#Like fucking hell man this is embarrassing

[tsunaso]

Hi!!

Could I get Zenitsu from demon slayer that swears he straight start to fall for male reader? Like maybe reader is confident and flirty/make dirty jokes with him but he is so deep in denial that he’s always refusing and stuff until he realizes he’s daydreaming of reader and wanting to go along with it?

Not sure if I’m describing it well, and you’re welcome to take the concept and run with it however you like but I thought bi disaster would be funny and a cute bottom

“IN A FLASH”

pairing. “Straight”!Zenitsu Agatsuma x Top!male reader

synopsis. Zenitsu is 100% straight—or at least, that’s what he keeps telling himself. But between your constant flirting, your cocky smirks, and the unwelcome daydreams about being pinned against a wall, he’s starting to lose his mind. And maybe, just maybe… he likes it. — 1.7k

warnings. mdni, nsfw, amab reader, dirty jokes, tiniest bit of power play, first time (with a man), overstimulation, handjob, aftercare

a/n: You did a great job describing what you wanted! Thank you for sending in my first request!

Zenitsu was not in love with you.

Nope. Not a chance. Absolutely not.

It didn’t matter that you were tall, confident, and smirked like you owned the place. It didn’t matter that you rolled up your sleeves during training, your arms a little too toned, a little too veiny for him to not notice. And it especially didn’t matter that you had a habit of leaning in too close, whispering dirty jokes just low enough for only him to hear.

Because Zenitsu?

Zenitsu liked women.

He loved women. Soft hands, long hair, big br—

"Are you blushing?"

The sound of your smooth, teasing voice snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts.

Zenitsu immediately flinched, whipping around to see you grinning down at him, elbow resting on his shoulder.

His stomach flipped.

"No! I—Why would I—?! I AM NOT BLUSHING!"

In his panic, he stumbled backward—tripping over absolutely nothing—and fell flat onto his ass.

You burst out laughing, loud and shameless, crossing your arms as you watched him writhe in his own embarrassment.

"You totally were," you smirked. "What’s the matter? My rugged good looks getting to you?"

Zenitsu felt his entire soul leave his body.

"SHUT THE HELL UP!" He practically threw himself back to his feet, pointing at you in a wild panic. "I AM 100% STRAIGHT, OKAY?! I LOVE WOMEN! BIG BOOBS! SOFT HANDS! LONG HAIR!"

You just raised an eyebrow.

"...Alright, bro. You want a medal or something?"

Zenitsu twitched violently.

This was your fault.

For months, you'd been torturing him.

The casual hand on his shoulder. The way you'd sit too close, your thigh pressed against his. The way your gravelly, stupidly deep voice sounded whenever you murmured some filthy joke into his ear, leaving him to short-circuit in real-time.

He hated it.

He hated you.

He was definitely not going to start thinking about it later.

Absolutely not.

　　　　　　　　　　─────・୨ ✦ ୧・─────

It started small. Little things.

Like how your voice was kind of deep.

Not too deep—but just enough to make his stomach flip when you said his name.

Or how your hands were huge.

Not that he was paying attention to them. Not that he was imagining how they’d feel gripping his waist, holding his wrists, pinning him—

WAIT, BAD. BAD THOUGHT.

Zenitsu shook his head violently, slapping his own cheeks.

He was just tired. That was all. He needed to train more.

…But training wasn’t exactly helping.

Because lately, you were standing too damn close.

"Need help with your stance?" you murmured from behind him, your chest almost pressed to his back.

Zenitsu froze.

His entire body locked up as your hands brushed over his hips, adjusting him like it was nothing.

Like you weren’t completely ruining his life.

"I—I GOT IT!" he shrieked, flailing away from you like you were on fire. "THANKS, NO NEED TO TOUCH ME, I’M PERFECTLY FINE—!!"

You just blinked at him, amused. "Dude, chill."

Zenitsu was not chilling.

He was losing his fucking mind.

　　　　　　　　　　─────・୨ ✦ ୧・─────

It got worse.

He started having thoughts.

Thoughts like, "What if he pushed me against a wall?"

Or "What if he held me down?"

Or "What if I just… let him?"

"NOOOOOOO—!!!" Zenitsu bolted upright in bed, screaming into his pillow.

What the hell was that dream?!

WHY WAS IT KINDA GOOD?!!

He buried his face in his hands, rocking back and forth in despair.

"This isn’t happening," he whispered. "I love women. BIG BOOBS. SOFT HANDS. LONG HAIR."

…Your hair didn’t look like a womans, but it always looked kinda nice.

WAIT, NO, STOP—!!!

Zenitsu launched himself out of bed. He needed a distraction. Immediately.

　　　　　　　　　　─────・୨ ✦ ୧・─────

Zenitsu was determined to prove his 100% absolute heterosexuality.

Which is why, the next morning, he could be found on his knees in front of a random woman, gripping her hands, screaming into the sky.

"HELLO, BEAUTIFUL LADY! HAVE I MENTIONED I LOVE WOMEN?!"

The woman blinked. "…Are you okay?"

"I’M SO OKAY!" Zenitsu laughed, manic and desperate. "SO, SO, SO OKAY! WOMEN ARE BEAUTIFUL! GORGEOUS! PLEASE MARRY ME!"

You watched from a distance, arms crossed, fighting back a smirk.

"He’s been acting weird lately," Tanjiro mumbled beside you.

You chuckled. "Yeah. I noticed."

Zenitsu’s entire body stiffened.

Because your voice—your deep, amused, cocky voice—was right behind him.

He turned slowly, staring up at you with wide, panicked eyes.

"Yo," you grinned.

Zenitsu squeaked.

Just straight-up made a noise like a fucking chew toy and bolted in the opposite direction.

You laughed.

Because oh yeah.

You definitely knew what this was.

　　　　　　　　　　─────・୨ ✦ ୧・─────

Zenitsu’s back hit the wall, his breath coming in ragged, uneven pants.

His whole body was shaking, his hands gripping at nothing, his legs weak beneath him.

This was your fault.

You were too close.

You had him trapped, one hand flat against the wall beside his head, your strong, calloused fingers gripping his chin, forcing him to look up at you.

He tried to glare.

Tried to resist.

But his face was burning, his eyes were wide and panicked, his chest rising and falling way too fast.

This was wrong.

This was not supposed to happen.

"I—I don’t—” Zenitsu stammered, but his hips twitched forward, betraying him instantly.

You smirked. "Not like what?"

Your voice was too deep, too smooth, too much.

Zenitsu let out a sharp, shaky breath, his fingertips digging into the wall behind him.

"I—I'm not—"

He cut himself off, biting his lip hard, his eyes squeezing shut.

Because if he looked at you any longer, he was going to break.

And then—

You grabbed his chin, tilted his face up, and kissed him.

Zenitsu shattered.

A sharp, wrecked little noise escaped him, somewhere between a whimper and a gasp, his body going stiff—then melting completely.

His hands shot up to grip your shirt, his fingers fisting the fabric so tightly his knuckles turned white.

He didn’t pull away.

He couldn’t.

His whole body was burning, his mind spinning, his lips parting helplessly as you deepened the kiss, teasing, taking your time breaking him apart.

Zenitsu’s legs gave out.

You caught him instantly, one strong arm wrapping around his waist, keeping him pinned against you.

He hated how good it felt.

He hated how easily you overpowered him.

He hated that his dick was aching, twitching, throbbing, already soaked with precum—

But most of all?

He hated how much he loved it.

　　　　　　　　　　─────・୨ ✦ ୧・─────

Zenitsu didn’t remember how you got him to bed.

All he knew was that he was on his back, his clothes half-off, his skin burning, and your hands were on him.

Too much.

Too good.

Too overwhelming.

His breath was shaky, his legs spread open beneath you, his whole body trembling like a leaf. He should’ve been embarrassed—should’ve pushed you away, should’ve pretended he didn’t want this.

But when you dragged your palm up his inner thigh, tracing over sensitive, untouched skin, his whole body jerked violently, a shocked little whimper spilling from his lips.

His hands shot up to cover his mouth, his fingers pressing against his own lips as if that could stop the noises from escaping.

You smirked.

“Oh? You like that?”

Zenitsu furiously shook his head, eyes blown wide, face burning.

"NO—"

You hummed, dragging your fingers up his trembling stomach, stopping just at the waistband of his underwear.

"You sure?"

Zenitsu bit his lip hard, his whole body twitching in anticipation.

He could feel himself leaking, soaking the fabric, his thighs clenched but trembling, struggling to stay still.

He was too sensitive.

Too needy.

And when you finally hooked your fingers into his waistband and tugged his underwear down—

Zenitsu gasped, his breath catching, his dick twitching against his stomach.

Fuck.

He looked away immediately, his chest rising and falling way too fast.

He couldn’t do this.

He wasn’t supposed to like this.

Then your fingers wrapped around him, slow, teasing, barely applying any pressure.

And Zenitsu cried out.

A sharp, wrecked moan slipped past his lips, his hips jerking forward before he could stop himself.

"S-Shit—"

You chuckled. "You're shaking."

"Sh-Shut up," he whined, his voice cracking, his fingers digging into the sheets.

He was burning up.

He felt too hot, too exposed, too weak.

But it felt good.

Way too fucking good.

Your grip tightened just slightly, your thumb swiping over his leaking tip, and Zenitsu’s whole body twitched.

His breath hitched, a choked moan spilling out.

"I-I—oh fuck—"

You smirked. "Already close?"

"NO—" Zenitsu’s voice cracked, his cheeks burning.

He was not going to cum just from this.

He was not going to embarrass himself like that.

He was not going to—

You leaned down, dragged your tongue over his tip, and Zenitsu screamed.

His fingers fisted the sheets, his whole body seizing up, his dick twitching violently.

And then—

He broke.

"OH—OH FUCK—"

His back arched sharply, his hips bucking up, his breath stuttering, and then he let out a wrecked little sob, cumming way too fast, way too hard.

His chest heaved, his legs shaking, his body completely wrecked beneath you.

You pulled back slightly, grinning down at him.

"That fast?" your voice was low, amused, teasing. "Thought you had more stamina, Thunder Boy."

Zenitsu whined into his hands, his whole body trembling, his mind completely blank.

He should’ve been mortified.

But then—

Your hand wrapped around him again.

And Zenitsu twitched violently.

"H-Hah—w-wait, I just—"

Your grip tightened slightly, stroking him slow, teasing, letting him feel the overstimulation creep in.

Zenitsu gasped, his hips jerking forward weakly, his thighs trembling.

"You're still hard," you murmured, voice silky smooth. "Guess that wasn't enough for you, huh?"

Zenitsu let out a broken little noise, his nails digging into your arms.

He couldn’t handle this.

He was too sensitive.

Too fucking weak.

"B-Be gentle," he whispered, his voice tiny.

You smirked, kissing his heated skin.

"No."

Then you kept going.

And Zenitsu?

Zenitsu didn’t stand a chance.

　　　　　　　　　　─────・୨ ✦ ୧・─────

Zenitsu refused to let go of you.

His arms were wrapped around your waist, his face buried in your chest, his breath still shaky.

You smirked, running your fingers through his messy hair.

"You okay?"

Zenitsu huffed weakly, his fingers tightening their grip on you.

"I still like girls," he mumbled into your skin. "I just… really like you too."

You chuckled. "Oh yeah?"

Zenitsu whined. "Don’t make me say it again—!"

You grinned. "So you liked it?"

Zenitsu froze.

Then, with a mortified little whimper, he hid his face in your chest.

"D-Don’t say it out loud, idiot!"

You laughed, holding him tighter.

[cod-indulgences]

Simon Riley x female!reader, drinking, drunk sex, blowjobs, silly and sweet

Part 1

Part 2

Simon didn't let you give him road head, sadly, but he does set you down on the couch all sweet and bring you water. He's so good to you even when you're embarrassing him.

And why's he embarrassed anyway? Guy should be happy he's got a girlfriend who likes sucking him off. Which you still want, Simon, it's fine- you're calmed down a bit, had some water, and now you want something else to swallow.

"Jesus christ," he says and he's got his mask off so you can see his mouth twitch like he's trying not to smile. "No, baby, you need to sleep it off."

Really? He's sure? He doesn't want your mouth kissing his thighs, licking wet stripes up that so-soft skin, nuzzling into the base of his cock as he chubs up? He doesn't want to feel your tongue flicking over the head, drawing out little sips of precome, delicious, every inch of Simon is worth worshipping.

He sits down heavily, swearing, and you fall off slide off gracefully move between his knees, pulling at the button of his pants until he takes care of it for you. You push in before he can get his cock out, rubbing your face against his hard-on and inhaling that special soap-skin-sweat-musk smell that you love, the scent of your man getting turned on for you, and Simon swears again when you put just the softest, sweetest kiss where the head of his cock pushes on his boxers.

You don't want to tease him too much, he might say no again. So you pull him out through the front of his boxers and lick up the side of his cock, rubbing that soft, soft skin, drooling to wet him down as you get the head in your mouth properly.

It's a bolt of desire in your belly to hear him moan your name, the way his breath hitches and his thighs jump, as you slowly work down his cock, taking more into your mouth each time. Fuck, he gets you so wet, the way he gets hard and thick for you, calm and collected everywhere else but he can't hold back here. Every time his cock jumps you reward him with a little moan, when his hand settles in your hair, cupping your head, you look up at him through your lashes as you bob down on his cock. He's breathing hard, watching you like you're something special.

Fucking hell you are going to marry this man.

You moan and push down more, trying to get all of him- it's a stretch, he's thick around and bumping into your throat, but you want it, you need his cock in you, taking you, just as much as you take him apart-

Simon pulls you off, and you gasp, sticking your tongue out and trying to get back onto him.

"Fuck, baby, you really want it that bad huh?" His voice is so deep and dark, it makes you gush a little each time. He lets you come a little closer, lick the head, and when you whine he lets you go. You dive back into his groin, sucking his cock with wet, sloppy bobs of your head, drool in the corners of your mouth where you don't bother to wipe it away. One of your hands gets between his thighs and worms down to cup his balls, playing with them as you lave over the head of his cock with your tongue.

His hips are thrusting up and you let him take control a little, using his rhythm, and stick your other hand down your pants and into your panties. You're so fucking wet, clit already begging as you rub your fingers across it, and you moan as Simon fucks up into your face. Everything is sensations, the taste of his dick drooling into your mouth, the hot silky feel of it, his big thighs trembling around your head, your fingers on your clit and dipping down to your hole.

Simon is thrusting harder, faster, and you hear him gasp "look at me baby" as you whimper around him, so close already, wanting his come.

You look up at him, seeing his pink cheeks and open mouth and eyes so dark, Simon holds your head and fucks hard into you, bumping his cock at your throat, and your eyes roll back as he floods your mouth with come. Your fingers blur over your clit, and you clench your pussy on an orgasm, feeling your body go limp for a moment, held up around Simon's cock where he spills the last of his come over your tongue. You rub yourself through it, shuddering on an aftershock when the mess of drool and come spills over your lips, smeared by Simon's cock over your cheeks and chin. Fuck, so good, covered by his come, smelling like him and fingers wet with your own. Your brain is reeling under all the pleasure, still half-drunk, and when Simon lifts you up to his lap you go easily.

You flop into his neck, limp against him, and shudder when he takes your wet hand and licks it clean, fuck. You're properly out of it now, but still let Simon lick your mouth as well, soft and open as he cleans up his mess. A little kiss on your nose signals he's done, and you blink blearily at him, smiling. He's smiling too, nuzzling your faces together. So sweet. So cute. Your precious love, giving you his cock and his come and his heart.

Oh you want to marry him so bad. So much, gonna get on one knee next time instead of both.

Simon stills under you. "Uh...love? What was that?"

Hmm?? Oh, you don't know, you're tired now. Time to sleep, Simon.

"Baby- baby, no, come on, what was that last bit?"

You let yourself drift off on Simon's shoulder, smug in your victory. You did get to suck his dick.

~

Soap's phone buzzes and he pauses his goodbyes to Gaz and Price to check it.

Ghostie: Johnny

Soap: so did u get ur dick sucked lol

Ghostie: Johnny I think I got proposed to

Ghostie: Johnny what do I do she's asleep now. Do I ask about it? Ignore it??

Ghostie: Johnnny answer.me I'm fucking losing it

Soap can't answer, he's face down on the table wheezing with laughter, Gaz and Price staring big eyed at the texts on the phone.

Ghostie: Johnny I mean it i need help I have the ring in my drawer but do I still give it to her??

[sophies-junkyard]

While he’s still trending, this is your sign to explore Kendrick’s discography. He’s so much bigger than this beef with Drake (and the “beef” is so much bigger than “he hates Drake!” but I’m hoping we all know that by now). Here’s some ideas on where to start:

The GNX album has incredible range . From hype tracks like “Tv off” to the introspection of “reincarnated”. It’s a 10/10 (literally). If you only have the energy for one album, this is a solid pick. It’s a good way to sample what he’s about and see where he’s heading.

After that… I mean for me it’s gotta be Mr. Morale and the Big Steppers. How do I even explain this? People who were surprised by “Meet The Grahams” had CLEARLY never heard “Mother I Sober”. This album will leave you staring at the void in stunned silence. It’ll make you feel empty inside but like… in an addicting way. It’s a masterpiece. If you’re intimidated by the number of songs, I would AT LEAST hear “United in Grief” and “mother I sober”. (Drake directly referenced “mother I sober” in his track “family matters”. He aimed low while ALSO misinterpreting the story like a fucking clown. Embarrassing af lol.)

2015-To Pimp a Butterfly. Depending on who you ask, this is Kendrick’s best work, and uh… yeah it’s hard to disagree. This is Kendrick in his element. A brutally honest examination of racism and violence wrapped in some of his most aggressive vocals to date (and I mean he LITERALLY uses so much growl on these tracks). But the MUSIC is…. chill? It’s also varied as hell. It’s an evening of slam poetry backed by smooth jazz. Then he’ll hit you with a slick guitar riff and some panicked breathing into the mic. The album is crucial to understanding Kendrick as an artist. Picking standouts on this one feels stupid (and everybody has a different opinion) but “Alright” and “King Kunta” are classics. “I”, “How much a dollar cost”, “you ain’t gotta lie”, “the blacker the berry”…. I’m just gonna end up listing every song. I’m also a fan of the“for free-interlude” lol. Oh and “Mortal Man”. I honestly don’t think there are any skippable tracks on this one. Just let it flow.

His 2017 album DAMN was a major success, and was how I got into Kendrick. If high school parking lots came with an OST, “HUMBLE” would’ve been our Green Hill Zone. Idk if that made any sense. Point is, it was popular as fuck. “DNA” was another huge hit. The album sounds edgy and hyped, but the lyrics are an invitation for the audience to like… choose his fate. It’s all about judgement day. Growth, reconciliation, criticism of fame. It’s a shame that it got reduced to “omg humble is a banger!!”. The fact that Uncle Sam shouted at Kendrick to “TIGHTEN UP!” And he performed HUMBLE in response... Damn.

2011- good kid, m.A.A.d city. “Money trees” is a classic with a super chill beat. And the metaphor of “planting money trees” has become a huge part of his identity. Representing his literal desire to share the wealth with his community, and his desire to stay true to his roots. It was ALSO something Drake dissed him for “failing” to do (though his record of philanthropy says otherwise). The titular songs “good kid” and “m.A.A.d city” are iconic. “Swimming Pools” is often cited as his first big hit. Side note: The album cover featured a van (I think it was a Chrysler?) that became a symbol of Kendrick’s career. and Drake fucking destroyed it in one of his music videos. Bitch.

There’s so much. He also has a series of 6 songs called “the heart” that usually drop before a new album. He has a ton of other albums that I didn’t even mention because this post is way too long. I know I skipped a lot of bangers so please let me know about them. Also this post 100% assumes everyone has heard “6:16 in LA”, “Euphoria”, “meet the grahams” and “not like us” because… I mean come on. Ok that’s all. happy listening!

[scary-grace]

sips drink. I am going to need. [ ring ] for shigraki

Thank you for the prompt! As usual, I went a little berserk with it, and there is. so much smut in this. If you're not a fan/this is not the vibe, let me know and I'll write you a different one, or do a better job with your other prompts! 9k, AU with demons, succubus!reader, tons of smut. If you're a big fan of super dominant Tomura, this is not the fic for that. MDNI + thanks to @dogblessyoutascha for beta-reading on short notice and putting up with tons of yapping and fic about this guy.

wanted (if you want me)

a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

You're a down-on-your-luck succubus who just got rejected by the guy who summoned you, and you can't go back to Hell until you find somebody else's soul to steal. Shigaraki Tomura, reeling from a Valentine's Day rejection of his own, is the perfect victim. Or so you think. (cross-posted to Ao3)

“Sorry,” the guy who just summoned you says, sitting back from the pentagram he’s drawn on the floor with a frown. “You’re not my type.”

“I’m – what?” You feel stupid, which isn’t how you’re supposed to feel. You’re a demon, and a mortal’s just summoned you. You should feel powerful and lawless, not embarrassed. Not rejected. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re not my type,” the guy says again. He gestures awkwardly at you. “I was hoping for somebody – more.”

“Did you want a guy or something?” you ask. You cross your arms over your chest. Your clothes are barely worthy of the title, and you don’t want this guy seeing your nipples if he’s not even into them. “If you wanted a guy, you should have summoned an incubus. It’s not my fault you can’t read.”

“I like girls,” the guy snaps at you, rather than addressing the fact that you just called him a moron. “You were supposed to look like this.”

He picks up the grimoire he was reading the incantation out of and holds it up to you. It must be a new edition of the same old grimoire, because the last version of it you saw didn’t include illustrations. The illustration in question is a demon, identifiable as such by her horns and tail, but she looks about as much like you as you do like an angel straight from Heaven’s hideous art-deco gates. She’s got the kind of proportions that don’t work on Earth or in Hell – tiny waist, enormous breasts, ass that needs its own zip code, and her outfit is so tiny that you can see her nipples and her clit through it. And then there’s the face she’s making, straight out of some seedy erotic magazine, with blown-out pupils and open mouth and a delicate flush across her cheeks, all ready to be ruined.

Your outfit is skimpy, sure, but not that skimpy. You have the parts you need, but they aren’t that exaggerated, and if you tried that stupid expression, you’re pretty sure your face would melt off. If this is what this mortal expected, of course he’s disappointed to have gotten you.

His disappointment isn’t your problem, and now you’re in a mood. “Let me get this straight. You summoned a succubus – a sex demon from the depths of Hell – to fulfill your fantasies, and you’ve decided that now’s the time to get picky.”

“I’m not being picky,” he says. “Girls like you don’t do it for me. Can’t you send somebody else?”

“Sorry. All my sisters are seducing hotter mortals than you.” You feel a surge of pleasure at the way the man flinches. Guys like these – when they summon a succubus, they’re always thinking about the sex part, not the part where you’re a demon. “They took one look at you and decided I was all you deserved, and you know what? I don’t think you deserve me, either.”

“Well, I don’t want you, so –”

“In fact,” you continue, rising to your feet and internally cursing the fact that you decided to materialize in fuck-me heels, “I don’t think you deserve to get laid ever again.”

The mortal blanches. “What?” he demands, taking a step back as you step forward out of the pentagram. “You can’t leave the circle unless I say.”

“You really should look into those reading lessons. You’ll have a lot of time on your hands.” You were just going to lay the curse, but you decide that’s not enough. You nail him in the balls with a sharp kick, and as he doubles over, you speak, your voice crackling with the fires of Hell. “May your erections always wither, no matter how much porn you watch or how many drugs you take. May you disappoint every lover you take to your bed, and may that bed lie as cold and empty as the grave where they’ll bury your impotent corpse.”

It's a pretty good curse, if you say so yourself. “You bitch,” the mortal spits, but you snap your fingers and seal his fate. You know the moment the curse settles over him. You see the despair in his eyes. “Take it back!”

“No,” you say. You grasp his chin in one hand and lean in close, so close that your breath huffs out against his lips. You scraped your tongue for this guy. He deserves all this and more. “I’ll see you in Hell.”

His eyes roll up in his head and he collapses to the floor. You step over his unconscious form and survey the apartment you’ve found yourself in, dingy and filthy and smelling unpleasantly of human body odor. This is the kind of mortal who thought it was wise to reject you, just because you didn’t exactly resemble the absurd sketch in his grimoire. This is the kind of mortal who thought you weren’t good enough for him. Your lower lip begins to tremble, no matter how hard you sink your sharp teeth into it, and sulfuric tears begin to leak from your eyes. You were so excited to be summoned, so hopeful that you could do a good job for once. Now you just want to go home.

But you can’t. When you try to dematerialize and let Hell call you back, you can’t, and you realize why not in the same second as you realize that you didn’t curse that human nearly hard enough. You were summoned to this world to serve a purpose – to fuck some mortal so hard that they’ll sell you their soul – and until you serve that purpose, you’re trapped here. You need to find a mortal to sleep with, immediately. And you can’t go out looking like this.

You ransack the mortal’s apartment. None of his street clothes are anything you’d be caught exorcised wearing, but he has a long coat that he probably thinks makes him look mysterious and cool. You shrug it on, noting that it covers your skimpy outfit while still providing easy access to your body when it’s time to take it off, and keep searching, in case there’s anything else you can use. Money, as it happens – this human has a bank account and credit cards, and even unconscious, it’s all too easy to read his mind for the PIN. You pocket all of it, hide your demon form with a glamour, then leave the apartment door wide open on your way out.

As soon as you hit the street, though, you realize that you have an even bigger problem than you thought. You assumed it was some featureless winter evening, the kind where a bored, lonely mortal has nothing better to do than flip through a grimoire and get himself into trouble, but every storefront you look at is decorated with hearts. Every mortal you pass on the street is on someone else’s arm, or carrying flowers, or making out in the glow of a streetlight. It’s Valentine’s Day. You’re fucked.

Contrary to what humans like the idiot who summoned you think, Valentine’s Day isn’t actually about sex. Sex is a side effect of what Valentine’s Day is really about, which is romance. It’s about love and soulmates and tenderness and affection and forever, which is exactly nothing you know anything about. Succubi and incubi exist on the dark side of all of that, in its nasty, sleazy, prurient shadow. You don’t court, you seduce. You don’t make love, you fuck. You don’t show people the face of God, or whatever that dumb-ass musical says; you show them the gates of Hell and walk them through. Seducing a random mortal is a tall order for you on a given day. Seducing one on Valentine’s Day is going to be damn near impossible.

You feel tears welling up again and blink them back. Crying over rejection from a filthy, useless mortal was bad enough. Demons shouldn’t feel that kind of pain, and if they do, they shouldn’t wallow in it. Demons get the job done. And it’s not totally hopeless, when you force yourself to be honest about it. For all the mortals who are happily coupled, there are plenty who aren’t, and if the mortal who summoned you is anything to judge by, some of them aren’t averse to a little salacious, damnation-worthy fun.

As far as places to find single humans go, you’re spoiled for choice; while all the restaurants have Valentine’s Day specials for mortals out on a date with their special someone, it seems as though every club or bar is advertising an event for singles. You peer into a few bars, but none of them strike you as having the right mood. Most of them carry a pathetic air of hopefulness, as if the humans within believe they really might find someone to love tonight of all nights. You don’t need hopefulness. You need desperation. You need a human so lonely and desperate that they won’t question why a stranger wants to fuck them. If you were attractive in your human guise, you’d have a better shot, but apparently you aren’t. Only a human who’s truly desperate would go for you.

Finally you come across a bar where the mood seems a little more appropriate. Some sort of singles event is winding down as you come in, and you sense the despair beginning to set in. Most of the humans here could easily pair up with one of the others if they were willing to alter their standards, but humans have gotten entitled these days, and they all think they deserve a partner who matches their ideals. They cling to that fiction even as the mood in the bar worsens. They don’t need to settle. They’re holding out for true love.

Pathetic. You square your shoulders and wade into the mix.

The gender of your target doesn’t matter to you. It doesn’t even matter if they’re willing to sell their soul tonight – once you’ve fucked them, you can come back as many times as it takes for them to give it over. But even with your criteria broadened, you’re having trouble. As you search through the humans, tasting the flavor of their emotions every time you brush against one, you don’t find a single one who feels the way you need them to.

You taste sadness. Loneliness. Despair. Resignation or acceptance – sometimes they’re hard to tell apart. A few strange humans have even found refuge in faith, some idiosyncratic hope that they’ll find what they’re meant to find when the time is right, as if God has time to ordain such stupid things. On another night, you’d take pleasure in crushing their hopes, but your own hopes of getting out of here are sinking by the second. You need a human. Any human will do.

But just as you’re resigning yourself to seduce a woman, one whose loneliness carries just the faintest tinge of despair, you’re hit with a wave of exactly what you’ve been looking for. Not just despair, but disappointment. Not just loneliness, but hurt. Not just resignation, but frustration and embarrassment, at feeling hurt and disappointed and finding themselves here at all. You turn away from the woman without ever drawing her attention to you and follow the thread of rejection through the bar to a booth in the corner, where a mortal sits alone.

Along with the relief of finding a target at last, the first feeling that crosses your mind is surprise.  This isn’t the sort of mortal you’d expect to find alone on Valentine’s Day, just based on his looks alone – almost-delicate facial features, long white hair, a frame that’s broad-shouldered yet lithe, observable even when he’s seated. As you get closer, you see a birthmark below the corner of his mouth, scars over his mouth and eye, and long lashes framing his crimson eyes. This mortal is pretty. Some of your sisters don’t care what their targets look like, but you like your mortal men pretty.

The mortal looks up as you come to the edge of his table. He seems as surprised to see you as you are to see him. “You’re late to the party.”

“Apparently not, since you’re here. Do you mind if I sit down? My feet are hurting in these shoes.”

He looks down at your shoes, and just like you were hoping, his eyes trace upwards, over your bare ankle to your calf to your knee before it disappears beneath your stolen coat. “Go ahead,” he says. “There’s room.”

There’s plenty of room, but you sit down next to him anyway, your leg pressed against his. You feel him startle, feel him go tense, and decide it’s worth drawing attention to. “Did I scare you?”

“No,” he says, but you can hear his heart beginning to race. “Just wondering if this is a setup or something. People like you don’t usually want anything to do with people like me.”

“People like me?” you say. You turn towards him, elbow propped on the table, chin propped in your hand. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb,” your mortal says. “Looks like yours, there’s no way you’re single.”

You can’t imagine this mortal’s self-deprecating angle working on anyone, but the compliment makes you glow ever so slightly. “Strange. I was thinking the same about you.”

Your mortal doesn’t glow. He blushes. “Don’t lie.”

“Would I lie?” Yes, frequently and gleefully – but not right now. “You’re gorgeous.”

He scoffs, averts his eyes, but his heart’s beating faster. It’s cute, and since he’s opened this door, you might as well walk through. Time for a little touching. You start with the scar above his eye. “I like this, and this –” you trace the scar, then tuck a few strands of white hair behind his ear, letting your fingers graze across his cheek and down to his jaw before reaching the scar over his mouth. “And this –”

He speaks while your fingers are still against his lips. “Careful.”

“I’m being really careful,” you promise. You run your fingers over his mouth again, slow and teasing, then turn your attention to the birthmark. “And I like this. It really completes the picture. Whoever rejected you tonight, they were out of their mind.”

“I could say the same about whoever rejected you.” Your mortal’s hand brushes against your knee, then drifts away, and you shiver ever so slightly. You like this mortal. It’s always easier when you like them. “I saw you watching the rest of them. Why did you pick me?”

“Like I said, you’re gorgeous,” you say, and shrug. The shrug presses you a little closer against him, and you don’t pull back. “And you looked like you were having the same kind of night as I am. I thought we could make each other feel better.”

He gives you a skeptical look, but the flush in his cheeks gives him away. Oh, you like this one. Even if he gives you his soul tonight, you’ll come back to visit him at least a few more times. “How do you think we can do that?”

“By giving each other what we want,” you say. “Don’t you get tired of having to play a part, to be what someone else expects you to be, and never have your desires fulfilled? I could give you that.”

He scoffs. “You think you know what my desires are?”

“You’d tell me,” you murmur. “That’s the point.”

Your mortal’s skepticism doesn’t fade, but neither does his blush. “What about what you want? I don’t buy for a second that it’s just to sleep with me.”

The question gives you pause. It’s not one you’ve thought of before. Succubi don’t have sexual desires, really – your goal is always to seduce your target, which means it’s all about what your target wants. You aren’t very good at your job, but you’ve put up with all sorts of things, doing them or having them done to you, if it means the mortal you’re fucking will hand over their soul. What you want, personally, doesn’t factor in even slightly. What do you want from this mortal? You don’t know.

“You don’t know,” your mortal says, as though you’ve spoken aloud. His hand brushes against your leg again, settles there. “I’ll help you find out.”

“Only if you tell me what you want,” you insist, as he brushes your coat aside and finds your leg bare. His fingertips are dry and rough as they trail over your skin, brushing the inside of your thigh. “Oh –”

“Too much?” he asks. There’s an almost wicked glint in his eye.

You feel your own heart pick up the pace. This will be a challenge. You like a challenge. “Answer my question first. Every time you answer, you can move your hand.”

“I want you.”

“Wrong answer.” You close your legs, not that they were that far apart in the first place. You’re not easy. “I asked about your unfulfilled desires, and you just met me today. I can’t be the only thing you want.”

“Mm.” Your mortal makes a dissatisfied noise. Even as he leaves his hand in place, you see an awkwardness settle over him – nerves, or something like it. For such a gorgeous mortal, he’s an interesting contradiction. “I want – to be out of control.”

“Out of control?” You won’t open your legs just yet. “Tell me more.”

“You were right about me. I’m always doing what others want. I always have to be in control. I want to be outside my own control,” your mortal says. He can’t meet your eyes, and the flush in his cheeks looks almost uncomfortable. When you lean in to kiss it, his skin is hot beneath your lips. “I want someone else to –”

“Praise you? Worship you? Pleasure you until you can barely think?” You know you’ve got him by the sharp intake of breath, by the way he startles. “That would be my pleasure, too.”

You part your legs enough to free his hand, and his fingers, shaking slightly, work their way up the inside of your thigh. “What else?” you ask. “Be specific.”

“I want whatever you can give me.” He turns his head, looking away, which is an error on his part; it leaves his neck exposed, and you lean in to kiss it, feeling his pulse jump and race. “If I tell you it’s too much, I want you to give me more.”

“That was a good answer.” You part your legs a little further, and he takes it as the invitation it is. “Anything else?”

“I want to do the same to you,” your mortal says, and your face flushes. “It’s only fair. If you get to ruin me, I get to ruin you.”

Ruining him calls to mind all sorts of things, acts you’ve performed for other mortals by rote, acts you want nothing more than to perform for him, and the thought overwhelms you enough that you miss what he’s doing with his hand between your legs until he’s touching you, tracing your clit through the thin fabric. You realize with some degree of horror that you’re wet, and worse, that even his delicate touch has you spreading your legs wider. While you weren’t paying attention, your mortal made a bid for the upper hand, and he almost got it.

Not quite, though. You renew your efforts on his neck, feeling him shudder. You’ll do as he asks, as he desires – but not until he begs you, out loud, to give him what he needs. He shifts, squirms, in response to your attentions to his neck, much as you’re doing with his hand between your legs. “Mutual ruination,” you muse. “That sounds like a plan to me.”

Your hand’s been trapped at your side. You work it free and slip it behind his head, tangling your fingers in his hair. Then you turn him back to face you, drinking in the sight of him for a moment before you lean in to kiss him. The only way your mortal’s never had his desires fulfilled is if he’s never voiced them. You can’t imagine anyone looking at him, seeing him like this, and denying him what he wants.

Most mortals you’ve seduced lose patience with kissing quickly. The kind of mortals who summon a succubus only have one thing on their mind, but your mortal doesn’t know what you are. He kisses you eagerly, if inexpertly, and it’s only right for you to reward his enthusiasm. Besides, there’s something about kissing him that feels right, too right for the unholiness of what you are. If being with a mortal feels this good, you’re probably doing it wrong.

What does it matter? As long as you sleep with him, you’ll be free to return home. You’re a demon. Wrongness and rightness don’t factor in. You kiss your mortal carefully, paying some mind to the sharpness of your teeth and the delicateness of his skin. He’s less careful with his teeth. They nick your lip and blood wells out, and he licks it away without a moment’s hesitation. That flick of his tongue makes you consider other places it might belong, and you catch your breath. Or maybe it’s because he’s tugged your underwear aside to touch you directly, and you can no longer ignore the way he makes you feel.

You lean back, struggling to clear your head. A thought crosses your mind. “What’s your name?”

“Tomura.” Your mortal’s crimson eyes are dilated with want, the desperation you were so drawn to evident across his face. “Please –”

You kiss him again, and as he begins to finger you in earnest, stroking your clit and dipping his fingers shallowly inside you, you untangle your fingers from his hair and trace the inside of his thigh. Tomura startles at your touch, but spreads his legs at once, and your head spins with want. “How long have you wanted this?” you murmur against his lips. “Tell me.”

“Eternity.” Tomura twitches as you brush your hand over his groin before returning to toy with his thigh again. “But it’s not what they want me for. Nobody asked what I wanted until you.”

“Then they were missing out.” You bite back a gasp as Tomura sinks two fingers inside you, curling them just so, but his touch is only half the reason – the other half is the thought that you’re the first to see him this way, the only one to see him this way. “If they could see how pretty you are like this –”

“Do you want them to?”

“No,” you decide at once. You brush your hand over his groin again, noting how tightly his pants are stretched over his hardening cock. “I want you all to myself.”

His body jerks, craning upwards into your touch. “Now,” he says, almost demands. “I need it now.”

“People could see,” you warn. “If they walk by, they’ll know we’re up to something. Do you care about that?”

“Yes,” Tomura says, and you run your thumb over the tip of his cock through his pants. His body jerks, and you do it again. Again. “Fuck –”

“We can leave whenever you want,” you say, even as your body tenses around his fingers. You feel wound tight, your legs shaking from the strain, your lungs feeling as though they can’t hold on to even a single whisper of air. Mortals have choked you before while you’re seducing them and it’s never been like this. “Tell me to stop and we’ll go.”

Tomura doesn’t tell you to stop. You undo his belt, unzip his pants, and the instant your hand closes around his cock, he moans, loud enough to attract attention if anyone from the failed singles event is still around. He’s embarrassed by it – you can tell – but he doesn’t tell you to stop, and you keep stroking his cock. “So pretty,” you say, your voice catching as the heel of his hand presses against your clit. “Does that feel good? Let me make you feel even better.”

You grasp his wrist and pull his hand from between your legs, thankful for the reprieve. Tomura tastes his fingers, savoring them in a way that makes you feel almost awkward. “I wasn’t done.”

“No, but you’re about to make a mess.” You give a pointed glance down at his cock, which is oozing enough precum to stain his underwear. “I’ll be right back.”

There’s plenty of space for you under the table, and better yet, you’re out of sight, which means Tomura can’t see your reaction to the way he spreads his legs for you. And you haven’t vanished a moment too soon. You can hear footsteps approaching, and you sit forward and take his cock in your mouth just as the newcomers arrive.

“You sure you need this whole booth when you’re by yourself?” whoever it is asks. You hear Tomura start to answer, but you suck lightly on the tip of his cock, forcing him to bite back a curse. “What is your problem?”

“No problem,” Tomura grunts. You put your tongue to use, tracing it over his tip as you wrap your hand around the rest of his length. “Fuck – fuck off. There are other places to sit.”

The newcomer might say something else, but you can’t hear it around your own heartbeat thudding in your ears. Tomura wants you. He wants you so badly that he’s letting you blow him in public, that he won’t tell you to stop even when the two of you might be caught. The instant the other mortal leaves, you’re cradling his balls in your free hand, then sliding your hand a little further to press against his taint. Tomura’s entire body jerks and trembles. “Careful,” he forces out between gasps of air. “I’m going to – come –”

You wish you weren’t under the table, even if being under the table is necessary to contain the mess. You wish you could see Tomura’s face as his composure shatters, as he tries and fails to thrust upwards into your mouth and spills a ridiculous amount of cum down your throat. But he’s not quite out of control, not yet, and if you’re going to steal his soul, you really should give him what he wants first. You keep stroking his cock even as the shaking subsides, your tongue still dragging over his tip. He hasn’t gone soft just yet. You’re kind of impressed.

You’re impressed, too, with how he holds out. You know you’re overstimulating him, but he hasn’t told you to stop yet. And he asked you to keep going even if he told you it was too much. Still, you don’t like the idea of hurting your mortal. You renew your efforts, employing all the tricks you’ve learned to keep mortal men hanging on your every move, and to your shock, Tomura comes again. This time he’s almost sobbing, and you draw back at once, climbing out from under the table to check on your handiwork.

There are scratches in the couch cushions and on the tabletop, and both the napkins that were on the table have been crumpled out of existence. Tomura looks wrecked. He’s been yanking at the collar of his shirt, running his hands through his hair, and his face is flushed and sweaty. His eyes are blurred, and he’s still breathing hard, but when you lean in to kiss him, he obliges instantly. He’s unsteady, and yet there’s a strange hunger in the way he kisses you, a hunger that takes yours and amplifies it in a way you can’t quantify, let alone guard against. You find yourself melting into his touch, needing closeness, needing contact. And he gives it to you.

You’ve only just settled into a languid pace, your hands in his hair and his arms wrapped firmly around your waist, when someone smacks a server’s tray down on the table and startles you out of it. It’s the bartender. “Do you mind?” she demands, her face red. “This isn’t that kind of place! Take it outside.”

That’s fine with you. A little PDA is one thing, but whatever happens next between you and Tomura, you want privacy for it. You start to slide out of the booth, but Tomura won’t let you. He kisses you again, and you realize he’s giving himself cover to button his pants. But as long as you’re here – “What did I just say?” the bartender explodes. “Get out!”

You and Tomura stumble out onto the street, and the instant the door shuts behind you, Tomura pins you against it to kiss you again. “Does that feel good?” he asks, the same question you asked him earlier. You didn’t give him a chance to answer, and he doesn’t give you one, either. “Let’s go somewhere. You’re not the only one who doesn’t like to share.”

“Where should we go?” you ask. “I’d rather not go to a love hotel. Your place?”

He hesitates for a moment. “My place. Come on.”

You kiss on the train platform, mostly to keep out the cold, but on the train, you find yourself simply looking at Tomura, talking to him. You find out that he got rejected tonight, too, and came to the bar to mope about it. “They’re nothing. Their opinions don’t matter,” he says. Even his disdain sounds like yours. “That doesn’t change how it feels.”

“I know,” you say. You lean against him, your head on his shoulder, your left hand intertwined with his right. “My – date – said I wasn’t his type, then showed me this ridiculous drawing –”

“May his dick shrivel up and fall off,” Tomura says matter-of-factly, and you find yourself giggling. “If you aren’t enough for him, he doesn’t deserve to have any at all. Still –”

He trails off. “His loss, my gain.”

“You’re just saying that because I blew you.”

Tomura snorts. “Don’t be stupid. You asked what I wanted. Nobody’s ever asked me that. That’s not what I’m for.”

“What do you mean?” you ask. He doesn’t strike you as a sex worker – he’s too earnest, too vulnerable, in how he responds to you for it to be his day job. He shrugs, shakes his head. “I think you’re for whatever you want to be for. That’s how you are to me.”

His grip on your hand tightens for a moment, then loosens again, fingers tangling with yours. A strange spark, like an electric shock, ripples across your hand, and you look down to see an odd shadow around your ring finger. That wasn’t there before, but then again, you’ve never spent this long in the mortal world without fulfilling your purpose. “What about you?” Tomura asks. “Why don’t you know what you want?”

“I never thought about it before.” Some of your sisters enjoy their jobs, but it’s always felt like a job to you. Something to get through, so you can go home. “It hasn’t really mattered.”

“It matters now,” Tomura says. “When we get back to my place, I’ll show you.”

Tomura’s place is in a downtown high-rise, the third floor from the top of the building, and he gives you long enough to finally step out of your awful shoes before he peels you out of your jacket. For a single moment you’re convinced you’re about to see the same reaction as the mortal who summoned you, but instead Tomura’s eyes travel slowly over your form, lingering in every place you’d expect and a few places you didn’t. “This picture he showed you,” he says. “The one he thought was better than you. What did it look like?”

“Uh –” Where do you start, really? “The proportions were totally off. Its waist was tiny, and its breasts were huge –”

“Huh.” Tomura’s hands are at your waist, running over the curve from torso to hip and back with a firm, steady touch. One stays there, but the other migrates upwards, cupping your breast through your scant clothing. “What else?”

“It had this stupid outfit on. Like, way smaller than mine. You could see everything,” you say. Tomura’s thumb brushes over your nipple, then comes back to circle it, and heat begins to pool in your lower abdomen. “It barely covered her nipples – or her clit. It just looked kind of – I mean, I can hang in there with the best of them, but –”

Your voice catches. Tomura’s hand slides from your waist down between your legs, stroking your clit with his middle finger. His touch is featherlight, compared to the way he’s playing with your nipple, pinching and tugging it, making you squirm. “What else?” he prompts.

“The stupid face she was making. It was straight out of a porno – like, one of the really cheap ones. What some guy who’s never seen a woman come before would –” You startle as Tomura’s fingers slip further between your legs, then sink easily into you. “Tomura –”

“This drawing sounds like a fucking mess,” Tomura says. He reaches down and grasps your thigh, hiking your leg up around his waist and leaving you even more exposed for him. “I want to see the real thing.”

He wants you to come for him. You know how to fake a convincing orgasm – or an unconvincing one, depending on the target – but you don’t want to fake for Tomura. You promised him he can have what he wants, and he wants this, you. Your chest goes tight. “I don’t know if I can, like this.”

“I’ve got lots of ideas.” Tomura kisses you, and that need to melt into him resurfaces, even as your body responds to his onslaught. “Show me.”

You try to keep kissing him, but you can’t. Your legs are shaking again, and it’s hard to breathe, and you have to draw back to gasp for air. Somewhere in the back of your mind is the thought that this isn’t how it’s supposed to happen, that something went wrong in your seduction of this mortal if he’s the one trying to please you, but it’s stifled by other, more pressing matters. The heat flooding through you, the awful and yet indescribable exposure of your legs spread this way, Tomura’s hand anchoring you so you can’t pull back off his fingers until he’s done with you.

Or until you’re done with him. You come hard enough to blur your vision, hard enough that your legs almost give out, and Tomura keeps his fingers inside you until your twitching and squirming subsides. When he draws them back, you can see that his hand is soaked. He brings them to his mouth to taste them again, and you spot a shadow around his fourth finger. It can’t hold your attention for long. “That was good,” he decides. “But I want to see more.”

“More?” Your voice is shaky, and you’re hanging onto Tomura for dear life. “What do you mean?”

“You said I could have what I wanted,” Tomura reminds you. “This way.”

You follow him down the hall on shaky legs, into a bedroom with an enormous bed. Finally. You’re not getting into bed with Tomura still wearing your horrible outfit, so you peel it off, then turn to help him with his clothes. You undress him slowly, kissing every inch of skin you uncover, trying to regain some of your lost composure. But it’s hard to compose yourself when there’s so much of him to explore, to praise. So pretty, so noisy, so needy even when there’s no need for it – because you want him to have what he wants, and you want to be the one who gives it to him. The only one who gives it to him.

And that’s what you find yourself murmuring, as you guide him down to the bed to lie on his stomach, as you brush his long hair aside to kiss his back and his shoulders. I have what you need. Everything you need. You’re mine.

Tomura’s breathing turned quick and shallow a while ago, worse as you kiss the small of his back, the arch of his hip. He stirs beneath you. “I want to see more,” he says. “On your back.”

He’ll fuck you now, and he’ll come, and then you can finally go home. You spread your legs, leaving room for him to settle between them, and he does – much further down than you expected. He anchors your hips to the bed before you can stop him, holding you down with strong hands as he lowers his head between your thighs. The way his hair brushes against them tickles. The marks he leaves on them are oversensitive, making your legs twinge long before his tongue drags over your clit, and you wonder how you’ll explain the marks when you get back to Hell. How you’ll explain the fact that this mortal seduced you almost as skillfully as you seduced him.

Tomura eats you out messily, enthusiastically, until you’re arching your back and thrashing in his grip. The heat of his mouth against you, the pressure of his tongue against your clit or the way it feels when he licks inside of you – it all feels almost sinful. Too good for you to have, too good to want more of, too good not to beg him to keep going. You can barely manage to praise him for it, but when you do, his grip on your hips tightens and he grinds against the mattress. It’s wrong. There’s something wrong, and you want it so badly, and for the first time, you understand a little bit of why humans are so quick to sell their souls.

Tomura makes you come once, then a second time while you’re still trying to recover, and you barely manage to scramble away before he can slide his fingers inside you and try for a third. “What happened to not being in control?” you ask, and he shrugs, half a smirk on his face. “Lie down. It’s my turn.”

You crawl over him as he lies back, tasting yourself on his lips when you lean down for a kiss. Tomura relaxes so easily for you now, so much that he lets you grasp his hands one by one, raising them above his head. For the first time since you cloaked your true form, you engage in a little bit of demon magic. Enough to conjure restraints, and tie Tomura’s hands to the headboard before he can so much as open his eyes.

You’ve shocked him. You can see it, and better yet, you can feel it, in the way his skin heats up and his heart races. “You said you didn’t want control,” you remind him. “And I said I’d pleasure you until you couldn’t think.”

“Are you?” Tomura’s voice goes raspy. He watches you with wide eyes as you shift further down on the bed. “What are you going to do?”

“Everything.”

You learned all sorts of magic in the course of stepping into your role as a succubus, but this is the first time in a while that you’ve used any of it. And it’s for small things – the restraints on Tomura’s hands, the feather you conjure to trace all over his body until he squirms, the lube you coat your fingers with before you start working them inside him. Tomura doesn’t stop you, but he has a request. “Don’t fuck me like that. Not tonight.”

“Just my fingers,” you promise, and he nods, his eyes dark with need. “Whatever you want.”

You haven’t had the chance to watch Tomura come yet, and you get a chance as you finger him to an orgasm. He takes your breath away, your mortal – so pretty, so vulnerable, so loud and expressive and lost in it that you can’t help but stroke his cock with your free hand while you work him up a second time. In an ordinary seduction, with an ordinary target, now is when you’d stop. Now, when all he can do is beg for you, now when he’d give you anything to keep going; right now is when you’d ask for his soul in exchange. You know how to phrase it so that the mortals never guess what they’re truly giving up. It would be easy.

And it’s not what you want. There aren’t words for how much you don’t want that. Not when you’ve earned your mortal’s trust, not when he’s certain enough that you’ll give him what he wants that he doesn’t feel shame in begging for it. You know Tomura’s close when he starts squirming away from your fingers rather than clenching down on them. “Ride me,” he pants. “Ride my cock.”

Demon magic cleans your hands, and you slip down onto his cock with only a little strain. “You’re perfect,” you tell him as he stares helplessly up at you. “We fit so well –”

Tomura’s hips jerk upwards beneath you, making you gasp. “If we fit so well, come on my cock,” he pants. He’s been yanking at the restraints. You made them soft, but his wrists are chafed. “I need you to. I can’t – fuck, I need you –”

You’ve never needed a mortal before. You’ve never needed anyone before, but you need him, enough that doing what he asks doesn’t feel far-fetched at all. You ride him slowly, finding an angle that suits you, realizing how sore you are in the same moment. It’s been a hard night’s work. Usually mortals can’t keep up with you, and usually it feels like work. Tomura’s fingers curl and uncurl uselessly as he fights the restraints, and you reach up to grasp them, to hold them steady. And that’s when you notice it – the same shadow marking around his fourth finger as around yours.

Where did that come from? What is that? The restraints you conjured vanish in the space of a single heartbeat, and Tomura’s hands clamp down on your hips, guiding you as he thrusts upwards. His hair is glued to his forehead with sweat, to his chest and his shoulders and the sides of his neck, and the same heat writhes beneath your own skin as Tomura takes control over your pace. His thrusts are unsteady, but every time, he finds the angle you need him to.

You can’t breathe. You can barely think. Everything narrows down to heat and pressure and friction and pleasure and agony, because your body’s wrung out and still needs more, because Tomura’s falling apart beneath you and pressing his thumb over your clit to take you down with him. Pleasure explodes through you, collapsing you on top of Tomura. His grip on you barely loosens, even as your efforts to hold onto anything fall away. Anything includes your human guise.

Damn it. You untangle yourself from Tomura as quickly as possible, only to tuck yourself in against his side, uncomfortably relieved when he holds you tight. If you keep your tail under control and he doesn’t get a good look at you, he’ll never know what you really were. He’ll know something’s up, though. When he wakes up and finds that you’ve vanished out of this world, leaving evidence only in the chafe-marks around his wrists and the taste of you still on his tongue, he’ll know there was something strange about you. And he’ll have a lot of questions when you come back.

And you will come back. That’s the only thing that makes the knowledge that you’re mere moments from being drawn back to Hell bearable. Most of the time you can’t wait to leave your targets, whether you’ve collected their souls or not. This time, though – “I don’t want to leave yet.”

But you weren’t the only one speaking. Tomura said the same thing, on the off-beats as you spoke. “You’re leaving?” you ask. “This is your house. Where are you going?”

“Where are you going?” Tomura retorts. His grip on you tightens further – tight enough to bruise, if you were human or mortal. “What –”

He sits up suddenly, pulling you with him. Hell is pulling you back, but not quickly enough. Tomura looks at you, sees you – sees your horns, sees your tail, which is lashing anxiously in spite of your efforts to calm yourself. But you see him, too. You see the ram’s horns curling from beneath his white hair, the sharpness of his teeth. He’s not trying to control his tail at all. It wraps around your leg tightly. “You’re a demon.”

“So are you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t you know?” You try to separate yourself from him. Tomura should be letting go of you, should be shoving you away, but he’s still holding on, tighter every time you try to pull away. “Let go. If they find out –”

The world tears open around the two of you, well before you can pull away, and Hell pulls you back in at warp speed.

You don’t end up back in the spot you dematerialized from, and you doubt Tomura does, either. The two of you crash down on a rocky plateau, just on the outskirts of one of the cities, a desolate place no one comes to unless they’ve been cast out to wander amongst the souls of the dead. Why are you here? Is it because you came back together? Maybe that’s why – it couldn’t return you to your separate summoning locations when you’re so close together, so it split the difference and dropped you off here. Maybe there’s still time for you to hide this.

“Wow,” a familiar voice announces from somewhere behind you, and your heart sinks, “have the two of you fucked up.”

Tomura swears under his breath. “Is that your boss?”

Your boss, or your mother – nobody’s clear on which. Nemuri is picking her way through the jagged stones towards you, a vicious smirk on her face. “I can explain,” you start. “It’s not –”

“I tricked her,” Tomura interrupts. You stare at him in horror. “It was me. Not her.”

“No,” you snap. “I seduced him. I’m the one who –”

“I’m sure you believe that.” Nemuri’s smirk broadens, showing her fangs. “You’re so pathetically incompetent that –”

“Now, now, Nem. Let’s not let my guy off the hook here.” The new voice, loud and rich and full of almost-insane laughter, can only belong to another elder demon. Like Nemuri, he’s wearing a vicious smirk. “Remember, my guy’s the one who got rejected by his summoner and packed it in for the evening. At least yours gave it a second shot.”

“That’s my boss,” Tomura mumbles. “Fuck.”

“In fact,” Tomura’s boss continues, “one could argue that your girl’s off the hook. She did her job. It’s not her fault that my guy’s aura of misery was so strong that it made him actually look human. Or that he was so desperate to be wanted by somebody that he forgot to check whether she was actually a demon trying to steal his soul.”

Tomura’s shoulders hunch, and a surge of anger runs through you. “When you put it that way, Hizashi, it does sound like my nymphet is off the hook,” Nemuri says. “But when your pathetic little imp tried to take the fall for her, she wouldn’t let him. It seems they’re terrible at everything demonic, lying included. They’re telling the truth.”

“They really did seduce each other,” Hizashi muses. “That’s cringe.”

“More importantly, it’s against the rules.” Nemuri’s standing over you. Hizashi joins her, and the two of them leer down at you and Tomura, practically licking their lips. “Whatever shall we do with them?”

There aren’t many punishments that can affect demons – you’re basically gluttons for it. Then again, there aren’t many rules for demons to break. “I’m not sure,” Hizashi says. “Offer them up to Heaven for punishment? Banish them to the mortal world until the trumpets sound? Throw them out to wander with the restless dead forevermore?”

You might not love your job, but you have your sisters. If you’re cast out, you’ll never see them again. The only thing worse would be getting thrown to Heaven as an offering, one of Hell’s not-infrequent tithes to keep the peace. Tomura’s tail wraps around your waist, and you cover his left hand with your right as you wait for your fates to be decided. The thought crosses your mind, pointlessly, that you won’t spend an eternity of exile entirely alone. You’ve dragged someone else down with you, which might be the most demonic thing you’ve ever done in your life.

“Now that I think about it,” Nemuri says, her smirk broadening still further, “I don’t think we need to punish them – not when they’ve punished themselves so effectively.”

“What does that mean?” Tomura snaps. Hizashi is guffawing, his voice echoing off the jagged rocks. “Don’t laugh. What does that mean?”

“What does it mean, you gloomy brat?” Hizashi wipes at his eyes, still chuckling. “Take a look at your hands, both of you.”

You let go of Tomura’s and lift your own. Your right hand is clear, but your left – you remember noticing the shadow around your fourth finger, feeling the faint spark as it darkened a little further. It’s not a shadow anymore. Instead it’s a thin golden shackle, encircling your finger below your knuckle. No, not a shackle. A ring.

It won’t come off. You yank on it, try to dig your nails beneath it, but it won’t come off. Next to you, Tomura’s doing the same, cursing fluently, and Hizashi and Nemuri are laughing at you both, leaning on each other to stay upright. “It’s the first rule we teach you all when you’re spawned. No fucking your own kind, and this is why!” Hizashi is laughing almost too hard to speak, while you try to chew your ring off and Tomura breaks his own finger trying to remove his. “Thanks to your little tryst, the two of you are bound forever in unholy matrimony!”

“My congratulations to the happy couple,” Nemuri says. “The two of you are never going to live this down. You’ll be the laughingstocks of Hell. You’re going to beg us to banish you!”

“And we won’t,” Hizashi says. “I can’t think of a better object lesson than the two of you. We send you to the mortal realm to collect souls, and not only did you end up fucking each other, you didn’t commit a single demonic act!”

“I cursed somebody,” you protest.

“Me too,” Tomura says. “The mortal who –”

You remember what Tomura said about the mortal who rejected you: May his dick shrivel up and fall off. “You cursed the same mortal,” Nemuri says. She pauses a moment. “I will admit, it’s a fairly creative curse. The imp’s little add-on will make a nice insult to the injury.”

You’re better at cursing mortals than you are at seducing them, but you can’t imagine Tomura’s bad at it. Not with the way he worked you over. You duck your head to hide the heat coming up in your face. “Well, we’ll leave the two of you to enjoy your honeymoon,” Hizashi says. He shrugs off the ornate robe he’s wearing and drops it on the ground in front of you, revealing body chains, nipple piercings, and nothing else. “Wear this on your way back into the city. Maintain a little dignity.”

“Here, imp. Just for you.” Nemuri drops her robe over Tomura’s head, and he shoves it off into the dust. “Everyone’s going to know about your little bout of lovemaking, but I imagine you’d prefer if they didn’t know exactly how you’ve been chewing on each other.”

The two of them stroll back towards the city, arm in arm, still laughing. It’s a long time before their laughter fades, and then you and Tomura are alone on the outskirts. The wind, blowing hot a moment before, changes direction, growing cold and carrying sharp shards of ice. You put on Hizashi’s robe, then turn towards Tomura. He’s already shivering, arms crossed and shoulders hunched, Nemuri’s robe discarded in front of him. You pick it up and settle it back around his shoulders, shifting his hair aside so it won’t get caught beneath the collar – and then you realize what you’re doing. You freeze. “Sorry.”

Tomura shrugs, but the robe stays on. “You’re better at this than your boss says you are,” he says without looking at you. “I believed you.”

“I’m worse than she says I am,” you say. “I wasn’t lying.”

Tomura looks up at that, and you look away, your eyes stinging in the freezing wind. You never lied to Tomura, not from the moment you approached him. This would be so much less embarrassing if you had. If you’d listened to any of the moments where you sensed that it was going a little too well, that it felt a little too good. If you’d kept your distance instead of falling under his spell as quickly and easily as he fell under yours. “Your boss was talking out of his ass. Your whole thing worked really well on me.”

“Yeah. Except it wasn’t a thing.” Tomura’s tail wraps loosely around your wrist. “Mutual ruination. You were right.”

He’s got your right wrist. You study your left hand with its ring, and Tomura lifts his alongside yours. His ring looks the same as yours, although he’s dislocated his fourth finger in addition to having broken it. “Want me to fix that?”

“Demon magic doesn’t fix things.”

“It’s not supposed to marry people, either.” You’re not expecting that argument to work, but Tomura lets you capture his hand anyway. You relocate it manually, then try to work some magic over it. All your magic serves to make a seduction easier, so it shouldn’t be hard to twist it into something you can use for the sake of your – “I think it worked. How do you feel?”

“Like I fucked up,” Tomura says. Fair enough. “And I’m not sorry.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” Tomura’s hands slip inside your stolen robe, settling into the same place he was holding on as you rode him. “This isn’t that weird. Mortals do it all the time.”

“Except mortals who get married in Vegas can get divorced,” you point out. Somebody has to play angel’s advocate here, even if you’re already unfolding yourself from seated so you can get into his lap. “We didn’t even make any vows.”

“You did,” Tomura says. “I heard you say it.”

You’re mine. Is that really all it took? It makes a certain kind of sense, when you force yourself to look at it honestly. Mortals almost never doom themselves consciously. It’s always a moment of weakness, a split-second lapse, an instant where desire rules over reason. “Then you can break us up. Since I’m the only one who vowed anything.”

“No way.” Tomura’s lips brush the side of your neck, making your nerves twinge. “I agreed.”

You set your hands on his shoulders and push him backwards, and he goes willingly. The way he’s looking up at you counts as a sin all on its own – crimson eyes half-lidded, pupils already dilating, his cheekbones already dusted with pink. “Did you figure out what you want yet?”

“I have some ideas,” you say. You collect his hands from your waist and pin them on either side of his head, leaning down for a long, slow kiss. “But I’ll start with you.”

[acmeangel]

♡ For my Valentine's Week Event! ♡ SFW fluffy!!! ♡ Modern!Levi x Reader ♡ Short one shot, fluffy ♡ Summary: It's your first Valentine's Day with Levi—what does he do? (I built this around one of my headcanons from here!)

"This is fucking ridiculous," Levi muttered under his breath as he navigated the uncharacteristically disastrous war zone that was his kitchen. As he held up the recipe, leaving flour-coated finger prints on it, his eyes scanned over the same step repeatedly, his brow cinched with exasperation.

"What the hell does it mean to cream butter?" he griped, turning the paper over, as if it magically would have new instructions on it. "Who in their right mind would assume everyone knows what that means?"

He set his hands down on the counter, sighing with frustration, as he took in the sights of his attempt to make sugar cookies—your favorite—though he'd internally drawn the line at heart-shaped cookie cutters. It was Valentine's Day, the first one you'd be spending together.

While you'd reassured him repeatedly that you weren't expecting him to do anything, that you'd be more than happy to just spend a night in together, he saw the way your eyes sparkled when you saw the pink and red Valentine's Day window displays at every store you passed by. He was determined not to mess this up—he felt lucky that he'd even been able to win you over in the first place, given his lack of "game" as Erwin had called it.

Levi was never one for grand gestures—and that wasn't about to change on a whim—so he'd decided on baking your favorite treat, making you dinner, and giving you flowers. For him, this was considered over-the-top.

What Levi hadn't expected was how goddamned complicated it was to make sugar cookies. He'd barely managed to create something that resembled dough, when he checked the time and realized that you'd be arriving soon.

"Shit," he mumbled, his kitchen still in disarray, and dinner not even started. At least, he thought, I managed to get the flowers. He'd picked up a bouquet of your favorite flowers earlier that day, which sat on the kitchen table, away from the disaster zone.

Before he could reconsider his plan or come up with a backup, he heard the sound of your key in the lock to the front door (he'd only just recently given you your own key). Moments later, you appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, stopping in your tracks as you took in the sight.

You started laughing—you couldn't help it.

"Levi," you said, a smile beaming on your face, "what in the world is going on in here?"

His expression turned classically grumpy, the tips of his ears turning red with embarrassment.

"They make these recipes impossible to follow," he said, defensively, holding up the recipe for you to see. "I couldn't explain to you what half of this is telling me to do."

You laughed again, stepping further into the kitchen, dodging the messes that were surely driving Levi to his breaking point.

"Let me see that," you said, an amused smile on your face as you took the paper from him, scanning over it briefly. "Sugar cookies, hm?"

"Yeah," he mumbled, his eyes studying your expression, "I wanted to make them for you. I know you like them."

Your expression softened as you put down the recipe and looked at him, your hand reaching up to gently brush away a smudge of flour from his forehead.

"Levi," you said, your voice soft and filled with affection for this man who was really trying his best to make you happy, "you didn't have to do all this. But, I appreciate it. Really."

One of the corners of his lips tugged into a half-smile. "I didn't fuck up entirely. I got you flowers." He nodded toward the table where the bouquet was waiting for you.

"Mmm, I can see that," your voice dipped just above a whisper. "Thank you, Levi."

You leaned in, your lips meeting his for a soft, flour-coated kiss.

"This recipe really isn't that complicated, though," you added, a loving tease. "I'll show you later, and then I'll let you go to town cleaning this kitchen."

"Ah," he said, his arm sliding down to wrap around your waist and draw you in closer, "you know just what I want."

You giggled, your arms slinging behind his neck. "That's because I love you, Levi."

"Love you, too," he replied, a faint raise to his eyebrow as he added, "But next year, I'm taking you out, instead."

♡ Participate in my Valentine’s Week Event! Rules are here.

♡ Requested by anonymous

♡ Masterlist

[dontcallpanic]

@violetfairydust tagged me for the WIP whenever (thank you so so so much!) - and just so you know, your snippet totally unhinged me to the point where I'm going about my day trying to work out what on earth is going on like I've just witnessed some stranger drama on the street!

So in moments where I'm not going feral over sterek snippets I managed to write the meetcute for my strange small town au! So dyma ti! Mwynhau!

________________________________

“Ohshitsorry,” Stiles says, the sounds merging into one, muffled behind his hand, the faint blossoming of pain spreading across his cheekbones. He blinks past his watering eyes and squints at the stranger.

Oh good fucking god.

His eyes go wide. His jaw drops.

Standing in front of him, looking exceptionally pissed off, is the literal most beautiful man Stiles has ever seen. For real.

At this point in his life, he’s seen a lot of men. He likes to think that he’s somewhat of a good judge when it comes to guys, given his bisexuality and his… well… eyes. And this guy – this guy… is literally breathtaking.

Into their silence Madonna sings far too loudly.

I looked into your eyes and my world came tumbling down.

Stiles clears his throat and huffs a laugh, a flush of awkwardness constricting his chest as he takes in the perpetual scowl across the strangers face.

“Woah, sorry dude I didn’t see you there.” He tries to hold his hands up, half in surrender and half on the way to scrub a hand through his hair. Instead he ends up hitting himself in the chest and then the chin with his basket.

He stumbles back with a yelp. The one lone orange tumbles out of his basket and rolls across the floor.

“I didn’t expect you to move.” Somehow, the stranger makes it sound like an accusation rather than an apology – or even an explanation.

Which. Rude?

Stiles clears his throat, glancing up to meet the strangers angry oh-shit-they're-gorgeous eyes. It's like staring directly into the sun so he glances away, looking around the store, uncharacteristicly embarrassed.

Unfortunately, that makes it worse.

All around him the shop has frozen.

There's the tiny old lady from yesterday still holding some broccoli halfway to her trolley, staring with open interest at them. Across the store, the checkout guy has frozen mid scan with his mouth open. The customer he's serving doesn't seem to mind because she is also gawking. The store assistant across the aisle is even paused with a large box tucked under his arm, frozen in the middle of re-stocking the shelf. The expression on his angelic face can only be described as horrified.

It's as if he's bumped into a celebrity or something, rather than some random plaid-clad lumberjack model.

“Look, dude, I'm really sorry,” he says, skipping out the way, ducking his eyes down to de-escalate whatever the fuck is happening here.

Madonna is still singing about falling in love with a beautiful stranger and Stiles just wants the sticky lino floor to open up and eat him whole.

“No harm done?” he asks, still looking everywhere but at the guy. He hears the stranger grunt an acknowledgement, watches his boots step towards the apples then back as he just... turns and walks away.

Stiles stares at the guys retreating back and frowns, scrubbing the back of his neck thoughtfully as around him, bit by bit the shop returns to normal. Everyone seeming to breathe a sigh of relief.

Just who the hell was that guy?

And what the fuck was that?

____________________________

Thank you SO much for the tag cariad!! And no pressure whatsoever tags to: @patolemus @gege-wondering-around @seaweed-water @hellameyers

[luckymousey]

Thoughts about Trey's dream (parts 257-268) (mostly things I liked)

Hey! I’m back!

Today I managed to start and finish Trey’s dream, let’s start!

Man, they even uploaded Riddle’s dream by now, I need to watch it, I don’t have enough time, help

⚠️English is not my first language and there will be spoilers for those who still haven't seen Trey's dream⚠️

Warnings?: possible swearing and grammatical mistakes

They arrive at Trey’s dream and I fucking hope they deepen up in Trey and Cater’s relationship (I write at the same time as I watch because it’s easier this way for me (I have short term memory) so I still don’t know what’s going to happen next, just to let you know)

Ace posing for the camera mid-travelling? What the hell? How!? Like, Cater filming the whole fly is easy to understand, but weren’t they flying way too fast to pose? My man here is unaffected by wind or what? 🤨 Or are they going as fast as a roller coaster?

Deuce is definitely getting his magic wheel’s driver license before the car’s one, I can feel it, he even wanted to make a magic wheel club before.

I can’t believe I was right, almost no one in Heartslabyul gets dizzy because of this type of travelling (though Cater gave another explanation, maybe i didn’t hit right in the spot)

Yo, if the Mirror of Darkness judges the dizziness resistance (I don’t know what it’s called, but you get me, right) does Heartslabyul have a big gap in number of students compared to the rest of the dorms? (I know it’s more of the sound thing, but just a question I had)

Ace being offended by the fact that we didn’t go to Deuce and he first, like, I WOULD’VE loved to go to you first, but I just couldn’t choose what dream I wanted to go first, ok? You understand? (And his dream broke my heart too many times)

AND NOW ITS POSSIBLE TO FLIGHT WITH 10 PEOPLE, MAN, SILVER IS DRAINING HIMSELF, ISN’T HE?, AFTER EVERYTHING IS OVER, HE’S GOING TO BE LIKE: “yeah, yeah, I’m happy everything is solved, I love you all, gn” HE’S GOING TO SLEEP FOR 100 YEARS FOR REAL AFTER THIS

Sebek being proud of and thankful for Lilia and his grandpa is so cute 🥰

AND MY KNIGHT, THE MIGHTY SILVER, COMES AND TALKS ABOUT GRIM TOO, YEAH, THIS IS ONE OF THE PARTS I LIKED THE MOST Grim defending us is just so cute, you guys know those headcanon some people have that Grim gives Yuu a present for Mother’s/Father’s Day because he sees them as his paternal figure because he never had someone who took care of him so much 🥺? It reminded me of those

Everyone complimenting a very embarrassed Grim gives me years of life

I can’t believe Grim said that if he was to leave Yuu behind he wouldn’t be able to study just AFTER what happened in Ace’s dream

And now the one Braincell trio talk together and tease Grim like siblings would, it’s so heartwarming 🥰

AND LEONA APPEARS WITH A FLOWN ON HIS FACE TO REMIND THEM THEIR MISSION, HE’S STILL TRAPPED WITH THEM WHEN I'M SURE HE WANTS TO FINALLY GET A NAP

The way the characters start naming sweets and everything they can smell impresses me, I can’t get a single name right when guessing what food is only by its smell 😭

My man Cater stopping everyone from suddenly entering the kitchen and showing his intelligence, he knows how to act and what to prevent

But his line?: “all I’ve to do is to drag the NPC outside, beat them and return” that sounded so sadist for me

CATER LITERALLY PUTTING HIMSELF WITH LEONA AND IDIA IS SO FUNNY, ONE IS A COMPLETE INTROVERT WHO HATES SOCIALIZING AND THE OTHER ONE FINDS CATER’S ENERGETIC PERSONALITY ANNOYING

Cater calling himself weak and that he chose Leona for said reason as unsettling, I had the same exact reaction as Leona: “don’t lie” he’s not weak! Why are you sayin that Cater? It makes me laugh a little

And then, of course, Cater drags them as Idia starts pleading for mercy: “no, don’t! Stop!”

Idia is the one who’s in most danger because he’s controlling everything, directly helping them and also communicating with STYX (who still didn’t fall asleep), running the danger that because of that, Malleus could catch him (let’s remember he caught Ortho, it wouldn’t be surprising if he suspected Idia) and he worries about having to accompany a Heartslabyul student

OMG, Ace wishing good luck to the three of them was so pleasing to my ear, I dunno, it felt…✨amazing✨ (it probably was the cheerful and sneaky way he said it

We enter the kitchen and it’s so fucking amazing, so beautiful, so perfect, AAAAAH, I LOVE IT (Alice in Wonderland is literally my fav Disney movie, I just love anything related to it) (but I ain’t forgiving them for what they did to my heart with Ace’s dream)

Something I don’t see in the kitchen is a teapot with three spouts, I demand my three-spouts-teapot

But I do see some Cheshire Cat’s cookies, they look so damn cool, I’m definitely making them when I have time

I just had a random thought, if anyone wants to make their birthday party (or anything else)

Heartslabyul themed they could make ‘sweets-garlands’, something that looks just like the food that’s flying in the new kitchen, it would be sick

Riddle would be terrorized by the new kitchen, but I bet that goth Riddle would be happily running like a kid to get more and more food (basing this off the spoilers I read about how he became a little spoiled in his dream)

AND CHENYA MAKES HIS APPEARANCE, HELLO CHENYA, I MISSED YOU 😭😭😭

Trey with his new uniform makes something inside me, I don’t know how to explain, it’s just kjhskjhgahjksjhsjk

If you look at the new clothes of Cater, Trey and Riddle, you’ll see they’re all matching, they’re wearing matching outfits and you’re not going to change my mind.

Ugh, I wish they made a new uniform for Chenya instead of just giving him a crown (but also, considering Chenya’s personality, it might be that he just doesn’t want to wear his uniform OR that his clothes can be considered uniform both in NRC and RSA)

Deuce not being able to remember Chenya’s full name reminds me of when he tried to say “Diasomnia” in the Heartslabyul Arc (I know Chenya’s name is long asf and is literally like a tongue twister, but it reminded me of that moment)

And then Ortho finally gets Chenya’s personal information…is this even legal? I mean, I know Ortho wouldn’t use their personal information abasing them (or maybe yes), but this can’t be legal (but considering what Rollo tried to do and the situation with Fellow and Gidel, I think I can say that laws there don’t work)

I swear that while the third years were reading Chenya’s information, the cat was definitely playing Dress to Impress, he was hitting all the poses he could

Idia and Leona are still talking about the theory that both Trey and Cater didn’t like Riddle as dorm leader and yada yadaaa, I feel Cater was more like he wanted to be able to live without having so many strict rules (but he wasn’t dissatisfied with Riddle) while Trey’s definitely more like he just wants Riddle to relax a little (I think. Like, I’m sure Chenya doesn’t mind being dorm leader, he’s cool and relaxed)

Idia being scolded by Ortho is *chef kiss*, I love their dynamic

Ortho is going to be a great uncle (if he really gets a nephew/niece), he’s like that friend who's like the cutest one in the group but in reality he’s the most intelligent and mature

Grim telling Ace to lower his head is so cuteeee, I need to see a fanart of all of them trying to look what’s happening in the kitchen

And now everyone is fighting with everyone while Deuce just sighs at the sight of the friends he got (even Ortho is glaring 😂)

Returning to the kitchen, Cater approaches Trey…and he tells Cater he’s not the real one…TREY, THAT’S NOT HOW YOU SAID HI TO SOMEONE; RUN, CATER, RUN AWAY

Man, the fact that Chenya is not more powerful than Riddle but still manages to keep his position as dorm leader makes sense, I think it’s like a reflection of what happens in the film: the Cheshire Cat constantly mocks the Queen of Hearts.

My dumb ass doesn’t understand Leona’s scientific explanation about Chenya’s UM, so I’ll simply say that it makes his body disappear

And the fact that Chenya pulled Riddle’s belt is just like when the Cheshire Cat used the Queen’s flamingo to lift her skirt

I swear to God that Chenya’s references to the original film are so *another chef kiss 💋*

The language Chenya uses (the ‘Pokandue’ word) would be something like Riddlish, from EAH, right?

“Whether I go or not depends on my mood”, translation: “I’ll only go if something perks my interest, if not, fuck off”, Chenya is so sassy, something like Floyd, I love him (I’m starting to thing he’s my favorite character, yes, a secondary character is my favorite character)

AND HIS HUMMING COULDN’T GO MISSING

“It’s not like there’s a huge difference between the reality and his dream”, Idia, dear…just wait

Oh, fuck, I just realized Trey was talking that he looked thinner than dream!Cater, not that he knew he didn’t belong to his dream, fuck, it makes sense, I almost forgot the meatballs existed

And while they’re talking about how they could wake him up Trey appears with his ‘Grandma “you’re too skinny, darling” mode’ activated and asks them if they’re hungry.

Trey still remembering Cater’s hatred for sweet things is so sweet of him (yes, I made another pun on it, hehe)

When I talked about Trey having a Grandma mode, I wasn’t lying man, in this part, he just fucking told them to eat 5 or 10 slices of the food, Trey, my man, my chef, calm down, you already have too many meatballs, you don’t need more

…and now Leona eats an entire pie…it’s understandable, he likes to eat…but man, in two bites?

Leona hating vegetables is so funny and then he demands for more food with meat, he approves, he approves

And Cater saying 200 tarts are too much even if there a lot of students in Heartslabyul…if you knew, Cater, if you knew

*puts voice of documentary filmmaker* And while the humans (and a robot and a cat who denies being a cat) are discussing which Riddle is weirder, the one in Ace’s dream or the one in Trey’s, something huge is slowly approaching them, it easily exceeds the average human size and weight, what will it be? An elephant? A walking building? An even weirder Riddle?…

Ehhhh, it wasn’t entirely wrong.

And nooooow, *drum roll* CONTESTANT NUMBER-

Ah, wait, they dropped some Trey Clover lore.

Oh, and I also wanted to say that it’s so amazing that the dorm also changes on its own and also have mushroom and cookies that can make you bigger, they really put a lot of detail in Heartslabyul (maybe because this was the first dorm)

When Idia said: “eh, etto…”, it sounded so cute ahjjksjakj

And I also find so cute that he was the one who started talking, and not just talking, but starting a conversation, he’s slowly opening to others (just a little, tiny bit, but I’m sure it’s a big step for him)

Idia and Trey have something in common! They both started doing what they like to do now just because that was just what they were used to (programming and baking respectively)

He was excited by the kitchen in Heartslabyul! Now I headcanon that he loves going to Ikea

and look at the furniture

I said it in my post defending Trey and I will say it again, Trey didn’t know what was going to happen to Riddle if he snuck out, even Idia and Leona are so fucking surprised by the 5 hours Mrs. Rosehearts took to yell at his family, and not only Trey wasn't the culprit of anything, but yelling at a married couple over a piece of tart, A FUCKING PIECE OF TART, is ridiculous.

And now we’re re-telling Riddle’s childhood, whyyyyyyyyyy 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

And Chenya and Trey see him as their baby brother!!! THAT’S WHAT I NEEDED TO HEAR, RIDDLE, SEND YOUR MAMA TO HELL AND GO AND LIVE SOMEWHERE ELSE, YOU CAN BE EITHER RIDDLE CLOVER OR RIDDLE ALCHEMIVICH PINKA

And only now you’re telling me Trey was forced to be vice-leader 🥺? RELEASE MY BOY, YANA, RELEASE HIM (only if he wants to, of course, we don’t know if he’s now happy with the situation)

Damn, seeing Trey in his normal dorm uniform feels after this long weird

Oh, WAIT, IT’S THE HAT, HE’S NOT WEARING THE HAT IN THE FLASHBACK, I know we can see him without his hat in his school uniform, but it’s weird seeing him using the dorm uniform without the hat

Wait, wait, wait, wait, THE FACT THAT CATER, WHO IS NOT USED TO HAVE LONG-TERM RELATIONSHIPS, IS THE ONE TALKING AND ANALYZING TREY’S DESIRE FOR CHENYA TO BE THERE WITH HIM IS SO HEARTBREAKING

Leona is so sadist: “let’s just turn into sand everything Trey created for his dream. Let’s start with that silly, striped cat” maybe it’s because I’m a stupid, sensitive person, but I wouldn’t be able to even think about destroying something that makes another person happy 🥹

OUR SPECIAL GUESTS ARE FINALLY HEREEEE

*drum roll* CONTESTANT NUMBER 1: ACE TRAPPOROLLA

CONTESTANT NUMBER 2: DEUCE SPADEROLL

CONTESTANT NUMBER 3: KEITO DIABETO

AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST, CONTESTANT NUMBER 4: RIDDLE ROLLINGBALL

Who will our bachelor, Yuu Yuusurname, choose?

(Omg, the voiceeeees, they’re hilarious)

(The way both Deuce and Cater both though they were hedgehogs who turned into giants just shows us how crazy the dorm is and how used they’re to it)

Going tbh, when I saw the meatballs and Trey’s SSR card I thought: “oh, so…Hansel and Gretel, right?”

Bro, when they put the character besides their meatball-self is like looking an ‘before vs after’ meme

“There are two Ace and Deuce!” “It’s true!” “I didn’t notice because they were so small!” OF COURSE YOU DIDN'T NOTICE, YOU EVEN CAME ROLLING INSTEAD OF WALKING

“Aren’t you all…perfectly round?” NO, TREY, HUMANS CAN'T BE ESPHERES, PLEASE, WAKE UP

Bro, imagine a student who wears glasses and only wears glasses because contact lenses make him uncomfortable, but here’s the plot twist: he’s a Heartslabyul student, round like a ball, big like an elephant, how is he going to wear his glasses??

Haha, Sebek and Silver were more worried about Riddle not being able to ride his horse Vorpal than anything else

Yk something curious? First, I know Trey’s desire is more about his peers being able to live freely as they want, but the result was way too far away from his motto: “I’m just a normal guy”, and second, this would actually make sense as he’s the based off the Mad Hater isn’t it? We kind of had to expect something crazy

The way the meatballs just start rolling to attack them, even Silver was taken down by them, god gracious, they’re going to be flattened up into a rug…WHO WANTS THE SPECIAL EDITION “THE GREAT GRIM” RUG FOR THEIR HOUSE? LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WE HAVE ONLY ONE PRODUCT LEFT, BUY IT BEFORE SOMEONE DOES SO BEFORE YOU

Ok, but the fact that Tre’s first flashbacks were literally Riddle being a tyrant…lowkey makes

me want to cry a little

”I don’t like sweets at all, but it’s so delicious I can’t help myself!” *wrong answer noise* EEEEEEEEEE, Cater would NEVER say that, he already has his little trauma with sweets, leave my boy alone

Trey’s little laugh before pointing out what his real friends do and then saying he feels sick by watching them eat his food, ✨perfect✨

MY CHEF TREY CLOVER IS BACK MY PEOPLE, HE WOKE UP, YESSSSS

Aye, Ace’s coughing was nice to hear too, I dunno, when characters make small little noises is always fun for me to hear

UMMMM, Leona telling Trey owes him and Trey simply laughing, I’m also stealing this for my 3rd years headcanon

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you”…I mean, if you want to 😆

“Will a normal mage like me be useful in this situation?” TREY, WE ARE GOING TO TALK ABOUT THIS AFTER WE BEAT MALLEUS and probably Grim’s ASS

“Don’t make fun of me, Leona.” That’s another thing that’s going to my 3rd years headcanon 💅🏻

Everyone telling Trey he was their wildcard but I remember Idia calling him “Riddle’s pacifier” and I’m not letting you forget about that >:3

Ace taking a guess about Riddle’s dream by saying he’ll probably dream about rules and almost everyone agreeing…you’re all so bad at the guessing game, guys really, you shouldn’t play it anymore

Silver and Trey watching their first year students in disappointment and slight embarrassment is so mom coded for them, idc if Silver doesn’t really have mom vibes, this is my opinion

AND IDIA CALLED THEM PARENTS OF KINDERGARTEN CHILDREN, I LOVE HIM, TWINNNS

So we’ve reached the end of my post, I hope you enjoyed it!

[pricegouge]

sorry for the spam asf but it's stuck in my head now.... piss tw

You doing some stupid shit and getting stuck but also you had to piss soooo bad. and your rotten gross man of choice doesn't give a fuck about your whining and protesting. If anything it’s making him a little harder to hear you are frantic and sweet.

The scared begging isn’t gonna turn him away silly. He wants to fuck you while you are all compromised, and he’s gonna. He’s not scared of a little piss hell it might make you tighten up more. The thought makes him press on your stomach if he can reach…you trying to bat at his hands but can’t properly….and he loves your embarrassed face and teary eyes when you can’t hold it anymore

any fucking ways….

so funny story the ask I'm sitting on that spawned this whole discussion is a piss prompt lmfao. but it's different than this one so let's get into it a smidge.

I could see price already knowing he has a bit of a pee desperation thing. it's probably never been about the piss itself to him but he likes seeing a bird all urgent and wound up. all the better if she's squirming and pleading and maybe even grabbing her crotch. the first time he made a woman squirt she'd been trying to push him off so she could excuse herself but she's been tightening around him like a vice and he'd been blinded with desire and next thing he knew she was leaking more than what he'd given her and it just. changed something in him.

anyway. all that to say I could see him starting out all business like. his girl went and acted a fool and now he's gotta help her out of it. he's teasing you at first but he sees your little wiggle and he pauses. slows. just enough to get you worried. by the time you're truly squirming he gives up all pretenses, lets your cries fall on deaf ears as he worms a hand down your front and starts talking about how wet he's gonna get you

[thetruearchmagos]

I have been spending and objectively disturbing amount of time on the war thunder forums...

[juniper-clan]

MOON 18: Oh Shit She’s Feeling It (pt. 1)

PREVIOUS l NEXT

[vulpinesaint]

Hi! I just went through your quizzes (gorgeous writing, by the way!) and I wonder if you have the results for all of them posted somewhere? I know both saints quizzes have a full results post and the garden one too, but I don't think I've found the others. I'm especially curious about the supervillain one :)

hiya!! thank you so much i'm so glad you liked them <3 as of right now i only have results up for the saints + garden quizzes, but i would be so happy to post more results for you! anytime i post results, they should be linked on the masterpost in my bio :) i think i will. only post the supervillain one for now. the other ones make me feel a little silly. but you are so welcome to the supervillain results <3

for those of you who have taken the supervillain quiz: here's how your story could have ended!

[thatrandomblogsays]

Lmao Zeus & Hades are such bad dads that they think Percy would rob a god for his deadbeat dad who owes Sally 12 years of back pay for child support…

These literal God-Kings sat down and were like hmmm Poisedon hasn’t talked to this child in years to avoid people knowing he ejaculated when he should’ve of evacuated… & has a shitty abusive stepdad now… that child would absolutely Mission Impossible Olympus for him! Let’s kill him :)

Hey dumbasses, my own deadbeat parent can barely get me to text them back, I ain’t stealing shit for them. As a member of Team Deadbeat Parent, that request would’ve caused 12 year old me to cuss out an adult for the first time

[silverselfshippingchaos]

the fact that j.oongi doesn't show up until the second to last chapter of y.akuza 8.............. how else am I gonna be motivated to play? /j

[peaceeandcoolestvibes]

LMFAOOOO

Madre mía y decían que en los años 70 ya se quedaron sin ideas,

Aún hay gente que idolatra a estos farsantes y se creen todo lo q les meten con colador 😂

Y esto de la luna podía colar, hoy en día todas las mentiras que cuentan las celebrities no 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂 (relaciones inicio de la fama etc)

[twistedappletree]

getting rid of a pet because your partner doesn’t like them is crazy, i’d dump a mf so fast lmao

[todayisafridaynight]

no cuz fr the most unexplainable thing would be how they didn’t reunite sooner like,,, Mine could have been staying away because he wansnt good enough for daigo (in his mind) but still i don’t think he’d stay THAT far away 💀 at most bro is down the street at any given time 😭

reviews are in for Mine Isn't Dead Actually But He Is Emo So