#Idk I was in the mood to draw these 4 and this was the first thing to come up when I googled “draw your ot4” sjdjfkskdkd

[mrs-starkgaryen]

Well, well, well, dissecting time just so I can remind Maggie that I am in her walls (thanks you've passed your illness onto me)

1. "Afterwards, Mason pulls his clothes back on as you are absentmindedly drawing stars in the steam on the windows of his Chevy Silverado."

A) Even at home, she's dreaming/ thinking about the stars (Hollywood stars)

2. "It was good, not that you finished; you didn’t say anything, he didn’t ask, but even if he had you would have told him not to worry about it. It can take forever, especially with an audience. You’d rather wait until you’re alone."

A) Don't worry baby girl, Aegon is gonna make you finish in front of him and I'll you'll love it

3. Mason smirks and taunts: “I don’t know, with the way you talk about him you sound kind of obsessed.”

A) we all are Mason, shut up

4. “You ever feel like people are the best versions of themselves before you really know them? Then you get too close and all the cracks start showing.”

A) well I didn't like that foreshadowing

B) she's gonna get close to Aegon and we know he's a messed up man 😭

C) I'll she'll still love him though

5. “And it’s only until the end of the year,” your father adds. “Then the vacation is over.” Then the meager allowance they are funneling to you will stop and you will be ordered to return home to pursue an honorable course of existence. You have six months to succeed in Hollywood, or the dream dies."

A) Or when Aegon dies...

B) Maggie, are you in my walls? This is my family 😭

6. “Well, regardless of whatever you have going on in California, you’ll either have to get them done now or after you have children,” Mom says. “I love you and Clara and Tripp, but you destroyed my body. At least doctors can repair breasts. My bladder is still useless."

A) mother? What you doing here, loca?

B) how Sunshine is so sunny, idk. I guess you have to have rain to appreciate the sun

C) no wonder she think she needs plastic surgery- not just for Hollywood but she probably feels like she needs to live up to her parents expectations somehow (cuz she feels like she is disappointing them with her choice of job?)

7. Outside the sun is setting, and you gaze westward as the aging daylight turns the tall green grass and silhouettes of horses to gold like the mines that first brought settlers to California. You slide your phone out of the pocket of your denim shorts and take a photo, then post it to your Instagram story with the caption Home and a smiley face emoji.

A) Sunshines reminder that social media is fake lmao

B) but this is a mood- it gives crying whilst doing a thumbs up picture 😭👍🤳

Also those dogs? I love dogs but these ones are scary! The family and the dogs seem to hate her?! My God. Are they picking up on the family hostility to her?

If they don't shape up, unlike the bats- I won't mind if Jace steps on one of these.. (jk)

8. A minute later, you receive a DM. Aegon has typed: This explains the big horse girl energy

A) Aegon ever heard of playing it cool?

B) damn he's down bad

9. You have just finished ringing up a Like It-sized Apple Pie A La Cold Stone when Josh says: “Hey, there’s an old guy asking for you."

A) oh an old man, imagine if he meant Aegon-

B) HE DID! Mf ain't old

C) I also squealed like she did when I recognised the shoes 🥰

10. When Aegon begins to pull it away, you grab his hand and don’t let go until you’ve licked the spoon clean. He laughs hysterically as he watches you. “I haven’t had strawberry ice cream in forever,” you say.

A) and if I say 👀

B) foreshadowing...

C) also hello Simon Bassett from Bridgerton?

11. “Don’t tell me you’re a vanilla girl.”

A) for now Aegon...

B) He will show her the different flavours

C) also could symbolise that she is kinda naive and then as the story progresses- she's not so sweet anymore 😀

13. “It’s small,” Aegon warns. “It’s an episode of Grey’s Anatomy.”

A) said every man ever 😉😂

B) ooh will she be in season 56, episode 28?

14. “Because once you begin to treat scalpels and needles as prescriptions for everything you don’t like about yourself—or everything that other people don’t like about you—..... that are carving away your humanity one incision at a time. I’ve seen it happen to more people than I could count, and I don’t want it to happen to you. Because you seem very, very human, and I’d like you to stay that way. Which means you don’t cut yourself up because some agent or producer or casting director told you to.” Then he adds, perhaps as an afterthought: “And anyway, you don’t need implants.”

A) did he have to do something to make people (or him) like himself more?

B) omg did his dad make or encourage his siblings/ family to change to become more famous, to carry on his legacy in Hollywood? Did Aemond try and change himself and now he's took a step back into scriptwriting cuz atleast then he can control his own story?

C) she's gonna lose or nearly lose her humanity in this industry, I can see it. It's gonna break her down and then Aegon and her have feel better sex..

15. “Always so agreeable,” Aegon muses. So desperate is more like it.

A).... need I say more

16. “The Chinese zodiac. You’re a horse. So you’re the only horse I like.”

A) you're killing me

B) she's gonna like riding this horse 😭 (I'll let myself out)

17. His face is some amalgamation of emotions you can’t read, and this is unusual.“Why do you think I paid in cash?”

A) either becca is crazy

B) or his family are and they'll update becca

C) or both. Like I said before- maybe they set him up wirh becca to calm him down, to make him (the targaryens) look good in the papers

18. “I got you a vanilla latte, vanilla girl.”

A) a possible other nickname?

B) all her nicknames are cute and sunny, like her until this industry snuffs it out 😀

19. Then you are in the scenes under intensely radiant artificial light, and just like it did in your roles back in Minnesota, the real world vanishes and all that exists are these characters, these moments, and your body and mind become theirs, and perhaps even your soul too. Your husband is handsome and kind, and here in this liminal fictional space you love him, and when the surgeons wheel him off to the operating room you are full of blind naïve surety. Then the doctors update you on his condition and you are still hopeful, but it becomes a fragile thing, like something that shatters when it’s dropped from a height. And then he is dead, he has been taken away from you, he has been stolen, and you are eclipsed by a blood-red wrath that is animalistic and unforgiving. After each take when you are ripped back through the veil and into reality, you can’t remember exactly what you did or said, and the director doesn’t have many critiques so you aren’t sure how it’s going.

A) This whole thing felt like a summary for the story

B) at first she's whisked away in a world of Hollywood: glitter and glammer. She's "full of blind naive surety"..

C) Then it's she's less so but she still tries to be optimistic? As she realises this is not what she signed up for

D) husband is dead, Aegon is dead? Then she's full of rage

E) under artificial light? The Hollywood spotlight..

F) she starts to give them her body (plastic surgery), her mind (she starts to doubt and panic in fame) and then her soul (Hollywood kills her optimism and dream)

Also- Are the eyeshadows representing things?

A) In the first chapter she had shimmery, pink, warm brown eyeshadow (showing that she is warm, positive and sparkling with a dream, it's all new).

B) when she's with Mason, it's sparkly black. Like she's not 100% with him but that's okay because she still has her dream that she's gonna be able to be an actress and subconsciously be with someone better...

C) in the ice cream shop, she has bright pink- so bright in optimism still and pink meaning flirtatious feelings for Aegon?

Idk, all this is my crazy mind and I love whatever you come out with!

A Curse [Chapter 2: Harbor Gateway]

A/N: Thank you for the warm welcome you have given this series!!! I am sick with bronchitis currently so this has been a big bright spot in an otherwise miserable week 😅 I can't wait to show you where this story is going, I hope you're ready for it 🥰💜

Series summary: You are an aspiring actress. Aegon is a washed-up and disenchanted agent...at least until he sees something special in you. But within paradisical seaside Los Angeles you find terrible dangers and temptations, secrets and lies. Maybe Aegon's right; maybe the City of Angels really is a curse.

Chapter warnings: Language, a tiny bit of sexual content (18+ readers only), age-gap relationship, entertainment industry misogyny, some body dissatisfaction/dysmorphia, ice cream, judgmental parents, aggressive Akitas, we're literally in Minnesota!!!

Word count: 6.1k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Tagging: @lauraneedstochill @mrs-starkgaryen @chattylurker @neithriddle @ecstaticactus, more in comments! 🥰

🏝️ Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🏝️

Afterwards, Mason pulls his clothes back on as you are absentmindedly drawing stars in the steam on the windows of his Chevy Silverado. On the other side of the glass is inky Minnesota night, a full moon dissolving away, glowing freckles of constellations. You’re staying with your parents and Mason has roommates, so the truck was the expedient choice. It was good, not that you finished; you didn’t say anything, he didn’t ask, but even if he had you would have told him not to worry about it. It can take forever, especially with an audience. You’d rather wait until you’re alone.

Mason glances down at the used condom on the floor of his Silverado, hastily discarded, viscerally slick in a way that becomes sickening in the letdown, as the endorphins and the adrenaline slip away and the blood pumps slow and unclouded. He smirks as he asks: “You sure you don’t want to get back on the pill?”

You sigh, drawing another star. You are still naked and sprawled across the back seat, glistening with sweat in the moonlight. “Well I tried three different prescriptions and had three miserable experiences, and I’m really not interested in playing side effect roulette again. And I can’t risk my skin going insane and random bleeding when I’m running around all over L.A. trying to get parts.”

“What about that little sperm assassin T-shaped thing?”

You look at him. “An IUD?”

“Yeah.”

You wince, engraving another star into the steam on the window. “I don’t think I like the idea of having a piece of metal shoved up inside me.”

He laughs. “But you’ll get silicone implants?”

You shrug; you can’t deny the irony. “I don’t need an IUD to be an actress.”

“Look, I’m not complaining about the tits thing,” Mason says, holding up his hands. “Obviously I’d enjoy them too. And you’d still have them when you move home, so it’s not a waste even if the acting thing doesn’t work out.”

You already know he feels this way, and yet still, it hurts. “When I move home?”

He smiles and crawls back on top of you, his Carleton College hoodie whispering against your belly and chest, soft royal blue cotton on damp skin. He had been a Political Science and International Relations major who took Theater Arts 195: Acting Shakespeare for an arts credit. He was beyond terrible and had no appreciation for the field whatsoever, but he was tall and strong and jolly, an earnest corn-fed Midwestern boy, and when one day after class he’d asked if he could take you to Culver’s for a burger and frozen custard, you’d said yes.

Here and now, in the back seat of his Chevy Silverado, Mason kisses your forehead. Then he ghosts his thumb over the ridge of your orbital socket and cheekbone, where your dark glittery eyeshadow has smudged like a spreading bruise: Galaxy by Anastasia Beverly Hills, Elysian by Natasha Denona. “I’m not saying you aren’t good. But how many people on this planet get to be movie stars? It’s just not realistic. And it’s about so much more than talent. It’s about who you know, and luck, and chemistry, and looks, and a bunch of other things that are mostly out of your control. You’re never going to be the type of girl who’s an influencer or winning Miss America, you’re just not. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t very, very pretty. And I loved you anyway.”

Loved, past tense. You and Mason stopped using that word a year ago; now the nostalgia is painting memories like the walls of an old house. His memories, anyway. You sit up and start yanking on your clothes: oversized yellow Santa Monica crewneck, black sweatpants with elastic cuffs at the ankles. “I think I’m going to get the gummy bear implants.”

Mason licks his lips. “Yum.”

“They’re a type of silicone, but they’re supposed to feel more natural and be less dangerous if they rupture.”

“Will you have scars?” he says as if the notion has just occurred to him, troubled, perhaps a little revolted.

“Well yeah, they have to end up under my skin somehow.”

Mason shudders, then he has another thought. “Who’s going to take care of you after surgery when you’re all sore and zonked out on opioids?”

“My roommate Baela said she would. She’s had friends who have gone through it already.”

“Okay, good. I wouldn’t want you to be alone out there.” Mason touches the back of your head, a quick fond gesture. He’s the only man you’ve ever been with, and even that took a while, months of trying to envision him undressing you before you were sure you could do it without flinching, without being afraid or shy or bewildered. But in the end it had been easy, always easy, which is why you keep coming back to him like a comet. Your elliptical orbit takes you far away and then close again, and such natural patterns are effortless to keep.

You say, the edges of your lips curling into a furtive smile: “I’m definitely not alone.”

Mason groans. “You’re going to hook up with that new agent guy, aren’t you?”

“What? No! No way, he has a fiancée.”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s more amused than annoyed. “Okay, whatever.”

“You know I don’t date anyone.” Which is why each time you’re home visiting, Mason gets a text: Want to get lunch at Culver’s? or Can you drive me to Target? or Pick me up around 9 p.m.?

Mason smirks and taunts: “I don’t know, with the way you talk about him you sound kind of obsessed.”

“I’m just grateful. Someone finally gave me a chance.” You look to the window; the steam and your hand-drawn stars have evaporated away. “And yeah, he’s interesting and he’s cute, and he’s kind of mean but then unexpectedly caring sometimes, and I think he’s one of those people who are really good at what they do but only when they’re inspired…but that doesn’t mean I’m into him romantically.” A pause. “And even if I was, there’s no harm in a super-secret, one-sided crush.”

“Okay. Have fun with all the adulterous sex.”

You chuckle. “Thanks, but that is not the plan.” You slip on your flip-flops, shimmy out of the back seat, and trot around the Silverado to the passenger’s door. Mason climbs into the driver’s seat and turns his key in the ignition. You ask: “What happened to that ballerina girl who was in your Instagram stories for a while?”

“Had to ghost her, she got super clingy and controlling. She was texting me at work all the time and got pissed off when I was putting a ton of hours into that election thing for CNN.” Mason is a political analyst. He turns to you. “You ever feel like people are the best versions of themselves before you really know them? Then you get too close and all the cracks start showing.”

“I think people are wonderful. You just have to find the ones you click with.”

“I should have figured you’d say something like that.” He steers his truck out of the otherwise empty parking lot in Lac Lavon Park. “I’m looking forward to you being home again.”

“I’m not.”

You both laugh, and then Mason drives you to your parents’ house.

At the dining room table, Mom and Clara are researching wedding venues, vast countryside estates and metropolitan historic hotels. Clara got engaged two weeks ago during a vacation to Turks and Caicos. In the living room, Dad and Tripp are watching commentary on the NBA Finals. Tripp’s name isn’t really Tripp; he is the third James in a row, named after your father and grandfather, and Tripp is short for triple. All over the house, there are Akitas lolling in plush dog beds and clicking around on Brazilian Cherry hardwood floors. They have faces like teddy bears, but their dark eyes track you mistrustfully, as if you are an intruder.

No one asks where you have been. They barely acknowledge that you are back. “Hello, dear,” your mother calls distractedly from the dining room, and that’s all. You jog upstairs to the bathroom you share with Clara before anyone can notice your smeared makeup and the unsavory post-car-sex sweat gleaming on your skin. You get into the shower, turn on water so hot it is nearly scalding, and close your eyes. With your back pressed to the jade green tiles, your hand wanders down over your belly and stops between your legs. Your mind cycles through fantasies, but nothing seems to be working.

It’s not real. It can’t hurt anybody.

You imagine that Aegon is the one touching you, and in under a minute it’s over.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I want there to be horses,” Clara says, scrolling through her phone and ignoring the food on her plate: roast chicken, homemade mashed potatoes, green beans sauteed in garlic and olive oil, panzanella salad. Mom prepared it all herself, not because there was no help available—your parents have a housekeeper named Angela who comes by several days per week—but to prove she could. In the living room are shelves heavy with books by Martha Stewart, Ina Garten, Cat Cora, Julia Child, Nigella Lawson. You hear echoes of ambient clicking, Akitas meandering down hallways and staircases.

“Horses?!” Tripp replies with a mouthful of mashed potatoes, gesturing to the sliding glass door. “Don’t you get enough horses in your everyday life? Don’t you have like five right out there?” Your parents’ house sits on ten acres of land, including a barn and several paddocks for Clara’s rescued Thoroughbreds.

“I want beautiful horses,” Clara insists. “Unusual, photogenic, so they can be in the background of all the photos. Maybe Friesians or Haflingers?”

“I’m not sure we can sort the venues by types of horses available, dear,” Mom says. All that’s on her own plate is a heap of green beans and a few pieces of skinless white meat chicken.

Clara moans and drops her face into her hands. “It’s so overwhelming!”

“You’ll find a place you like, Clara Bear,” Dad says mildly, painstakingly slicing meat off a drumstick with his fork and knife.

“And Owen is no help at all. Every time I ask for his opinion he just tells me to do whatever I think is best, but I don’t know what’s best, that’s why I’m asking him!”

Your mother pats Clara’s shoulder reassuringly. “Guys don’t care about weddings,” Tripp says, twisting around in his chair to see the television in the living room. On a rerun of E! News, the hosts are discussing Chris Hemsworth’s rigorous fitness regime and Meghan Trainor’s “mommy makeover.” You peek under the tablecloth. One of the Akitas, Yuki, is glaring as she waits for you to drop something for her to eat.

“You could do something like that,” Mom says to you, and you realize you haven’t been listening to the conversation.

“Sorry, do what?”

“You could be a wedding planner or a real estate agent. Those are actual careers, but there’s more creativity involved, isn’t there? And didn’t you take a design class in college? That would certainly come in handy.”

“Hm,” your father says with a frown, still dissecting his chicken. He would rather you go to law school like Tripp. You would rather lie down in traffic.

“I took a set design class, Mom. Because I was studying how to be an actress. And that’s what I’m doing right now in Los Angeles, trying to be an actress.”

“You could become an architect!” Mom bursts out with sudden enthusiasm. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”

You titter evasively. “I can’t draw, Mom. Or use the modeling software, or do math.”

“You know, you don’t need any specific degree to get into law school,” Tripp says, and your father gives him a nod of approval. “You could have majored in dance or bagpiping or Egyptology, it doesn’t matter. All they want is a high undergrad GPA and a 168+ LSAT score, and I bet you could get that if you studied. You can even retake the test a few times if you need to.”

“Why do you do that?” Clara snaps at him. You eat your panzanella salad and pretend not to be listening. Beneath the tablecloth, Yuki growls. You toss her a few cubes of Italian bread so she won’t bite you.

Tripp shovels mashed potatoes into his mouth. “Do what?”

“Why are you always wasting your time trying to convince her to grow up and get a real job? If she wants to embarrass herself, let her. I have problems that I’m trying to solve, so how about applying yourself to those instead?”

“Are you serious? You think I should be calling around to wedding venues asking about their selection of exotic draft horses?”

Clara aggressively stabs at her green beans with her fork. “Fuck off, Tripp.”

“Hey, hey, kids, no swearing,” your mother says. “It’s Father’s Day. Be respectful.”

Dad turns to you. “You could be an entertainment lawyer, how about that? You could work in intellectual property or negotiating contracts.”

You smile warily. “I’ll think about it, Dad.”

Clara says to your parents: “Well I hope all the money you’re throwing out the window to support her in California isn’t coming out of my wedding fund.”

You close your eyes and think: I can’t spend my life in a cubical. I can’t spend every minute of every day trying to forget who I am.

“Shh, shh,” your mother pleads, rubbing the back of Clara’s clenched hand. “You will get exactly what we promised you, that amount is still set aside for your wedding. Nothing she does affects you.”

“And it’s only until the end of the year,” your father adds. “Then the vacation is over.” Then the meager allowance they are funneling to you will stop and you will be ordered to return home to pursue an honorable course of existence. You have six months to succeed in Hollywood, or the dream dies.

Your father is now asking Tripp about his summer associate position at Latham & Watkins in Chicago. Your mother is advising Clara to get a wedding dress with a corset back so it can be adjusted in the event she gains or loses weight at the last minute. Underneath the table, Yuki is growling again; she noses your knees threateningly.

“I got an agent,” you say, and everyone looks at you.

“Really?” Mom asks, sounding a little perplexed.

“Who is it?” Dad says.

“Aegon Targaryen. He has a small office in Elysian Park.”

“Oh, I think I recognize the last name.”

“His family is in the industry.” You are beaming; you can feel the heat rising in your face. “But Aegon kind of does his own thing and tries to stay out of the limelight. He was an actor when he was my age. And I guess he thinks I can get roles, so that’s really exciting.”

Your mother seems concerned as she nibbles at a shred of white meat. “Is he an older man?”

“Not that much older. He’s thirty-five.”

“Well, be careful, darling,” your father says gravely. “Who knows what his intentions are.”

Clara evidently agrees. “Men can be so creepy. I had this one professor in pharmacy school who cheated on his wife with one student, then cheated on her six months later with a different student. And then he retired to Boca Raton and was never heard from again.”

“Oh, that reminds me!” Tripp says to your father. “We read about Clinton v. Jones in torts class, it was wild, I didn’t know he was such a freak even before the Monica Lewinsky thing…”

After dinner, while your father and Tripp are flipping through television channels in the living room and Clara is upstairs on the phone with Owen, you go to the kitchen where your mother is washing dishes in a bubble-filled sink. Again, she doesn’t have to do this; Angela will be here to clean the house tomorrow. But it’s part of being a perfect homemaker, and if she’s not good at this then she’s not good at anything.

She glances over when she hears you come in. “Did you get an appointment with one of the doctors your father recommended?”

“I did, yeah. I have a consultation on Friday.” You lean against the marble countertop and cross your arms so you don’t fidget nervously. From a dog bed on the floor, Mochi glowers at you. “Do you think I should get the surgery?”

She shrugs; you’re not certain if she is more indecisive or apathetic. “Your cousin Madison had a nose job the summer before college. Your old classmate Emma got a blepharoplasty and then met her husband three months later. Practically all of my friends have had breast augmentations, and I’ve certainly never regretted mine. I think if you’re going to get anything fixed, it makes sense to pick that.”

You try again to elicit a strong opinion, whether an endorsement or objection. “I don’t think I’d want to do it if I didn’t feel like it was necessary to be an actress.”

“Well, regardless of whatever you have going on in California, you’ll either have to get them done now or after you have children,” Mom says. “I love you and Clara and Tripp, but you destroyed my body. At least doctors can repair breasts. My bladder is still useless.”

You stare at Mochi distractedly. The dog huffs, unwelcoming. “What was the recovery like?”

“Oh, hell,” your mother says. “But once you heal up it’s worth it. I can wear square necklines and strapless dresses again.”

“Technically, you could have worn whatever you wanted.”

She gives you an impatient look, a you’re too old for that sort of frustration. “No one wants to see some sad flabby woman.” She is including your father in this statement. You remember being home for Thanksgiving Break during your freshman year at Carleton and inadvertently stumbling upon emails from one of the hospital interns when you used his laptop to buy movie tickets: indecent inuendoes, flirtatious photos, no smoking gun but certainly more than was appropriate between colleagues. You had tried to tell your mother, and she had deflected over and over again until you realized that she didn’t want to know; it was easier to be carried by the currents of momentum than to rock the boat until it sank. “This agent of yours…is he celebrating Father’s Day with his family?”

“No, Aegon lost his dad when he was in college.”

“That must have been difficult,” she says vaguely as she scrubs a pot with a green Scotch-Brite dish wand. Your parents are now at the age when their friends have begun to succumb to strokes and heart disease and cancers, and the lurking specter of mortality both horrifies and fascinates them. “What did he die of?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Mom?!” Clara shouts from upstairs. “Osaka is puking in the hallway!”

Your mother sighs and dries her hands on a dish towel, then leaves you alone in the kitchen. You linger there for a while, listening to the faint drone of CNN from the living room television, then leave the house through the sliding glass door in the dining room. Outside the sun is setting, and you gaze westward as the aging daylight turns the tall green grass and silhouettes of horses to gold like the mines that first brought settlers to California. You slide your phone out of the pocket of your denim shorts and take a photo, then post it to your Instagram story with the caption Home and a smiley face emoji.

A minute later, you receive a DM. Aegon has typed: This explains the big horse girl energy

You laugh and respond: They belong to my sister, I am personally very anti-horse

You hope he’ll continue the conversation. You don’t have to wait long. How’s Minnesota? Aegon asks.

You stop and consider how to answer, then decide not to overshare. Devoid of palm trees…but good!

There is a pause—perhaps thirty seconds—and then Aegon types: How’s the ex-boyfriend?

Is he curious or jealous? You smile. Still not standing in the way of anything :)

Aegon reacts with a heart emoji, then immediately switches it to a thumbs-up. You cannot ignore the wave of warmth and fondness and exhilaration that overwhelms you. Logically, you know he’s engaged to another woman. Emotionally, it doesn’t seem relevant.

You think: It’s just a crush. It can’t hurt anybody.

Then you remember what your mother asked, and as you stand outside in the fading dusk light you Google Aegon’s father Viserys Targaryen. He has his own Wikipedia page. You scroll to the bottom, where it reads in nondescript black letters: On October 27, 2009, Targaryen passed away at his Malibu residence after a long illness.

~~~~~~~~~~

You have just finished ringing up a Like It-sized Apple Pie A La Cold Stone when Josh says: “Hey, there’s an old guy asking for you.”

“What?” You look towards the ice cream freezer and there he is, dark jeans, green Nike Killshots, a yellow Hawaiian shirt that’s too big for him. “It’s my agent!” you shout as you rush over to meet him, loud enough that everyone in the shop turns to stare.

“Shh,” Aegon says, but he’s laughing.

“What are you doing here?” you ask from behind the counter.

“I got some good news, and I wanted to tell you in person.”

“Cool! Should I make you ice cream first?”

“Um, sure.” Aegon surveys the menu of Signature Creations. He seems overwhelmed; he actually looks a little panicked.

“Are you usually a chocolate or vanilla person? Or peanut butter, or coffee? Or mint?”

“Strawberry,” Aegon says.

“Strawberry,” you echo, surprised. “Okay, I think you’ll like Our Strawberry Blonde.”

“Neat.”

“Because, you know, it has strawberries and you’re blonde.”

“Sounds literally perfect for me,” Aegon says, smiling.

“What size?”

“Uh…” He reads the labels on the cups in the display case. “The big one.”

“No, you have to say the real name.”

He chuckles. His cheeks are pink, his turbulent blue eyes sparkling. “I’m not saying that.”

“Then I’m not making you ice cream!”

He groans. “I want an Our Strawberry Blonde in the size Gotta Have It.”

“Cup, cone, or waffle cone bowl?”

“Stop asking me questions or you’re fired.”

“Waffle cone bowl,” you decide. Aegon studies you as you work, his head tilted thoughtfully to the side: scraping a mound of strawberry ice cream out of the freezer with your metal spatulas, taking it to the cold countertop, and smashing in graham cracker pie crust, caramel, fluffy whipped topping, and fresh strawberries. You use one of the spatulas to expertly scoop the mixture into a waffle cone bowl, not spilling a drop. Then you hand Aegon his ice cream and ring him up at the cash register. He pays in cash.

You ask Josh, the manager on duty, if you can take your fifteen-minute break now. He frowns. “I thought you were going to refill the yellow cake and Oreo cookie mix-ins first.”

“Hey,” Aegon says. He waves a ten-dollar bill in the air to show it to Josh and then dunks it in the tip jar. “Do it yourself.”

“Fine,” Josh mutters to you. “But you don’t get a second over fifteen minutes.”

There’s no time to waste. You hurry to a small table by the window. It’s 8:30 p.m., and outside the world is indigo-dark and threaded with inorganic sparks of headlights, streetlights, kaleidoscopic neon signs. Your eyeshadow is vibrant and pink, because no one cares about that when you work at an ice cream shop: Push by Natasha Denona, Coax by Urban Decay.

Aegon takes his first taste of his ice cream as he sits down in the chair across from you. “You were right, this is delicious. A bop, not a flop.” Then he notices the bruise on your right wrist. “What the hell happened to your hand?”

“Oh. One of the Akitas bit me. Don’t worry, I can cover it up with concealer.”

Aegon is irritated. “Why is your mother letting her Akitas bite you?”

“It was my fault. I forgot that Oni doesn’t like when people pet his feet.”

Aegon sighs, stirring his Our Strawberry Blonde. “You want some of this?”

“I can’t,” you say reluctantly.

He raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean you can’t?”

“I already had a little cup when I got here this afternoon so I have regrettably hit my ice cream quota for the day.” And then, when Aegon clearly does not approve: “I try not to restrict too much but obviously staying the same size takes effort. That’s not a disorder, it’s just reality.”

Aegon seems to debate arguing, then instead scoops up a heaping spoonful of ice cream and holds it out across the table. “Come on. It doesn’t count if it’s on my spoon.”

You smile sheepishly and open your mouth for him. Your lips close around the plastic spoon: coldness, sweetness, the grit of pulverized graham cracker pie crust, the infinitesimal black seeds of strawberries that catch between your teeth. When Aegon begins to pull it away, you grab his hand and don’t let go until you’ve licked the spoon clean. He laughs hysterically as he watches you. “I haven’t had strawberry ice cream in forever,” you say.

“Don’t tell me you’re a vanilla girl.”

“I am,” you confess. “I know the joke. But I really do always get the vanilla-adjacent flavors. Cookie dough, French vanilla, sweet cream, cheesecake…”

Aegon smirks playfully. “Pathetic.”

“So you’re an enlightened being because you eat strawberry ice cream.”

“Boring people like vanilla. Kids like chocolate. Interesting adults like strawberry.”

“Do you actually have good news for me or did you just come here to be a ghoul?”

“I got you a part.”

“What?!” you squeal, and people are gawking again. This time, Aegon doesn’t tell you to be quiet. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he replies, grinning like he can’t help it.

“A part in what?”

“It’s small,” Aegon warns. “It’s an episode of Grey’s Anatomy.”

You scream; Josh scowls at you from behind the counter. “Oh my God, no way, no way!”

“You’re going to be the wife of a guy the doctors kill with negligence. Three scenes, two are pretty short and unremarkable but then you get to yell at the surgeon in the last one. Gives you the opportunity to show some range and make an impression.”

You can’t believe this is happening. “They aren’t going to make me audition first?”

“Well…it’s very last-minute,” Aegon says. “The actress who was supposed to do it has a drug problem or something, I guess, so she ghosted and they were scrambling for a replacement. And I completely fabricated your credentials.”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah, I typed up a resume and sent it over and they loved it. So try not to talk about your actual experience because none of it will match.”

You shake your head, stunned, amazed. “What if they try to contact one of my alleged former employers?”

“Then they’ll be talking to Aemond, and he will lie and say you were an absolute pleasure to work with.”

Aemond Targaryen: Aegon’s younger brother, a screenwriter, a philanthropist, a well-respected entity in Hollywood, and you know this from the Googling that preceded your first meeting with Aegon last week. “And Aemond doesn’t mind helping you commit fraud?”

“It’s not a favor I call in very often.” Aegon finishes his ice cream, then begins breaking apart the waffle cone bowl and shoving shard-like pieces into his mouth.

“When’s the shoot?”

“Very very early on Thursday, that’s the bad news.” Thursday is two days from now. “So I’ll have to pick you up at your apartment at like 5 a.m.”

“That’s fine. I’ll be ready.”

He smiles, gnawing on a chunk of his waffle cone bowl. “I figured.”

“You’re going too?” The hope is unmistakable in your voice.

“Of course I’m going.”

“I didn’t think agents usually went to film shoots.”

“Well, fortunately for you, your agent is imminently fleeing Los Angeles and has already parted ways with most of his clients and really has nothing else going on besides hiding in his office and playing a Nintendo 64, so I figured I could make it. And also if I’m going to be enthusiastically recommending you to people, I should probably see you work at some point.”

You wiggle your eyebrows flirtatiously. “Do I get to make out with my fake husband?”

Aegon is amused. “From what I understand, you get to chastely kiss him once. They’re sending the script over to my office first thing in the morning, so you’ll only have a day to learn your lines.”

“That’s enough time. I’ll make it work.”

“Always so agreeable,” Aegon muses. So desperate is more like it.

Thursday. “Is the shoot just one day?”

“Yeah, they should be able to get everything they need from you on Thursday morning. Why?”

“I have a doctor’s appointment on Friday and I was just wondering if I’d have to reschedule it.”

Aegon is immediately vigilant. “What kind of appointment?”

“Uh…” You smirk guiltily. “It’s just a consultation. No slicing yet.”

“And you’re going to cancel that,” Aegon says flatly.

“Seriously?”

“Do you want implants because you want them or because you think other people want you to have them?”

You hesitate. “Both.” That’s probably a lie.

Aegon leans back in his chair and studies you. “Yeah, you’re cancelling that appointment.”

“Why?”

“Because when I agreed to sign you, you told me that you’d do anything I say. And I’m telling you to cancel it.”

“But why don’t you want me to get implants? Everyone gets implants.”

“Because once you begin to treat scalpels and needles as prescriptions for everything you don’t like about yourself—or everything that other people don’t like about you—it’s very difficult to stop. First it’s your tits, then it’s your eyes and your nose, then it’s your chin and your cheeks and your neck and your ass, and it’s just this revolving door of painful, dangerous, unnecessary procedures that are condemning you for being mortal, that are carving away your humanity one incision at a time. I’ve seen it happen to more people than I could count, and I don’t want it to happen to you. Because you seem very, very human, and I’d like you to stay that way. Which means you don’t cut yourself up because some agent or producer or casting director told you to.” Then he adds, perhaps as an afterthought: “And anyway, you don’t need implants.”

You smile, then reply quietly: “You’ve never seen me.”

Aegon grins. “I don’t care if you have twelve nipples under there like a fucking beagle, you don’t need plastic surgery.”

You both laugh, and the tension evaporates, and even if you don’t cancel the appointment—Aegon is one person, the entertainment industry is omnipotent and eternal—you are glad he seems to like you the way you are. Behind the counter, Josh is waving manically to get your attention and summon you to return to work. You pretend not to see him.

Aegon asks: “Why don’t you like horses?”

“They freak me out. They’re all teeth and legs and they’re huge, I’m always scared they’ll step on me.”

“Your dad’s a doctor, right? I thought all rich girls had horses.”

“Where I’m from, a lot of women ride horses to distract themselves from the fact that their husbands are riding their receptionists or interns. I’d rather have no horse and no awful cheating husband.” And Aegon stares at you and turns serious, because perhaps you’ve inadvertently addressed the elephant in the room: he has a fiancée, and neither of you are acting like she exists. You swiftly pivot. “I’ll make an exception for you, though.”

He appears startled. “What?”

“The Chinese zodiac. You’re a horse. So you’re the only horse I like.”

“Oh, yeah. Right.” Aegon chuckles uneasily and gets up to throw his trash away, then stands under the florescent lights with his hands in his pockets, his blonde hair falling out of its gel and hanging over his forehead. He gazes down at you pensively; you are still seated at the table. “When does your shift end?”

“I’m closing tonight, so I’ll be done around 10:30 or 11.”

“Okay. Can I come back to pick you up and drive you home?”

You are puzzled. “Why?”

He gestures to the inky dark window, incredulous. “Because obviously you shouldn’t be walking alone in Harbor Gateway at midnight? You know there was a shooting a block from here last week. I looked it up.”

“I walk home all the time.”

“You really need to stop doing that.”

“You are being very dramatic for a non-actor.”

“Listen, I can’t go to my house and try to fall asleep while I’m wondering if you’re getting mugged or murdered.”

You look at Aegon. He does seem genuinely worried. “You can drive me home.”

“Great. See you in two hours.” He strides away and shoves open the glass door; the little metal bells hanging there jingle.

“Aegon?”

He halts mid-step and turns around. “Yeah?”

“Does Becca know where you are right now?”

His face is some amalgamation of emotions you can’t read, and this is unusual.“Why do you think I paid in cash?”

And before you can reply, he’s gone.

~~~~~~~~~~

On Thursday, June 19th, Aegon picks you up in his white Chrysler Sebring convertible while the city is still asleep. The sky is dark, the streetlights passing by overhead, infinite pinpoint supernovas. There are hardly any other cars on the road. Aegon’s hair is a mess and his eyes are bleary; he’s sipping a Starbucks coffee with one hand and holding the steering wheel with the other. He is wearing a suit, but he still manages to look unpolished, his white shirt half-untucked and his black tie too skinny. He sets his coffee down in one of the cup holders and passes you something venti-sized and iced.

“I got you a vanilla latte, vanilla girl.”

“Aw, thanks! Skim milk?”

“Nope,” he says, smiling. You smile back and take a gulp of it, cold and sweet and bracing. “What’s your hype song?”

“I can’t tell you,” you say, embarrassed.

“Why not?”

“You’re going to terrorize me.”

“Don’t Stop Believing? Don’t Stop Me Now? I Gotta Feeling?”

“Lose Yourself.”

Aegon throws back his head and cackles, his hair flying in the wind. “That’s definitely a fireable offense. I’m ditching you the second we finish this shoot.” But he taps around on his phone and plugs in the aux, and then Eminem is thudding through the speakers as the Sebring sails north and the red-gold dawn rises on the horizon, a celestial message from the East Coast, an omen from the future.

Aegon drives you to Prospect Studios in Los Feliz, just east of Hollywood. Filming will be indoors on a soundstage. You spend what feels like forever in hair and makeup, and the costume designer—who had prepared for a different actress—dresses and redresses you over and over again, frowning at your chest and waist and thighs, and you have a sudden pang of nauseating panic and dread: I don’t belong here. What the fuck was I thinking?

Then you are in the scenes under intensely radiant artificial light, and just like it did in your roles back in Minnesota, the real world vanishes and all that exists are these characters, these moments, and your body and mind become theirs, and perhaps even your soul too. Your husband is handsome and kind, and here in this liminal fictional space you love him, and when the surgeons wheel him off to the operating room you are full of blind naïve surety. Then the doctors update you on his condition and you are still hopeful, but it becomes a fragile thing, like something that shatters when it’s dropped from a height. And then he is dead, he has been taken away from you, he has been stolen, and you are eclipsed by a blood-red wrath that is animalistic and unforgiving. After each take when you are ripped back through the veil and into reality, you can’t remember exactly what you did or said, and the director doesn’t have many critiques so you aren’t sure how it’s going.

But when it’s over, while you are still standing on the soundstage with the other actors, Aegon puts on his sunglasses and smiles at you from across the room; and you remember what he said outside his office on the day you first met—you are so bright, sunshine—and you know you’ve done a good job.

[deeply-unserious-fellow]

This is for everybody who saw my vision :)

Vers. w/out the hell police. Square. Things. Cuz why not lol

[moe-broey]

Baby. Baby thang. Baby.

[begko]

keep quiet. -seijoh 4

warnings: 18+ MDNI, poly, implied masturbation, implied sex(? I think), idk how to tag so lmk if there's anything else

contains: fem reader, seijoh 4 x reader (but mostly Matsukawa x reader and Hanamaki x reader)

wc: 1.2 k

a/n: I feel like there's not enough seijoh 4 fics out there so I decided to write one myself lol. This is my first fic so if anyone likes this I'll finish this and try to post more. Just ask and I'll lyk if I can do it!

Living in an apartment with four other boys never left your days feeling dull. Although you were all in your 20’s and supposedly more mature than your younger selves, they were still boys. 

They would each find ways to somehow piss you off, whether consciously or not. Dirty laundry in the living room, a bag of chips left open on the counter, or the loud moans of a random girl spilling through the crack in their bedroom door. These things wouldn’t typically leave you feeling so annoyed, but hearing a repeating “Yes Oikawa!” at 3 AM– the night before your abnormal psychology midterm may I add– was seriously starting to test your patience. 

Before you knew it, you found your feet gliding stomping down the hallway towards the brunette’s room, unknowingly drawing the other three to peek out from their own doors. 

“I SWEAR TO GOD TOORU. IF SHE DOESN’T SHUT UP YOU WILL NEVER SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY AGAIN.” You emphasized your threat by loudly pounding your fist on his door, then swiftly retreating back to your room, slamming your door for good measure. You put your earbuds back in and tried to focus on the music that filled your ears.

Thankfully, you eventually drifted to sleep, but the groggy feeling you had the next morning did not dissipate, even with the large coffee you had made. After fumbling with your keys for what seemed like forever, you were met with the faces of your roommates, all waiting to greet you. They each gave you a warm smile, which normally would brighten your mood a bit, but the sight of Tooru’s face made a frown appear on your face. Without a word, you disappeared into your room and threw yourself onto the bed, hoping to catch up on some sleep.

“What did I do?” Hajime immediately slapped the back of Tooru’s head in response. “You idiot! She had an exam today and you haven’t even apologized for keeping her up!” Hajime clicked his tongue in annoyance at his best friend. Tooru rubbed the back of his head to soothe the pain. “Well how do I make her forgive me? I didn’t know she had an exam!” 

Hajime merely shook his head, “Figure it out.” he said before going to check on you. As he opened your door, he found you– jeans and all – laying face-down on your bed. A groan of acknowledgement came from your figure, causing Hajime to let out a breathy laugh. “You okay?” 

“Headache.” Was all you managed to say before beckoning him to lay with you. He obliged, letting you roll over before laying on top of your half-made bed with you. He adjusted you both so your head would be comfortably caged in his arms, while you curled into his warmth.

“It’s alright, just get some sleep. I’ll stay with you, baby.” There it was. That nickname he gave you. It always put a smile on your face, this time no different, as you drifted off with your lips sleepily curled up at the corners.

While, yes, they were annoying at times, one could argue that they had a soft spot for you. They would often lay with you if they knew you wanted the company, just as Hajime was doing. When a boy would break your heart, you would find one of them waiting outside of your lecture hall with a bouquet of daffodils, ready to take you out to eat or to a club. With them, you never needed to watch cringey rom-coms while incessantly crying. They distracted you from the heartache, until it eventually melted away. And those nicknames, god, those nicknames. You were sure that they meant nothing, but the way that they locked eyes with you as they uttered ‘Princess’ or ‘Darling’ made your heart stop in ways that felt more than platonic. Sometimes, when you touched yourself in the dead of the night, you found yourself imagining them saying it, driving you to your climax. But you would never admit that to any of them. Just as they wouldn’t admit that you would sometimes let your moans get loud enough for them to hear, driving them to let their hands wander down beyond the waistbands of their boxers. They quickly chased their high, knowing that without the sweet noises of your pleasure seeping through the thin walls, they would be left unsatiated.

You awoke to the delicious smell of food wafting in from the kitchen. After stretching a bit, you opened your eyes to find Hajime no longer next to you. You followed the smell into the main area of your apartment, finding the boys sitting at the kitchen counter chatting while Tooru stood with a pink apron on. 

Your small laugh caused them all to turn their heads to wear you stood, a smile appearing on each of their faces. You walked up to them and put your hands on the counter, surveying the mess left on top of it.

“I made you your favorite! And before you say anything, I was just about to clean up.” That drew another giggle to fall from your lips. You mumbled out a ‘You better.” as Tooru wrapped his arms around your form. “I’m sorry for keeping you up last night, please forgive me?” 

“ Fine, just buy a gag for the next time you wanna bring one of them home.” The four laughed while you began to set the table.

After dinner, Tooru told you to put on a movie while the rest of them did the dishes and grabbed something sweet to snack on. You opted to take a quick shower before doing so and changed into a comfortable tank top and shorts. As you plopped down on the couch and simply chose to re-watch The Hunger Games, Hiro and Issei sat down on either side of you. Issei guided you between his legs, allowing your head to lay on his chest, as Hiro moved your legs into his lap. Hiro draped a blanket over your form, as you gave him a small smile of thankfulness. Soon after, Hajime and Tooru sat in the smaller armchairs and started the movie. 

You’ve seen this movie a million times, after all it was your favorite. But as you watched Katniss tie herself to a tree in an attempt to get some sleep, you began to grow bored. You shifted from your position, fidgeting in hopes of becoming comfortable again. “Sit still, pretty girl. I wanna know what happens next.” You heard Issei whisper into your ear. You freeze. For some reason, the mixture of the hot breath that you felt on your neck and the raspiness of his voice made your stomach form a knot. But it wasn’t until you felt Hiro’s hand start to slowly travel up the length of your leg that you finally realized what you were feeling. You felt hot, making you squirm even more. Issei’s arm snaked around your middle, holding you in place. “I said sit still. We’ll give you a reward if you’re good.” Suddenly it felt like your senses were heightened. The feeling of Issei’s arm and Hiro’s wandering hands made your breathing come to a halt. Is this a dream?

“Do you trust us, pretty girl?”

[literallyjusttoa]

Finally got around to doing this, here are some rough sketches of my idea of how Lester looks each book! Some books are more different than others, like I don't think much changed between books 1 and 2, but I had fun doing this! Look under the cut for some notes about things I added for each design.

Book 1: Not much changes from how he's described in the books. All of the clothes he borrowed from Percy are a bit too big for him, but the flannel he borrowed from Will fits pretty well, only being slightly too long (I think Will has like, an inch over Lester)

Book 2: Basically the same as book 1 Lester. He keeps the flannel Will gave him, but it gets pretty beat up over the course of this book so he has to switch it out before book 3 :(. Hair is just a lil bit longer, and he gets clothes that fit a bit better. Headcanon time bc if Rick won't give me substantial Thalia and Apollo interaction I'll make it myself: Thalia gives Lester archer's gloves at the end of TDP, which he wears for the rest of the series. He didn't even think to wear gloves bc as a god he wouldn't need them, but Thalia noticed his beat up to shit hands at the Waystation and went "bestie... bestie no...." and gave him a pair.

Book 3: Will's flannel has been swapped for a big coat and Lester get his iconic pink camo pants. His hair is long enough to start getting weighed down a bit, and also way messier bc he's been in the labyrinth for like a month. The beat up sneakers he was wearing in books 1 & 2 get replaced with much more reasonable boots. Eyebrow scar shows up, a reminder from one of the many concussions this poor man has suffered. Also another HC time! Georgie gives Lester a little handkerchief that he wears for the rest of the series (I was gonna use Paolo's handkerchief, but Lester canonically gives that back so boo)

Book 4: The Lester looks like shit book /j. His hair is now long enough that he should really be doing something with it but he is not. He has a zip up hoodie now to cover up all his fun purple veins. Just more beat up in general honestly. Also I hc that Apollo actually lost some weight here (both bc he wasn't really eating well before getting to New Rome bc of stress/grief, and bc he got really sick and continued to not eat well while that was happening) But it obviously doesn't do anything to help his self-esteem or mood in this book. Kind've a visual way of being like "the superificial flaws Apollo clung to in the first book weren't the real issue, he was just hyperfixating on them to distract himself from what he was really upset about, so when the superficial issues get solved he doesn't even notice bc he's grown enough as a character to cut the bullshit and focus on what's really bothering him." or idk something like that. I like to contrast this with a hc I've mentioned before about the time between books 4 and 5, which is that the physical flaws Apollo whined about in book 1 (i.e. the acne and his weight) get "worse" throughout the road trip from California to New York, but Apollo truly just does not care that much about that shit anymore and that's why it doesn't come up in the narration.

Book 5: Final Lester! It's been over a month since the last book so I'm taking liberties and saying Lester's hair is long enough to pull up now bc I want him to be able to do that goddammit. Final outfit is borrowed from Percy again, so that's why it's so big. He also has a pendant that Lavinia gave to him bc they're besties. Also I forgot to mention it, but his shoulders are slightly broader here (and have been getting broader throughout the series) bc he's been working those muscles so much with the constant archery.

Also I didn't draw his quiver bc honestly I forgor, but I like to imagine he's been getting little pins and bobs from a lot of his friends that he's been sticking on his quiver strap. A few examples that come to mind are:

Kayla: A classic hot topic pin with a sun with sunglasses on it.

Leo: A pin made of scrap metal with the alchemical symbol for fire carved in.

Agave: Pinned a clover to Apollo's quiver for good luck. It didn't stay on there long, but it was the thought that counted.

Hazel: A piece of citrine decorated with metal cords.

Lavinia: Another classic hot topic pin, this one is heart shaped and has a picture of Hatsune Miku on it.

Jason: One of the monopoly houses he'd been using to mark the positions for the temples. A lot of the little houses had fallen off the diorama during the car crash at the beginning of TTT. The night after, Apollo asked Reyna if he could make sure the diorama was fixed. Reyna agreed, and he put it back together based on what he remembered. He spent an hour or so gluing on houses and hotels for Mars, Somnus, Fons, Salus, and on and on, until he got to the last one. A red hotel meant to show where the temple of Apollo would go. Apollo poked a little hole in it, and fastened it to his quiver with a bobby pin. It's nestled close to where the strap meets the quiver itself, so it's less likely to fly off.

Meg: Pinned a rose petal to his quiver right before he went to fight Python. It lasted for even less time than Agave's clover did, but again, it was the thought that counted.

[19thcenturylover]

Wingterbaron kisses😙

Hi again, I'm back with this ot3 since I finally finished my semester YIPPIE— I have to say that I started this "mini-series" of drawings in MARCH and I was barely able to finish it... idk, 4 days, so the change is noticeable ugh :[

(1/3) Kiss on the neck :00

(2/3) Kiss on the shoulder :D [I don't know how to explain it but for me this is a spiritual redraw of my first Winterbaron drawing]

(3/3) And kiss on the cheek :3c

I really love that trio, It's been a while since I was so silly/happy for a poly ship since Dinot3 AJJDJD

[And hey, I wanted to clarify that I have been in a "small" emotional low during and after my semester and I don't feel in the mood to answer reblogs, questions, etc. In itself I'm bad at that but I don't do it with bad intentions, I really appreciate what y'all say, ily silly people :(♡]

[sweeneydino]

Welcome to my humble abode.

🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈 lgbtq+ safe space.

✨️Surprise✨️

Turtles and random fandoms I may pop into galore.

Ignore the soda cans and crumbled pieces of paper, never really got the chance to clean that up.

This will collect dust just like all of my other projects and dreams.

🚫No, Commissions are NOT open (づ_ど) 🚫

Please note that this is my escape from life (ง˙∇˙)ว so I might not respond to A LOT. See end notes.

Archive of Our Own (AO3) Fanfics

Lime meets emerald[HIATUS]

Spikeangelo

The Good Father

Comics

Weapons of Hamato [1]

Alternate Universe Shenanigans

Spikeangelo AU!

Au idea | Titan

Spikeangelo Asks!

Transporters don't act like they do in Space Heroes Leo! (TSHL) [CW: BODY HORROR]

Au Idea

Mold

Weapons of Hamato

Au Idea

New Friend [Part 1]

Weapons of Hamato

The Good Father

Au Idea | Rat Dads in New York

Grown Up Don

Future Menace

Past Remembrance / PT.2

Paper Scales/ Little Dragons [CW: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH]

LITTLE DRAGONS

Au idea | Explored

Splintering | Father's Day | Forgive me

Little Dragons | Dragons | Twin Disasters | Eldest and Youngest |Oh Fuck THEY ARE GROWING UP | Awakened Dads | Mood Ring

Himbo | Uncle Mike

New Years | January 1st

DANGER | Forms of a Monster | Trouble

Strange occurrences | Prey drive | Clear Picture | Mimicking | Stronk | Friends | Moody | Omen | Mystic Bab | Holy Shit | Honey | Buddy | Travel

Tot adventures

Actual fucking dragons | Dai | Mura & Aoi | Akai | COLORS

Fanart: 🧡 🧡 💜

A FANFIC BY @/SHYADRI ON TUMBLR AGAIN THANK YOU SMH CHECK THEM OUT PLEASE 🙏 IDK IF I SHOULD @ THEM HERE SO PLEASE LOOK THEM UP THANK YOU

Collection of other Free-to-use AUS [CW:BLOOD/GORE]

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

Honestly, a lot of my stuff is free to use. Just credit me is all I ask 😌... unless it's my big ones, then tell me first.

Animations

Shelldon's Daisy

Where is the pizza, Casey?

Give Splinter a break man

TAP

Sunrise Duo, but with a little red

Mystic Bab

Posers

Side Blogs

Mostly Sanic stuff with gay hedgehogs @lintandsteal

Stuff I scraped out of the bottom of my toilet (18+ ONLY because I have 0 clue what I'll pop out on there) @trashinyourpockets

A fair warning that although I draw A LOT fluff and baby turtles, I also draw(and sometimes write) whump, a lot of angst and gore/extremly violent art(those will be properly tagged in their own post).

My joy in drawing cute stuff must be counterbalanced.

Don't take my silence as me being a dick lmao, I'm just incredibly anxious and terrified of social interaction. So like... I'm probably not the best person to rely on for a ton of things lol. Just chill and we cool. Also I'm unmedicated now, so I am 5x as bad to rely on. I forget shit A LOT, so don't ask me to help you, I'm actually terrible at it 😭

[fisheito]

Neuron Activation Ranking - NU:CARNAL

it's list time. . .but i need to narrow down the criteria so it actually ends up a list and not a Blob of Varying Circumstances through which No Clear Tiers can be determined.

So here's a ranking of whose intimacy rooms i unlock first, based on Horny Potential🤔

Typically, i unlock rooms based on several criteria e.g., how much i like the specific outfit, how useful the unit would be in battle, whether i have enough intimacy gifts for them.

But let's pretend that EVERYONE has a unit in my box. All the above criteria are equal. In which order do I unlock them?

1! Eiden IF WE GOT REGULAR EIDEN UNITS HE WOULD BE FIRST BUT HERE I AM , REGULARLY EIDENLESS, . OH MY GOD when that anniversary banner offered galactic mist eiden i have never thrown my gems at a banner SO FAST SELFCEST KING EIDEN I DON'T EVEN LIKE YOUR YAOI MULLET BUT I NEED THAT HOT EIDEN ON EIDEN ACTION I NEED TO SEE THE GOD OF SEX DOING WHAT HE DOES BEST

2! Yakumo Sigh.

3! Morvay he gets priority because he has almost no content AND I AM SO CURIOUS. FASTPASS FOR MORV. that face he makes in Mauve Mayhem R5 ? where he's smushed into the pillow while being railed into oblivion? yeah. i think about that a lot. i would like to see more of that. please and thank you.

4/5! Garu and Rei it's a toss-up based on my mood. garu if i want to see someone submissive, rei if i want to see eiden getting pushed around a bit. How am i supposed to resist a powerbottom strutting around in thighhigh heeled boots? i can.t. No lie tho, I often have more incentive to unlock Garu bc i want to keep up with the MULTITUDE of puppyfans surrounding me 😂

6/7! Olivine and Edmond another shared ranking based on mood. oli if i want the juicy boobs and edmond if i want the juicy thighs LOL these two have dropped slightly in priority from my earlygame because i've unlocked more content with them and thus feel the need to balance by unlocking garu+rei first AHAHAHA but. two things will always draw me in: oli's freakiness and ed's b(oot)eautyness

8! Blade With the bottoms out of the way, I'll mosey on over to BB Blade. That wonderful weirdo often has something interesting going on, and I liiiiiive for The Novelty. What will e-droid bring to show and tell today? Maid dress? Chewing? Candle Darling? Let's see!

9! Dante kinda wanna see him and eiden do their silly sex competitions. maaaybe see him get fokin pwned by eiden in the battle of experience. maaaaaaaaaybe watch him struggle to suppress his stupid embarrassing romantic side . DEEEEEFINITELY laugh at how badly he's fallen for eiden.

10! Kuya i find kuya super pretty, but i end up unlocking him more for lore reasons. i love how he spices up the character interactions with his. . kuya-ness, but i'm not keen on getting edged into oblivion and bearing his bebbehs , yaknowwhatimean.

11! Aster Aster would be around here if his future SSRs follow the flavour of his current LongAster card. i'm too busy admiring him for his Stone Top vibes to summon much horny for him 😆 but i WOULD unlock him for potential morvaster interactions and, of course, the lore.

12! Quincy somehow, he doesn't activate any horny within me. idk. every time he says something's too troublesome, i'm just agreeing with him frfr. i'd rather nod at him respectfully as we go about our separate affairs in the forest than ride him into the sunset. also i am scared of his dick.

FAC (Frequently Anticipated Comments)

You could have just said you were a dom lol Nooooo little old me? i'm sooooo tired. imagine taking control for longer than 3 minutes. too much also, you think i'd be able to dom rei?! HAH i'm getting stepped on by birdcat heels. i'm not about to fight a futile battle.

3 minutes are all you need sometimes( ͡°( ͡° ͜ʖ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ʖ ͡°) ͡°) i'm not about to speedrun someone's cummies leave me alone

What about Bottom Quincy? i'm listening...

I completely agree with your ranking and am thrilled to have found a kindred spirit. Thank you, comrade. I am glad we could somehow find each other in this infinite swirling cosmos of time and space. 🤝

[dolliestfairy]

Dolliest 🎀

Vincent Sinclair, Jason Voorhees, Asa emory, & Patrick bateman with Chubby!fem!reader who dressed like a Doll! ʚ ₊˚ ᥀✿

Author Note ✿ : hello lovlies, sorry i have been on a break for like 3/4 days because i just like um.. really need some break and also i had a lot activities going on, but i still try to write something for you all, so please sit down and enjoy :). if you like my writings please give me reblogs and feedbacks. tysm! also we almost got 140 followers atp, Tysm for your support lovlies!!

Trigger Warning ✿ : insecurities, fluff, some murder stuff idk, blood & insect mentioned, and some comfort also :), and maybe some misspelled word. overall enjoy! Reader skin color is NOT announced.

Dividers from @v6que ꒰ঌ ໒꒱. Gifs are not mine.

✿ Vincent sinclair

- you're an Art, thats what Vincent think the first time he saw you.

- and oh my god... he freaking loves it watching you dressing yourself!!

- believe me, he would never let anyone take down your confidence, if the one who take down your confidence is his brother (take example : Bo Sinclair) he wouldnt be scared to defend you like it his life-priority.

- but if the one who takes down your confidence is his next victim?? they are dead. even if the victim was important bla bla bla, he doesnt give a fck. how dare they talk down to his beloved partner?? such a unforgivable act.

- Love, i mean﹍LOOVEE drawing you. you're gonna see THOUSANDS paper with a drawing that look Exactly like you, EVERYWHERE. he even had his own fav drawing that he's dedicated to you.

- he, drawing you, and protecting you from anyone who mocks you including his brother, is a way of how he show himself that he is truly in love with you.

- if you're feeling insecure? better be ready to be suffocate from his affection.

✿ Jason Voorhees

- Man is silently drooling behind his mask.

- kinda like a Mommy kink....

- love the way you dress yourself with those soft pink dress and accesories, those glam nails and hairs and those soft makeup... perfect.

- but theres a time where he felt himself is not appropriate for you.

- we know this man is a insecure boy, but if you manage to cheer him up with your own way, istg your life is going to be put into this big mans life-priority.

- like.. he'll do everything to keep you happy.

- sometimes he even steal accessories or clothes or even make up that he found from his victim, where he collect them all and give them all for you.

- you might feeling kinda nasty seeing those gift is still covered in blood and with like a rotting-corpse smell... but if you accept it brightly he's gonna die on that place & in that moment.

- really love you. if you're insecure, he's going to slit somebodys throat for making you that way, but if you're feeling insecure because your own self? well then, he's going to go to hunt some victim, to get some MORE AND MORE stuff that you may like, well i mean.. thats just how he shows his love for you. his chubby doll 🎀

✿ Asa emory

- didnt know how to feel....

- but he does somehow, loves the opposite vibes you both gave. like he's the bad murderer boy who likes insect and some nasty nasty stuff, life in a nasty place and then theres you! who brighten up the nasty place he live in, always dress like a doll, pink pink, Vanilla perfume n stuff..

- just perfect and balance combination.

- when his victim saw who he is and when they saw YOU who is behind him they're gonna find themself asking "y-you.. you-you didnt get k-killed?..." and only to get the answer of him "she's my Princess."

- BUT... thats on a rare occassion. sometimes he just called you "my partner" or something. but if he's feeling in a good & cocky mood then he's going to call you his princess.

- and just like jason, he likes to give you a beautiful beautiful stuff who is always & almost covered in blood.

- if he's sees you wearing the stuff he gave you he can feel his cold heart melting.

- jk.. he doesnt feel his cold heart melting, because you already melt him in the first place. he just can feel his cold & thick heart is being burned by your affection.

- and when i'm telling you this.. he's enjoying, every, single, one of it.

✿ Patrick bateman

- oh my god..

- he's a real cocky man. but let me tell you something..

- HE SPOILS YOU SOO MUCH LIKE OH MY GOD.

- like i'm not even joking. he spoils you... really really spoils you to the bone, to your soul like you feel like you're suffocating.

- because he's still a patrick bateman, he loves to suffocate everyone, you're no expectation. the only differences is that he suffocate other people with death.

- but with you?... oh he's going to suffocate you with.. LOVE, LOVE & LOVE!

- in which he doesnt even believe any of that.

- but he does, believe it with you.

- patrick is a aware man. he knew himself real well, so when he found himself on a one knee for you, he found himself surprised and well um.. unbelieveably.

- never in his wildest life he would ended up with someone like you.

- at first he tried to denied, but as times goes by, he cant help, but felt his cold and tough soul was slowly melting over your words and touch.

- you're so.. so.. precious. soft, and round.. need to be protected and loved.

- it has been Too long for patrick bateman since he have been feeling this type of.. feelings.

- but you manage to somehow make him feel it again! and he wont waste it!

- the way he suffocate you, choking you with his affection and love is just how he shows himself how madly he is in love with you..! please dont waste it darling, please dont..

- let your soft appereance burn his cold soul as he would burn this world for you.

[knight-a3]

Hazbin Hotel Sketchbook Tour Part 10

Masterpost

I need to preface this one by saying that Vox(while not my favorite character) is my favorite redesign. I've made him look so wonderfully stupid, and it makes me laugh every time I look at it.

But first, Angel Dust.

Design notes will be under the cut.

Design notes under the cut

Angel Dust: So Angel makes me uncomfortable. The innuendos and raunchy jokes are not my cup of tea. It's part of why I struggled with his redesign so much. But I think I've finally managed to balance it while also alluding to his mobster roots.

I remember reading somewhere(not sure how canonicallt viable this is but I'm running with it) that Angel doesn't dress super provocatively outside of work. He's more inclined to dress comfy. So I gave him some lounge attire.

But I'm sure he would still want to dress up when out and about in town. So I gave him an outfit vaguely reminiscent of a mobster with the pinstripes and pseudo suit jacket, but also diverts away from it by leaning more into the fashion. He may keep up with modern fashions decently, but he's still a product of his time and upbringing. He's still got some mobster in him. I also preferred the look of his shorter gloves from the pilot, at least on his main set of arms. The second set has long ones like in the series, which would help the animators differentiate them. Tbh, I'd scrap the second set of gloves entirely if only it didn't feel in character.

Overall, I like this outfit for him. I think it balances his femininity and masculinity.

Idk if anyone noticed, but I don't like drawing characters with only 4 fingers. Something about it bothers me. So I've been doing everyone with 5. But I make an exception for extra limbs. Angels' second set of arms has 4 fingers, and the third has 3. Also, the extra sets are black and more bug-like than the main set. I do this to others, like Valentino, as well.

I've also noticed a lot of redesigns give him prominent spider fangs, and I just never liked how any of them looked on him. Instead, I gave him normal teeth fangs

Vox: To begin, Vox needed more bulk so his body could concievably support the old TV models. Twink size wasn't cutting it. The change also had the side effect of making him shorter, which just works better proportionately.

I liked the idea that Vox could never get rid of his original bulky 50s TV, but also wanted him to be able to upgrade. So I decided his true body is the 50s TV, and he adds an upgraded monitor as a head as technology improves. He's hates that he's stuck as an old fashioned TV, so he hides that under his suit. Since the monitor is just an addition, it can be swapped out easily. It can be damaged and he's technically unharmed. But he has to reveal his true body in order to see without the monitor. Unless he wants to use surrounding cameras and move via third person view.

Next, I don't like that everyone seems to have sharp teeth. I want more variety. (Similar to the whole bowtie deal) So I gave Vox "regular" teeth, which help him look more trustworthy. It fits the corrupt businessman vibe. Because his head is a screen, his face can change appearance based on both what he wants and what mood he's in. When he's angry, his face may glitch out, become too big for the monitor, and/or his teeth can become sharp. He might have to reboot after a Blue Screen of Death if he gets too worked up. When he's bored or tired a Voxtech logo will bounce around like the DVD logo, or display a screensaver. When hes feeling sheepish his face will get smaller on the screen(not that he'd ever feel ashame about anything, of course), etc. So many possibilities. I really want an excuse to give him a troll face at some point. It may be an old meme, but it feels appropriate.

Anyway, I love how stupid not having a head makes him look. He looks like SpongeBob and it's hilarious.

[midnight1nk]

So, this week's episode...

[spoilers below cut]

oooohhhh, so we're doing another one of these, eh? let's have some fun!

(the following is my live reaction:)

ah yes, the new TADC episode, which was fantastic btw

HELL YEAH

I honestly didn't expect that bc I was like, "what kinda trip would it be for them to take a bike? camping maybe???" (I still don't get the "trip" part about it tbh)

sooooooo teasing and banter are part of your (platonic/romantic) love language?..... [*writes it down*]

3, we all know Mario is basically invincible right? betting 4 dollars on him winning this race

ooooohh, a prize 👀 though based on past episodes, 4 doesn't have the greatest ideas for prizes, judging by the Crew's reaction at least (I would still want your autograph, 4)

LET'S-A FUCKIN GOOOOOOOO

honestly mood

"imaging yourself as a jet plane will not help you zis time, jet" (gotta add the riders fandub in here man)

That wasn't even Mario's fault, that was a bigass rock

PFFFT ASHD;LAF four tf are you doing dude, can i join you

[*looks at moon*] don't say it don't say it don't I'VE COME TO MAKE AN ANNOUNCEMENT—

If Mario's flexible enough to reach the moon and the sun and the Great Beyond, you can too 👍

oh my god, i get it /ref

WHY IS THAT ROCK STILL THERE?

whelp Kev, looks like you aren't voicing Boopkins this episode

I miss your pink reading glasses 3 (wait did you somehow lose them on that island?)

also you do need glasses, my guy? i think you would cute in them btw

so um... who's gonna tell him?

(actually now I thought about it, the drawing that 4 had was on his PC and it got thrown away. 4 please tell me you saved that file somewhere else, was the printed-out version in 3's notebook actually canon? can it be?)

apparently fanartists, we need to make for fanart of 3, let's get to it!!!

loved the way James delivered that line "ouchie" (timestamp 5:29)

OH HEY slenderman, it's been a while, hello!

Kev, is that you? I can hear a bit of Shroomy in that voice

🤔 huh

Tari and Luigi are so sweet, I love them 💙

"I don't have eyes so I can't see you!" 🧍 not gonna question it

Mario, what were you so afraid of? it's slendy, your bro (looks like they didn't put that lore in smh, it's fine tho)

slenderman being here kinda fits tho bc we first saw 4's locket in the "Lost in the Woods" episode to come back in the "Plane Trip" and now slenderman comes back in another "Mario's Trip" ep

if only those cowards would show us what pic is inside that locket this time (I KNOW FOR A FACT THAT IT'S A DIFFERENT PIC, 4, I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE)

anyway, he's just a little guy (i'm still waiting 4)

Tari, sweetie, this is 3 we're talking about here, ofc he would cheat

[*italian gibberish argument*] ah yes, just another normal sibling moment

MARIO LOCK IN, BRO

SONIC?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? :D

alright, now we gotta do it: 📢🎶I'm hanging on to the other side, I won't give up to the end of me—🎶 [*gets run over by a bike*] OH C'MON

LET'S GOOOOOO WOAH DUDE ANIMATION

WE'RE GONNA TOKYO DRIFT IN HERE BOYS

nothing person-el, kid /ref, and the rock came back full circle

AKIRA SLIDE BABYYYYY

kinda half-expected slenderman to accidentally win the race but CONGRATS MARIO 🎉

it was really gonna be sweet but yeah, that's our Mario

I'm sure the mar3 shippers are enjoying their crumbs

AWWW 4 HONEY I WOULD ENJOY YOUR GIFT

i would protect him at all costs (no don't look at what I did for the episode concepts shhhh)

and i oop

well um congrats to Abbie/Abit (@/jYMylD9Rm84xxCX) for your art featured at the end credits 🎉

.・-: ✧ :--: ✧ :-・.

This was a silly little episode and I have indeed enjoyed it. Not as emotional as the last one but I had fun nevertheless. Though, it didn't feel like a "Mario's Trip" episode, compared to the other ones. Maybe that's just me idk.

The animation and references, peak. As for the plot itself, it felt very on-brand for SMG4. Strangely, the chaotic energy in this one was toned down which is new. Like I said, it was still fun, had plenty of laughs. There isn't much to say about this but yeah, good to have a silly goofy time overall!!!

and yes, I will gladly take that bell, 4 [*ding ding*] :)

[acrobattack]

bliss redesign based off one I made in my teens

thought process + various other bits and bobs under the cut

I was 15 and annoyed by everything that moved when this character first came out, so in my own head I was very much making a Point with this redesign. Hence, I made very minimal changes. I wanted to work with what was already there and basically just make the existing design more thought-through. Little breakdown ahead (keeping in mind i myself am very much An Amateur who doesn’t know shit and am just ranting about my opinions and i also haven’t seen a single second of the 2016 reboot so i don’t know much about Bliss to begin with)

1. one of my Biggest pet peeves with Bliss is that the powerpuff girls each have bangs that are simple, memorable, and iconic while also being unique from each other and being reminiscent of irl little girls hairstyles. It’s very neat and clever and I like it a lot

and then Bliss has this confusing jumble of shapes that looks like it changes in style halfway across her forehead

i have absolutely no idea what the intent is here. My only guess is maybe it’s meant to look weird on purpose like she was trying to cut it herself or something (I suspect it’s something like that since she seems to have normal looking bangs as a little kid from what I can see) but it doesn’t really come off that way if that’s the case. It just looks like baby’s first PPG OC where you Understand that it’s meant to be hair and that it is made out of shapes but have 0 understanding of hairstyle or character design in general. Heck I might have put this exact hairline on a character in the past at the age of like 8

So in my redesign she’s got 5 even notches across her bangs, not thee most exciting change but it does the job I think. It is pretty reminiscent of Blossom but they look different enough from each other that I wasn’t too worried about it

2. low-hanging fruit time, Bliss’s hair color is horrible on the eyes. I’m bewildered at the decision to do this, especially since there is just so much of it, I struggle to think of how she could exist in any scene without hogging all the viewer’s attention constantly. That said, I understand they wanted her to have an unnatural hair color to really signal that she is a Fresh new Teen character from the late 2010’s, which is. Whatever, that’s fine, so she gets purple hair now. I kept the streak for the same reason, especially since she’s got a lot of hair, so no harm in a little extra interest in there.

I also learned recently that her hair glows sometimes? which i did Not know when first drawing her but well i think the darker color helps anyway. It adds some contrast for when she’s normal vs when she’s glowing and makes the latter appear more,, idk threatening or powerful or whatever the mood generally is when she’s doing that.

I did re-add that toothpaste blue to her eyelids though. I like to think it’s also the color of her lasers. It’s a cute color, just not as like 70% of this character’s palette

3. real talk I was drawing this from memory and didn’t mean to change the way her hair flares out from her head. realistically I think the original is fine, maybe just a little boring but fine, so that part of the redesign was an accident. Only thing is, it’s in the exact same position in every screenshot I’ve seen? It doesn’t seem to whip around when she’s flying or anything which looks weird and probably looks weirder in motion, especially since it takes up so much space onscreen. Idk it’s a strange decision, esp since the original show liked to use the ppg’s hair to emphasize their movement, so I’d just bring more movement into her hair. I mean if nothing else it’d make her look cooler.

very very rough little visual of what I mean

I also ended up making it shorter in my redesign—again, not really intentional, but I think it’s better that it eats up a little less of her silhouette

4. Her headband is largely the same, I didn’t hate the idea of her having an accessory, so I just toned down the colors. I’m not personally a fan of the powder blue and that pink heart is very bright and just doesn’t go with the rest of her (once again the color of her hair is doing it no favors). I also moved the heart over. Not necessarily needed I think, but I feel like it reads quicker as a headband and not a weird crown that way+introduces some asymmetry into her design that I think is nice.

5. my biggest gripe other than her bangs are her hips. I’m not against adding anatomy to this character design to make her read visually as older than the girls, but it’s so awkwardly done and distracting. I feel like it even interferes with her line of action more often than not (which is not helped by her unmoving hair).

Part of the issue is she still has the teeny tiny torso, just… with those square-ish hips slapped on, which makes her legs look all gangly and stretched out. I tried to balance out the proportions more in my redesign, as well as change the hips to a flared skirt. I think it helps differentiate her from the girls and still implies hips underneath, it just also functions as a less clunky transition from her torso to her legs.

Lengthening her torso also allows the stripe to look more like a belt above the skirt, which I think helps to sell her as “similar, but not the same” from the ppg

6. Her leggings(? Idk Im not a fashion person) aren’t a bad idea I think. like a more mature version of the girls’ stockings, but I think the white makes them look really distracting. It would help to make them a darker color I think, but since I wanted to keep them reminiscent of the girls’ socks I kept them white and just shortened them.

7. Not really sure what Bliss is wearing on her feet. I think they’re Mary Janes, but they’re drawn a bit different from the girls’ and I honestly think it’s too babyish a shoe for her to wear. I’m not sure what she’s actually wearing in my redesign either honestly, but the goal was just to make them look like the girls’ Mary Janes while clearly being something different.

8. Uh her signature color is something I’ve contemplated changing a lot but to be real I think it’s fine. I feel it was a very bad idea from a marketing standpoint because people were hype about Bunny and would obviously be mad they didn’t get her once the character actually dropped (and in the long-run she would just end up being overshadowed by the character everyone has already assigned that color to) but I’m personally not bugged by her being purple beyond that. If I were to draw them together though I think Bunny would have a more pinky shade of purple and Bliss leans more blue.

Loosely on the same topic, because of Bliss I’ve had a running headcanon that “only child” types of powerpuffs tend to come out purple. Kind of like how trios tend to have a red, blue, and green. It’s a fun little piece of fake lore to rotate around in my brain

Anyway with all that out of the way, here’s some redesigns I decided to have some fun with. Wasn’t being too precious about recognizability or simplicity or anything like that, but I did run out of steam partway through. There’s also one based off Whoopass Bell bc idk, why not

Finally, here’s some OCs I only ever drew once before out of a desire to give Bliss her own teen girl archetypes to form a team with. This is Bee and Beetle, who I’ll probably definitely forget about again immediately after posting this

[numbbrainstrorm]

Idk what went into me

I was just not feeling it the whole week (judging by the 4 or 5 previous attempts I failed )

But yeah Rody is receiving his first crystal rose

To be honest, I don't like it, but it doesn't matter anymore. I thought I could get away with Thunders golden Face, It sucks

( Idk how to "Gold" lmao)

Update on the comic below the cut ( if you care)

It's happening, I have like 12 sketch pages already in my sketchbook

It sucks ass ( a lil sneak a peak)

The rendering process, potato notebook, and bad mood cuz (I've been re-drawing it Over and over and over + I cannot extend my CSP

Licence and it's ending soon >:c) And then the school

Jesus fucking Christ Once again, I took too big of a bite, BUT I want to do it

I like Challange ( it might take another Valentine But yea-)

Not done at all

Something is always in the way

And in a bad mood in general ( questioning my art skills also)

General Idea of My Thingy

Also gotta fix any grammar errors (ngl English is so fucking confusing)

No way you read all my ramblings

Even if, here you got a rose from ME 🌹

[shoot-me-with-a-crayon]

Mom finally saw it, a hellish vision, my brother. O God, O God, she said.

My Brother at 3 A.M. by Natalie Diaz

JaxTober Day 2 - Beginnings

i have feelings about Jaxston and that poem man. anyways yo!! kinda vague ass interpretation of the prompt yippee!!!!!!!!

tbh i added this prompt in so i could do this one teehee :3c

ok explainin time!!!

HERE is the first doodle i did when i wanted to make Jaxston. i was inspired by someone's fnaf fanart and really liked the spiraling words and limited palette and went "Y'know I've really been wanting to make a Bill's vessel oc..."

Made on ms paint ! i think its fun bc he is no longer Bill's vessel at all and never is at this point in me creating his lore and stuff (idk yet im always so indecisive about fandom oc lore lmao) lol !

so i took the prompt as "Beginnings of the idea of the character" teehee

then when i was drawing it i was not in the mood to do any fullbodies bc i had JUST finished day 1, which took longer than i wanted so i just. kept it simple! aka i sketched the full body, hated it and then deleted the entire lower half of the body lmao

i didnt do any sketch past this lol, i really liked how it felt and just kinda kept it. i tried lineart, but i couldnt get it to fit the vibe the og sketch had so i decided not to ^_^

also i spent 3-4 hours writing the poem over and over and ove again for the spiral lmao

anyways i like yapping about my art.

this one is my lockscreen now on my phone, and it and day 1 are my monitor backgrounds (i have 2, my laptop (day 1) and my art tablet (day 2))

very proud of this one especially <3

now what the FRICK am i doing for day 3 what-

[that-gay-guy-from-hell]

Where There's a Will, Right?: Dante x Male Reader

SUMMARY:      After Dante’s successful defeat of Argosax, he’s been ever-so-slightly more talkative than before; at least, that’s what you think. Both Trish and Lady noticed that Dante’s mood hasn’t improved and, if anything, he has only become more distant. Upon telling them that they’re wrong, they both tell you something that sends your mind reeling. 

MINORS DNI--Seriously, go away >:[

BEGINNING NOTES: ✨Dom/Top Dante* x Male Sub/Bottom Reader *Takes place between DMC 2 and 4 on the timeline; meaning Dante’s a bit angstier than normal--kinda Vergil-esc but he gets closer to normal at the end. ✨Unestablished relationship but everyone (including Dante) knows that you have a thing for him ✨The reader lives at the shop ✨Mentioned dark topics (nothing in depth but Dante having been suicidal is mentioned a few times) 🍊🍊🍊 ✨Fluff ✨Angst (? kinda) ✨Smut; Dante’s first time--the reader’s body count is not specified but it is implied you aren’t a virgin--meaning he is very sensitive to your touches. ✨Biting--draws blood and enjoys it. ✨Rougher--It’s not great but I wanted to try writing something a bit rougher, experimentation if you will.\ ✨Oral--Dante receiving ✨Reader gets emotional afterwards; like sad fluffy stuff. 🍊🍊🍊 ✨A little self-indulgent. I could’ve written this as G/N (and if anyone wants a re-write, I can totally do so) but I wanted something a bit gayer than normal smh ✨I know absolutely dick-diddly about motorcycles, so you best believe I just googled all of it lmao ✨Not used to writing Trish or Lady so they might be a bit OOC; if anyone has any better ideas for how they should sound (if they sound off) please let me know! I want to try and use them more often. ✨The reader uses Revenant (as per usual) and Ifrit. How can you use those wonderful gauntlets? You are just stubborn or strong enough to resist their demonic nature; idk just let me have this lmao. Demons are from DMC 1, 2, and/or 4 (Also I didn’t really feel like writing too much combat since “Bound by Blood” is so combat heavy, kinda got bored with it lmaoooo). ✨THIS IS NOT A PREQUEL TO “Deep Regret” THAT FIC. IS STILL IN THE WORKS (AND IS REALLY ANGSTY LMAO)

==

     “Really?” Trish leaned against the wall of the garage, watching both Lady and you work, “You sure we’re talking about the same Dante?”

     “What?” you set down the socket wrench and looked over at her, “Don’t believe me?”

     “No, not in the slightest,” she mindlessly looked at her nails as she continued, “I don’t think I’ve heard Dante say more than five words at once in years and you’re telling me--”

     “That he and I talk all the time?” You stood up, wiping your hands on your jeans, "I mean, we do live together-- what's so hard to believe?"

     Lady laughed, catching your attention, “Well, Dante’s not exactly the talking type anymore,” the raven-haired woman turned from the workbench, “Can’t say I blame her, hun.”

     “But that’s where you guys are wrong,” you sighed, “I mean, he’s not super talkative but we can hold a conversation for a good while,” you walked over to the stairs, grabbing your open beer on the way, and sat down with a huff, “You’re telling me that he doesn’t talk to you when you are on a job or anything?”

     Lady shook her head, “Do you know how rare it is for him to even say “hello” anymore?”

     “Bah,” you made a dismissive flick of your hand, “You two are full of shit, there is no way he’s that quiet.”

     Trish said something under her breath as she crouched down to check the work you'd done.

     “Huh?” You cupped your ear in a joking manner, “I’m getting deaf in my old age, Trish--you gotta speak up.”

     “I said,” she stood up and turned to look at you, “Maybe it is because Dante loves you.”

     Beer shot out your nose as you choked on it, going wide-eyed feeling flustered beyond belief. 

     “You can’t tell me you don’t have a thing for him,” the blonde walked over to Lady’s workbench, pushing up on the edge and sitting on the tabletop.

     “I do not!” 

     Lady shook her head, “It is painfully obvious that you have a crush on him,” she leaned her side on the bench, facing you, “I’m sure he knows, too.”

     “How is it obvious?! I mean--” You pursed your lips knowing you just dug your own grave.

     The women shared a laugh before Trish answered, “The two of you are practically joined at the hip.”

     Lady then jumped in, “He won't do anything without telling or asking you first.”

     "You're the only one allowed in his room."

     "And the only one that can use his weapons without him getting pissed, especially Rebellion."

     “Dante stares at your ass a lot.”

     Once again, you choked on your drink.

     Lady laughed at Trish’s comment with a shrug, “Can't fault him for that, you do have a nice ass.”

     The sound of the roller garage door being lifted caught everyone’s attention. In the doorway stood the very topic of the conversation with a few bags of groceries in his arms.

     “Welcome home, Dante!" You shot him a warm smile, "How'd shopping go?"

     Dante stared at you then at the women, “Why are they here?” His voice was cold and flat, his typical way of speaking nowadays. 

     “Oh!” Your voice was semi-cheery as you stood up, tossing the beer bottle in the nearby trash, “They stopped by right after you left. Asked to use the workshop for a bit.”

     He stared at them for a few more seconds before walking through the garage, past you, and into the shop.

     Lady grumbled to herself before sticking out a hand, gesturing at where he’d gone, “See! I told you!”

     “You two are looking too deep into it. Dante doesn’t,” you shrugged, “you know…”

     “Bullshit!” Lady pinched the bridge of her nose, “I swear-- if the two of you don’t hook up soon, I’m going to--”

     A quiet sound of a door being cracked open cut her off. Dante looked at you and quietly mumbled, “You coming?"

     “Huh? I-- Yeah,” you smiled at him, “I gotta finish the oil change and I’ll be in, okay?”

     He said nothing and shut the door. 

     Trish slid off the bench with a sigh, “Come on, let’s give the lover boys their room.”

     “Try not to break ol’ Dante," Lady jested as she picked up her tool bag, "He’s not as spry as he used to be."

      You flipped her off and she stuck out her tongue in return. As they left you meandered back to Dante’s bike, you couldn’t help but mull over what the girls said.

     “There’s no way that they are right,” your brow furrowed, “Dante is-- well, Dante. He’s a ladykiller, not into men… right? I mean, he has a mountain of bikini girl magazines-- ” 

     Lost in your thoughts, your hand slipped and you dropped the open bottle of oil, “Son of a fucking bitch!” 

     You snatched the bottle as quickly as possible but the damage was already done; over half of the contents were now in a black pool on the floor. A dejected grumble left your lips as you laid on your back, staring at the ceiling of the garage with a forearm resting across your forehead.

     “Everything okay?”

     “Hmm?” You tilted your head up slightly and saw that Dante was standing right at your feet, “Yeah… Just my good ol’ butterfingers…” Your head hit the concrete again as you sighed and looked at the mess, defeated. 

     His eyes trailed over to the oil on the floor before he wandered off. You propped yourself up on your elbows and saw Dante had grabbed the cat litter.

     “You don’t have to--” He looked at you for a moment before dumping the litter on the spill, “Thanks, I-- Sorry, that was like a brand new bottle,” you leaned up in a sitting position, “I promise I’ll clean it up and replace the bottle.”

     “It’s fine,” Dante stuck out a hand, helping you up. 

     As you got to your feet, you fell into him a bit and found yourself leaning on his chest. Your face instantly became hot as you froze. Strangely, Dante made no move to push you off of him or remove you, he just stood there and waited for you to do so yourself

     “Sorry, I didn’t mean to invade your space, hah…”

     Dante didn’t say anything, but rather, he grabbed your hand and pulled you inside the shop. On his desk was a box of fresh hot pizza and a few cold unopened beers. 

     Which in hindsight, you aren’t sure how he got the pizza. He didn’t have it when he entered the garage. Unless he got it delivered at the exact moment he got back… Or he had already stopped back in the foyer of the shop only to come around back to “interrupt” your conversation--but there’s no way he would do that, right?

     “So,” you grabbed a slice and sat on the edge of his desk, “What’s the special occasion?”

     “ ‘was hungry,” he grabbed a slice for himself and sat in his desk chair, putting his boots up on the tabletop.

     A look of shock spread across your face, “Really?"

     “What?”

     “It’s just,” you shook your head, “I’m just glad that you’re eating, is all," you smiled warmly, "It's nice."

     The red devil stared at you for a moment before continuing to eat. 

     Ever since defeating Nelo Angelo, Dante’s “human” habits had gradually deteriorated. He wouldn’t sleep, bathe, or even eat; any and all self-care was put on the back burner. You had to force the poor man to take care of himself--which is much easier said than done. 

     At one point, things got so bad that Trish acted more human than Dante. There was a small ray of hope, however; since Argosax’s defeat, Dante had begun to regain some small bits of life. He’d been bathing more often, eating every once in a while, and even smiling again. Most importantly, however, Dante hadn’t tried to off himself in almost six months which was a victory in and of itself for the tormented man; this, by extension, made you feel a little more at ease that the chance of you coming home to Dante on the cusp of death had slimmed significantly.

     “Hey,” you pursed your lips and waited for him to look at you in acknowledgment, “Do you care if I turn on some music?”

     He shrugged, "Don’t care."

     You hopped off the desk edge and waltzed over to the "well-loved" machine. Hitting a random track--and praying to god it worked--you went back to your resting spot against Dante's desk. The two of you sat and ate together, listening to the jukebox and enjoying the quiet company. 

===

     A loud knocking at the front door of the Devil May Cry woke you up. You must've fallen asleep downstairs. Across from you, in the middle of the room, was the coffee table with a TV that had been playing a DVD’s menu screen for only god knows how long. You were on your side and resting on the floor, in front of one of the couches… Even though there was an open couch adjacent to this one. 

     A large blanket was draped over you and onto the furniture behind you. That's when you heard a  snore and realized why you weren't on the couch. Dante was fast asleep and face down against the coffee-colored pleather. Goosebumps ran up your spine as you realized that his arm was across your chest, his fingers loosely grabbing the fabric of your shirt. Carefully, you slipped away from the sleeping devil and let out a soft groaning yawn as you stretched. 

     Another set of knocks. 

     You sighed and stood up, walking over to the door, opening it. 

     “Ah, good morning Mr. Morrison,” you smiled tiredly at the man, welcoming him into the shop.

     “You know, you make me feel old when you call me tha--” he stopped and stared at Dante, who was still asleep on the couch.

     A small huff of a laugh came from your nose as you whispered to Morrison, “I know. Shocking right?”

     His volume matched yours in return, “That would be an understatement," he turned to you, “Sorry to wake you but I have a job for the two of you that requires immediate attention,” he held out a manila folder.

     “What is it?” A flat voice asked, making both Morrison and you jump.

     After the two of you took a moment to calm down from the unexpected voice, the broker walked over to Dante and handed him the file, “Huge swarm invaded a nearby city--didn’t even have time to evacuate.”

     You walked over to Dante, peering over the edge of the file. He noticed your interest and scooched over to one side, allowing you to sit beside him. As you attempted to read, you found yourself leaning towards your partner, squinting harshly at the small text. Dante moved closer to you causing your sides to touch; which, despite how many times he’s been this close (and closer) to you, never failed to make your heart race. 

     As the two of you looked at the file, you couldn’t help but remember what the ladies had said yesterday; how stony he is to them compared to how acted with you. Dante might be a bit cold but he has his sweet moments--even if it’s him sharing paperwork filled with pictures of hundreds of demons and a destroyed cityscape.

     You whispered to Dante, “So, wanna do it?”

     His eyes flicked to you before he looked over the file once more, “Fine.”

     “Sweet!” With a jovial smile, you grabbed the paperwork. Your eyes flicked up at Morrison who moved to the edge of Dante’s desk, leaning on it with a lit cigar--as per usual, “We’ll take it!”

     The broker shook his head with a small smile, “I’m beginning to think you enjoy these types of jobs.”

     “Actually,” you stood up and walked over to him, “I do. Don’t have to worry about destroying things," you handed him the file which he grabbed.

     He laughed softly and shook his head, taking a puff of his cigar, “You two are quite the pair.”

     You tilted your head in confusion; that’s when you felt an exhale of air on the back of your neck, making your hair stand on end.

     “We takin' the bike?” Dante’s voice was low and his warm breath lightly tickled your ear.

     “Y-yeah,” you turned your head to the side and were only inches away from the sultry devil.

     His turquoise eyes locked onto your gaze for a few seconds before he gave a flat, “Ok,” and went upstairs to get changed. 

     Once the youngest son of Sparda was upstairs, Morrison laughed as he stood up from the desk, “I’ll let the city know you're on the way. You two be careful,” he nodded goodbye and headed for the door before stopping, turning his head over his shoulder to you, “Don’t forget that there is still a lot of people trapped and--”

     “And we should try and help them, don’t worry,” you winked at him, “Dante and I got this.”

     Morrison opened his mouth but said nothing; instead, he continued out the door whistling a tune to himself. 

     You raised a brow at the odd action but decided it was not worth dwelling on. 

     Humming to yourself, you made your way up to your room. One of the spare bedrooms of (The) Devil May Cry that you were “only staying in for a few months”... that was over a decade ago. A smile tugged at your lips as you reminisced about a time long since passed. 

===

     Rain quietly beat on the roof of (The) Devil May Cry as the well-loved jukebox played quietly in the background. It had been exactly a year since Dante had officially named the shop and begun to take jobs as a demon hunter. Sitting at the large wooden desk was said devil hunter without a shirt on, only opting to wear his pants and boots. His arms were placed neatly on the top of his desk with his head resting on them, facing down at the tabletop, snoring happily. A half-eaten pizza and several empty beers were scattered about, painting the same old scene that he partook in night after night. 

     That’s when you showed up in his life. 

     You burst into the shop, stumbling and out of breath; leaning against the door, holding it shut. 

     “We’re closed,” Dante didn’t even open his eyes. 

     Before you could reply, obnoxious loud banging and shouting could be heard from the other side of the door. Dante raised a brow and tiredly looked up at you, curious as to what was pursuing you so fervently. The shirtless young man’s ears twitched as he made out what was on the other side of the large wooden door; it wasn’t demons or devils, it was humans. A mob of what sounded like fifteen to twenty people that were spouting off insults that ranged from vaguely rude statements to flat-out death threats. 

     Dante sighed, standing up from his desk with a huff. Casually, he grabbed Force Edge from the wall it was resting against, walking over to you. 

     You, of course, were terrified, debating if it was better to take your chances outside. Bursting into some random dude’s shop was dumb but you didn’t expect a smoking hot white-haired man (who was possibly the owner) to approach you with a massive gothic sword. 

     He flicked his hand telling you to move off to the side, which you fearfully obliged. With a warm, soft, friendly feeling, he smiled at you revealing his oddly sharp teeth, “You’re gonna owe me for this,” your face instantly became flushed in embarrassment.

     Dante opened the door wide open and stepped out of the shop, the large blade resting on his shoulder. As he slowly went down each stair, the mob backed up away from him, “I’m only gonna say this once,” his voice was cold, loud, and angry, the complete opposite of what you’d just heard, “Get lost.”

     One of the group’s men decided to act tough and approached Dante, “And if we don’t? What are you gonna--!”

     The red devil grabbed the man by the face and held him up, not phased by the man’s struggling, “You know, I hate people like you,” his fingers tightened, “People that just don’t know how to listen.”

     Muffled complaints came from the man as Dante’s fingers tightened further before tossing him at the others, knocking several of them over. They helped each other stand back up but none of them moved to leave. 

     “Now scram,” Dante’s brow furrowed, “Last chance before you really start pissin’ me off.”

     With that final warning, the group ran like the wind and disappeared. A small laugh came from the red devil as he re-entered the shop. 

     “So,” Dante set Force Edge back where it was, “What is a guy like you doin’ being chased by a mob at this hour, huh?” He leaned against the edge of his desk, folding his arms. 

     “I uh,” your face became hotter and hotter as you looked at the smiling man, calling him stunning was an understatement. It didn’t help that he was lightly soaked from the rain which was dripping down his body, emphasizing his physique, “I just pissed off the wrong folks, that’s all.”

     “Uh-huh,” Dante pushed off his desk and wandered over to you, “That why you smell like gunpowder, blood, and demons? Or’s that some sort of weird cologne?”

     You froze.

     “You know," he continued, "it’s not every day I get to meet someone in the same line of work as me,” he now stood in front of you, his hands stuck in his pockets and a casual tilt to his posture. 

     “I-- What?”

     Dante’s smile widened, “You’re a demon hunter, right?” 

     Your expression said it all, making the young man laugh.

     “Now,” he turned from you striding over to the corner of the room, “as payment for waking me up from my nap,” the white-haired man stood near one of the couches, grabbing his black long-sleeve shirt off the back, “You’re gonna take me with you to finish your hunt.”

     As he slid the tight fabric over his body, all you could do was stare. Not only was watching him get dressed semi-erotic, but, the idea that you’d finally met someone else who enjoyed demon hunting like you do was enough to send shivers down your spine.

     “That’s what you were doing right?” The red-clad man raised a brow as he slid on his vest, buckling the straps.

     You blinked back into existence with a nod, “Yeah, you sure you want to come with? It isn’t exactly a small job, and,” you avoided his gaze, “it’s not only demons.”

     “There are cultists, too--I know,” Dante slid on his gloves, “Figured that out the moment I saw ‘em outside,” he tossed his coat on, adjusting the lapels.

     “O-oh…”

     He meandered over to the same sword from earlier, placing it on his back, “So,” he raised a brow, “We doin’ this or what?”

     You smiled sheepishly, “Sure.”

     “Ah… Almost forgot,” Dante turned around and opened a desk drawer, grabbing his keys, “Here, catch,” he tossed you a box of shells, “Those work?”

     “Really-- I- Yeah, why are you..?”

     Dante began to walk out the door, you right behind him, “Can’t do all the work myself, babe,” he turned to you with a smile.

     After he locked the door, you led him to a building that was right outside of Red Grave; it was an old abandoned apartment complex. The two of you made quick work of the job; given, it was half-finished from your earlier attack.

     Despite not even knowing each other’s names, the two of you fought together quite well. Neither of you got in each other’s way. When you did interact, it was damn near perfectly choreographed; as if you’d known each other for a long time.

     “You know,” Dante dodged a Death Scissors, “You’re pretty good at this.”

     “Oh yeah?” A small amount of playful sarcasm loomed over your words, “I’m still not impressed with you,” you ducked underneath a Frost’s attack and shot it right in the small of its back, “mister white-haired stranger.”

     “Eh,” he used Force Edge to slice three Abyss in half, “Had to leave you something to fight.”

     Both of you shared a laugh and stood in the middle of the room, looking around at the carnage. Dante turned to see a cultist trying to escape. The red devil pointed Ebony up and shot the human, much to your dismay.

     “Hey,” you shoved his shoulder, “You stole my final kill.”

     “Oh,” he holstered Ebony and turned to you, “Didn’t see your name on ‘em, sorry.”

     You playfully rolled your eyes and sighed, “Thanks for your help,” you avoided his eyes, which were trained on your face, “I appreciate it.”

     “No problem,” Dante smiled, “This was fun, been a long time since I’ve had a partner to work with,” he stretched his arms upwards, cracking his shoulders, “Lady’s been off doing her own thing lately.”

     “Lady?” You raised a brow, suspicious of the red devil’s seemingly fake person.

     “She’s an old friend,” Dante and you began to descend back down the building’s stairs. It wasn’t until the two of you got outside before he spoke again, “Hey, so,” his voice was quieter than before, “You work by yourself all the time or?”

     “Yeah,” you sighed and placed a hand on the back of your neck, “Never been able to find someone who’d join me on a hunt.”

     “Well,” Dante put his hands in his pockets, “If you want, I’ve got an open spot at my shop...”

     “Really?”

     “Mhm, haven’t had a partner in a while and could use the company.”

     You laughed.

     “What?”

     “I don’t even know your name and you are offering me a job?”

     The red devil stuck out his hand, “Name’s Dante.”

     You smiled and shook his hand, “Well, Dante, I think I’ll take up that job offer,” you sheepishly turned your head away and mumbled, “I think I could use some company, too.”

===

     “You coming?” 

     A sudden flat voice from your doorway made you jump with a loud startled shout. Quickly, you turned around to see Dante, fully geared up, and leaning against your doorframe with his arms neatly folded.

     “I- Yeah, sorry,” you shook your head, “Just lost in thought.”

     Dante stood up, saying nothing, and headed back downstairs into the garage. 

     With pursed lips, you continued to get ready; that’s when it hit you. Dante must've been standing there for quite some time, watching you; you who was standing in bagging half falling off underwear the entire time. Your face became hot, the idea of Dante seeing you this exposed was enough to make your mind reel. Shaking off the growing hot feeling, you shoved yourself into your hunting gear; which included Dante’s Ifrit and your shotgun, Revenant.

     Upon reaching the garage, you saw that Dante had already started the bike and was waiting outside for you to join him. Although you weren’t sure, you swear it looked like he was smiling at you; only hinted at by small creases in his cheeks. You joined him in the alley with a stuck-out hand, waiting for Rebellion, which he gave you. As you slid the sword on your back, you flashed a wide smile and playful wink at Dante. Then you mounted the back of the bike and a heavy wave of embarrassment filled your face as you firmly placed your hands on Dante’s waist. 

     Without a word, Dante kicked up the stand and you were off. As you held onto him, you couldn’t help but lean further onto his body, your face against his back. His cologne was that of lemongrass, lavender, and a light dusting of patchouli. You took a deep inhale, sighing longingly at the comforting scent; which didn’t go unnoticed by the white-haired hunter. 

     The two of you arrived shortly at the nearby city. Once both of you dismounted the bike, Dante stuck his hand out--mimicking what you’d done earlier. With a smirk, you pulled Rebellion off your back and held it out in front of you, blade facing down and your fingers tightly wrapped around the grip. The red devil grabbed the sword, making sure to just barely ghost your hand with his in the process. 

     A bright blush adorned your face as you gave him a small content laugh and looked at the less-then-happy scene before you. To say that the place was crawling with demons would’ve been an understatement. 

     An irritated long groan came from you as you slumped forward, “Those pictures must’ve been old; this is so much worse,” you looked over at Dante who was staring at you, “Wanna call in the ladies?”

     “No,” he turned from you and began to walk toward the city.

     With a baffled sigh, you shook your head and jogged to catch up to him, walking right beside him.

     When the two of you got to the edge of the zone, a large platoon of soldiers was along the city’s edge. As expected, the two of you were approached by the armed people and questioned as to why you were there. 

     You sighed softly, “We were hired by the city to come in and exterminate the infestation.”

     A mixture of various “bullshit”s and “no way”s were heard throughout the platoon. A greatly unamused Dante slyly reached down and grabbed one of your fingers with one of his, a sign he used when he wanted to move forwards.

     “Just stay out of our way,” you shoved past the soldiers, Dante right beside you. Before you got too far, you stopped and turned to the men, “Wait about thirty minutes and start sweeping this end of the city for survivors, continuing further inwards; we’ll have most of the demons cleared out for you.”

     Once more there were various forms of ill-natured or overly skeptical comments from the crowd; but, after all these years of hunting, it was expected at this point. The two of you just continued onwards, Dante’s finger still wrapped around one of yours.

     It didn’t take long for you to encounter a horde. At first, you were excited and readied Ifrit; however, Dante has taken up to not allowing you to fight anything more than Misras or Frosts. Today was no different.

     You vocalized your irritation (as you had done many times before) but it always fell on deaf ears, Dante simply didn’t care. Things came to a head when you were nearly finished with the job and the red devil had been nearly gutted by a group of demons but he still wouldn’t let you fight.

     “Dante,” you furrowed your brow as the two of you walked on, “Could you at least let me kill something? I’m getting bored with fighting small fries and playing cheerleader.”

     The red devil stopped and looked over at you, but said nothing.

     “Come on,” you made your best puppy dog eyes and stuck out your lip in a pouty manner, “Please?”

     “I can handle it,” he turned to continue on the path, “You are a human; humans are fragile.”

     “Excuse me?” You walked beside him, “You forget you’re human, too?” 

     “I can heal within seconds,” he glared at you from the corner of his eye, “You can’t.”

     You moved your jaw in thought, mulling over things before speaking again, “Yes, but that doesn’t mean you should push yourself like this,” the red devil’s head turned slightly, indicating he was listening, “Just ‘cause you can heal…” You reached out and lightly grabbed his bicep, “I’m your partner, remember? I’m here to help you.”

     Dante stopped and pivoted to look at you. His brow was slightly upturned and his eyes held an odd unplaceable emotion, “I know.”

     A small sad tilt decorated your brow as you lightly squeezed his arm before letting go. You had an inkling as to why he acted this way but had never been able to be sure; hell would have to freeze over before you’d get a clear answer from the red-clad half-breed.

     The two of you entered the center of the city where the demons seemed to have come from. In the middle of the large leveled area was a large mass of sorts. Both of you knew exactly what it was, the start of a demon nest.

     Almost as if on cue, an insurmountably large quantity of demons revealed themselves. The two of you split apart. Finally, you were able to fight something decent and were relishing in it. Your targets were, for the most part, Blades and Gladiuses; which wasn’t that big of a challenge but it is better than nothing. A smile shot across your face as you got to have some fun with Ifrit for the first time in years.

     In the complete opposite of an over-strained Dante trying to deal with several Plasmas and Blitzes.

     You had nearly finished up your half (well more like two-thirds) of the horde and destroyed the budding nest before you noticed Dante struggling. Quickly, you killed the last of your targets and rushed over to help the red devil, who had just been thrown through a building. 

     “Dante!” You kneeled down by him, “Hey, you alright?”

     “I’m… fine,” his voice was strained as he tried to sit upright, only to bare his teeth with a grimace.

     “Stay here, I’ll take care of this,” you stood up but found that your wrist was ensnared by Dante’s grasp.

     “No,” he attempted to stand again.

     “Dante, I can handle them,” you tugged your hand away, “Let go of me, please.”

     His expression was blank as his fingers only tightened around you.

     “Dante…” Now, you are starting to get irritated.

     “I can handle them, just let me do it,” he stood up and you saw that his ribcage had concaved, clearly broken.

     “No Dante-- You are in no condition to fight right now,” you pursed your lips, “I can finish this,” giving him one last chance to let go.

     “No, I am fine.”

     “Goddamnit Dante!” You snapped at him and yanked your hands out of Ifrit’s gauntlets, removing Dante’s grip on you, “You’re always protecting everyone else, so please, for once in your life,” you stalked over to Rebellion, which had been stuck in the ground nearby when Dante attempted to stop himself, grabbed it tightly and turned back to him, “Let me protect you.”

     His eyes widened, showing a mixture of confusion and anger, but you didn’t give him a chance to refuse. You had already gone off and were slaying the rest of the demons using Rebellion. If Dante wanted you to stop, he could have recalled his sword; he should’ve recalled the blade but, for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to.

     Although you were still concerned for Dante, you couldn’t deny that you were having the time of your life. You'd only been allowed to use Rebellion one other time on the field, which was shortly after being hired at the DMC. The feeling of wielding such a mighty blade was insurmountable; not only that, but the frictionless feeling of slicing through demons was damn near erotic. A wide smile spread across your face as you finished off the final few demons, pinning the final Plasma down into the ground using the blade. 

     “You could’ve gotten hurt.”

     “You’re just jealous that I got more kills than you,” with a playful shake of your head and a small laugh, you pulled Rebellion back out of the ground and turned around. Dante had healed and was giving you quite the venomous glare, your expression dropped, “What?”

     He aggressively grabbed the sword from your hand, placed it on his back, and turned to walk back the way you came, “We’re leaving.”

     You bent down and picked up Ifrit, sliding the fiery devil’s gauntlets back on, “Huh? We haven’t done our sweep back--”

     “Now!” His voice was much angrier than you’d heard in a long time, so you remained silent and followed behind him. 

     The walk and ride back to the shop were eerily quiet. Neither of you said a word, not even to the soldiers that you passed in the city. During the bike ride, you did your best not to latch onto the red devil and held onto the bike itself--which wasn't exactly comfortable or easy, but you were pissed off and didn't care.

     As the two of you entered the shop, you had thought about saying something to the devil but weren’t going to give him that satisfaction; no, you just silently went up to your room and slammed the door behind you. Leaving him in the foyer, alone.

     Doing your best to ignore the guilty feeling in your gut, you hopped in a quick shower and took a small unintentional cat nap on your bed right after. Around an hour later, you woke up and groggily wandered downstairs to get a glass of water--and to see where Dante had gone. As you looked around, you pursed your lips in confusion. Dante typically after a job would just get drunk at his desk or on the couch but he was nowhere to be found. It was rare for him to actually go to his room; but, then again, it is even rarer for the two of you to have a disagreement or fight like this. A sigh left your lips as you traversed back to your room. A small amount of regret lingered at the edges of your mind for using such harsh words at the poor devil.

     Mindlessly, you had wandered to stand in front of his room and stood there with your hand up, ready to knock. After a minute you decided to put your hand back down, hoping that maybe he’d be the one to come to you and apologize for once. With a heavy sigh, you entered your room and turned the light on, then nearly had a heart attack. 

     There, sitting silently on the edge of your bed, was Dante in his boxers and a long-sleeve black baggy shirt. His forearms were resting on his legs--one of which was bouncing nervously, his hands intertwined as he mindlessly twisted and played with his fingers, and his gaze fixated on the floor.

     “Uh… Dante? Everything okay?” You shut the door, set your glass of water down, and slowly walked over to the bed, sitting beside him. 

     “You remember why I hired you?” His voice was soft and sad, something was wrong.

     You shook your head, confused at the seemingly out-of-nowhere question, “Huh?”

     “Do you remember why I hired you?”

     “Because you said you needed company..?”

     His lips twitched at the answer; however, he said nothing and just stared at the floorboards in front of him.

     “Dante?” You gently and cautiously grabbed his forearm, making his leg stop bouncing.

     His voice became even softer, becoming barely audible, “Do you regret it?”

     Your brow softened as your fingers gripped him tighter, “Dante…” 

     His brow furrowed as he moved his jaw for a second before giving you a sad huffed laugh, “I wouldn’t blame you if--”

     “Stop,” you stood up and moved to stand in front of him, then knelt between his legs, “Look at me,” his eyes coyly met yours as you grabbed both his hands, “I have never regretted anything I’ve done with you, nor will I ever.”

     A small quiver found its way to Dante’s lip, “Why?”

     “What do you mean why?” You gave him a bittersweet smile, “I like being with you, Dante.”

     He opened his mouth but no sound came out, only a crack and a small whimper as tears filled his eyes. Then you did what you should’ve done the moment he started talking, you stood up and enveloped him in a tight hug. Dante quickly wrapped himself around you. The red devil’s fingers dug into your back and grabbed generous handfuls of your shirt. 

     Half-formed sentences and choked-up versions of “I’m sorry” are all that he could manage through the unwavering barrage of tears. All you could do was hold him tight and tell him that everything’s okay--that he doesn’t have to apologize, not for breaking down like this. Gently, you kneaded against his shoulder blades and placed one hand in his hair, petting him. You noticed his hair was wet; which, not only meant that’s where he was when you were searching for him but, this was the first time he'd taken a real shower in nearly three weeks. It seemed like a lifetime had passed before his tears began to slow, eventually boiling down to just small hiccups. 

     However, his hold on you didn’t loosen, if anything, it got tighter. You had placed the side of your face against the top of his head and quietly hummed, hoping to comfort him.

     “Hey…” Dante’s voice was thick and quiet, a hint of nervousness ghosted his words.

     “Hm?”

     “Would it be okay to stay like this? Just for a little longer…” He waited with bated breath for your response.

     “Mnmm… How about this,” you pulled back from him, making him hesitantly release you. A small warm smile tugged at your lips as you straddled his lap and re-wrapped yourself around him with your legs around his middle, “This okay?”

     Through your shirt, you could feel Dante hum with a small smile, “Mhm,” his arms regrafted themselves to your body as he pushed his head into your body.

     The two of you sat together for nearly two hours, Dante softly purring against your skin as you lightly rubbed his back and played with his hair. If the front door hadn’t opened, the two of you would’ve stayed linked together for much longer. 

     “I’ll get it,” you slid off his lap but were stopped by Dante grabbing your wrist.

     “Do you have to?” His expression was oddly shy, which sent a sharp pang of love through your heart.

     “Join me?” You smiled as you pulled him up. A small surprised laugh left your mouth as you felt him lace your fingers together.

     A bright smile adorned your face as the two of you made your way downstairs and found Morrison standing in the foyer.

     “Afternoon, Mr. Morrison!” You waved with a small happy noise but realized that he was staring with wide eyes. 

     “I’m not… interrupting, am I..?”

     You stared at him in confusion before you realized how the two of you looked; both of you were semi-disheveled, only in underwear and a shirt, and Dante’s hand was in yours, “No! No- not at all! We-- It’s not what it--”

     “You are," Dante released your hand, moving further into the room, “but it is my fault for not locking the door. What’s up?”

     A sputtered confused noise left your lips as your face became unbearably hot, mortified at what Dante was implying.

     Morrison laughed, “Blunt as always, huh Dante?” 

     “Why bother lying about it,” Dante leaned against his desk, arms folded casually.

     The broker shook his head with a smile, “I’m just here to drop off payment from the job earlier,” he handed Dante a thick envelope, “The client was impressed with how quickly the two of you worked--made sure to get it to you just as fast and added a little extra cash, too.”

     “Oh? Really?” Dante opened the packet and counted the cash quickly, “Huh… Thanks, Morrison.”

     Morrison did a double-take, taken aback at not only Dante’s words but, Dante’s willingness to talk, “No problem, Dante…” The broker looked over to you with a raised brow before turning to leave, “Sorry for interrupting, I’ll lock the door on the way out. Goodnight you two.”

     “ ‘Night, Mr. Morrison!” Your voice was sweet but still had a lingering sense of embarrassment to it. 

     Dante opened the top desk drawer and tossed the money in it, smiling.

     With a sudden nervousness, you approached the pants-less devil and joined him near the desk, “So… What was Morrison interrupting, Dante?”

     His turquoise eyes slowly moved up to meet yours, a heavy odd feeling behind them. 

     Your face became even hotter as you swallowed hard, “Dante..?”

     “We were sitting together,” small creases formed on his cheeks as he smiled wider, “Why? Did you have something else in mind?”

     Another loud set of sputtered discombobulated noises came from you, unsure how to respond to such a loaded question. 

     A dark chuckle came from Dante as he meandered over to you, slowly inching you towards the wall behind his desk, then placing a hand beside your head, “Something wrong?”

     “No, I--,” you closed your eyes and shook your head, trying to keep yourself from spontaneously combusting in embarrassment, “I’m f-fine.”

     He lifted a brow and placed his free hand on your cheek, running his fingers gently across your skin, “I dunno, you seem rather feverish… You’re not sick, are you?”

     “I’m just a little warm, that’s all,” you let out a half-hearted laugh, doing your best to ignore the pounding in your chest.

     The red devil wasn’t satisfied with this answer and moved his face closer, putting his nose right beside yours, and made half-lidded eye contact, “I don’t believe you.”

     Bit by bit, you leaned closer to him, placing your lips as close as you could without touching his. The two of you hovered for a moment before Dante pulled away and turned to look to his right, “Do you mind?”

     You mimicked Dante's action in confusion and saw Trish standing in the shop. 

     “Lady forgot a few things in the garage,” Trish raised a brow and addressed you, “You believe us now?”

     “Trish!” Dante’s face was bright red, “Seriously?”

     “What?” She placed a hand on her hip, “You do love him, don’t you?”

     Dante mumbled something you didn’t quite catch before his voice returned to the previous volume, “Can you leave? You’re kinda killing the moment.”

     “Just make sure that you two can work in the morning, we have a contract to do.”

     “Trish!”

     She gave you a wide smirk and a wink, “Have fun.”

     The two of you waited for the garage door to shut before Dante sighed, “Guess the moment’s kinda ruined, huh?” 

     He sheepishly turned to you, to which you grabbed his shirt and yanked his lips down to meet yours. A surprised muffled grunt came from the red devil as he placed his hand over yours, his thumb slowly running over your skin and removing you from his shirt. Gradually, he regained control over the situation and pushed you back against the wall. His lips were broiling and desperately pushing against yours, almost painfully so. 

     Dante grabbed the sides of your hips, picking you up slightly, so he could pin you against the wall using only his body and a knee that he had placed between your legs. Your hands frantically grabbed at his body, eventually settling for one hand in his hair and the other groping at his upper back. His hands wandered all over your body, sliding underneath your shirt and touching as much as you as he could. 

     Eventually, you managed to wrap your legs around his middle and his hands slipped down to support you from underneath your thighs. You cupped his face in both your hands to deepen the fervorous kissing. The red devil bit lightly at your lips, asking to enter your mouth. At first, you didn’t let him and playfully denied him entrance. Dante wanted to taste you and wasn’t taking no for an answer, forcing his tongue inside. His tongue was hot and he wanted nothing more than to explore every bit of your mouth, to devour as much as he could. The unexpectedly long appendage made you jolt and gag slightly in surprise, which made Dante smirk with a small amount of pride. 

     Only once you were both out of breath did the two of you separate, leaving you with labored breathing and hazy loving smiles. 

     Your thumbs gently rubbed the stubble that decorated his jawline, “Dante, do you really..?”

     He meekly smiled and mumbled, avoiding your eyes in embarrassment, “You think I’d treat anyone else like you..?”

     You placed a soft kiss on his forehead, “I love you… So much”

     A soft huffed laugh came from his nose.

     “What?”

     He placed a small kiss on the side of the base of your neck, “Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

     You laughed softly, “Dante,” he looked up at you and you ran a hand through his hair, “You want to know something?”

     “Hmm?” He began to purr and melt into your touch. 

     “Although, there’s obviously more a more emotional aspect now,” you broke eye contact and turned away to avoid his gaze, “When we first met if you had asked me to… ya know… I would’ve,” your face was completely on fire as you regretted opening your mouth.

     “Oh?” Using one hand to support you, he used a hand to turn your face to his, “What was that now?”

     Your voice was high-pitched and cracked from embarrassment, “N-nothing!” 

     He had a sultry smirk tugging at his lips as he ran his thumb over your trembling lips, “You know, I thought about asking for that--instead of joining your hunt.”

     “You-- you did?” Your face only became hotter with each word.

     “Mhm,” Dante put his lips above yours again, “Not every day a smoking hot, sopping wet, guy busts into my shop.”

     The two of you connected lips again and Dante’s hands gripped the sides of your thighs harshly, his nails digging into you, and dipped your ass lower to meet his growing heat. A small growl came from the back of the red devil’s throat as he ground his hips against you. Your hands grabbed his shoulders as you let out a small moan from the friction of Dante’s grinding. In response, Dante began to roll his hips harshly against you, shoving you against the wall with each thrust. Your hips jolted from the sudden rough movements and you broke from the kiss, letting out a low hissing groan. Dante, however, wasn’t done tasting you and immediately placed his lips back over yours; making sure to devour each one of your sweet noises. 

     He turned around and began to support you using only one hand again. With his free hand, he moved his mother’s photo to the desk drawer, closing it softly, and then swept his arm across his desk, throwing everything else off the top--making an absolute mess of the already cluttered shop. 

     Dante dropped you onto the desk and broke the kiss. Quickly, he removed your shirt and began to bite at whatever he could, making you squirm from the sudden, almost animalistic, aggression. His teeth broke through your skin and Dante excitedly lapped up the crimson lines, letting out a continuous lowly growl. A sharp loud gasp left your mouth as you arched your back towards him in response to him biting your neck; still drawing blood as he did for the other marks. Your fingers dug into him only further encouraging him to do it again.

     However, you weren’t about to let Dante have all the fun. You kneaded your way down his torso and to the edge of his boxers. Coyly, you palmed over his bulge with widening eyes. Of course, it was easy to tell that Dante had a nice dick from how visible it is through his pants but you didn’t expect it to get that much bigger.

     The sultry devil caught onto your sudden surprise and let out a small breathy laugh against your neck, “What’s the matter, babe?” He ran his tongue along one of the bleeding marks, “Surely you knew..?”

     “I,” your mind was blank, “I thought you were a shower, not a grower,” you let out a half-huff half-laugh noise through your nose.

     “Oh, just you wait,” a small seductive laugh came from him as he leaned back up to look you in the eyes, “Still not quite there yet.”

     You rolled your eyes and casually draped your arms over his shoulders, “You know, just cause it’s big doesn’t mean anything if you don’t know how to use it,” you let out a playful low laugh, staring at him with half-lidded eyes. 

     Dante leaned in, “Oh, don’t worry,” he kissed you again, “I know exactly what you like,” smiling happily. 

     The two of you exchanged loud pecking kisses, “Mhm, sure you do.” 

     He stopped and left his lips right above yours, his breath ghosting your kiss-swollen lips, “I can hear things, you know…” 

     Your eye went wide, “Wh-what are you--”

     “Every night, in your room,” he moved to kiss right behind your jaw, whispering against your skin giving you goosebumps, “Begging for me, saying my name,” he ran his tongue along the shell of your ear, “You’re much louder than you think, babe,” Dante gently bit your ear before he leaned back up to meet your gaze. 

     All you could do was stare back. Admittedly, it had crossed your mind a few times over the years that Dante might be able to hear you but you figured that he would’ve said something by now; especially with how long it’s been since you moved in. The idea that Dante had been listening to you for so long made your entire body hot and threw you for a loop.

     Through all your discombobulated noises, you finally managed to sputter out, “Why didn’t you tell..?”

     “Because,” he leaned in, intensifying his eye contact, “I get off listening to you,” he kissed your jawline, “I love hearing you come undone.”

     A shiver ran up your spine as you completely froze. 

     The red devil noticed your change in expression and began to panic, “I didn’t upset you--!”

     You yanked him down to your mouth, kissing him harshly once more. As you did, your hands ran up his shirt and began to grope at his pecs, eliciting a moan from the white-haired devil. Your nails ran down his body leaving loving irritated red skin, making him groan much louder.

     He broke off from the kiss and quickly pulled his shirt up and over his head, tossing it in a random direction in the shop. When he looked back at you, his heart skipped a beat at the face you were making. Although you were obviously already flustered, your face had turned darker by tenfold and your eyes were wide; staring directly at Dante’s bare body.

     “What?” He smiled with a tilt of his head and hips, “Like what you see?”

     You coyly reached out to touch his chest again, Dante watching you intently. Softly, you kneaded against him and whispered, “You’re gorgeous, you know that?”

     Now it was his turn to become red in the face, “H-huh?”

     “I said,” your voice returned to normal volume, “You’re gorgeous, Dante…”

     He stared at you. Although the red devil plays the confident type, his self-esteem was rather poor, and, to be quite frank, he hated how he looked most days; being reminded of his dead brother every time he looked in a mirror. However, hearing you say something so simple and, yet, so impactful made his head spin and his heart wrench.

     You leaned in and placed a string of gentle kisses along his collarbones. As you did, you could hear him purring ever-so-slightly and were able to feel the vibrations through your lips. Eventually, Dante snapped out of his stupor, he slipped his hands into your underwear and found purchase on your ass, groping and kneading against you harshly. Next, you placed kisses up his neck and placed a long kiss against his Adam’s apple, pushing against it slightly; eliciting a groan from Dante. 

     Now back up at his lips, you connected with him once again. The red devil leaned you back onto the barren desk, without breaking the kiss, and pulled your hips tight to his. Once you were fully laid back, Dante moved down your jaw all the way down to your chest with soft kisses. A loud hiss left your mouth as you felt him bite down on one of your nipples, tugging on it slightly--doing his best to make sure he didn’t give you an accidental piercing. 

     “Fuck… Dante,” you ran your hands through his hair and looked down at him, he was already staring back at you; something was different, “Hey,” he released his bite, “You-- You alright?”

     His brow twitched in confusion and he tilted his head, his gaze thinned.

     “Your uh… eyes are--” You pursed your lips, his eyes had become a vibrant burning red-orange

     “Oh- Oh!” Dante laughed softly, “Don’t worry about that,” his voice was quiet, seemingly shy, “I’m just excited, that’s all.”

     You smiled at him and placed a hand on his cheek, thumbing over his flushed skin. He moved back up to you and stared down at you. His eyes are the exact same as when he uses his Devil Trigger except for his pupils, which are heavily dilated. It was a chilling reminder of how dangerous Dante really is, how much stronger than you he is.

     “Are you sure you are alright with me-- with us-- doing this?” His brow was upturned and his voice was filled with a unquenchable lust that made your entire body hot.

     “Of course,” you gave him a long drawn-out kiss and bit his lower lip, slowly pulling on it, “I wouldn't have it any other way,” you felt him shift his hips slightly and whispered against his lips, “I want you, please, Dante.”

     He nodded and took a deep breath, leaning back up. 

     Before he could do anything, you sat up and pushed him away lightly with your fingertips on his chest. A sultry smirk tugged at your lips as you slowly slid down to your knees, placing the occasional kiss along his abdomen. 

     Dante’s breath hitched upon realizing what you were doing, “You don’t have to- ah~” He let out a small groan at the feeling of your lips against his still-clothed cock. 

     You looked up at him and placed a few more kisses down his trapped shaft, feeling him twitch against you. With almost painfully slow movements you kissed back up his shaft then slid your fingers behind the band of his boxers, pulling them down. His cock sprung up proudly, already dribbling pre-cum. 

     With a small smirk, you looked up at him and ran your tongue up the underside of his dick, making sure to lap up the small bits of milky fluid. His eyes broke from yours and were staring upwards.

     “Dante,” you stopped, making him look back down at you, “Look at me, please,” you leaned back in closer to his body, whispering against his sensitive flesh, “I want to see if you are enjoying what I am doing or not”

     He swallowed hard and let out a shaky breath, “I don’t know how long I… If I watch you.”

     You smiled and let out a sultry laugh, placing a kiss on the underside of his tip, “That’s fine, as long as I get to watch you cum.”

     The red devil’s face was bright red, not only from your words but from, watching you give his slit small kitten licks. You made your way down his shaft with slow kisses again, reveling in how much he was squirming from your touch. Once down to his base, you moved to the side--between his cock and the meat of his thigh--and bit down on him, leaving a loving dark mark. All the while Dante was groaning quietly as he bit his lower lip, attempting to stifle his vulnerable noises. In fact, he was biting down so hard that blood had begun to trickle down his chin.

     After you felt the mark was dark enough, you placed several kisses on his balls and curled your tongue around his shaft, moving from the very base all the way back up. Slowly, you placed your lips around his cockhead and made sure to watch as Dante released his lower lip, unable to contain himself any longer. Bit by bit you took his length into your mouth, to the best of your ability; it’s not every day you suck an eight-inch cock after all. 

     Unhurriedly you bobbed your head up and down, making sure to savor his taste and the lewd mewls that he was making. You used one hand to play with his balls, making him buck his hips at the unexpected touch. Cautiously, he placed a hand on the back of your head, his fingers just barely ghosting against you. Noticing his hesitation, you used your free hand to push his palm harder against you. As you worked yourself into a rhythm, you noticed that he was moving his hips gently into you, making you take him in ever-so-slightly deeper with each intake. 

     You placed your free hand on your own dick and began to stroke yourself at the sight of Dante towering above you. He was breathing heavily with half-lidded eyes and was moaning sweet praises; such as “Holy shit” or “Goddamnit”. 

     After a while, you moved back to kiss down his shaft and his balls. Carefully, you licked his sack and took one of his balls into your mouth very gently sucking on it.

     Dante put his hands against the wall, pushing up, and arched his back as he let out a loud unfiltered moan, "Fuckin~~! God~" His fingers clawed through the wallpaper, all he wanted was to grab you and fuck into the back of your throat, but he needed to be careful and have patience; the last thing he wants is to hurt you.

     As you released his ball, you lightly ran your teeth against the skin, making him let out another loud moan. You flattened your tongue and ran it up between his balls, making sure to go slowly between them, all the way back to his tip only to generously give his slit more kitten licks. 

     Once again, you returned to bobbing up and down on his cock, moving a bit faster this time. One of your hands began to fondle his balls again whilst the other wrapped around to hold the back side of his thighs; encouraging him to thrust harder into your face. The red devil caught on quickly to the idea and placed both his hands on the back of your head and began to thrust his hips into you. 

     Admittedly, it was perhaps a bad idea to encourage him to face-fuck you since he managed to make you deep-throat him; something you weren’t able to do. Tears sprung to the corners of your eyes at the feeling. All you could do was wrap both your arms around his thighs and hold on for dear life, hoping he didn’t get any rougher. 

     Thankfully, it didn’t take Dante long to reach his peak. Your eyes met with his and he let out a thunderous whining moan as his fingers dug into the back of your head, pushing his cock as far into your mouth as he could. As expected, his cum didn’t taste the greatest--caused by his diet or lack-there-of, it was very salty and rather bitter. On top of that, he was choking you and pushing rather hard into the back of your throat but that didn’t matter much; you got what you’ve been lusting after for so long. 

     The look on his face alone made it worth the probable sore throat in the morning. He was disheveled with his hair falling in front of his face, some of which was stuck to the thin layer of sweat on his brow. His eyes were heavy and even more dilated than before. A dark red stain adorned his lower lip from his own smeared blood. Heavy labored breaths left his ajar lips, giving you a good look at his sharp teeth. You could tell that he wanted you, that he wasn’t done with you yet; which is exactly what you’d hoped for. 

     You felt him pet the back of your head as you removed his cock from your mouth. With heavy eyes of your own, you looked up at him with your mouth hung open slightly and breathing heavily. He noticed the tears that had finally run down your face and thumbed them off your cheeks, cupping your face in his hands. 

     Without breaking eye contact, you leaned against one of his hands and took his thumb into your mouth, biting it softly. 

     Dante’s voice was soft, “Can we do more?”

     With a smirk, you let go of his finger and stood up, placing a hand on his chest, “You sure you’re up for it?”

     The red devil picked you up, placing his head between your neck and shoulder, whispering in a low dark tone, “My room or yours?”

     A shiver ran up your spine, “E-either one’s fine-!”

     Dante bit down softly over one of the marks he made earlier in an attempt to satiate some of his growing desires, internally he felt himself becoming increasingly impatient. After a minute of thought, he went upstairs with you still in his arms and kissing your marred skin. Dante decided to use his room; after all, he knows where his lube is--plus he doesn’t have to worry about ruining your bedding, bed, or room in the heat of the moment. 

     He supported you with one arm as he futzed with the doorknob. You grabbed his face and moved it to yours, kissing him once again. Dante’s kisses were much less innocent and sweet this time; this time, they were overtly lustful and sinful. He wanted to indulge both himself and you in these unholy urges, to make you feel as good as he does; which, come hell or high water, is exactly what he’s going to do. 

     Finally, he got the door open and pushed it open using your back. Your hands made their way up to his hair, grabbing handfuls of it as he placed both his hands on your ass, pulling you as tight to him as he could. The only light in the room was provided by the sunset that was peaking through the blinds on his window; which poured directly onto the bed. He brought you both to the foot of his bed and laid you down, moving his kisses down your neck and to your shoulder. 

     When Dante leaned up the sight before him is one that will be immortalized in his jumbled mind. You were a hazy mess and were sprawled out on the untidy sheets. The sunlight gave your body a golden glow and only emphasized how beautiful you are to him. You looked heavenly, angelic almost. A small amount of pity sat at the edge of Dante’s mind, pity at how he is going to stain your pure and holy nature; how this devil is going to destroy you.

     He grabbed one of your hands and kissed the back of it, placing genteel warm kisses up your arm and stopping on your shoulder. His breath was hot and tickled your ear as he whispered to you, “I love you,” he placed a long kiss on the side of your neck, “So damned much…”

     Before you could speak, he placed a soft peck on your lips and stood up, moving over to his bedside table. You scooched up further onto the bed and Dante climbed onto it, a bottle of lube now in hand, sitting on his knees. To say he looked stunning was an understatement. You weren’t sure if he looked heavenly or if he looked demonic; perhaps he is both a devil and an angel wrapped up in a half-human shell. The sunlight made him appear god-like; between the sheer definition of his frame and the orange eyes that were trained on you, he looked surreal. Said eyes were flicking all over your body, absorbing every bit of you that he could, but he was hesitant; what if he messes things up?

     After a few minutes, you sat up and placed a hand on his bicep, “Hey, you okay? We can stop if you don’t want to do more, Dante.”

     He shook his head, “No, I want this, I want you. I just--” his gaze broke from yours and mumbled, just barely audible, “I’m nervous.”

     You gave him a gentle smile, thumbing over his arm, “You’re doing great, Dante,” you leaned the top of your head against his chest, closing your eyes, “Besides, that’s supposed to be my line.”

     He let out a warm laugh and placed his hands on your back, kneading against you. 

     After a moment, Dante leaned you back down and slid his hands into your underwear. He pulled your last bit of clothing off and tossed it somewhere within the messy room, then he took his own off; leaving you both completely exposed. The red devil then paused in thought for a moment before carefully turning you over onto your stomach.

     You peered over your shoulder at Dante. He was staring at your bare form, biting his lip. A small groan left your mouth as you felt him place his warm hands on your ass, kneading. After a moment, you heard him shuffle around and then he sat for a moment. A sharp gasp came from you as you felt him smack your ass then aggressively grabbed the slowly redding side. Dante’s lip twitched into a smirk as he did it again, hearing you let out another moan. 

     He put both hands back down and groped at your ass, listening to your whimpering beneath him. Admittedly, he wanted to continue teasing you but he was losing grip on his own emotions; fighting back an urge to Trigger. So, he let go of your tender flesh and grabbed the bottle of lube. Instinctively, you put your ass up a bit; laying in a downward dog position. Dante split apart your cheeks and applied a generous amount of lube before slowly running his finger around your hole. 

     A small buck of your hips back told Dante you wanted him to hurry up so he slid one finger inside you. You buried your face into the bedding in hopes to suppress your voice but were quickly pulled back up by Dante’s hand carefully around your throat. 

     Through a strained growl, Dante confidently huffed, “I want to hear everything, and,” he leaned down, slowly adding a second finger, and whispered in your ear, “I don’t want you to fake anything.” He kissed the back of your neck, “I want your real reactions, ‘kay?”

     Quickly you nodded, laying your head to the side and letting out a quiet groan as you felt his fingers fuck into you faster. Dante curled his fingers towards himself and felt you jolt forwards as you let out a guttural groan. So, he repeated the action and, when you repeated the same response, he continued to do it faster and faster. 

     Dante added more lube and slid in a third digit and saw that your brow furrowed a bit, grimacing slightly; however, you didn’t tell him to stop so he pushed it in further. As he played with your hole, he noticed you had begun to practically ride his hand. Mindlessly he opened his mouth and began to play with his teeth using his tongue, he found himself distantly regretting waiting so long and wished he had been able to gratify these taboo feelings sooner. 

     “Dante,” you stared at him from the corner of your eyes, “I want you,” you felt his fingers quicken, making you moan, “Please, Dante.”

     The red devil shifted his jaw in thought, still playing with your ass. He wanted to watch you squirm underneath him longer but he couldn’t deny that he was also growing increasingly desperate. With a small sigh, he removed his fingers and gently coaxed you to turn over; laying belly up. 

     Slowly, he ran a hand down your middle and gently thumbed over your aching cock, and the pre-cum that decorated the tip. You whimpered from the unexpected feeling of your long-neglected arousal. Dante leaned back to sit his butt on his heels and, using some lube, stroked himself to the sight before him. 

     Once fully slicked up, Dante aligned himself with your hole. A devilish smirk tugged at his lips as he teased you, running his tip along your hole; he wanted to hear you beg as he had heard in secret for so many years. 

     “Please Dante,” you pursed your lips and rolled your hips, “Please, I can’t-- Please~!”

     With a low growl, he pushed his tip inside and you let out a sharp gasp at the feeling. 

     Bit by bit Dante entered your body. You were doing your best not to tighten your body around the unfamiliar feeling. Admittedly, it made your whole body tingle in delight; never had you had such a large partner--living or plastic--making this quite a new and thrilling experience. It took nearly a minute for Dante to finally be fully inside and both of you were already on edge. You reached up for Dante’s head, pulling him down for a kiss. Your legs rested on the outsides of his hips, allowing him to bend down fully to kiss you. The kisses were slow, loud, sloppy kisses; both of you were a mess.

     Dante sat back up, holding you around your thighs, and ever-so-slightly pulled back then pushed back inside. He continued these small careful movements for some time. 

     “More, please, Dante,” you spoke between heavy breaths, “I don’t want you to hold back,” you flashed him a warm sultry smile, “Do whatever you want with me, Daddy~” You added a playful wink to the end and laughed as his eyes went wide with embarrassment.

     Your laughter quickly died down when you felt him quickly pull out over half his length and jab it right back in eliciting you to let out a loud unfiltered moan, “Do whatever I want, huh?” He gave you a dark full-teeth smile, you felt your stomach drop in a fearful arousal type of way.

     Dante pulled out almost the whole way and, once again, slammed right back inside. You let out another sharp moan and arched your back at the feeling. The red devil repeated this action until all you could hear in the shop was his balls hitting your ass and you spouting out random jibberish; singing the devil’s praises. 

     You went to jack yourself off but were stopped by Dante’s hand grabbing your wrist. Without slowing down, Dante leaned down and looked you dead in the eye, “You only get to cum when I say you can, babe.”

     “What~Ah~!” 

     Dante yanked you up to sit on his lap, making hard deep hard jackrabbit thrusts right into your prostate. As he did that, he also had begun to bite over your skin again and his hands hand found their way to your ass; groping it hard. You wrapped your arms around him and held on to him, leaving deep scratches on his upper back. His lips met with yours again for more sloppy wet kisses, his hands slowly traveled to underneath your thighs. 

     In one swift motion, he had both of you up off the bed and you pushed against his wall. His thrusts had slowed to a moderate pace but were still short, only pulling out two or three inches. You decided to give him a taste of his own medicine and bit down on his shoulder. Dante let out a loud sharp unfiltered moan and his fingers dug into your skin, clawing into your thighs. 

     Once you felt the mark was deep enough, you placed a few more; making sure to mar up each side, and with each bite, you got another frantic moan. You leaned back to admire your work and felt him start making longer, more drawn-out movements, purposefully teasing. 

     Now resting his head against the side of your neck, he placed a few kisses, “I don’t remember saying you could bite me, babe.”

     “Whatcha gonna do about it, hm?” 

     Dante pulled out of you and the next thing you knew you were being pushed face down into the floor, his hand grasping the back of your head tightly. He re-inserted himself inside you and began to fuck you even harder than before; pulling out to the very tip and slamming into you. Using his other hand, he took one of your arms and held it behind you, pinning it to your back. Your free hand was stretched in front of you and you were gripping the floor with your fingertips, desperately trying to ground yourself. 

     Admittedly, you were on cloud nine as you felt him continuously re-penetrate your hole. Your legs felt weak and you began to, unknowingly, drop your hips down; which caught Dante’s attention. The red devil pulled himself back out and took you to the bed, laying you face up. He remained on his feet and re-inserted himself, then yanked your legs up and over his shoulders. All you could do was grip the bedding tightly and continue to babble random moaning phrases to him, egging him on further. 

     This pose didn’t last long, Dante removed your legs and leaned down to you. He gave you a long impassioned kiss before resting his forehead against your chest. One of his hands grabbed yours, intertwining your fingers, and the other found purchase on your cock. With each jab inwards, he jerked your dick in rhythm with his hips. Your free hand gripped his hair, holding him into your chest. 

     Dante’s voice was ragged and low, almost desperate sounding, “I don’t know how much longer I…”

     “Cum inside me, Dante,” you didn’t even need to hear the rest, you knew that he wanted to know what to do. 

     He moved his head to rest between your neck and shoulder then picked up his pace tenfold, in both his hips and his hand. Your body arched tightly against his and your fingers clasped even tighter around his hand and his hair. It only took a few more short sharp jabs for him to reach his climax, spilling himself deep inside you. Dante’s teeth sunk deep into your skin, breaking it once again, and creating a vice grip on you. 

     The hot feeling from his cum quickly spread throughout your body as his pace around your cock sped up, the combination of the two soon brought you to your own peak, “Fuck, Dante~!” Your voice was loud and semi-whiney and you pushed your head against his. 

     A gentle purr could be heard from him at the sound of your orgasm, despite him still having his teeth sunk into you. You gently ran your fingers through his hair and felt as if you were going to cry. The two of you laid connected for a few minutes, just enjoying the feeling of being so close.

     Dante carefully removed his bite, making you let out a hiss in pain, and released your hand from his. He leaned up and gently removed his cock from your body, making a shiver run up your spine. With a happy content huff, he relaxed back down on you and propped himself up by resting his forearms on your chest. A warm smile and half-lidded eyes adorned his face as he placed a soft innocent kiss on your cheek and then rested his chest on his arms, staring at you.

     Your hands slowly ran up his biceps and rested on his shoulders, mimicking his smile with one of your own. As you thumbed over his skin, you couldn’t help but think about how much you truly cared about Dante. Wandering thoughts devolved to the memories of coming home to a near-dead Dante laying on the bathroom floor; which only further darkened to the idea that it could always happen and, someday, you might not make it home in time to--

     “Hey,” Dante’s soft voice pulled you from your thoughts. His smile was gone and his brow was creased, “What’s wrong?”

     A tremble found its way to your lips as you stared at him and you realized that you had several tears running down your face. Unable to spit out what you were thinking, you spoke with a small crack in your voice, “Can you come closer?”

     He gave you a small sweet smile with a happy huff, “Here.”

     Dante stood up, picked you up, and placed you on the bed--laying you the correct way. The red devil then slid onto the bed next to you, placing his head on your chest. He laid with his body half on top of you and wrapped his arms around your middle, allowing you to do the same. Although you typically would’ve immediately gone to wash up after such a strenuous event, you couldn’t bring yourself to let go of him. A loud robust purring filled the room as both of you relished in the feeling of holding one another.

     You placed a soft long kiss against the top of his head, lingering against him for some time before whispering sweetly against his disheveled hair, “I love you, Dante; you know that, right?”

     The red devil turned his head to look at you better and placed a soft kiss against your lips, “I love you too babe,” he placed his head back on your chest, nuzzling into your hard, his arms wrapping tighter around you, “So damned much.”

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ENDING NOTES: ;skfajfjlkdsjafkldj this wasn’t supposed to be this long--it’s 22 pages in docs; how the fuck-- This was supposed to be a short Dante smut fic, what happened lmaooo 🍊🍊🍊 Quick thing: If you are curious as to why I think a younger Dante would have issues with how he looks; it is because it reminds him of Vergil (Vergil has the same issue when his hair is down, thinking he looks like his brother--I mean, they are twins after all).  🍊🍊🍊 You know, I have written quite a bit of smut, right? So you’d think that I would stop laughing and getting embarrassed over writing words like “nipple” or “balls” but no, I fucking still giggle to myself like a fucking idiot when I write those words like… wtf is wrong with me smh Like I sit here typing one letter at a time all flustered when writing those two words specifically even though I just wrote about Dante fingerings the reader or like the reader linking Dante’s pre-cum like wtf is wrong with me lmaooo

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[luvlylovingu]

BLUEBERRY EYES

a/n: just a drabble. idk whether to edit and make a full fic yet :")

"oi kageyama, let's have a match." hinata challenges him out of the blue on their walk.

tobio looks at him with eyebrows raised, showing no interest. "ehh? i'm not really in the mood."

"are you chickening out, bakageyama?"

"what did you just say, dumbass?!"

"nothing!! hahaha..."

"what match? if you lose, you'll buy me milk and meat buns for a week starting right now."

"deal."

"alright, round one. first to get to coach ukai's store wins!" hinata blasts off and leaves kageyama in the dust.

"YOU COUNT TO THREE FIRST, DUMBASS!" he shouts as he tries to catch up.

in the end, tobio still won while shoyo says gibberish stuff through his gritted teeth.

"round two. you ask a question and whoever answers correctly wins. last round, it's my turn to ask the question."

the taller boy ponders for a bit, before chuckling to himself. "who has the higher vertical jump between us?"

"me!"

"me!"

they answer at the same time before clashing heads.

"give it a rest won't you?! it's obviously me, stupid-yama!"

"dumbass! we measured it before nationals and it was clearly me!"

"oh really? well, since you taught me that trick my jump has been higher so it's actually me!"

after fighting for what seemed like forever, they stopped but only because coach ukai told them to shut up because they were disturbing the neighborhood with their bickering. as always.

"this round is a draw, until we measure it and see for ourselves."

shoyo nods, though he was ready to challenge kageyama right now and prove his jump was now higher.

"your turn, boke."

after a few minutes of looking like he was lost, hinata finally spoke. "what's a song that makes you think about me? 5. 4. 3. 2. 1! engk! you lose this round!"

"oi! you cheater. you know i don't listen to music a lot."

"your loss, you agreed to a match, didn't ya?"

tobio restrains himself from smacking the other boy's head. "whatever, your turn. 5. 4-"

"blueberry eyes."

it's as if time had stopped for tobio. it took awhile for his brain to process and for him to finally face shoyo. "what do you mean by that?" they stare at each other, and hinata smiles. "besides the whole song, the title reminds me of your eyes. they're a really pretty shade of blue."

screw shoyo and his bluntness, kageyama thinks with ears blazing red. he's confused at how blood is rushing to color his cheeks pink yet there's a lump blocking his throat that causes his breath to get hitched.

the blue haired boy says nothing, unable to find the words, unable to even understand what he's feeling.

"well, i guess this battle is a draw, for now." hinata smiles his usual bright smile, and kageyama thinks to himself how we wishes this moment would last forever, that this happiness would last forever.

© luvlylovingu — do not steal, plagiarize, translate, and/or repost my posts anywhere