of the tub that his hands are shaking, he's hot all over and gasping already.

"Good boy," Billy coos, "Now, let's take the edge off, Princess."

Steve intends to say more, but then Billy turns on the handheld shower head and flips it to the massaging function. His hands are stained with motor oil, and he dips the shower head under the water, pressing it to the underside of Steve's half-hard cock. Steve jerks, letting out a wailing gasp.

"Don't move, angel," Billy corrects, leaning over Steve and pressing an indulgent kiss to Steve's forehead. The steam makes Billy's curls curlier, and his eyes are heavy lidded, sliding down Steve's body like the water.

Steve tries to hold still, thighs trembling, while the water pulses along his cock. It's unlike anything else, too much and not enough all at once.

"Oh, I'm sorry baby," Billy moves the shower head and it pulses right against the head of his cock.

Steve jerks, splashing water up against Billy's mechanic's shirt, plastering it to his chest.

"Relax, Angel," Billy whispers.

"Kiss," Steve gasps, trying with all of his power to still his hips, "K-Kiss, please-"

Billy leans in and parts Steve's lips, kissing his lower lip slowly and then slipping his tongue inside. He tastes like cigarettes and hot wet skin and Steve melts into it, muscles going lax and weak.

As soon as he relaxes into it, he realizes he's so close, embarrassing close.

"B-Billy," Steve whimpers pressed against Billy's lips.

"Do it, angel," Billy's voice is harsh and rough, "Fucking do it, we have all night."

Steve doesn't take off his suit until Billy says, and he sure as hell comes when Billy says. The water seems to pulse right to the core of him, and he groans, hips jerking, lips seeking up for Billy's. He can feel tears burning hot behind his eyes, the rasp of Billy's fingers where they cradle Steve's head at the nape of his neck, the water, lapping against him hothothot.

He comes to a moment later, cum swirling in the water and Billy's indulgent chuckle in his ears.

"Good for you Angel?"

"Get in here," Steve whispers, head lolling weakly.

"Don't need to tell me twice," Billy's mustache twitches.

[that-gay-jedi]

For the Star Wars ask prompt: 18. what is your favorite star wars book or comic?

This may change when I'm more caught up on comics (I have the 2 big Darth Vader runs to get through plus everything set pre-TPM) and I'm not going to allow myself to say RotS novel bc my love of it kinda goes without saying. Hard mode I'm also gonna forego saying Luke Skywalker and the Shadows of Mindor bc I never shut up about how much I love that book and people are gonna get tired of me lmfao. And I'm not gonna allow myself to say the Jabiim arc of the clone wars comics bc smarter people than me have already posted at length about why that's so good. Okay wow I just made this exceedingly difficult for myself. RIP.

So with those all barred I'm thinking it's Master and Apprentice by Claudia Gray, which is about the fraught relationship between teenage Obi-Wan and youngish Qui-Gon. I keep coming back to it and borrowing shite from its worldbuilding in fanfic etc bc I enjoyed a lot of the concepts it added to the gffa- the aspect of the culture on Pijal where ornamentation is present but hidden and the outward appearances of objects is always plain (I.e. fancy tables only decorated on the underside, the clothes of the wealthy containing embellishments only inside the sleeves, etc) was super interesting to me, as was the introduction of kohlen crystals (I may or may not be using them in some future fanfics... shhh...).

I found the symbolism there really cool in light of the fact that the main plot is a murder mystery, and with every new twist introduced the author emphasizes that once again nothing is what it appears to be at first glance.

The obligatory "criminal with a heart of gold" role in every Star Wars story was here filled by my two absolute favourite Glup Shittos of all time, Pax Maripher and Rahara Wick.

Pax is a human who feels like a robot trying to be human- he grew up stranded where he was the only organic being on a ship full of protocol droids who raised him. 11/10 character creation, no notes.

Rahara is a former slave who is consumed with the thought of vengeance but has a good heart, her narrative acts as kind of a primer, foil and foreshadow to when Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan's stories intersect with Anakin's 10 years later.

They're jewel thieves of a sort, and though I'm not sure if this is intentional on the author's part or a coincidence, I was really captivated by this one moment where one of our Jedi boys having recently met the two is reflecting on how "there are some people who are simply drawn to the light." That synthesis of the metaphorical draw to do what's right and the literal glint of a jewel, on a planet where jewels are intentionally concealed on the inside of a design so that the true beauty and worth of any item is only visible to someone who looks beyond the surface...

Okay I'm starting to realize I should probably write an analysis of Master and Apprentice at some point. Lmao. For now I'm gonna stop here except to add one more thing I found delightful: the concept of "performance artist terrorists".

[tricornonthecob]

Alas, it will keep me awake

LK 120: An American Manwhore in Paris

(pt1)(pt2)(pt3)(pt4)

DIC animators: "something something edutainment here's the shit we know all of you 18th cent/Antoinette/frev/amrev geeks are freaks for: that sweet sweet material culture" aww yeah we got Robe à la française errwhere.

Its ya boi, Benji Franxxx

lol both of them bout to geddit.

Fuckin' ZINGED I wouldn't even be mad if I got roasted by Benji Franx.

lol they all gonna geddit.

If I was the one who came up with that dress I would be SO MAD that it was only in there for a fraction of a moment.

lol this entire episode is the art department going FUCK YOU WE WANNA DRAW FASHIONABLE HO'S.

Benji you do realize it sounds like you want to take down their monarchy, yes?

Oh good! she's back!

Literally spending this entire scene interrupting all the edutainment by showing off their design work with anachronistic dancing (waltz isn't around until 19th century.)

SPOILER ALERT

You probably should its very cold outside.

Not throwing any shade, this is the laziest walk animations I've seen so far in this episode and i'm guessing its because they spent the entire animation budget on the previous scene's Roccocaine ball. Honestly, great tradeoff.

TMI, ABIGAIL

man the writer's room is just chomping at the bit to flesh out Dad Issues, The Tory.

Nothing good comes from coughing in a period piece.

Oh did she take Sulfa, too?

Daaaaaaang that's a nice swipe at her deadbeat dad, Abigail. High-fives!

James, you sweet summer child, why are you still surprised when conditions at Camp Continental Army are shit.

Washington? Arnold? Greene??

Lol Benji taking full advantage of this paid work trip.

The footman is either hella stoned, or checking out that elegant twunk (fancy dress can't fool me, that guy's a twunk under all that silk.)

Not with that attitude, sheeesh, you don't even have a bunch of teenaged reporters hanging out around you guys.

"Fuckfuckfuck this wasn't the plan"

ya girl is HALLUCINATIN' also is she just... wearing her normal clothes in bed with a wicked ass fever???

Straight up havin' a real bad trip

apparently she's in the same forest Snow White was in.

Check it out, its him! The PTSD Deadbeat DILF with a wonky accent! My blorbo!

Lol the closest she's ever gotten to her father in 4 years is a fucking fever dream.

They gave that man some full fuckin lips, straight up lookin' as fabulous as John Hancock.

[erigold13261]

Will Carna and Maragold have a different gender identity or how they wear clothes as they grow up? (I see them wearing more feminine outfits in your art so…)

Clothes don't depict your gender. Also, I don't think I've really drawn either of them in feminine clothes that much.

Just took a look at my art of them, and Maragold's initial outfit was a dress that they had before being upgraded. Then there was the nonbinary comic with what looked like a dress, but I was going more for either a night gown or a shirt someone gave them to wear to be more comfortable. Everything else I think I've drawn them in either pants or shorts. (well there was the Christmas pic like 2 years ago with Maragold and Carna in the skirt version of the uniform that Zimelu wears)

I think you might be mistaking other people drawing Maragold for my own art, because looking back there are a lot of gifts I got with Maragold in dresses and skirts. There was also a lot of feminization of Maragold in those art gifts. I didn't mind them but they are not what I had in mind for older Maragold. Even humanized Mara's seem to have orange skin when my human Maragold would have like green or something like that.

However, Maragold does actually like to wear more feminine clothes and will probably stick with they/them or possibly go back to using she/her at times, making their pronouns they/she. I don't think they will ever go back to identifying as a girl though, at least not in a complete sense. They are gonna stick with nonbinary, or if they do change it's gonna be something under the nonbinary umbrella. Maybe genderfluid.

[Oops, wait, just went into the Orange tag, because I never fully retagged all my Orange pics as Maragold. Though that only brought up one extra picture not in the Maragold tag. I did draw Maragold in a dresss/skirt that Zimelu made them, but all the other drawings have Maragold either in their doll dress, or in shorts. So yeah, point still stands from before]

As for Carna, I don't think I ever actually drawn faer with feminine clothes. The pictures I am remembering are either faer with the 1010 kid uniform thing, or with masc/androgynous clothes. Or at least that is what I was trying to go for with the outfits I put faer in. I could be forgetting though.

Looking at Carana's tag, yeah, I've only drawn faer in a skirt once and that was the Christmas one from a few years ago. The only other one I could think of that might be seen as feminine is the halloween outfit fae wore, but that was supposed to be a combination of a suit and dress. Everything else has been shorts. Not even pants lol. (not counting Carna as a doll with a skirt, which doesn't even show up in faer tag because it is tagged as Pink and not Carana)

Carna likes masc clothes, things that are fancy like suits, though doesn't mind if they have a feminine flare to them. So like a suit with a skirt attached to it, or pants with a flowy top or something. Fae is not going to just straight up wear a dress or skirt by itself.

With gender, I do see Carna changing, but never going back to seeing faerself as a girl. If anything, Carna would lean more towards something masculine I feel. I can see faer trying out agender or even libragender (leaning towards libramasculine) as gender identities. Fae might try out he/him pronouns but would most likely go back to neopronouns and either just stick with fae/faer or add a new set and keep fae/faer as well.

So yeah, after going through all of this I realized something. I need to draw Carna and Maragold more lol! Those two definitely are lacking in art. Even Dew has more content than those two and I made them before him!

[gaoau]

where the line between commensalism…

tiny frog, big spider warnings — none. word count — 1.1k

next.

thunder rumbles in the distance, looming clouds gathering across the sky with promises of a downpour. humming to himself, Nanao reaches out to pull on his curtain and peek out the window. a smile grows on his lips when he catches lightning striking across the sky among the darkness. just as he lets go of the curtain, the light in the room across from his turns on. he's quick to draw the curtain fully with a single tug of his hand. he can use a break from homework.

as if on cue, his neighbor approaches the window to sneak a glance out to the sky as well. [Name] visibly sighs at the incoming rain ready to begin pelting down like hail any moment. she grabs a fistful of her curtain before her attention settles on Nanao staring expectantly at her. the corner of her lips lifts and she sends him a small wave with her taped fingers. almost instantly, Nanao leaves his chair to open up his window. he sees how [Name] rolls her eyes, laughing, but still mimics him.

"[Name]-san, merha," he calls, lazily doing his signature gesture.

[Name] chuckles while dragging her chair closer to take a seat. "mari mari, Nanao-kun." she doesn't have a fancy hand signal to go with her greeting. Nanao doesn't mind at all when she greets him differently every day. sometimes Spanish, sometimes English, sometimes native tongues he still has a lot to learn about.

before he can find a random topic of conversation to talk about across their windows, his eyes fall down to her backyard. he has a better view of her laundry than she does. he giggles to himself, then looks her in the eye with a knowing, teasing smile. "you should bring your clothes in, it's gonna rain."

he laughs again, this time a bit louder, when he watches the realization pull on her features. "ah, kill myself, you're right," she grumbles under her breath. "hold on, i got this." and she disappears from his sight while he finds entertainment in her forgetfulness. not long after, he spots her rushing out the back door to hastily gather her laundry. "thanks, by the way," she says a little louder than usual, making sure her voice reaches him up on his window, "i always forget about this."

"yeah, no problem." he shifts his arms on the windowsill to use them as a makeshift pillow for his chin. he lets silence settle for a brief moment, already quite used to seeing [Name] throwing laundry into her basket at the very last minute. it makes him laugh quietly. [Name] glances up at him with a raised brow. "nothing, nothing," he answers, "i just think symbiotic relationships are my favorite."

a fleeting frown pulls on her brows in slight confusion. she knows Nanao talks a lot. "what are you getting out of this?"

"i get to call a pretty girl my friend." an awful lot.

"that's all?" 

"well, you know what they say." Nanao pauses for dramatic effect. he looks down and into [Name]'s eyes in the shadow of the moonlight. "the prettiest girls hide themselves under a wall of indifference," he finishes with a shrug of his shoulders. immediately, he sees her hand freeze halfway through unclipping her bedsheets.

[Name] takes a moment to close her eyes and process his words. pulling the last of her laundry down, she leaves her basket on the grass and cranes her neck up to stare at her neighbor with an amused, lopsided grin. "what are you talking about?" she chuckles, taped hand on her hip. Nanao bites the inside of his cheek to keep his own laughter in check. "i've never heard that before in my life."

he admits he likes her smiles better when they lift a bit more towards one side like that. "and that's what makes you cute." in typical Nanao fashion, he winks down at her.

she snickers, "woah, you're shallow." he likes it when she bounces off of him with so much ease like that.

"hey!" shoulders jolting, he sits up straight, exaggerating an offended gasp. "i have a heart, you know. i'm a pretty delicate person." he places both hands on his chest. [Name] shakes her head as she chortles at his common dramatics. he's been an entertainer all his life and it shows. just as quickly, Nanao's attention strays to the sky again. he sniffs the air on instinct. "you should get in quick, though, it smells like it's gonna start pouring any moment."

"you sound like a dog." as soon as the words leave her mouth, the first few droplets of rain begin drizzling down. she groans in disbelief, snatching the laundry basket off the ground.

"woof, that's karma."

"my bad, i should've kept my mouth shut." she's about to head back inside when she stops to stare up at him one last time. the rain, albeit weak, gets in her eyes and she can barely keep them open, but she can still see the rain hitting Nanao, too. "and close your window."

"yes, ma'am," he laughs, but pulls back into his room and closes the window shut.

[Name] hurries inside, just in time as the rain becomes heavier. she hears it pound against the ground, and it follows her up the stairs as it slams down onto her roof as well. carelessly, she throws her laundry onto a chair, making a mental note to sort through it later before her mother assumes she lost some garments again. she heads for the window, holding onto her curtain to draw it close for the night. when she catches a glimpse of Nanao's hair, she decides to text him her gratitude again.

before she can even unlock her phone, he looks out the window. she offers him a soft simper and he smiles back.

there's a word [Name] taught him once that Nanao still can't pronounce. he thinks it's funny how he remembers how to say thank you in Russian, but he struggles to sound out the syllables of something as meaningful as what [Name] explained. although he couldn't possibly write it down right now, when he finds her eyes across the window, he feels it. it's one look they share, one in which they share a conversation.

"thanks again."

"here to help."

"good night."

"sleep well."

[Name] draws her curtain. he'll have to ask her to remind him of the word again tomorrow.

glossary: mc greets nanao with mari mari which is a greeting/farewell in mapuche. translates to good morning, good afternoon, good night.

note — so uhhhhh i doubt theres an audience out there whore looking for nanao fics but if this does reach anyone, you a real one. ive been bashing my head against the wall for this for the past three months so the fact that im actually publishing it is monumental. itll be. short? somewhat. platonic leaning cause romance is not it. but honestly take from it what you will i hardly care anymore also yeah ive listen ive checked the layout of nanaos house and where his room is placed and canonically this would not work but im gonna kill myself at this point. so were gonna pretend it works aside from that im bilingual and ive never written a bilingual mc for any of my fics so who better than mr language guy over here to do it. so mc speaks spanish and a little bit of mapuche/mapuzungun, which is a native tongue from argentina. which i dont speak but ive my sources so im not pulling this outta my ass besides that ill be kinda using shit from both the light novel and the anime. the characters are very different in the anime but i prefer those a lot more though they got me mad fucked up so ill be using those and pulling shit from the light novel whenever its convenient. okay cool thank you for reading

[daydream-draws]

also I!!!! will respond to your responses later I am tired but ohhhhhhh my gosh. once I figure out the format and how to fit these stories into books somehow it's over for everyone

yes it’s ok get some rest <3 I say awake two hours past when I was tired

yes organize that plot you got this !! I AM SO EXCITED FJJDJEDJF STORIES<3 beloved <3 by ink the best writer in town <3 town being tumblr<3

[saltymongoose]

This has been on my mind so much lately, what if Player in fancy clothes? like... maybe a suit or those fancy dresses with a slit on the side(s)? How would the boys react?

I can just imagine Deimos being extra flirty bc of it and Hank just having to stand there and control himself before he overheats from flusteredness, as well as Sanford's going all shy n stuff about it and Doc is basically speachless...

Heres a drawing of what I mean

Also lil bonus with my take of their reactions, added the two other quartets <3

Omg, this looks so good! The Player is definitely gonna turn some heads all dressed up like that. And the three quartet's reactions are really cute too, I love how much character you portrayed in each little iteration of them. Excellent job on this, I love it! :D <3333

I also believe that, considering how having to dress up for anything in Nevada is extremely rare, most of its denizens don't really think about something like that very often. (Perhaps only when imagining your possible wedding?) So when you do actually decide to dress up for whatever reason, it's even more surprising. There's that additional question of how and why you did it, combined with the realization of just how stunning you look. It's a little overwhelming for them, as you can tell by the way they go red when you reveal your new outfit to them.

You're definitely right about how Deimos would be very flirty with you at that moment, but I also think Doc would give his own little comments after he's gotten over his surprise. Nothing as obvious (or borderline indecent) as Deimos' flirts might end up, but with how you can feel him gazing at you like you're the only person in the world, it's hard not to feel a tiny bit flustered. You're spot on with Sanford and Hank as well; any compliments that Sanford makes are given in almost a whisper until he figures out what exactly to say, with almost a hesitant undertone. It makes you giggle, and if you tease him he'll probably get even worse. (Even if making you laugh makes him feel a lot brighter. Especially when the others give him a pointed glare for it.)

Hank doesn't speak at all, content to simply stare and admire you. (Though he will stand next to you protectively if anyone tries to touch you. This includes people in his own group.)

Since you brought him up in your second pic, I think Phobos would have the exact opposite reaction; he wouldn't shut up about how good you look. It seems that all he speaks are elaborate compliments, even bragging about you to any Nexus worker who's close and having them acknowledge your beauty as well. But he also gets weirdly angry when they look at you for too long, which is another thing. Jeb is a lot like 2B in his genuine compliments, though he's probably very reverent in his words if that makes sense. Hofnarr is even more shy than Sanford would be though, probably not even approaching you until hours after he first sees your outfit, just so he has time to compose himself and compliment you properly.

(Also, you've provided a new outfit for the Nexus Agents to make art of you in, which causes quite the stir in your dedicated fanclub lol.)

[polarisbibliotheque]

Dante & Vergil being sick and their s/o taking care of them

Pairings: Dante x Reader; Vergil x Reader

Summary: Who would've ever thought the children of Sparda could get sick just like humans did? Having learnt to deal with this on their own, it was the very first time they would actually be cared for - at least for once.

WARNING: Dante and Vergil have a fever and the reader puts them in a shower to get the temperature down. Nothing happens, it's just one taking care of the other, but, naturally, Dante and Vergil are naked during this part. There isn't any NSFW description, but if it bothers you, feel free to skip it ;)

Author's notes: I figured we have them taking care of their s/o when sick, Vergil and his s/o taking care of sick Nero, so why not Dante and Vergil receiving some love? While I was having some bad health days and going through an exam that required sedation and such, I realized how much it matters when I have someone by my side caring for me while I'm not at my best. I guess Dante and Vergil wouldn't really know how that feels like and found it interesting thinking about their reaction while being taken care of for a change.

Dante

“Ok, big guy. You definitely don’t look good.”

“Heh, I’m fine…!”

You just raised one of your eyebrows while staring at the half-demon in front of you.

Dante had just woken up and still looked tired. It was afternoon already and, even if he wasn’t an early riser, Dante usually didn’t enjoy waking up too late. He also didn’t keep his sleeping pants on for too long, but there he was wearing his graphite gray sweats and a couple of fluffy slippers you gave him on his birthday – sleeping with shirts on, as he would say himself, was forbidden.

Nevertheless, there he was, sporting your too-big-for-your-frame red silk, Japanese style robe, adorned with colorful flowers, carps and golden intricate patterns. Still open and hanging lazily on his shoulders, but it wasn’t common for him to put something on in the mornings… Out of cold?

It wasn’t even that cold.

“You’re wearing a robe, which almost counts as a shirt. That is wrong.” You pointed out, leaning on the kitchen counter, following his movements with your eyes.

“I know ya love seein’ me half-naked, hot stuff…” And Dante winked at you – which would’ve been lovely if his sky-blue eyes weren’t lined with a filigree of pinkish red, adorned with a cloud of subtle purple. It seemed like he didn’t have a good night sleep in days. “But this mornin’ is kinda chilly. You gonna have to settle for this, babe.”

As he spoke, Dante ran his free hand on the skin showing from his chest – the other busy in trying to find his mug for a hot morning drink.

‘Morning’.

“I can always settle for you wearing my fancy robe, but…” And you approached him, taking the mug filled with drawings of little happy strawberries he loved so much – sitting right in front of his distracted eyes. “You look like hell, Dante. It isn’t even that cold today.”

“Ya know, I…”

But Dante was interrupted by running away from you in order to have enough room for one of his scandalous sneezes without hitting you as collateral damage.

“You were saying…?” You leaned by the counter again, a contempt and calm smile bright in your lips as he just looked back at you, clearly annoyed.

Bantering to the point of annoying Dante was a feat in itself – only Vergil could get to that point and only if he pressed the right buttons. Needless to say, the Dark Slayer praised this natural ability you had.

“Look. This isn’t my first rodeo. I know how to take care of myself, y/n.” Now Dante was serious, and both your eyebrows were raised in awe: that was another outstanding feat from you – even have him call you by your name instead of one of his many cute nicknames. “You’re worrying for nothin’, babe, really. Trust me when I say it isn’t serious, ok?”

You sighed, looking back at your huge half-demon lover, suddenly so stoic in that bright silk clothing. It was a sight to see, to be honest.

“Ok… But.” And you pointed at him. “If you get worse, I’ll be taking the reins, cowboy.”

“Alright…!” Dante responded in his usual sing song manner, playfully striking your chin in the process. “You won’t need to, sheriff!”

He would soon come to regret that statement.

*

If mess had a name, that would be ‘Dante’.

He found himself tossed on the couch, sitting like a bag of potatoes that was just left there. His head leaning back, he’d be able to stare at the ceiling if his eyes weren’t closed. Still wearing his pajama’s pants, Dante didn’t even take your robe off to put on his usual navy-blue shirt – if Lady saw him like that, she’d certainly be taken back to the day they first met.

Only he used to wear a red leather long coat, not your colorful robe filled with carps and golden filigrees.

“Dante…?” You were coming down the stairs, having just put on your normal clothes in order to buy some groceries you were missing for the next week. Seeing your red devil in that state during a sunny afternoon outside, though, was mildly concerning to say the least. “Ei, love…? Are you alright…?”

“Peachy…” Was the only thing he murmured, barely paying attention to your words. You furrowed your brows, immediately walking up to him.

Now, Dante was usually hotter than the average person – you learnt that with time, and he explained a bit about his body temperature the first time he got sick. As you approached him, you could see how his forehead and chest were glistening with a thin coat of sweat – and it took a lot to make him even start sweating.

Placing your hand on his forehead, you could safely say Dante was on fire.

“Oook, cowboy. You’re definitely not alright.”

“I’ve been…” He murmured back, slightly opening his tired eyes without even moving his head. “Worse… Don’t…”

“If you tell me not to worry, I’m calling Trish to kick your ass.” Not that you couldn’t do it yourself. But Trish had lived enough with Dante to act like his sister – plus, she had the perk of looking like Eva. It was like bringing Dante’s mother from Heaven itself to scold him into allowing himself to be taken care of. “If you saw yourself right now, you’d know why I’m worrying about you. C’mon, cowboy.”

With those words, you wrapped one of Dante’s arms around your neck and used yours to go around his torso, trying to make him lay down on the couch.

Trying, because Dante was knowingly huge. Laying down that half-demon brick house wasn’t an easy task – you obviously wouldn’t give up, but having someone else around would most certainly be helpful.

Again, Trish was amazing to drag Dante around – she made it seem like his weight was nothing.

“Ok, big guy. Legs up, c’mon.” You let him go for a while, only to help him put his limp legs on the couch. The huge, leather, black couch of the Devil May Cry was big enough to fit half of the crew with a lot of space in between – but having Dante lay down on it? Well, it wasn’t big enough for your red devil. “Phew. You’re quite heavy, you know…?”

“Babe… I can…” Once again, though, Dante’s words were interrupted by one of his own sneezes. You could swear the whole neighborhood could hear him sneeze. “I’ll… Take a shower…”

“No, you won’t. At least not without me around.” You fixed his legs comfortably on the couch, only to wrap your arms around him again to pull Dante in a better position. He looked terribly uncomfortable if you didn’t do a little bit of work to help him. That would count as your exercises for the day. “You’re burning, babe. I’ve never felt you so hot.”

“I’d… Disagree, ya know…” And, even if he wasn’t at his best, Dante still managed to flash you a sexy look – or at least try to.

“You’re the worst, Dante.” Even if you scolded him, though, you had a smile on your lips, leaning in to quickly kiss him, making Dante mirror your expression. “I’ll go get some pills and a thermometer. If you need me, just scream, ok?”

“No worries.” He calmly smiled back as you took his hair away from his damp forehead, checking his temperature in the process. It was funny to you how he resembled Vergil so much when you brushed his hair back like that – they were a lot more similar than they thought. “I… Won’t go anywhere, babe.”

“Oh, good. It’d be hell to hunt down a sick volcano devil through town.” With those words, Dante laughed a bit, closing his eyes in the process while you left your place by his side to search for the things you needed to take care of him.

Dante definitely wasn’t used to that. All his life, he spent his days and nights alone in the Devil May Cry – heaven knows how many times he got burning fevers like that, barely able to get up, trembling on a corner and hoping it would just pass. He had learnt to take care of himself, yes, even keeping a couple of medicines at the shop – but, whenever he got like that, it took him a lot of energy and will to get to the pills and take them on his own, sitting under the water in the shower and praying to whoever would hear him he didn’t need a hospital.

It wasn’t like Dante could go into the ER and say “hey, I’m a half-demon with a fever and I need help”. Most people would be scared, doctors most certainly didn’t understand his peculiarities being a half-half and it would probably end up in chaos rather than helping him – therefore, Dante spent all his life alone, learning to care for himself on his own; even if he wasn’t really good at it.

Whenever he got badly sick, though, something inside him wanted to believe Eva was watching over him, like an angel caring for her son even after her death. Dante always thought, after he got better, it was because of Eva’s watchful eyes and loving hands.

“How are you feeling, red devil?” As you came back to the room, Dante remembered how he wasn’t alone this time – and that he wasn’t used to.

“Well… I’ve been better.” He answered with a sigh, looking back at you as you approached and sat on the couch by his side. You placed your hand on his forehead again – it was so unusual, Dante didn’t even know what to do. His body tensed a little, but soon he relaxed, watching as you checked the thermometer to make sure it was still functioning. “Gotta warn you, babe… It’ll probably… Break.”

“Damn, you think you’re that hot?” You raised one of your brows, looking back at his goofy, relaxed smile. “I know you’re that hot, but you really think the thermometer will break…?”

“It did once… I was… Fifteen? I think…?” He tried to get things out of his memory, remembering the first time he got really sick. As all humans would do, Dante tried to check his temperature to see how bad it was, but… Well, it was really bad. Even for him. After that, he didn’t know what to do with himself, buying all medicines he could with his short money as soon as he could get up on his feet again. “Never used… Those things again. Got only for you, babe.”

You watched him for a while as Dante closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It never crossed your mind how your mundane stuff was only recently acquired at the Devil May Cry because Dante would never make use of those human tools.

“Well… If it breaks, I’ll get another one later.” You shrugged, raising one of his arms to place the thermometer. “Now that I’m thinking… I still haven’t learnt too much on devilish medicine with Vergil…”

“Hmmm…” Dante furrowed his own brows as he watched you taking a look at the many pills you had in hand. It was true: human medicine didn’t work the same way for him. You’d have to test a few things: Dante usually drank some Holy Water and waited for things to pass instead of taking some painkillers or other human pills to alleviate his symptoms. It was how he had learnt to deal with things. “Whatever dose you take… It’s probably double for me.”

“Hmmm… Ok. But I’m keeping two eyes on you, big guy.”

With that, you doubled the dosage, a little scared of what would happen – but Dante had already been bitten by the strongest of demon poisons and dealt with it only by, again, drinking his Holy Water and going through it. A few human medicine pills wouldn’t be his downfall.

At least, you hoped it wouldn’t.

*

It had been a couple hours and you could swear Dante was worse.

Now he was literally sweating, his hair so wet you combed it all backwards – a perfect reminder of Vergil – and he could barely stay awake. Every time you tried to move him, Dante mentioned how his body was sore and he didn’t want to get up from the couch, and a couple of times, you could swear he was going to pass out.

“Hey, dear…? Look at me?” You caressed one of his brows with your thumb, making Dante lazily open his eyes to look at you. To him, you were like an angel sent from Heaven itself caring for him during that awful day – he never really had that, and he had to admit: it was really nice. “Here, I brought you some chips. Try to eat a few, ok?”

“Thanks… Y/n…” And even though he didn’t look his best, Dante still smiled back at you.

You had managed to build a makeshift hospital bed for him, placing yours and his pillows on his back, having Dante lay there as comfortably as possible. He didn’t even have enough words to thank you: Dante just held your hand, mindlessly caressing your skin, impeding you to get up from his side and do whatever else you needed to do. You spent all your time just talking nonsense with him, and he seemed to enjoy having you by his side.

Dante did look a little livelier after you fed him the potato chips, though. Carefully, you placed them in his mouth, receiving a few playful nips on your fingers every now and then, both of you chuckling in the process as he gave you some thankful, caring looks. As time went by, Dante’s words became a lot scarcer – and, judging by the way he looked, you guessed his blood pressure must have been very low.

Enter the potato chips – not the healthier of options, but salty enough to make him come back and avoid Dante to pass out.

Because, if he did pass out, you wouldn’t know what to do. Dante bragged from time to time you were one of the strongest humans he had ever met, but there was no way you could drag his body anywhere to search for immediate help. You’d have to enlist Trish, Nero or Vergil to help you – and drag your red devil to Kyrie: the only one with enough experience taking care of a demon-human on their sick days.

Combing his hair back once more, you kissed Dante’s forehead again. His fever had come down a bit, but it seemed it was going back up. Before calling Kyrie or Vergil for a few insights, though, you had to at least stabilize Dante in a better condition – you couldn’t, and you wouldn’t, leave him during a spike of symptoms.

“Ok, dear. Can you get up?” As you asked him, Dante opened his eyes once more, watching as you took one of his hands to wrap around your shoulders once more. He foolishly wondered if you were prepping yourself to carry him around.

“I think so… Are ya gonna try… To carry me, y/n…?” He had to ask, even if now Dante did his best to put his own weight up alongside you. “’Cause that… Not gonna work, angel…”

“Well, I will drag you around if I have to, Dante. Never doubt that.” Your voice had such a certainty, he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. As you sat him on the couch by your side, Dante kept looking down while you wrapped one of your arms around his waist, under the silky robe. His skin was damp, which would help your hand not to slipper while aiding his walk. “I’ll do whatever it takes to care for you, dear.”

“You already do.” He murmured back, a smile hidden in his words. That only made you grip him tighter.

“Ok. On three, we’ll get up. One, two… Three! C’mon!”

With that, you helped Dante drag his feet from the couch to the stairs. It was a daunting task, but you wouldn’t give up. He unconsciously leaned too much of his weight on you, and it certainly felt like carrying a bag of bricks on your shoulder, but it was Dante. You would never give up on him – even if the stairs suddenly looked too long to climb up.

“Ya know… You don’t need to… Do all this, y/n…” Dante mumbled as you adjusted his weight on your shoulders and helped him tackle the first step of the stairs.

“I don’t. But I want to, Dante.” Your voice had a tone to discourage anyone from arguing with you, even your red demon. “I’m here for better or for worse, babe. I’m not gonna run away when you need me most. Now, if you need to sit mid-way up, we’ll take a break. But we’re getting there, ok?”

“Ok.” Dante wouldn’t even disagree. Something inside his chest warmed up, and he knew he could put all his defenses and survival instincts down. He didn’t have to fend off sickness by himself anymore – now, he had you by his side, and he could just relax, knowing you’d do whatever it took to get him to feel better.

It took some time – and a lot of strength from your part – but you finally reached the top of the stairs. As you did so, you immediately got Dante in the bathroom, taking his clothes off as he just sat there, by the bathtub, watching you with inquisitive eyes.

“Your temperature is still high. My mom used to have me take a slightly warm shower to help it go down, I think it might work for you.” Your explanation helped him understand all you were doing, as you pulled Dante up by his hands and helped him walk under the shower water.

“Damn! The water is cold!” The way his body reacted, it seemed like you had just thrown a bucket of ice water on him – but the walls of the bathroom were already getting foggy, proving it was warmer than his body felt.

“It isn’t cold, babe. You’re too hot right now. It’ll pass, trust me.” Seeing as Dante unconsciously avoided the water, you took your shoes, socks and shirt off, getting under the water alongside him. “Hey. You gotta be under it for a while. At least until your shivers wear off.”

“Babe… You’re gonna…” But before he could state you’d get all wet under the cold water with him, there you were, completely soaked – clothes and all. By your expression, Dante knew you couldn’t care less: you had eyes only for him, caressing his hair back and striking his tense neck and shoulders. “You’re gonna be a mess…” Either way, he mumbled a bit, while you got closer, massaging his hands. Dante shivered under the water, but it was easier to stand there in the ‘cold’ with you than all alone.

“I’m gonna stay here with you until you feel better, big guy.” Your tone was calm and lowered, bringing him comfort even if Dante felt like he was freezing. “Like I said, for better or for worse, Dante. We’re getting through this mess.”

And you could see how his shoulders turned a lot less tense, your lover melting under your fingers – even if still shivering for a while. You wrapped your arms around Dante in a promise to help him stand up and he didn’t even argue – only doing his best to stand alongside you, closing his eyes while giving you a tired hug.

It didn’t matter how long it would take – Dante wanted to hold you forever.

*

“What I’m most scared of…” You could hear his voice from the room while you served your cups of hot tea, appearing from the kitchen door as Dante observed you from the couch. “Is sick-days food. Never really did that, babe.”

“Oh, I can imagine. Your sick-days food must be terrible junk food and ice cream.” You raised one eyebrow, leaving the hot tea on the center table.

Dante was now wrapped around a cozy blanket, wearing his pajamas for cold days – a set of warmer pants and sweaters he had, nothing fancy, as always – tiredly sitting on the huge Devil May Cry sofa. His fever wore off after the shower and you managed to find a dose of painkillers that cared for his sore muscles and headache. After that big scare, Dante didn’t look like he was going to pass out and, for the moment, he had only a sore throat, annoying sneezes, and a little bit of cold.

Which forced him to stay on the couch while you prepared dinner – and your nighttime fun while he couldn’t do much but sit and wait his body to recover. That being said, now Dante watched you drag the TV to the room, as you always did every time you wanted to watch something.

Only Patty had a good use for that when she hanged around the Devil May Cry and watched her soap operas. You and Dante didn’t really use the TV much – the days you weren’t hunting, you were out or just spending some time together, talking, laughing, listening to music and having a bite to eat.

“Well… Comfort food still counts as sick food.” Dante shrugged, making you giggle with that statement. Of course, he would say that. “Bet you gonna make me eat some garlic soup or somethin’.”

“Now I’m thinking Eva straight up tortured you while you were sick.” You had your hands on your waist, watching him after finally finding the perfect place for the TV. “C’mon, garlic soup? That’s mean.”

“Nah, she wouldn’t do that. Only if me and Verge misbehaved.” And, by the way he looked at you after that phrase, you knew it was more often than one would expect – provoking laughs on you. “But soup was only for the days we were really bad, ya know?”

“You don’t consider yourself really bad today?” You shot back, making Dante deny nonchalantly. You did know, though, he wouldn’t consider that as a bad sickness day – you had already seen how demon poison could be a lot worse and, after those days, Dante could barely eat. So, you had an idea what bad meant on his dictionary.

Suddenly, you heard a knock on the door. Dante just curiously watched as you talked to whoever was there – if it was a job, he knew you’d turn it down because of him, but he wanted to say you could call Nero or Vergil to help and go to work. He watched in expectation until you returned with a white box on your hands.

“I do think pizza counts as sick-days food, though.”

As you said those words, a huge smile appeared on Dante’s lips, complemented by a hearty laugh. He always thought you were perfect to his eyes, but you never ceased to amaze him.

“Hah! Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!” You thought it should be forbidden to be as happy as he was with that, but it was Dante. He got happy with such little things; it was so easy for you to make him smile. You opened the box of pizza right by the cups of tea, turning the TV on to enjoy the movie you had chosen that night. “No plates?”

“I know you enjoy eating your pizza by hand, red devil.” You slouched by his side, allowing Dante to wrap you under his blanket alongside him, cuddling up against your lovely half-demon. “Tonight, it’s Zorro and pizza night.”

“Hey, have I ever said you’re perfect?” Dante’s tired eyes smiled as he made you comfortable in his arms. If there was one thing he loved doing with you, was cuddling under the blankets on a cozy night like that. “’Cause you are, babe.”

“You are too…” You took his face with one of your hands, placing a warm kiss on his cheek – making Dante close his eyes and smile as he felt your lovely lips on his harsh skin. “My whacky woohoo pizza man.”

Among laughs and cuddles, you and Dante began your night of movies, pizza and some warm tea to count as caring for his sickness. He enjoyed every moment around your arms, every time your giggles took over the Devil May Cry, and every sigh as he closed his eyes and rested his tired head on your shoulders.

It turns out, being sick wasn’t that bad, after all. Now that he had you around to watch over him, Dante would never fear being alone through his hard times once more – he knew you’d always be there to hold him and assure his soul everything would be alright. It felt good not to be alone for a change.

Vergil

“You really are like Monty Python’s black knight.”

“And you are starting to sound like Dante.”

You just sported a half smile on your lips as you watched Vergil search for his latest read. He moved slowly, his eyes seeming to do all in his power to focus. Those silvery moons were surrounded by a reddish-purple aura, making him look positively exhausted. Vergil closed his eyes for a few seconds and took a deep breath before going back to his search.

“Currently, I’ll take that as a compliment.” You crossed your arms, leaning by the door frame. You knew precisely where the book was, but you wanted to see how far his headstrongness would take him. “You look terrible, Vergil.”

“I am fine.”

“’Tis but a scratch!” When the words left your lips, you started giggling as Vergil’s silvery eyes turned at you in a deadly fashion. “Are you going to start biting demon’s ankles as well, love?”

Vergil sighed, turning his whole body towards you, and kept his eyes closed for a while. Once he opened them again, he crossed his arms, as if he was about to face a horde of demons.

Or lecture you. It always had the same feel to it.

“I have already been through worse on my own. When I say it’s nothing, it’s because it is nothing, love.” Even though his words sounded harsh, his tone had some care hidden in it. “You don’t have to worry about me. I know how to deal with my sick body. I will tell you if…”

But, before he could say anything else, Vergil started coughing uncontrollably. You just stood there, watching him, eyebrows raised as you waited for your lover’s sudden cough fit to be over.

And, as he was done, Vergil’s eyes immediately found yours, seeing the ‘I told you so’ hidden in your expression.

“Not. A. Word.”

His voice was coarse and all you could do was stop yourself from laughing, agreeing with Vergil’s annoyed, harsh words.

He usually knew when you were right.

*

You settled for reading your own book, resting on the bed, while Vergil decided to go back to his studies by his desk. It was warm for both of you to remain on the same room in silence – your presences were reassuring to each other, but you didn’t need to spend social energy. That type of energy was quickly drained from you in any situation, but when it came to Vergil, he barely had any. The fact you understood his quietness wasn’t indifference, was lovely heartwarming for him.

It was, also, a very good way to keep an eye on and care for Vergil without him taking notice or being annoyed by it.

Your book was strategically placed on your bent legs, as to look like you were concentrated on your read instead of glancing him from time to time. Vergil sometimes closed his eyes, eventually taking his glasses off and leaving it on the desk, rubbing his forehead while letting out a deep exhale. He did look somber almost all the time, but not like that – it seemed he was bothered by something, not being able to fully concentrate on his work.

Vergil not focusing on reading was completely out of his character. That made you only more alert.

And your alertness paid off: suddenly, Vergil got up from his chair, making you immediately look into his eyes.

“Verge? Are you alright…?”

But, before he could answer to your words, Vergil’s head bent down. That made you close your book and leave it on the bed, carefully watching him. It seemed he tried to mutter something in the lines of “yes”, but his hand could barely reach his forehead and his mouth seemed not to answer to his commands anymore.

“Vergil!”

Before you could get up from the bed, he tried to take a step forward, only to have his legs falter and fall on the ground, barely conscious.

“Vergil!” You called again, running towards your blue devil – looking so homely with his dark long-sleeved shirt, pants and blue slippers you insisted on buying him – completely limp on the floor. “Hey! Open your eyes!”

Talking to him was to no avail. Vergil was completely out: eyes closed, mouth slightly open, forehead damp with sweat. You placed your hand on the skin of his neck.

“For the love of Sparda, Verge, you’re hotter than Hell…” You had your eyes wide open, checking his temperature again on his forehead. Vergil was naturally hotter than you, but he had taught you once how to check for his body temperature changes – as Vergil always had to be in control of everything to feel safe, he immediately accepted when you asked him to teach you demonic medicine and how to take care of him during an emergency. “I never thought this would be the emergency, love… Why didn’t you tell me how bad you were…? Vergil!”

You called him once again, noticing his eyes weren’t totally gone. He barely opened them, trying to focus on you – it seemed like a veil was between the two of you, his look foggy and caught between two worlds.

“I’m… Hmmm…” He used all the strength in his being at that moment to try to voice the words going through his head – but everything was hazy, and he could hardly keep his eyes open. Closing them once more, Vergil was about to fall.

“Hey! Stay here with me!” You grabbed his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake and forcing him to come back. Vergil looked at you, but it was clear he would soon fall again. “Stay awake for me, ok? Don’t sleep. Can you do that? For me?”

He couldn’t answer clearly, but he could mutter. Voicing a sound you couldn’t distinguish as words, Vergil barely made a movement with his head, confirming he would do everything he could to fulfill your request. Before leaving the room, though, you placed a quick peck on his knuckles – going to the kitchen right after, as fast as you could.

It had to be his blood pressure – you only saw Vergil close to that once when Dante brought him back home badly injured. On that day, Dante treated his brother with your help and a lot of demonic medicine, which strained his body and made Vergil get caught between being awake and dangerously passing out from a very low blood pressure.

Dante, then, taught you a mighty medicine for situations like that.

“Here, love. Open your mouth.” You didn’t even spend a minute out of the room, finding Vergil fighting his own body to remain aware. He couldn’t lift his silvery eyes to watch you, but he could obey.

A generous pinch of salt under the tongue and a shot of Holy Water. You held Vergil’s head up by placing one of your hands on the back of his neck and he took the shot as quickly as he always did. Keeping your gaze on his face, you watched as Vergil’s eyebrows furrowed and he bared his teeth, as if it burned him from the inside.

The expected reaction of Holy Water based medicine, as he always told you.

“Vergil…? Can you look at me…?” It took him a few seconds to properly open his tired eyes and raise them to you, a tinge of red as clouds surrounded the silver and paleness of his face. You entangled the fingers from your free hand with his, caressing the burning skin. “Can you squeeze my hand?”

“Yes…” His voice was grave and dragged, as Vergil barely squeezed your fingers back. It seemed more like he was caressing you rather than actively trying to press your hand.

You smiled, noticing as his lips tried to curve up before letting out a heavy sigh. Still holding his hand, you rested Vergil’s head on your thighs in order to use your other hand to run through his silver hair. He closed his eyes while inhaling deeply, making you call him again. As Vergil’s silvery gaze found yours once more, he didn’t scold you: it was important that he remained awake, or he could pass out and then things would get complicated.

Nevertheless, Vergil couldn’t find words to talk to you at the moment – if you wanted to have a conversation to keep him conscious, he wouldn’t mind gathering his strength to answer you. He enjoyed, though, having your fingers caressing his hair like that: Vergil wasn’t used to kindness and affection, he wasn’t used to that kind of touch. Laying tiredly on the floor with his head on your lap while you showed how much you cared for him… It was new.

And, even if he was extremely weak from being sick, something fluttered in Vergil’s chest – something he wasn’t used to experiencing.

“You are burning, love. We need to lower your temperature.” You still ran your fingers through his locks once you noticed that made his breathing even and helped Vergil remain focused on keeping his eyes open and his consciousness right there with you.

“Hmmm.” He barely agreed with his head, still caressing your hand. Usually, when Vergil started a gesture like that, he would take a long time to stop. He wouldn’t be too aware of it, though. “I need… A shower…”

“I’m afraid so.” You smiled back, glad to have such a responsible lover – even though his stubbornness led to that situation – and placing a long kiss on his flaming forehead. “I will do my best to carry you there, love. But I don’t think I’ll be able to carry a 6’5” heir of the powers of Sparda half-demon King of Hell all on my own – I’ll need some help.”

Vergil let out a slight chuckle as you mentioned that, closing his eyes while still caressing your fingers, as if to summon all his strength to aid you in that task. You weren’t exactly weak – but Vergil wasn’t exactly light as well. He wasn’t built like Dante, but his height and his fit physique made him a little too heavy for you to do it all on your own.

The fact you were willing to carry him made that same thing that was stirring in Vergil’s chest before come back twice as strong.

“Let’s go.” And as his voice sounded resolute with his eyes opening back with all their focus, you helped Vergil get up from the floor.

His legs, though, weren’t as resolute as his will. They couldn’t keep his weight up and you had to keep a strong grip on his shirt, one of his arms across your shoulders, so your blue devil wouldn’t fall once again. Vergil blinked a couple of times, letting out a few heavy sighs, barely able to keep himself up on his feet.

If it wasn’t for you, he would be on the floor. Again.

“Are you ok? I can’t put you under the water if your blood pressure is still low. It would be dangerous.” You placed your palm over his heart, checking how it was beating inside his chest. Vergil took another deep breath, turning his eyes to you – his forehead almost touching yours.

“I am ok. Getting up… It all turned black for a while.” He stated with an exhale by the end of the phrase – making you notice how much strength Vergil was putting into helping you care for him. “Don’t worry.”

“Oh, love. I’ll always worry and care about you.” You shook your head, a gentle smile playing in your lips as you held one of Vergil’s hands and placed the other on his waist in order to get him in the bathroom.

That something stirred once more inside Vergil’s chest with those words, making his eyes fill with water. Keeping his head low so you wouldn’t notice how they were glistening, Vergil didn’t want you to see how much that seemed to affect him – your care, your attention, your love.

He didn’t have to do everything on his own. He didn’t have to drag his tired body to his salvation all by himself. He didn’t have to muster all his strength to give a few steps just so he could live… No. He could lean on your shoulders and allow himself to have the help he needed to reach care.

With you around, Vergil wasn’t alone anymore. And that was so… Foreign. A kind of foreignness that made his breath shorter and his eyes threaten to show how much his heart was overflowing from your actions – like a hurt creature being touched with kindness for the first time in ages of longing.

If you kept being so kind to him, Vergil soon wouldn’t be able to hold back his tears so expertly.

“Can you take your clothes off or do you need my help?” You helped him sit by the bathtub, his legs still too weak to make Vergil stand tall as he always had.

“Hmmm. I can do it.” He muttered back, watching as you immediately started to run the shower water. Taking off his slippers, Vergil slowly began the process of getting undressed, starting by his shirt. His voice, though, came back in an almost inaudible murmur. “Thank you, y/n.”

You turned around, eying him intently as Vergil kept his head low, dealing with his pants. It looked like he was absorbed by his task at hand, but you knew your blue devil enough to know it wasn’t the case: Vergil hoped to avoid your eyes, probably trying to hide how much it all affected him.

With his hair already falling on his forehead, his silvery gaze was hidden behind his locks, therefore you couldn’t see what was going on in his soul. Vergil always tried to remain serious, with his emotions meticulously under control, rejecting whatever kind of expression that could indicate a vulnerability. You knew he didn’t do it because he tried to look strong, but rather because he was terrified of being vulnerable.

And, that day, Vergil was as vulnerable as he could be.

If any demon decided to attack, it would be on you to take Yamato and slay all of them mercilessly in a matter of seconds, just like your lover used to do. Vergil would have to sit back and hope for the best – and that was extremely alien to him. He wasn’t used to have someone else who would risk anything and everything to keep him safe.

“You don’t need to thank me, Vergil. I’ll do this a thousand times if I have to.” You murmured back, provoking no reaction on him. As Vergil tried to stand up, you approached your lover, holding his hands to offer him somewhere to lean on.

As he got up, towering over you as always, you noticed Vergil kept his head low, hair over his gaze, in order to avert your eyes.

“I will thank you… A thousand times if I have to.” His voice was barely a whisper, making you smile – even though the situation at hand was a little more complicated. Standing by his side again, you wrapped one arm around his waist in case Vergil lost his balance and threatened to fall.

“Let’s see what I can do for today, at least.”

With that, you helped Vergil get under the water – winning an instant glare from him as soon as it touched his skin. You could almost hear all the curses going through his head, letting out a quick giggle as he sighed and accepted his fate. The water must have felt freezing cold, given how hot he was, but Vergil knew it was all for him to feel better – he could never scold you for being so kind to him.

And, as your hands helped him shower and your voice kept talking the most varied of subjects to him, Vergil allowed his eyes to finally overflow the stirring in his chest – mixing with the water pouring on his body, you would never notice how much emotion he had inside for you.

Or, at least, you would pretend not to.

*

“Do you need any help…?”

“I needed you to stay cozy and quiet where I left you in the couch, my lovely hazelnut.” You turned around, sighing from seeing Vergil practically dragging himself to the kitchen – even if he was almost depleted of energy, he would offer help so not to feel completely useless. His head was strong as a hazelnut: so difficult to break open. “Alas, here you are.”

“Hmmm. I… Can do something.” Vergil’s eyebrows were furrowed, still not completely sold on being cared for without doing nothing. Whenever someone was nice to him, it always came with a price – Vergil most certainly wasn’t used to receive so much without having to give nothing back. And, even if he knew you would never ask anything from him, that only made him want to do something.

Whatever it was. Even if you just asked him to caress your face.

“You don’t need to. The only thing you need to do is rest.” You approached to hold one of his hands, playing with his now cold fingers for a while before walking him to one of the chairs by the kitchen island. “Or better yet, now you need to eat.”

“I…?” Vergil raised one of his brows as he sat down, watching you turn off the stove and place a ceramic bowl in front of him.

“I’ll be joining you. Don’t worry.” You smiled calmly, placing another bowl across the island. Between you two, you finally rested the pan with warm soup.

“Hmmm.” He gave it a long look, not knowing exactly what to make of it. “Is it… Garlic…?”

“Oh, no. Don’t worry, I won’t put you through that sort of torture, love.” You quickly giggled, making Vergil’s expression lighten up – a small smile appearing on his lips. “I wonder if Eva ever resorted to this kind of ancient human medicine.”

“Only when she had to correct our behavior.” He chuckled back, remembering the days he and Dante misbehaved so much – usually getting into so many fights – she used garlic soup as dinner to teach them a lesson. “It was efficient.”

“I can see that. I guess now I have a weapon when you and Dante won’t stop arguing.” As you saw the way Vergil twisted his nose, you laughed, pouring him some soup in his bowl. “This is a simple potato soup. My great grandmother used to do it and my mom made it for me when I was too sick and barely able to eat. I guessed it would be nice for you today.”

Vergil thanked with a gesture from his head, taking the bowl in his hands. He watched as you served yourself, while blowing a spoonful of soup so his tongue wouldn’t burn in the process. Once it touched his lips, Vergil lost his breath for a while.

It tasted like safety.

Precisely the days he ruthlessly left behind, the human part he buried so deep inside his soul – that taste of a long, lost past when he was warm, loved, lively and safe. When he had someone to patch his bloody knees when he fell; when he would be held when his body was too weak to carry him through the day; when he could close his eyes and fall asleep in a warm, cozy place, feeling a gentle stroke on his cheeks and having the knowledge nothing could hurt him.

Those… Emotions. Vergil thought them to be lost, right where he buried his weak self in order to survive. But there they were: warming his chest with tinges of gold, taking away the air from his lungs, trembling the silver spoon in his hands – making his eyes threaten to need another shower.

“Vergil…? Is everything alright…? Does it taste bad…?” He was sitting perfectly still, looking at the bowl with teary eyes, making you wonder. It was fine to you, but maybe his sense of taste was altered enough so he wouldn’t be able to eat properly.

“No. It is…” He took a deep breath, exhaling with a small tremble in his voice. “Perfect. Thank you.”

You never imagined you would hear him thanking you twice in a day. Smiling to yourself, you decided to leave Vergil to his thoughts – and, as always, he was grateful you understood the time he needed to understand his own feelings.

That night, you slept with Vergil’s head laying safe and sound on your chest, calm as the moonlight itself while he listened to his favorite song.

Your heartbeat.

[rpstartersinc]

* 𝐍𝐄𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐗'𝐒  𝐎𝐍𝐄  𝐎𝐅  𝐔𝐒  𝐈𝐒  𝐋𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆.

feel free to change pronouns / wording!

“ is that what you’re wearing? ”  

“ gotta work with what you got, babe. ”  

“ this place is such a cliche. ”  

“ you totally left me on read this morning. ”  

“ detention on the first day of school? ”  

“ i’m flattered, i didn’t know you were a fan. ”  

“ why do you care what happens to them? ”  

“ there’s so many privileged assholes in this school who just think they can get away with anything because, what, rules don’t apply to them? ”

“ i don’t think he’s breathing. ”  

“ it was so scary, it looked like he was dead. ”  

“ you don’t look good. i mean, you look like you just saw... what you just saw. ”

“ you can stop worrying. ”  

“ thank god stds aren’t airborne. ”  

“ i’d like to hear your version. ”  

“ everybody has secrets, right? ”  

“ we’re not supposed to have guys in the house. ”  

“ sneaking out is a specialty of mine. ”  

“ do you think i’ve got a shot with her? ”  

“ did i scare you? ”  

“ it’s always the husband, right? ”  

“ that’s the kind of person you can get away with killing - someone everybody wants dead. ”

“ if i’ve learned anything from horror movies, and i have, it’s that usually the call is coming from inside the house. ”

“ this is a true crime podcast waiting to happen. ”  

“ you’re clearly not some secret mastermind killer. ”  

“ you are not a good liar. ”  

“ this woman at work called me flamboyant. ”  

“ flamboyant really feels like a microaggression. ”  

“ you had an actual murder weapon in your locker. ”  

“ you may even be a good guy, deep inside. ”  

“ fancy seeing you here. ”  

“ i guess we’re both full of surprises huh? ”  

“ how did you even know about this place? ”  

“ don’t you just hate a cliffhanger? ”  

“ your reputation precedes you. ”  

“ why are you always pointing the finger at other people? ”  

“ i don’t know what to think. ”  

“ can you blame me for feeling like sometimes i don’t know you? ”  

“ we should stop meeting like this. ”  

“ relax. i do have a moral code. ”  

“ you actually don’t realize what a bitch you are, do you? ”  

“ i’m exhausted just by looking at you. ”  

“ you think you’re some vigilante hero? ”  

“ you are a sad, pathetic bully. ”  

“ i even came in ‘straight’ cosplay for you. i’m wearing plaid. ”

“ you’re great at being different people, and i don’t know what to do with that. ”

“ i hate all my clothes. ”  

“ being caught up in a murder investigation is bound to be distracting.. ”

“ didn’t realize you made jokes. ”  

“ i just don’t want to get hurt. ”  

“ there is usually more to a story than meets the eye. ”  

“ i know what it’s like for people to assume the worst about you. ”  

“ i think when you tell the same lie for long enough, it stops feeling like a lie. ”

“ i watch a lot of tv. ”  

“ that’s how you treat the police if you want them on your side. ”  

“ am i getting warm? ”  

“ i solemnly swear not to murder you today or any day in the future. ”  

“ i just have to get this perfect, or it’s gonna drive me nuts. ”  

“ i didn’t mean to ambush you. ”  

“ i liked that version better. ”  

“ i didn’t give them your name. ”  

“ you’re not like those other kids. ”  

“ running makes me look guilty. ”  

“ you look thirty percent less like an asshole. ”  

“ i’m not on instagram. fuck zuckerberg’s evil empire. ”  

“ i could totally be a killer, and i’d be the most dangerous one because no one would see it coming. ”

“ there is someone else out there. ”  

“ maybe you should worry about yourself. ”  

“ you are smarter than people think. ”  

“ the last few weeks have been a total nightmare. ”  

“ okay, fine, no more jokes about you potentially going to prison. ”  

“ if you hadn’t finally shown up, i’d be taking selfies with jesus right now. ”

“ i draw the line at an asshole with abs. ”  

“ i can’t ‘cause i have to gouge my eyes out that night. ”  

“ sometimes people aren’t what you expect. ”  

“ sometimes people are exactly what you expect. ”  

“ it’s even bigger than i thought it’d be. ”  

“ the killer is someone you know. ”  

“ i’ve clearly established myself as chaotic neutral. ”  

“ you really shouldn’t be up here alone. ”  

“ i remember every second. ”  

“ you want to split up? don’t you watch horror movies? ”  

“ what’s one more felony between friends, right? ”  

“ oh shit, you’re still alive? ”  

“ rumours of my death have been greatly exaggerated. ”  

“ ghosts have better things to do. ”  

“ were you following me last night? ”  

“ there’s something definitely wrong with me. ”  

“ i wouldn’t wanna make you look bad. ”  

“ i could go to the cops, but i wanted to give you a chance to explain. ”  

“ i was so scared of losing you. ”  

“ can’t we just wake up from this nightmare and go back to normal? ”  

“ even total bitches have feelings. ”  

“ maybe i didn’t mind the spotlight being on someone else for once. ”  

“ don’t freak out but i think you’ve been recognized. ”  

“ i just can’t wait to leave. never come back. ”  

“ does that mean you’re done with all that scooby-doo stuff then? ”  

“ i’m not trying to tell you not to be you. ”  

“ i’m sure there’s an explanation. ”  

“ that would make me look very suspicious. ”  

“ if it was a movie i’d watch the shit out of it but this is not a movie. ”  

“ i’m starting to get a little offended. ”  

“ you cross me, i’m gonna teach you a lesson. ”  

“ you’re sick. ”  

“ i can take care of myself. ”  

“ you’re being so dramatic. ”  

“ need some ice for that hand? ”  

“ i was always so afraid of upsetting you. ”  

“ that last strawberry daiquiri will always be one of the biggest regrets of my life. ”

“ do as i tell you. ”  

“ everyone will know what you did. ”

[duskamethyst]

deception.

a/n: if you ask me why i did this, the answer is i don’t know.

word count: 4.6k

genre: smut, nsfw, angst, quirkless AU

warnings: daddy kink, degradation, edging, age gap, implied cheating, reader is a little delusional

pairing: sugardaddy!bakugou x f!reader

summary: where you fall in love with your own sugar daddy and you finally confess to him.

pretending to be in love with old men for a couple of hours can be exhausting and it might seem like a nonideal way to get money, but desperate times call for desperate measures. you’ve met plenty of these people, who have too much money they could spend. some are just lonely; in need of company from a young, pretty girl and some just want to have fun despite having their wives and kids at home. they come and go, and you couldn’t care less about what happens to them after your encounter, as long as you get your money’s worth. 

but never have you ever thought that you’d be so attached to one. maybe entertaining sugar daddies isn’t that tiring when they’re really attractive (it’s natural to like good looking people, can anyone blame you?). he’s truly a sight for sore eyes and you often wonder how he possesses so much stamina in bed. bakugou makes you feel some kind of way, it’s wrong, but with more time you spend with him, you can’t help but to actually fall in love with the guy. he makes you feel antsy and you often find yourself waiting for his texts, either the dirty ones or the ones that expresses his anticipation to see you again soon.

it’s not like he doesn’t do the same thing as the others; buys you things you know you can’t afford, spends his money on fancy dinners and continues to spend the rest of the night with you at random five stars hotels after. the difference is, you actually somewhat enjoy being around him as his spoiled little princess and you find yourself to gladly do anything for him like the time you let him fuck you raw because he wanted to. 

for a man his age, bakugou is well maintained. you love to lay your head down on his huge chest and rake your nails on his broad back, eliciting deep grunts of pleasure from the man in return. he looks appetizing; toned abs and a happy trail that leads to his trimmed pubes and down to his massive cock. if it isn’t for the fine lines on his face and the white streaks on his hair, you wouldn’t think he’d be reaching 50. 

you don’t know if you should even feel jealous of his wife. if you were born years earlier, would he choose you instead? the thought of him being with someone else and vowed to be together for the rest of their lives makes you want to puke. bakugou must’ve realized that it was a mistake too. if he still loves her, why would he have his cock sink inside you? if he really loves her, why are you the one he tells that to instead? 

“daddy loves you. daddy loves fucking your tight cunt. baby, you feel so fuckin’ good– so fuckin’ good for daddy. love you too– fuck.”

you can already picture the image of him on top of you as you replay those same words like a broken record player inside your head; lips part slightly in heavy pants, vermillion irises overfill with lechery as he fucks you senseless.

daddy loves you. he loves you and you're more than certain that you love him. not for his money, not for the stuff he indulges you with but only for himself. 

you want him. you want him to make you all his. you want him to be able to see you freely and not sneaking behind someone else’s back. you want to sit pretty as you wait for him to come back home from work every day, all wet and ready to please him. he loves you, and that’s what he deserves after a stressful day. 

as soon as you get inside the room and kick off your heels, a strong pair of hands grab you by the thighs and easily lift you up. you wrap your legs around his waist in an instant, dropping your bag to the floor unceremoniously before circling your arms around his neck as he draws you in a passionate, hungry kiss. a battle of dominance has always been nonexistent when it comes to bakugou, he naturally holds everything in the palm of his hand and both of you like it that way.

his lips never stray away from yours, not even when he walks towards the bed with you clinging onto his strong physique while his hands squeeze firmly on the flesh of your bum before he breaks away, but only to throw you on the soft mattress. you prop up on your side, looking up at him innocently and pleadingly with doe eyes that you know would never fail to stir up something primal inside him. his gaze drinks in every inch of you; the heave of your chest, the curve of your ass and overall your smaller frame that lies submissively in front of him. 

“look at you. such a fucking doll.” he takes off his slim fit suit, throwing the coat carelessly on the ground before loosening up his tie until it unfolds completely. “you like the dress? it’s shorter than i imagined, can’t help but to notice how the other guys kept on checking you out.”

you nod your head, pressing your thighs together as you notice how his lustful eyes linger a little too long on your ass that’s barely hiding under the hem of your mini dress. “yes, because daddy bought it for me.”

“damn right he did.” he smirks, unfastening about three buttons of his dress shirt. “ass up.”

you hurriedly roll on your stomach, planting your cheek on the mattress and arching your back perfectly as you lift your ass in the air. you feel the bed dipping from your back before a calloused hand caresses your thigh and trails up to your cheeks slowly, appreciating the smooth and youthful skin before he gets to ruin it.

“good. lift your head up.”

it’s never your position to question. carefully, you do as told by lifting yourself up on your hands and knees. you can discern the shifting of his body from behind and by your side as you look ahead and face the curtains before your sight is abruptly seized by darkness.

the silky material biting your lids suggests that he has wrapped his tie around your head, purposely blindfolding you to amplify your other senses as your sight is consumed with pitch black. bakugou pushes your head down with his hand, keeping you on your knees and lets you stay in the position while he takes off his dress shirt.  

“you’re gonna be a good girl for daddy.” he states more than questions, hiking up the hem of your dress to your waist to feed him with an unobstructed view of the damp patch adhering on your flimsy panties. bakugou presses his thumb on the splotch and his eyes flick over to your quivering body. “gonna let daddy use his tongue to fuck you?”

“please, daddy.” you whine, bucking your hips closer to ease the ache with his touch but is greeted with a sharp smack across your skin instead. 

“so impatient,” he tuts, rubbing the red print gently. “you’re just a horny little girl, aren’t you? can’t live without daddy’s dick inside her cunt.”

“just you– only yours.” 

“you know just what to say, don’t you?” his voice husky and rasp, complimenting the conceited smirk on his lips as he spoke. you learn that bakugou is actually a man that is easy to please, only if you know how to stroke his ego and as simple as that, his intimidating persona would be long gone. 

cold air brushes against your wet folds once he strips off your panties. he lifts up both knees to get you out from the garment and crumple it into a ball with his hand before bringing it in front of your face. 

“open.” you obey and open your mouth, allowing him to gag you with the cloth and quickly filling your senses with a mixture of lace and your own scent. “so good for me.”

bakugou moves back to his initial position, smearing his fingers against your puffy folds with your slick. he circles your clit teasingly and slowly, resulting in you to squirm while your hands find purchase on the sheets beneath you. 

“stop squirming around or i’m not gonna eat you.” he warns as his ministrations come to a halt to observe your compliance before he continues. for a man that is impatient himself, it’s quite hard to take his sweet time teasing you. maybe with the fact that you’re so querulous, a surge of power and pride rushes through him and his willpower tells him not to lose his machismo too quickly.

a satisfying grin tugs on the corner of his lips while he watches you struggle to follow his order and his thumb presses tight circles on your swollen clit to draw out sweet, muffled whines. once he notices your legs begin to tense and toes to curl, he pulls away. 

“you can’t cum yet.” he licks up the slick from his fingers clean before settling his head in front of your rear. an anticipative knot swells in your lower stomach as you feel hot plumes of breath prickling against your puffy folds before he spreads them open with his fingers. with how much your senses have spiked up, you can feel your pussy dripping with so much arousal and you know damn well that bakugou can see it too. 

“you’re nothing but a dirty little slut, aren’t you?” he coos, sounding both demeaning and amused as he rubs your lips, sending more waves of sensation on the bundle of nerves. “my dirty little slut.”

bakugou doesn’t expect you to answer but as soon as his warm tongue takes the first lap of your slick, a loud squeal rips from your throat. his large hands rest on your hips as he tilts his head to reach your clit, toying and teasing by using the tip of his tongue while his own plump lips and stubble graze against your slit.

you’re quick to turn into a sobbing mess, unheedful of the saliva trickling from the corner of your mouth when you’re aware that it won’t take too long until you’d eventually break. just as the stimulation is becoming more overbearing, his hands clench on your supple flesh tighter in a silent command that tells you it’s not time to cum yet. 

after he’s satisfied with abusing the bud, he drags down his tongue and pumps inside your quivering hole, causing you to jolt in a delighted surprise. from the loud, lewd squelching sounds of your own fluid mixing with his spit, you can only picture the way he looks right now; face buried between your ass cheeks, nose deep in your cunt while his tongue works miraculously around your walls. 

even the image beyond the abyss itself makes you more delirious. 

“c-can’t–” you break into a muffled cry as your hips bucks into his mouth without conscious control. another harsh slap is what you receive, but you can’t seem to care when a thick fog of desire is already clouding your brain; making the pain and pleasure to become one divine fusion. 

bakugou’s blows don't stop with how much you’re grinding so earnestly on his face. your skin burns from the cruel attention, yet your cunt just keeps on seeping with slick that trickles down to his chin and drips down on the sheets beneath you. 

“you’re such a fucking pain slut.” he growls, hot breath fanning your greedy cunt and making the pressure even tighter in your stomach. “not yet.” his tongue is anything but languid; swirling hastily as it explores your little hole as far as he can reach. it’s obscene. the way that the muscle glides so smoothly.. the warmth, the moisture– 

next thing you know, your eyes are already rolled to the back of your eyelids as your body tenses while waves of gratification crash down throughout your entire being.

“cumming on daddy’s tongue without permission.” he tsks, giving one last spank before standing up at the edge of the bed as he burns the image of your quivering body into the back of his head, adorned by the red imprint of his hand on your pliant skin. “turn around.” 

without a spare moment to gather yourself, you get up on wobbly legs and arms, carefully turn around like a fawn taking its first baby steps and rebuild your senses at the same time to estimate where he currently stands until he tells you to stop. 

your eyes squint as they adjust to the subdued room, finally able to see faint light again after bakugou takes off the tie around your head. you look up to the older man, only to be pierced by a pair of carmine orbs and a disgruntled look on his face.

“you know what you did wrong.” a thin string of drool latches onto the panties when he pulls it out from your mouth to observe the drenched fabric between his thumb and pointer finger. “looks like you had a great time.” you can see how it’s embarrassingly soaked, but not as embarrassing as the amount of slick glistening around his lips and chin that he doesn’t even bother to wipe off.

“’m sorry, daddy.” you whisper hoarsely through dry throat while giving him your most remorseful look. it would’ve deceived him if he didn’t know any better, but receiving punishments is something he knows you’d enjoy.

the slight upturn at the corner of his lips etches into a lazy grin as he unfastens his belt and takes off his pants along with his briefs to release his erected cock– now standing proudly in front of your face. 

“what do you have to do now?” he hums, tapping the flushed tip on your lips as if moisturizing the parched skin with his leaking precum. 

“m-make daddy proud.” you shamelessly steal a taste, flattening your tongue out so he can rub it on your palate. 

“can’t fuckin’ understand you– cock hungry slut.” he chuckles with mirth, one hand tucking your hair behind each ear as his gaze softens for a moment. “but that’s why i fuckin’ love you.”

your lashes flutter as you stare up at him, heart blooming like flowers on a fresh start of spring after a harsh, cold winter as the words he uttered loops inside your head. with a content hum, you close your eyes and wrap your lips around his cock, eliciting a hiss from the male once engulfed in the warmth of your mouth. 

“shit, i haven’t even told you to suck me yet.” his own eyes follow suit, throwing his head back as his own hand finds home on top of your head. your eagerness makes it hard for him to stay mad. if he was younger he would’ve been a little irritated if someone tried to take control, but maybe aging really did something and made your whims seem more tolerable for him. but what he loves most is seeing you struggle to fit his fat cock; whether it’s by your mouth or your pussy.

“just like that,” his voice drops an octave, watching most of his length disappear inside your mouth while your tongue runs against his veins. “fuckin’ look at me when you’re suckin’.”

you submissively comply to his command, meeting those sharp eyes you adore beneath the tousled mess of his blond and white hair. 

“you love daddy’s cock?” he doesn’t intend to give you a second to answer before he continues,  “then you wouldn’t mind chokin’ on it, don’t ya?” 

you moan in response just as he expected and he snorts through his nose. “of course you don’t.”

bakugou brings your head closer, shoving down his cock your throat before he starts to snap his hips. a chorus of curses pass his lips, taut muscles relaxing as he drowns in euphoria. drool soon starts to dribble from the corner of your lips and your jaw starts to ache, yet you’re still insistent on accommodating his cock– using your tongue when you could until he’s exploding with a mouthful of oaths.

“such a good girl.” he grunts, holding your head firmly with tension in his fingers as he stares down at you with knitted brows. “feels good havin’ dick in your mouth? hm?”

“hmm–” you moan in concur, the vibration almost drives him mad and it’s evident through the twitch you feel against your hollowed cheeks. with an exasperated groan, he pulls out his cock from your mouth and pumps it in his fist. 

“take it off and lie down. now.” his words thrum through you in a burst of heat. you swiftly discard the dress and rest on your back, spreading your legs in front of him in anticipation before he proceeds to climb on the bed. you shudder when he spits on your cunt before smothering his cock against the slit and down to your entrance to give extra lubrication. 

a deep, inarticulate sound rips from his throat, one that conveys pleasure as he sheathes his cock inside you. he can feel your walls sucking him in so welcomingly and squeezing him so tight that he thought he might cum then and there.

“that’s fuckin’ tight.” he girts out, pushing through the walls until he has bottomed out. with each hand on the sides of your head, his large and shredded build looms on top of you and keeps your smaller frame caged underneath. 

“daddy– s-so big.” you extend your arms to cling around his neck, looking up at him with a lust addled gaze. 

“i know you can handle me, sweetheart.” he smirks conceitedly and starts to roll his hips, dragging every ridge and vein against your walls through each thrust. your toes curl when he goes deeper and your nails dig into his back, leaving crimson trails as they rake.

“l-love you, daddy.” the words slip past your lips so naturally in flawless manifestation of your genuine feelings towards him. 

you observe how his lips stretch into a simper, fiery and lustrous eyes staring back at you before he replies, “love you too, ba– fuck–” 

bakugou feels you clench around him impossibly tighter and he leans down to kiss you, forcing you to swallow down his moans as he ruts inside you harder and faster.

“baby– that’s right. daddy fuckin’ loves you.” his low and resonant voice fills your ears, pleasure pulling taut in your lower stomach as the pressure begins to build up rapidly for your second orgasm. “–and he loves this tight cunt.”

“ah– daddy! p-please make me cum–” you start to babble, too lost in pleasure and your legs find themselves wrapping around bakugou’s waist to keep him closer and deeper.

“don’t you fucking dare cum yet.” he snarls before lifting himself up to keep his hands on the headboard in front of him and instantly blocking your view of the room. not that you mind when you’ve already set your eyes on him the whole time. 

“no matter how many times i’ve fucked you–” he pulls out almost completely before ramming in again, making you squeal.  “you still feel so fucking good.”

your hands reach to cup his face gently, your lips parted and wet, eyes glazed with adoration and an overflowing want for him. “all for you.” 

he chuckles quietly to himself. who knew that he would find himself burying his cock in some dumb college girl? with her heart filled eyes that tell him he’s some kind of a savior or the last man on earth. whether it’s all superficial or not, he thinks you’re pretty damn good at it.

“you sure make it hard for daddy not to love you.” he scoffs. you let out a needy whine when he pulls out and your hole convulses, instantly missing the way his cock stretches you out and makes you feel full. 

but it’s not for long when your vision suddenly keels as he flips you over to lie down on your stomach. bakugou easily hoists up your hips and pushes down your back to force you into a perfect arch before he sinks his throbbing cock inside your sloppy cunt without warning. 

“nghh– daddy–!” you cry as bakugou pounds into you with a menacing pace and hits you at the right places at the same time. 

“yeah? you like it when daddy uses you like the little slut you are?” he grabs a fistful of your hair, jerking your head up. “like you’re nothing but my little cocksleeve?”

“yesyesyes– daddy–! s-so deep– can’t!” your strength begins to drain out and you don’t know how much longer you can hold yourself  before he allows you to cum.

“you can– fuck– you’re clamping down on me.” he growls, one hand on your hips forming crescent shapes on your skin with his fingers.

your jaw has fallen slack, mouth gaping in breathless whimpers as you let bakugou abuse your little cunny while your own hands are balling into fists that your knuckles turn white. the air is filled with the sound of skin slapping against each other, mingling with his heavy pants.

“you’re really– hah– milking this fat cock.” his own rhythm turns sporadic, skin burning red with every second he prolongs his desire.

“please– daddy–” you let out a feeble moan and your legs begin to tremble as a result of the unbearable pressure tightening in your lower stomach. your pussy is already leaking with so much slick and it’s making a filthy mess on the bed. 

“you’re ready to cum for daddy?” he fucks you harder with deep strokes, knocking the breath from your lungs each time he presses into you. 

“pleasepleaseplease–” tears prickle from the corner of your eyes as the coil in your stomach threatens to snap.

“cum.” 

the word left his lips in a pure command and you break down instantly with a loud cry. a huge wash of pleasure winds its way through every nerve and your pussy gushes and clenches around his cock. 

“that’s it. good girl.” a deep growl rumbles in his chest as he observes every twitch of pleasure he has brought into you. 

“th-thank you, daddy.” you mumble, still deeply doused in ecstasy.

bakugou finally releases his harsh grip and your head plops down on the soft pillow while he pulls out and pumps his cock in his own fist, coated with your own arousal before he splurts thick ropes of cum all over your cheeks and watches as it trickles down to your cunt. 

after a brief moment of catching his breath, bakugou reaches for the nearest tissue box and helps to clean off the mess you both made. you let your exhausted body fall onto the mattress and he throws the used tissues away before leaning back on the headboard next to you, still panting and trying to get down from his high. 

“you okay?” he breaks the silence, flicking his gaze towards you and rubs your head gently in hopes to soothe the pain he caused from pulling your hair so roughly. 

you hum, seeking for solace from his touch as he pulls the blanket up to cover your bodies and reaches for his phone on the nightstand with his other hand. you silently observe him as he looks at his phone, probably reading and scrolling through emails or texts like he’d usually do after having you wrecked. 

“love you, daddy.” you suddenly squeak, yet bakugou doesn’t tear his eyes from the screen and it leaves you unsure if he heard you or not. 

“hm.” his response is indifferent and your stomach churns into an unpleasant feeling; one you don’t appreciate at all. 

“daddy.” you swallow past the lump in your throat. “i said i love you.”

bakugou clicks his tongue and your heart shatters slightly at the sound, thinking that you probably just annoyed him, “yeah, i heard you.”

“bakugou.” you suddenly snap and the hand on top of your head stills. you don’t know where the courage to call him by his name comes from, but you want to convey your sobriety over the current situation and for what you’re about to say next. cold shivers run down your spine once his attention diverges towards you and he raises a questioning brow, ushering you to speak. 

“i-i love you–” you gulp, taking a deep breath. “like, i’m in love with you.” 

his stare is impassive and there’s an uncomfortable silence weighing the air between the two of you. your cheeks begin to warm up with humiliation and a part of you dreads with regret. you aren’t sure how long the deafening silence lasted before you see a twitch at the corner of his lips. 

“you gotta be kidding me.” he snickers, shaking his head in disbelief. 

you rise up on your side and your eyes waver with confusion as you look at him. “b-but you said you love me too. you do, r-right?”

he scoffs, mostly galled by the fact that he’s actually having this conversation with you– a dumb college girl, but he doesn’t expect much either. “why the hell would i be in love with you? did i knock your head?”

getting straight to the point is one of bakugou’s nature; his bluntness is like a sharp knife that stabs you in the heart. 

“but you said–”

“why do you think i only said it when i had my cock buried inside your cunt?”

and it twists painfully. 

“forget about it. go to sleep.” he nonchalantly replies and returns back to his phone, brushing off the wounded look that’s written all over your face.

you feel humiliated, angered and disregarded. given that you were always spoiled, you can’t stand having your feelings unreciprocated and rejection is one of the things you aren’t familiar with.

“why? because you have a wife? you don’t even love her–”

you flinch when you hear the loud thud of bakugou slamming his phone down on the bed, but it’s not as fearsome as the malicious glare he’s shooting at you. “don’t you fucking say that. i don’t wanna hear that, especially coming from a dumb whore like you.”

harsh reality gives you a massive slap in the face. 

your heart is hammering against your chest and your vision begins to blur as tears well up in your eyes, threatening to spill out. you feel like you want to scream at him but the words you want to say only get caught in your throat. bakugou notices how you’re about to burst but he only rolls his eyes, expressing his vexation. 

“god,” he sighs exasperatedly and gets off from the bed to pick up his clothes from the floor. “the last thing i need is another fucking nuisance.”

“w-where are you going?” you croak as you watch him put on his clothes. 

bakugou turns to your direction and snarls, “what does it look like? leaving.” 

the pain in your chest becomes harder to bear, fat tears start to roll down your cheeks and when you try to reach for him, he coldly shoves your hand away. you saw how furious he could be through his phone calls but you were never on the receiving end; always the one who calmed him down and let him use you as a way to take out his frustrations on. now you’re nothing different than the rest of the people in his life, or maybe you were just too stupid to realize that you were never any different before too. 

“just leave when it’s time to check out. you’d know at least that much.” he scoffs as he walks to the door and twists the doorknob before turning back to you for what it seems would be the last time. 

“and don’t even think of finding me again.”

duskamethyst © 2020 • do not modify, translate or repost anywhere.

[petri808]

If you're open for nalu requests, can you write a smut fic where nalu goes to a lingerie store because lucy wants to try on some lingerie and natsu ends up getting aroused? But if you can't it's fine just ignore this ask😊

Hi Nony, this is the last request I’ll do. Decided to save this for @thenaluarchive Sinfully Nalu event Mirror prompt. What did Lucy expect by dragging Natsu lingerie shopping?

“I’ve just got one more stop to make.” Lucy pointed towards the other side of the mall.

“Ugh…” Natsu’s shoulders dropped, “but we’ve been here for 2 hours already, Lucy, and I’m getting hungry.”

“I’ll spring for lunch. Anything you want.”

“I’m holding you to it,” he grumbled, but allowed her to pull him forward.

Natsu knew the mall well enough to know that the section they were heading towards were mostly women’s clothing stores— definitely not where he wanted to be. All these fancy clothes, and accessories, and… stuff that his girlfriend loved to wear. Sure, he didn’t complain cause it made her happy, he just didn’t wanna shop for it. Forever twenty something, Cache or Channel— whatever, “oh, uh-uh, no way,” he jerked them to a halt. “I ain’t going in there.”

“It’s just Victoria’s Secret.”

“Well Victoria can keep her secret. Lucy you’re crazy if you think I’m going in a women’s lingerie store!”

Lucy turned to face, then grabbed both of Natsu’s hands, holding them together close to her chest. “Please,” her eyes begged. “I need you to tell me what you think will be nice on me.”

Thinking about his girl, in lingerie, while standing in a mall was *not* the image Natsu wanted conjuring in his mind. But between the soft, puppy-dog expression, and her whimpering pleading— he was powerless to turn Lucy down. He sighed with a whine. “Fine. I’ll go.”

“Yay!” She giggled, kissed his cheek, and took his hand again, entwining their fingers together. “I’ll make it as painless as possible.”

Yeah, uh-huh, right… Painless.

As they walked down the rows and racks of lingerie, Natsu hummed in his head as a distraction. Bras, panties. Low cut, high cut, thongs, g-strings. Sets, individual pieces. Lace, satin, cotton. So many choices! He let the colors blend in his vision, the scents of brand-new clothing mixed with perfumes sold, or miscellaneous accessories. How do women pick anything when there’s so many options? Give him a t-shirt and jeans and he was good to go.

Every so many picks, Lucy would ask his opinion. ‘Yeah, that’s nice. No, that looks itchy. I like that color. Eww, it doesn’t match you.’ Finding her size in the styles she wanted wasn’t always easy, but after 30 minutes, Lucy had half a dozen or so items to try on. So, they head towards the fitting rooms.

Natsu stopped in front of the doors, and readied himself to stand around and wait—

“You’re coming in with me.” Lucy tugged on his hand. “I need your final opinion.”

Up until now, Natsu had managed to avoid thinking about anything even remotely related to sex, but now?! “Uh-uh, no way!”

“Please…” Lucy turned on the pouty lip-action and puppy-dog eyes again. “It’s not like you won’t see me in them later.”

Natsu gulped hard as the naughty images were unlocked. “Are you trying to kill me in public?”

“Pfft, no,” she giggled. “Stop exaggerating this.”

‘You have no idea, woman…’ “Alright, fine. But don’t blame me if anything happens in there.” Because if the twitch in his pants and slight bulge growing was any indication, it wouldn’t be what she’d be expecting.

“Tch.” Lucy rolled her eyes. “It’ll be fine, Natsu, you’ll see.”

The dressing room was a lot more spacious than he was used to seeing. Men’s fitting rooms, at least the ones he’s been in are like closets with just one full length mirror, and maybe a small bench inside. This one could easily fit them both, with wrap around mirrors to catch every angle. It had a small, cushioned bench along one wall, and a couple of hooks on the inside of the door. But most noteworthy was the fact it was a fully enclosed room— not those partial-length doors at lower-quality stores. It was very, very private.

Natsu sat down on the bench and closed his eyes while Lucy fiddled with her options. He could hear the plastic and metal hangers going up on the hooks, as well as the sounds of his girlfriend shedding her clothing. His mouth suddenly felt dry… Lucy’s voluptuous body bared for him to see with only her regular panties left on— he squeezed his eyes tighter shut. ‘Don’t think about it! Don’t think about it!’

“Ready— Natsu, silly,” Lucy giggled. “How are you gonna tell me if it’s good or not if you can’t see?”

“No.”

Lucy threaded her fingers gingerly through his hair. “Just one peak…”

‘Fuck…’ he groaned as the tightening in his shorts grew uncomfortable. “One peak.”

Natsu opened his eyes and immediately slammed them shut again from the screaming bra and panties glued to her frame. A sheer red with solid fabric only over the nipples and a strip covering her crotch. So much flesh revealed in these outfits, was there even a point to wearing anything at all?

“Great!” His voice squeaked out. “Looks fine.”

Her giggles only added to his demise. The sounds of more fabric rustling, and the twitch in his shorts… Natsu shifted in his seat trying to get comfortable, but he couldn’t. Lucy had grabbed about six of seven different pieces to try, and this was only the beginning. She was too damn sexy, and he swore, derived pleasure out of torturing him like this! Ugh, his cock was so hard right now…

“Okay, next piece,” Natsu heard her say. “I’m not sure about it, cause the color doesn’t seem to look good on me.”

Tch, it could be multi-colored polka dots and Lucy would still be a man’s wet dream. He cracked open one eye. It was a dark green, combo with frilled lace along the waistband. Natsu gulped hard as she did a turn around to reveal a thong and curvy swell of her backside.

“You do realize I’m biased, right?” Natsu blurted out. “Everything looks good on you to me.”

“Awww,” Lucy bent down and placed a chaste kiss to his lips. “I still think I’ll add this to the maybe pile,” she spoke as she started removing the pieces. “I think you’ll really like the next one I found; it has these cute flames on them.”

“You know what I’d prefer to see?” Natsu questioned, for he was done holding back.

Lucy stopped mid-way, bent slightly over with the thong down to her thighs. “What?”

Without answering her, Natsu got off the bench and started helping her take the thong off.

“Natsu, what are you—”

Once off, he moved onto her regular panties down.

“Nat— s-stop!” Lucy grabbed for his hands, but she couldn’t do much without twisting or tripping. “What are you do—”

“Keep your voice down.” He tugged those off too leaving her exposed from the waist down.

“Natsu this isn’t funny!” She seethed in an exasperated whisper.

“Neither is this,” he gestured at the bulge in his shorts. Guiding her against the mirrored wall as he spoke. “You said I could choose whatever I wanted for lunch, and I’ve decided to put you on the menu.”

Lucy whimpered when she felt the cold mirror against her bare skin. “But we’re in public.”

“I warned you didn’t I…” Natsu leaned in with a whisper, cheek to cheek. “Then I suggest you not make any noise,” his words wisp out, warm breath fanning down the barren skin as his lips burn a trail over her neck. Lucy dug her fingers into his hair, holding on but not stopping him as he moved lower.

His stops were brief, lips ghosting burning marks along her chest, a mountainous journey over the pillowy bosoms, a few licks against the pert nipples, and lower… down … snaking over her torso to what he was truly after. “Breathe, baby,” Natsu teased at her halted, bated breathing. “Just look forward and watch.”

She sucked in a gulp of air and stared forward at the mirrored image of Natsu going down on her. It was strange to literally watch every move he made like a voyeur living through another’s body. Lucy’s fingers tightened their grip on his hair in anticipation as he spread her legs a little wider…

“Mmm,” he mused in thought on how to get the best angle. “Hold to me,” Natsu suggested, and before she could reply, lifted Lucy’s left leg, and rested it on his shoulder. “Perfect…”

Natsu dove right in, latching his mouth onto the moist folds he knew so well, humming at the quick squeak his girl couldn’t catch in time. But he knew from the pull on his scalp exactly what she was experiencing. He kept one hand on her raised hip, while the fingers of his other toyed around the edge of her wet opening. His tongue pressed and circled around her clit, sucking, palpating, interspersed with soothing flicks and long strokes to lap up the growing sap gathering in the area. He closed his eyes as he relished in the warmth oozing over his face from her beautiful sex.

Heaven help her, Lucy couldn’t stop staring at that mirror… her gripped fingers to his hair and nails digging into his shoulder for dear life from the seasoned oral ministrations that slowly undid her sanity. Just his tongue alone… but the teasing fingers… Oh! Oh— Her thighs clenched to the sides of Natsu’s head as she felt one, then two fingers slipped through her walls. Lucy’s body arched slightly, and head tilted back as those fingers began swiftly pumping.

“Natsu…” Lucy moaned softly through sealed lips. She could feel his grin against her flesh, hear the squishing sounds, and smell the light scent of her extreme arousal. Damn him…

In a race against time, Natsu pumped fast and hard while his mouth and tongue devoured Lucy’s sex and sanity with an intensity to rival any known battle for supremacy. Each passing second, drawing the heated coil at her core closer to snapping. Her legs trembled, yet clenched and stiffened as his fingers pummeled, bumping the swollen sex being driven to his knuckles reach. He could feel Lucy start unraveling and held firmly to her hip bone as the jerky spasms rocked her body in orgasmic euphoria.

“Stop, stop, stop—” Lucy clawed at his back and neck as she whimpered from the immense pressure boiling in her body, and radiant moisture pooled in her eyes. “Please… enough, Natsu my legs are gonna give out.”

After giving her pussy a few more licks to clean up the excess juices, Natsu finally obliged and put down Lucy’s leg, then stood up while still supporting her as she caught her breath. He licked around his lips and cleaned off his fingers. “Best lunch in the world,” he grinned.

“Oof!” Lucy playfully slapped his chest with a short laugh. “Not what I’d meant. And now I don’t have time to try on the rest.”

“Why not?”

Lucy started putting on her regular clothes. “We’ve been in here for too long, it’ll be suspicious.”

“Tch, then just buy all of it if you like them, cause I’m telling you they’ll all look great on you.”

She glared at him. “Fine, but after pulling that stunt, now you owe me lunch!”

Natsu shrugged and grabbed all the hangers of clothing. “Okay, since you’ll need your strength later.”

“Later?”

The widest seedy grin bloomed on Natsu’s face. “You’ll see…”

[isagisyoichi]

how do u think the boy would be in a party😈😈

NEW RULES!

SYNOPSIS: blue lock at a party

CHARACTERS INCLUDED: isagi, bachira, nagi, reo, rin, chigiri, naruhaya, niko, nanase, gagamaru, kunigami

WARNINGS: mentions of underage drinking and weed (but no one actually takes anything), swearing, mentions of throwing up and food, again pretend they're all friends and go to the same school because it's more fun to think that way. ooc rin maybe? idk i like pretending he's not as miserable as the manga makes him out to be 🤗 he deserves to have fun i think

A/N: no cause this was soooo fun to write tysm anon, i got through this in a flash cause i loved this suggestion sm :') literally one of the most fun requests i've ever gotten eeee!!!!! also this made me miss my irls bye corona can suck my balls fr

ISAGI YOICHI:

i feel like this would be his first big party aw lol, so he’s kind of nervous LMAO.

gets handed a beer by someone, has his first sip of it ever, and immediately spits it out. mutters “how the hell can anyone drink this?” and “discreetly” pours the rest into a bush.

mainly stays with nagi, chigiri, kunigami, and bachira and they just talk throughout the night

(bachira only sits down and talks after his energy dies down. i'll elaborate on this below the cut).

keeps asking nagi “what song is this?” throughout the night LOL. makes a mental note of what songs to add to his playlists.

slightly nods his head to the music, aw cute. goes a little harder and lip syncs/raps along when he really likes the song, though (i stand by my word when i said he loves “neon guts”)

does accidentally bump into someone, but isagi starts a convo with them after he apologizes, and they hit it off right away 🥰

but, the person left early and isagi, ever the dummy, forgets to ask for their number.

and he's actually so disappointed in himself when he realizes, too 😭

BACHIRA MEGURU:

not drunk or anything at all, but boy, the way he’s acting makes it seem like he is.

the self proclaimed “life of the party.”

can be found “dancing,” though i use that word generously because to classify whatever he’s doing as “dancing,” is a stretch, to every song, even if he doesn’t know the words LOL

really likes when throwbacks come on!!!! he does dance to the lyrics and not the beat sometimes, though 😭

but, bachira looks like he’s having so much fun, it’s so cute, he’s definitely been waiting for this moment his whole life 🥰

if you were dancing with him, bachira would 100% take you by the hand and spin you around

also forces gets isagi to dance with him but isagi’s so awkward 😭

bachira also ends up jumping in the pool sometime later that night. yells “cannonball!” and everything, like, okay michael phelps 😭

he doesn’t have extra clothes so reo has to give him some and they're so fucking big on him LOLLL

texts the groupchat “i was sooo crazy last night😂” in the morning LMAOO, okay babe calm down

KUNIGAMI RENSUKE:

takes it upon himself to make sure none of his friends die LOL

only drinks water and diet coke 👍

his mom calls in the middle of the party to ask how he's doing and bachira and nagi are doing stupid shit like yelling “pass the weed” and fake moaning 😭

isagi and chigiri tell him to tell her they say hi LOL

really likes when the dj puts on 90s/2000's r&b/hiphop songs (i'll die by my hc that kunigami's an oldies fan)

mostly sways side to side to the music, but he did also dance a little, per request of bachira, and ended up talking to a cute person a for little, too 🤗

offers to help clean up in the morning

CHIGIRI HYOUMA:

at least two drunk girls have mistaken him for their friend, and another four have asked to touch his hair.

tried to use one of reo’s many bathrooms, found a couple making out, outwardly said “gross,” and then left to find another one 😭

nods his head and taps his foot to the music, not much of a dancer.

also a people-watcher, and he points out things he sees are happening to his friends.

“guys, i think misa and her boyfriend are breaking up, look.” leave that poor girl alone bro 😭

finds himself laughing a lot that night because damn! his friends are funny, whether they try to be or not.

not really a party person, but chigiri actually had a lot of fun 🥰

NARUHAYA ASAHI:

also on the dancefloor! doesn’t really dance, per say, but he jumps up and down and does the fist pump thing 😭 he has the spirit, let's give him that.

drank a lot of soda, so he’s filled with energy. also pees in at least three of reo's bathrooms.

talks to his friends, but also makes new ones! also i feel like he takes a lot of pictures LOL. he needs the finsta content 😭

plays truth or dare, or something like that. ends up having to do some stupid shit like smack raichi’s ass and run away, but naruhaya did make out with the girl next to him, so fair trade, he thinks.

also ends up in the pool, but he’s playing chicken with gagamaru and some other people. does not win a single round, but he had fun 😇

leaves with like four plates of food and one of reo’s decorative towels for some reason???

GAGAMARU GIN:

goes through a bunch of reo's shit 😭 he's not taking anything, but he's just curious LOL

strikes up very, random conversations with a bunch of people out of nowhere, good for him!

weirdly good at darts, very good aim.

although one round, naruhaya accidentally distracted gagamaru and one of darts ended up in reo's wall 💔

“it's fine, he has the money to fix it,” naruhaya shrugs as he walks away from reo's now punctured, wall. so true bestie!

gagamaru somehow ends up giving some drunk stranger some “life-changing” advice. (whether it's good or not is debatable)

they thank gagamaru for changing their life and he never sees them again

NAGI SEISHIRO:

irritates the fuck out the dj because nagi keeps asking him to play one specific song over and over again.

it was good the first time, don't wear it out for the rest of us bae 😭

doesn't really dance, just nods his head, maybe raps along a little, too

when he talks to the girls that come up to him, nagi says stuff like “yeah, the host and i go way back, we’re best friends.”

“way back,” my ass, but whatever nagi 🤨

knocks out in one of reo’s guest rooms. someone finds him when they’re trying to look for the bathroom and they draw a mustache and a bunch of other stupid shit on him 😭

tries to leave before reo makes him help clean up in the morning. does not work 👍

dumbass also ended up losing his phone (reo bought him a new one so nagi doesn't really care)

RAICHI JINGO:

gasses himself up sooo much when he’s trying to hit on girls.

“yeah, i'm about to go D1 after high school, just wait on it,” yeah, okay raichi 🙄

also tries to show them his highlights, bye. babe, i mean this in the nicest possible way but, i do not care, can we just kiss 🙏

i feel like he’s one of those boys who likes to take his shirt off for no reason, so raichi most definitely ends up shirtless at some point of the night 😭

takes pictures with reo’s fancy cars in his garage to flex 💀 gets annoyed when reo says raichi can’t drive them. raichi doesn't even have his license 😑

plays pool and is actually not that bad. does almost accidentally blind isagi with his cue, though.

IMAMURA YUUDAI:

he's with some girls but, he’s a dummy and he didn’t know his other hoes would be there, so imamura had quite a few drinks spilled on him here and there.

still somehow leaves with like three new girls snaps, four numbers, and a bunch of lipstick stains. not even gonna lie, i respect his game.

actually a really good dancer, and he knows he looks good, too. knows the words to every drake song that comes on, argue with your mom.

lip-syncs the words to you when you dance together and it makes you more flustered than you would think 🙄

the type to pull you close and wraps his arms around your waist or around your neck

actually really fun to talk to. always in the loop with drama and stuff, so he's always got some interesting conversation topics. and he's funny 😭

MIKAGE REO:

obviously, the party’s at his house. what’s the point of having a rich teammate if you can’t exploit them for their possessions?

jokes, but reo did offer to throw it at his mansion house in the first place.

actually really likes throwing parties lmao, so he jumped at the opportunity.

posted on his snap, “party at my place su for address‼️” LOL

natural charm + raised with good manners = reo being an amazing host

but, reo does have a little group of girls following him around the entire night 👎

and it irritates the hell out of whoever reo’s trying to talk to because they’re all up on him, making it hard for reo to pay attention 😑

also doesn’t help that he entertains them and flirts back and dances with a couple of them, too

and looks good when he dances, too UGH!!!! he's the type to run his hands up and down your body while he dances with you 😣

i hate this man 👎 /j

ITOSHI RIN:

practicing. he didn’t come. sike! rin has a social life, too, come on now, y'all 🙄

talked a big game about how he wouldn’t show up then he still came anyways, like rin, what 😭??

super good at cup pong and he knows it. he keeps beating ryusei and if you look closely, rin has something reminiscent of a smirk on his face.

a foot-tapper, not a dancer, which sucks because he’s not even bad at dancing, either 👎

a couple of girls come up to rin to flirt, but rin doesn’t give them the time of day. no response or anything just a little side eye 😭

rin just talks to his friends and that’s it, really.

actually internally glad for the chance to kickback and relax for once, tbh.

but, he refuses to admit he had any semblance of fun. (he did, rin’s just a weenie 😒)

NIKO IKKI:

the team forced him to come 😭

niko’s already a homebody and he doesn’t like loud noises or large social scenes, so he wasn’t too jazzed about going somewhere where the both of those things combine.

also he's picky with music so LOL. does like that one remix to the pursuit of happiness, though

he’s a wall-stander, i hate to break it to y’all. just watched everything from a distance and didn't talk to anyone except for isagi and his friends.

bye, if you don’t get off the damn wall and dance (he'd dance with me i'm different 🥰🤗)

keeps opening and closing his phone so he looks busy but that mf is literally just going through the settings app 😭

called his mom to bring him home an hour and a half in 👎

NANASE NIJIROU:

i hate to admit it, but he’s the annoying first year that documents everything on snap bye

he’s just excited to be there but like, there is no reason for his story to be half an hour long.

i'm not watching all of that! sorry that happened to you or good for you 🤗

probably playing games like spin the bottle or seven minutes in heaven. is very proud of himself for kissing four people in one night #bigmoves 🥳

stays with his group of friends and they're sooo loud and rowdy LMAOO. #firstyearthings

you can literally hear them laughing over the music, but they're having fun, so it's fine (at least of those kids hits people when they laugh too)

also dances, too! has super good energy and a natural sense of rhythm surprisingly 🥰 also a good hypeman!!!!! honestly, he's just really fun to be around tbh

overall, has a lot of fun, as you can tell by his story 😇