#she's drunk in like half of these lmfao

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Hello! I've read your soap and price fics and you are amazing!!!

I had an idea for a fic for Ghost. The reader would be Soaps slightly older sister who isnt like Johnny at all. Im thinking she either picks up soap from base after an op or from the bar. I'll leave alot of this up to you but i just wanna see Soaps Sister meeting Ghost!!

Brother's Coworker

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Soap's Sister!Reader

SYNOPSIS: In the dim illumination of the streetlights, Ghost lays eyes on a woman leaning against the body of a vintage Hillman Imp.

WORDCOUNT: 4.2k

WARNINGS: Little bit of angst, but mostly fluff and pre-relationship pining, loads of sibling banter, conflicting emotions, etc.

A/N: Finally able to use my sibling experiences for a fic lmfao, enjoy!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

The woman was leaning against the body of a vintage Hillman Imp, the custom color a deep forest green along the sides and a cream white coating the upper third. Ghost stared at her as the rest of the men filed out of the bar one after the other—Johnny and Gaz being especially loud. He blinks slowly, hands inside his blackened pockets.

Across the way, your ears perk slowly at the sound of rapturous shouts, but you only continue to look down the sidewalk at the long illuminations of street lamps and the glints of broken bottles on the ground. Over your chest, your hands shift in their hold on your biceps, your thin jacket crinkling. Light dances in your irises.

“Oi, is that who I think it is?!” Familiar Scottish drawl brings a smirk to your face, and you turn slowly to huff, snapping out of your silent thoughts. 

“Who else would it be, ya bloody git,” your voice carries, but it lacks the sheer volume of your brother’s; the great boom that reminds you of the bombs he’d used to make out of your mother’s hair spray bottles. 

Never a dull day in your childhood home, really.

“‘Bout gave me a heart attack, not answerin’ my calls like that!” Johnny laughs loudly, obviously drunk, and stumbles over merrily. You’re taken into a chest-breaking hug in mere moments, leaving you squirming with a deep grunt. “Should have your head, MacTavish.” You manage to squeak out, “Put me the fuck down, you horror. And what in the hell have you done to your hair?!”

“Oh, my dear sister.” Your brother lets you go as the three other men slink over, amused with the scene but some momentarily confused by the sudden introduction. Gaz laughs, and the Captain huffs a chuckle before fixing the position of his beanie on his head. 

Ghost, as always, chooses to watch like a looming shadow above the rest. 

Johnny puts a hand to his chest, the other remaining on your shoulder, “You wound me. Such cruelty stuck in your black soul; I say now, mother was always right—”

You smack the side of his head and Johnny grunts. 

“Ow!” He yells, glaring at you. “What the fuck?!” 

“Open your mouth again and I’ll wring you out, you arse. You know I will.” Grumbling, the Scot rubs the side of his head as you raise a brow at him. The stare-off lasts for a decent bit, and before the rest of the group knows what’s going on, the two of you are embracing each other once more; laughing loudly. 

Ghost’s eyebrows pull in slowly.

“Ah, it’s good to be back!” Johnny chuckles, holding you close as you pat his back.

“Of course, I’d find my kid brother at a damn pub on his first day home.” Taking a step away from the hulk of a boy, you brush down your shirt and jacket with a scoff. Looking up, you come to face the remaining men with an exasperated look. “He’s full of shite half the time, y’know, now. Can’t imagine what he puts you all through.”

“Bloody hell, Soap, you were holding out on us,” Gaz chuckles loudly, sticking out a hand for you to shake while he glances at the mohawked Scot who looks giddy despite being insulted by who’s very obviously his older sister. “Never knew you had siblings, Mate.” You take the man’s hand as he smiles brightly at you. 

“Kyle.” He says, and you beam back, “But Gaz’ll do just fine.”

“A pleasure,” your voice carries to John who you raise a brow at teasingly. “Well, look who the Reaper’s yet to drag down…Good to see you again, Captain.”

Price shakes his head, a smirk peeling his lips as Gaz steps back. 

“Still on that land of yours, then, Love?” The brunette asks gruffly, leaning back on his heels for a moment while you sag your side into Johnny’s arm. Your brother scoffs and loops his limb over the bridge of your shoulders as you nod. 

“You know it. Proper quiet when the neighbors aren’t up to a ruckus racin’ down the streets. Christ, those kids are devils—worse than Johnny and I when we were young.”

“Now that’s hard to believe, eh?” The man beside you laughs through his slurred words and you roll your eyes. 

Chuckling in return, you blink, spying on the intent black figure behind everyone else. Piercing brown eyes dig past flesh like a scalpel while you tilt your head to the side, interest alighting behind your skull. He doesn’t move or even greet you, just looks over you and then turns his attention to the street like a roaming bear would; hell, he certainly could be a bear with how big he was. Bigger than Johnny, even. 

This stranger wears a large brown leather jacket, the hood of his underclothes pulled up to cover most of the pale skin that would otherwise be visible. The long swish of light lashes captures you as you study the way he blinks slowly across the road. On his chin and on the top of his forehead, the fabric of a skeletal-painted balaclava shrouds him. Cargo pants and large black combat boots sit on his feet. 

He stands like a statue. 

“Who’s this then?” You call easily, and those eyes travel back to you even as the head doesn’t. It’s strange the way you seem to brush aside the blatant intimidation he exudes simply by standing.

“Ah,” John grunts, chuckling, before stepping to the side. “Simon, introduce yourself.” 

A low voice lowly wafts after a moment to silence, Manchester accent spearing you in the ears with its rough make-up, “Ghost.” 

You blink over at the Captain, but he just shakes his head and you move on. Johnny chuckles and whispers to you, “Don’t mind ‘em, Lt’s a bit rough around the edges.”

Plastering on a polite smile, your chin moves in a nod, “Pleasure to meet you, Ghost. Good to know the other two who look after Johnny out there.” The man beside you feels his face burn, free hand going to itch at his neck.

Ghost grunts and shrugs off the veiled praise, large muscles stiff.

“You’re actin’ like I’m not the one savin’ their skins half the time,” Gaz interjects on the Scot’s point.

“Is that what you call it?” You share an amused glance at John. 

Though, your eyes always sway back to Ghost, or Simon, depending on who you ask. He listens to the chatter, obviously, but he seems much more content to only stay with his hands inside of his pockets and study the street for...what exactly? The beast wasn’t shy, no, just…silent. If you didn’t know better you’d call him aggressively casual with the way his shoulders sit.

Stance relaxed but the underlying threat was palpable on the wind. Like a wolf rubbing his cheeks on the ancient trees of his territory. ‘Don’t do anything stupid,’ - it seems his very DNA states that.

Brown eyes suddenly lock with your own as if snapping into place and before you can release a squeak of alarm, you swiftly dart your gaze away back to the arguing Sergeants; face burning.

Christ, how long had you been staring at him?

“Alright, you two, ease off it!” Trying to distract yourself, you wave a hand. “You’re both too drunk to be gettin’ into street fights at this hour. Johnny, into the car ya fool.” 

Your brother slashes you with a grin.

“Fuckin’ finally, a decent bed!” It was tradition to give Johnny the spare room when he was back home—proper meals. 

“You’re callin’ mother, y’know.” You unlock your car and motion to the passenger seat with a frown. “I dinnae care if you’re trapped for hours—give the woman a rest of all her worrying.” 

“You heard the woman, Sergeant,” John forces the gravel out of his throat, rubbing at his beard. Something hits your chest as your brother opens his door as you stand in the cold. You glance at each man in turn; eyebrows pulling in with thought.

“Ah, what the hell,” your voice huffs out. Ghost watches you closely, blinking as he lifts a hand to itch at his neck from under his hood. The leather jacket crumples with tiny shifts of worn-out material. 

“Don’t suppose you boys need any good beds to rest your heads on for the night?” Wiggling your keys, you pat the top of your Hillman as you slide to the driver's side. Johnny slinks inside his own and chuckles as he closes the barrier with a careful thunk. 

“Hospitality finally leakin’ in?”

“Next time I hit ya,” you send him a bland look, “I’ll aim for the neck.” Fake flinching towards him, the man squeaks and snaps quickly back into the car door as you snicker lively. 

“Beast!” Johnny exclaims. You roll your eyes and shimmy down the window behind him, calling out as the rest share glances.

“Get in if you’re comin’ over! If not all the food I made yesterday’ll go to waste!” That seemed to get Gaz into the back, with only Price and Simon left behind. 

Brown meets blue and John’s beard pulls back with a smirk. He clears his throat, “Well, I’m not one to spit in her face.” The Captain walks over and grunts as he bends down. 

Ghost sighs under his breath and follows, impartial as to where this night is going. He wouldn’t sleep tonight, no doubt. The hard and unforgiving beds on base were the only things he could rest on now save the ground. And food? He could go without food for days.

Though, being Johnny’s sister bought you some favor, trust wasn’t something that Simon gave around freely. But the car you drove was nice, and the company of his Task Force was easy to basque in until they shipped out again. 

Simon sits down on the refurbished seat and softly closes the door behind him. Dead-eyed, he stares at Johnny’s headrest as you glance at him from the rearview mirror—seeing his shoulder dig into the glass of the window. 

You shove down a joke and hum. “Good, then, it’ll free my fridge at the very least.” 

“Thank you, Ma’am,” Gaz offers as you start up the engine, “it’s awfully nice of you to do this for us.”

“Ah,” Simon hears you dismiss as he turns to stare out of the window; so often feeling his gaze drawn back to you as a leaf attached to a tree might act. “Don’t worry your head about it. I like the company.” 

“Aye, just how she is,” Johnny says earnestly. “Was always the one to let me over with my pals when the football games were over—’cept we were usually covered in mud.”

“I’m still finding grass in my rugs, Johnny Boy,” you mumble, focusing on the road as a slight squeaking emanates from the front of the car. Simon picks up on it easily, not preoccupied with speaking. He glances at you but mentions nothing beyond a shuffling of his thighs. 

Outside the land slides past in shades of verdant green and gray as the town falls away. 

He was confused, rightly. You’d seen his standoffish nature but had chosen to extend hospitality as the old Greeks did just off a growl of his name. But maybe it was just because he was your brother’s coworker. 

Simon grunts to himself and rubs at his wrist. Throughout the ride, the two of you would glance at each other and try to forget that you had; when the long driveway of a large secluded home expands out above the car, Gaz whistles lowly.

“Bloody hell, Ma’am,” he states and John chuckles. You easily smile and roll your eyes. 

“Trust me, it was more work than it was worth.” Ghost’s attention is slightly peaked.

“You worked on it?” His tone implies he doesn’t care, but his eyes gore into the mirror to lock with your own. Blinking in surprise, even the others seem to be taken aback by the man's lack of venom in his speech. 

Ghost wasn’t afraid to speak his mind when he needed to, but he didn’t do mindless chatter. Your eyes cycle between the driveway and the masked Brit before you clear your throat. Johnny glances at you with a raised brow, slight confusion in his brows. 

“Mostly—left the nasty bits to people more knowledgeable than I am, but I did most of the grunt work, eh?” Simon hums as the car pulls to a stop inside the garage, eyes not leaving the back of your head. 

Your neck bristles at the sensation of unrelenting contact, but the burning that joins it is telltale. Licking your lips you twist the keys out and quickly shuffle out of the door to dispel the electricity in the air. 

“Alright,” you say, “out. All of ya…Johnny, you’ll be helping me with the bedding.” 

A groan is cut by an unimpressed glare. “...Yes, Ma’am.”

You huff and smirk. 

“Trainin’ him well I see,” teasing John as they all file out of the car, he shakes his head at the two of you as Simon scoffs. Gaz openly laughs as Soap’s offended look grows. 

You all enter the house as you direct them to the kitchen after they’ve taken off their boots and hung their jackets. “It’s all in the fridge, heat what you want, and don’t bother fightin’ Johnny if he takes too much. Tell me and I’ll make him sleep in the back near the chickens.” Your voice tells them as you pat your brother on the shoulder. 

Johnny grumbles and kisses the top of your head. “You’re horrible to me,” He jokes but his eyes shimmer with affection. As you leave to get a head start on the rooms, you smile and call out to him.

“That’s my job!” 

Backing out into the hallway, you leave with a deep well of happiness in you. You don’t even realize that the party had only contained three men instead of four until you’re in the linen closet and a shadow suddenly blacks out the light from the bulbs. Jumping slightly, your head swivels as you carry very many sheets and pillowcases in your grip. 

“Oh,” you mumble through cotton, smile growing as the flip in your stomach does, “Ghost! Done eating already?” 

The man is still and silent as he glances from your face to the sheets. Without a word, he halves the load and steals them as your jaw loosens in shock.

“Johnny’s outside callin’ your mum.” Ghost turns and walks out, but waits for you in the hallway to be directed. 

You push down the tightness to your throat and see the man’s feet shift on the hardwood. He looks funny, such a big man carrying bed sheets. His actions make your heart speed up. Brown eyes blink at you like a cat. 

“Well,” you chuckle, “always was one to get out of housework.” Trying a smidge more, you shift past him and turn off the light. “His barracks room dirty?”

“Pigsty.” Simon blandly states, walking slightly behind you. Your pace slows so you can stay beside him. He side-eyes you but says nothing. 

Leaning in slightly, you quip as Ghost tenses, “Can’t say I’m surprised. The man’s used to me bailin’ him out.” Chuckling, you go into the first bedroom and put everything on the bed. 

Simon grabs the pillows and starts to dress them quickly and efficiently. 

“But thank you,” you say, and the Brit pauses to look up at you, something swirling in his murky gaze. Earnestly, you tilt your head with a smile. “Ya can go back and eat more if you want. No need to help—you’re a guest.”

“Not hungry,” is all he answers, and gets back to work. You watch for a moment, perplexed, but not at all about to deny the assistance. A genuine grin twitches your lips. 

“Johnny writes about you, y’know,” your fingers pull at the fabric and you chuckle as Ghost’s incredulous look turns to you—face hidden but confusion is obviously seen. “Says he looks up to you quite a bit; something about Mexico.” 

Your face dips slightly, and Simon’s body stills. Along the pillow, his grip carefully tightens. He can’t find it in himself to walk out of the door and stand outside even if he knows he should. 

“I really can’t imagine what it’s like,” you mutter, shaking your head. Gazing at him, you study his wound muscles and secret flesh like a tapestry—wondering if he hides himself because of the safe anonymity or a sense of numb fear. 

He wouldn’t admit to either, you know. But something about Simon had captured your attention and now you had a face, or just a body really, to put to the written name like a puzzle piece. 

You take a long breath, “But you’ll never know how grateful I am.” 

By the way his chest stops moving and his body goes frozen, you think you hit something inside of him; the minute widening of his eyelids like pedals opening in the light. Simon peers at your expression, his eyes sliding from one point to another. 

Like he can’t really pinpoint what you want. 

Ironic really, because you didn’t want anything. 

“Don’t thank me,” is what he settles on, moving back to the pillow as if your words hadn’t stabbed him. “Johnny knows what he’s doing.”

Your small snort enters the air above the sliding sheets. “There’s no argument there.” A sigh echoes as you finish up, putting your hands on your hips. Across the bed, you two stare as Simon tosses down the pillows. The remainder of the sheets sit on the end of the bed. 

The man’s eyes narrow on you, and he clenches his jaw under his balaclava. 

“The only thing that I do know is that every time my brother comes back he smiles less than he did before.” You side-eye him seriously as you move. “I can only guess what all of it does to the others who don’t have anyone else to go back to.”

Simon’s breath halts in his chest before he finds the means to take down a slow inhale. Brown eyes glare intently, jaw tight, but it’s not the fire that gets to you…it’s the lack thereof.

Ghost doesn’t like this feeling, and your candidness was something he hadn’t expected.

“So,” you drawl, “I’m thanking you for giving him someone to joke around with—a distraction,” a teasing smirk, “no matter how blunt.” 

“I just told you—”

“Well, I don’t bloody care, do I?” Huffing, you smirk and tip your head back before snatching the rest of the sheets. “C’mon, we have three more rooms.” 

Simon watches you leave and tries to fight the rampage in his chest; the merciless slam of his heart to his ribcage. What had you done to him? A hand comes up and rubs into the bridge of his nose, fingers heavy and tight. 

What in the hell was going on? 

Growling under his breath, Ghost stalks out of the room only to see your back disappear into the next. In the hallway, he takes a long inhale and closes his eyes to steady himself. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” the man grunts. The tension in his shoulders was plainly visible. 

For the remainder of the room, Ghost would send you tight glances as he worked but didn’t utter another peep. You had taken his voice, or what little left of it there was. 

In many ways, you were like your loudmouth brother—your snark and your stubbornness. But you were different too. 

He feels his eyes trail down your form slowly from time to time. Capable; hardy. Simon blinked away and grunted under his breath aggressively. 

When everyone was done with their food and Johnny had come back in from his call to his mother, with a soft smile on his face, you knew it was time for bed. 

“Alright,” you strut into the kitchen with Ghost on your heels—his large arms crossed over his chest as he caught Soap's intense stare. The Lieutenant's brow raises, but Johnny only frowns in conspiracy before he looks over to you and itches at his chin. “Beds are made. You can all thank Simon for that, seein’ as Johnny used our mother as an excuse yet again.”

“And she was very pleased to hear from me!” Your brother points to you.

“She’s our mother,” you deadpan, “It’s her job to be, ya arse-face.” 

The boys all follow you down the halls as you point to the rooms. Gaz shakes your hand again and gives you a tiny hug in thanks while John pats your shoulder and calls a soft, “Goodnight, Sweetheart.” 

Both close their doors and you hear the large sighs through the wood. You have to wonder when they’d had a good bed to sleep on and a good meal. Last was your brother and Ghost, the latter of which kisses your head and hugs you tightly. 

“It’s good to see you, truly. Been missing you, little Hen. Thanks for lettin’ me over all the time when I’m home.” You melt and grip his shirt. 

“You’ll always have a place here, you know that. One call away…Now go to sleep. You smell like a pub.” He lightly chuckles against you. With a bond this tight, the two of you never had to say that you loved each other—it was just known.

Johnny squeezes you one last time before pulling away and slinking into his room, giving an unrecognizable glance to Ghost on his way in before the barrier slips into place with a quiet thunk of wood. The two of you look at and stare for a moment. 

“Lucky you,” your voice is quiet but easy to hear, “you get the room with a view of the field.” 

“Color me surprised,” he mutters, not looking enthusiastic. Against the tone, the look makes your mouth jerk in a laugh, and you cover your lips after a moment. 

Simon’s eyes unconsciously soften. 

You wave a hand, chest light, “Let’s go then, you brute.”

“Brute?” Simon grumbles, “Gettin’ familiar?” 

“Please,” you shake your head and walk to the last door in this section of the house. “You all became familiar the second we met.” 

The man rolls his eyes but has his smirk hidden as you open the door for him. He tilts his head in thanks and strolls inside.

You hum, crossing your arms ahead of you and leaning on the doorframe as he looks around, “Don’t think too much over it… The baseline is, you’ll always have a bed here if you need it.” 

Ghost slips out, “What are you? Bloody boarding house?” The swelling in his chest made his words harsher than intended, but you just smile cheekily at him as eyes lock.

“Hell’s bells, if you want ta’ get me a business card just go ahead and print ‘em off already. I’ve no problem with it.” He stares and you laugh, shrugging. “Makes me feel good.”

Splaying your hands, you back out. 

“I know you probably won’t sleep,” Simon pauses, feeling caught but not showing it. “Libraries down the hall—if you smoke, use the back door. Kitchen is free game.”  

“Why?” He asks and you blink, confused.

“Well, why not?” Simon glares.

“You shouldn’t trust people like that.” A loud laugh echoes and makes the man annoyed with you.

“Simon,” you say, and he finds himself hanging on every word that falls from your lips in the moonlight. “Not everyone is out to get you. If you’re friends of Johnny’s, then you’re friends of mine. That boy can sniff a cheat faster than a hound can find a hare.” Perhaps it was the way his shoulders went back at that, or how his brows loosened, but you finish off with a soft explanation. “You’re safe under this roof.”

You wondered, not for that last time that night, if he’d ever been told that. From how his balaclava moved with a sharp jerk of his jaw, you assumed never. It made your lungs hurt. 

With a few more seconds of quiet gazing you nod and move back. 

“Goodnight, Simon.” You leave him staring at the door as you close it—eyes boring into the grain so harshly they might catch fire. 

Ghost doesn’t know how long he stays like that, but his ears twitch at the echo of running water and soundless footsteps. He should leave, he tells himself; this is dangerous, a voice hisses. It’s not safe here, how could it be? There were no guards—no weapons. If someone were to sneak in there wouldn’t be an alarm. 

A secluded home. Nothing around. 

Then why had your words seeped into him?

“You’re safe under this roof.” Simon closes his eyes harshly.

—

In the morning once everyone’s gone back to the base, you admit you don’t know if you’ll see Simon again; you probably won’t. But you find that you can live with that. The memory of his loosening tension is all you need to feel special in your own right. Those brown eyes that, if but for a moment, had bled so effortlessly feelings of something other than blood and death. 

As you sigh a dreamy chuckle to yourself, you get ready for the day before heading to your Hillman. The silent drive to work joins with the strange mix of weight and levitation to your chest. But halfway into town, it hits you. 

Silent.

There is an obvious lack of squeaking from under the hood of your car as you slide along the countryside. 

The smile doesn’t leave your face for weeks.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[orngeblossm]

—AFTER HOURS

farleıgh x reader

w.c : 8,379

disclaimers: 18+, smut, nsfw, immoral tattooing, spicy, tattooartist!farleigh, edgy undertones, tattooing, drinking, brief harrassent, felix is a weirdo is this, praise kink, overstimulation, strong orgasm, squirting, temporary nickaname, heavy teasing, pining, freaky shit!

—synopsis: you have a long awaited girls night with your friends and forgot to watch your drinking. you are followed by a drunk predator before being helped by a reserved artist, wondering where the rest of the night is going to take you with him.

a/n: hi guyzz! im rlly excited for yall to read this one ..its so freaky..major disclaimer: farleigh goes by kai first as a nickname [teehee mixing universes], i do feel like this isnt some of my best writing bc of writers block but the plot is def 10/10! pls never do anything in this fanfic though bc that is unsanitary LMFAO. i rlly hope you like it! sorry for typos! all love ♡

「divider by @/cafekitsune」

it was a slow brewing saturday evening. your friends were texting the groupchat all week about going out tonight. you were excited yes, but dreading the, well, social part. you enjoyed going out and exploring new places. but god the people sometimes overwhelmed you. nonetheless, alcohol turns on that social switch in your brain. you knew you were going to be alright and have fun regardless of what happens tonight.

"ooh! im so excited [y/n]! it's been too long since you, me, and annabel have gone out!" venetia squealed as she ran past you towards the open-door bathroom. you were getting ready on venetia's bed, already dressed. you weren't one to worry about taking forever on clothes, but you did take your time on your makeup. you found your outfit the night prior, wearing black shorts, and a maroon turtleneck halter top. you went with gold accents; earrings, cuff, and a dainty necklace.

you heard the door from downstairs open and smiled, hearing annabel squealing out of excitement coming up the stairs. "[y/nnn]! are you excited?!" she giggled, plopping on the bed next to you. you share a laugh with her and swiftly move your wand away from your face as anna falls next to you.

"yes of course anna," you hummed while putting on mascara. as anna was on her phone, you noticed something on her arm, gasping.

"anna you got a tattoo?! and didnt tell anyone?" you grabbed her arm and began examining her clear fresh ink. annabel grinned like an idiot as you admired her tattoo, holding her nose up proudly.

"i kinda forgot honestly. but it's cool right?" you nodded in agreement. you loved when your friends added new body modifications. you always felt like it was accessorizing your own character.

"i got it done at saltburn tattoo parlor–" annabel started.

"thee saltburn tattoo parlor? one of the best shops in london?" venetia yelled in shock, slamming her hand on the bathroom counter. anna nodded proudly once more, giggling mischievously.

"i waited 4 months for my appointment. i wanted to get inked by the hot guy in there. his instagram page says 'inkedbykai'. he's so hot [y/n]." annabel grabbed your shoulders and shook you for the dramatics, emphasizing her attraction. you giggled as you were briefly shaken.

"how hot are we talking? because your type can be…questionable." you joked. you were being half serious though. annabel had a wild side therefore she attracted wild people. the fiery redhead cleared her throat and sat up as you began lining your lips with open ears.

"so i was with my coworkers and their friends smoking a cig right, and i heard my coworkers talk about saltburn a few times before, specifically about a certain artist." you paced a nod every moment she paused for a second. "they always mentioned how hot he was but he never really was a social one. he is one of the more popular artists in the parlor because he is so attractive. pretty brown skin, gorgeous face, the curliest hair– and of course his sexy tattoos hehe." you playfully rolled your eyes at anna's expressive motions, fully entertained for the moment.

"and he tattooed you?" almost immediately the redhead sighed loudly and dropped her shoulders.

"no. i got this other girl. she obviously did amazing but i wanted my eye candy during my appointment. it's not like i would have gotten a chance anyways since each artist has their own room they work in." anna explained and shrugged off her minor sadness.

"aw how unfortunate." you replied, tone clearly laced in sarcasm. anna smiled and pushed you lightly before hopping up to join venetia in the bathroom mirror.

"yes how unfortunate. but! the nightclub, sapphire's, is on the same block as the parlor. so maaaybe," annabel begins fixing her signature red lipstick. "he is also having a night out."

"well!" venetia huffed before smiling. "let's go see then shall we?" the three of you all shared looks before smiling big and screaming in excitement. you, venetia, and annabel choose your preferred club shoes before exiting venetia's flat.

°°°

the three of you stepped out of the cab in front of the tattoo shop. you thanked the driver before staring at the parlor. you looked to your right and saw the line for the club at the other end of the block.

"wow, they do share a block." you hummed, admiring the window art logo in black & white western bandito font. from what you could tell, they were closing soon but it looked gorgeous inside, presenting a rustic english with gothic victorian accents.

i might need to consider an appointment.

"its pretty." you said slightly lost in admiration.

"sure is, c'mon!" venetia pulled you and annabel along towards the crowd standing outside. you wondered how you were going to get in before looking at venetia wearily.

"its cool, relax. watch this," venetia tapped the security guards shoulder and there the man turned, his serious face quite literally brightening up. "heyy leo!" venetia smiled sweetly.

"hey venetia. just you and your friends? head on in." venetia kissed his cheek with a 'thank you' before pulling you and annabel inside. you giggled amongst your two friends before your jaw dropped while stepping in. techno pop music filled your ears as your eyes adjusted to the lack of clear light and to the colorful shades of blue laser lights dancing in the air.

huh ..i guess the blue color scene would make sense.

the floor glowed and flickered along with the music. the bar was lined with blue lights and he aesthetic gave a nearly cyber techno feel. dancers moved seductively on the mini stages and you laughed in shock. it was amazing in here.

"its fuckin' fabulous in here!" anna yelled through the music.

"it is! this is definitely on the list of good ones!" you replied, beginning to move to the music. venetia all of a sudden turned to face you and annabelle with shots.

"how the–!!" venetia hushed you and placed the shot in your hand. you immediately took it with no questions. you were going to have a good night tonight, so you bit back on any questions you had and just danced. venetia bought another shot for the group so you were 2 shots in on the dance floor. you grabbed your friends and began dancing, enjoying every moment. over the next 2 hours, you had downed about 6 shots overall, feeling fuzzy and light. you felt like the perfect amount of tipsy, thanking god you could hold quite a bit of alcohol. while you did feel good, you decided to take a break from the dance floor, letting venetia and anna know you were heading to the bar.

you made sure to keep venetia and annabel within your line of sight, asking the bartender for a water and a cosmopolitan on venetia's tab. the bartender immediately handed you a bottle of water and got to work on your order. you danced simply and sipped your water in your seat while watching your girlfriends dance with some guys they met. the men seemed respectful enough so you weren't worried. you thanked the bartender as you were given your other drink.

"here by yourself darlin'?" you immediately turned to your right to a tall brunette. you leaned back instinctively from the man and made sure to avoid eye contact with him. your heart echoed throughout your chest as you sipped your drink.

"no, my girls are on the dance floor." you replied plainly. you didn't particularly care to entertain sweet talkers. you weren't one for sugarcoating rejection for men, because you disliked persistence.

"oh that them eh? they're gorgeous." he commented with a chuckle.

"yeah, beautiful girl's i know." you sighed, thankful the music was loud enough.

"not as beautiful as you though. i'm felix." the man placed out his hand for you to shake only for you to just stare at it.

"and i'm not interested, sorry." you dismissed. as you took a third of your drink down the guy laughed, sucking his teeth.

"are you sure? you haven't even looked at me yet." you sighed visibly again before turning to fully face the smug looking man. he definitely wasn't your type, and his bowl hair cut was certainly unattractive.

"i'm looking, and i'm not interested." you assured firmly. you sipped two-thirds of your drink before standing and suddenly, you were regretting your purchase. you don't know why you let that man distract you as you were sipping your drink. you were anxiously sipping as felix spoke to you and you mentally smacked yourself for it. the room began to look frame by frame, the lights occupying your sight.

"woah, you want some help?" felix grabbed onto your arm to pull you in but you ripped yourself away from him, shaking your head.

"i–i'm fine.." you scoffed, stumbling back. you instinctively caught yourself and the brunette was saying something along the lines of asking if you were okay. you began to walk away from the bar and the music. you needed fresh air and needed it soon. while pushing through the small waves of bodies, the music began to drill into your head. you groaned, eyes glazing over in overstimulation.

you finally stepped outside, mumbling a 'pardon me' every few seconds. you walked down the sidewalk, hearing and feeling the music dissipate from your body. you were at the low stages of being drunk but luckily you could still fully walk and talk if you focused silently. you cool air blew against your revealed parts of your body and it calmed your senses. you then slowed your pace to a more relax drunken speed, keeping a hand on the wall as support

"hey..hey! let me help you darlin'." the brunette yelled while jogging after you. you turned your body to him, holding your hand out. you did your damndest to focus on the guy's movements, but he was less intoxicated than you, and bigger than you regarding height.

"i said– i'm fine– ..get off me.." you swatted his hand away and sped up your pace down the alleyway. but he kept close, attempting to grab your arm to stop you. you were just going to do a circle around the block, but the man suddenly pulled you violently into him. you thrashed around, swinging your arms out of defense.

"get– off of me! i don't want your hel–" you stopped short when you felt another pair of hands divide you from the brunette. you opened your eyes to another taller brunette holding felix by a fistful of his hair and by his shirt.

"she said to get off of her." the stranger repeated, shooting daggers toward felix in the orange alleyway light. you managed to see the half-lit cigarette between the man's lips, a light whiff of tobacco passing by your nose.

"okay man– okay .." felix tapped the guy's hands, signalling mercy. the stranger looked over at you, simultaneously letting felix go without breaking eye contact with yours. felix groaned from his now tender scalp and mumbled a string of curse words before walking away. your savior immediately walked up to you and gently held your arms, scanning your person.

"are you alright?" he questioned. you gazed at him silently. from what you could see under the alley light, the man was gorgeous. this had to be the guy annabel was rambling about. there was a faint smell of nicotine that passed your nostrils again when he walked up to you. you noticed his jawline and outlined coily hair.

"mmh-hm.." you managed to get out. the man sighed softly and slowly wrapped an arm around you, mumbling a 'c'mon'. you reluctantly followed though he did just save you, so you weren't particularly nervous.

"just relax okay? we're going to chill in here for a bit." your savior opened a black door to one of the buildings you two were walking behind. you followed him into the door and down the dimly lit hallway. the hallway had doors on the left and right sides. you wondered what was behind them before you noticed framed photos of people's bodies. there were huge tattoo pieces laid across them, some taking up huge portions of the body. this was the tattoo parlor annabel mentioned earlier in the day. from what you saw through the front window, the entire place was beautiful, decorated with golden framed pieces, intricately detailed vintage chairs, and older persian hall rugs. somehow, they still managed to mix modernism with it regarding the culture of the tattoo field with some edgy decor pieces like beautifully framed moths.

the man guided you to one of the open doors, revealing a beautifully expressed tattooing space. with low rnb music playing in the background, he sat you down in a chair against the wall before grabbing a bottle of water from the mini fridge next to you. the man kneeled down in front of you, assessing your person again. even when kneeling down, he met your eye level.

"are you hurt?" he asked. you shook your head, immediately stopping when things spun again.

"did you know him?" you shook your head again, slow this time. the man didn't push for you to talk, instead tapping the cold bottled water in your hand. you opened the bottle and sipped the beverage. as you drank, you felt the wave of nausea wear off, wishing the spinny vision went along with it.

the man opened the fridge again and grabbed a small tupperware. he opened to reveal half of a sandwich and a mixed variety of fruit on the other side of the tupperware. he set it on top of the mini fridge next to you before stepping away.

"eating will soak up the alcohol ..i'm sorry." you looked up from your lap, knitting your brows together.

"why're you sorry? you did nothing wrong.” you stated, clearing your throat quietly.

"i know, but going through that must've been terrifying." he explained. you didn't respond, sighing softly. you lifted your hand to eat a grape from the tupperware, content with the crunch it had. you began to eat the fruit quietly. the stranger took notice out of the corner of his eye, smiling ever so slightly to himself as he organized. he was stacking books, and throwing away any pieces of plastic waste that weren't already in the trash.

as you ate, you occasionally stole glances at your savior. the first thing you noticed from his height. he had to be over 180cm. he had a nice pair of shoulders on him, and god, you saw his tattoo peak from the short sleeve black t-shirt. on his left arm, it looked like the twisted tail of a snake that didn't go past his elbow. you wondered what was under that shirt. he had the curliest hair you'd ever seen, resembling small metal springs. they were so healthy.

"take a photo, it lasts way longer." the man suddenly said. his back was still turned away from you so you immediately flushed a pink, directing your attention to the container of food.

"i didn't mean to stare ..what's your name?" you began conversation to break the awkwardness in the room. the brunette sighed gently as he continued cleaning.

"i go by kai mostly. its what i'm known as around here." you arch a brow. what did he mean he 'went by kai?'.

"so it isn't your real name?" kai clenched his jaw, pursing his lips together as he continued to clean his space, wiping down the tattoo chair in the middle of the room.

"no, i don't like my real name. it’s too old-fashioned." you hummed in response before crossing your arms. curiosity was killing the cat and your head buzzed from the alcohol still occupying your system.

"well since we're using aliases, i go by carter." kai looked over his shoulder, cracking another half smile. he must admit that the unseriousness of this conversation was becoming a bit refreshing.

"well then it’s nice to meet you, carter." he sat down in a leather seat, metal rolling stool across from you now. you blushed gently under the man's gaze, his gaze lingering longer than expected. you mumbled a 'likewise' out of bashfulness and then a slow silence laid over the room. the radio played generic rnb songs lowly and kai, or so he said, exhaled briskly before going back to sorting his cyber flash sheets. you stared at kai as he did his job. he did it so sexily in your eyes.

suddenly, maybe very abruptly, your brain cells clicked, looking up to the tall brunette. "w-wanna give me a tattoo?" you blurted, immediately noticing the sudden jerked stop of kai's movement. kai turned to you with a deadpan expression.

"and you wanna ask as i’m cleaning everything?" he questioned firmly. you immediately flushed a bright red and looked down at your knees.

"im sorry. that was stupid im sorr–" kai scoffed playfully. he didn't know you were easy to rile up. it was cute on your person and probably only on you.

"you're lucky i enjoy my job. c'mere." kai pointed to the main chair in the middle of the room. you climbed into the chair, laying on your back. kai grabbed his flash book and placed it in your lap as he re-prepared the tattoo gun.

"you got an option and a place on your body?" you flipped through the book of pieces, admiring each and every one. you were a third of the way through the book before an art piece caught your eye. it seemed like a cyber sigilism piece with a central point being a heart. you enjoyed the accents & angles of the endings of the piece itself.

"this one." you pointed at it in confirmation. kai rolled towards you in the chair as he pulled a glove over his large digits, he looked at the piece you chose before finally smiling. you caught a glimpse of his canines, a heartbeat echoing throughout your limbs. maybe it was the alcohol lingering, but kai did have pretty teeth, pretty lips..

"that one? alright, where?" you cleared your throat to also interrupt your impulsive thoughts. you finally met kai's eyes again, brown mixing with [e/c]. you held his gaze as you slowly turned around on the chair, straddling it. kai's eyes broke the gaze first by trailing down from your eyes, to your shoulders, following down your arm to where your finger was pointing to your lower back. kai chuckled softly, his chest feeling warm.

"you uh– heh–..a tramp stamp?" you turned your head to look back at him, nodding with your big [e/c] sultry eyes. god knows you wouldnt dare make a move sober, but your mind tends to wonder when you become inebriated, and being around a tall, gorgeous tattooed man wasn't helping your case. you felt like a cat in heat under a lion right now and you enjoyed feeling like prey under kai. you admit you can naturally come off as flirty when you find someone a little attractive. you couldn't help but take the gamble to see if you can get with said person.

"you been drinkin’ carter?" you gulped, sitting up more awkwardly. were you acting drunk? you were feeling immature now. your heart got louder.

"would you be mad if i lied?" you sighed almost knowingly.

"not particularly but there is a scent of it. it's not me who would be bleeding a helluva lot because you wanted to lie. you seem pretty coherent, so it's your decision if you want to continue or not." something caught your eye. there was a glint, a glimmer of edge in kai's eyes. his aura seemed to darking somehow,and a shudder went down your spine. kai took notice of this before quickly glancing down with a laugh.

"i dont mean to intimidate you–" kai started.

"no," you cut him off. "i don't cry over spilled blood. i'm a big girl. but, in order to start, i want your real name." kai sighed an 'oh brother' with a wry laugh. he rolled his eyes but couldn't hold back his smirk. the air in the room got heavier and you felt even more like prey under the man's presence. something was off. you didn't mind it though. the buzz in your core matched the one in your head as you kept your eyes on him.

your mind was bubbling up thoughts that weren't deemed moral at all. "you're not gonna drop this are you?" he quiered, you shaking your head with a giggle.

"my name's farleigh. farleigh kai catton." farleigh revealed.

"farleigh," you repeated. "pretty first name, farleigh." the cury brunette bit his lower lip, trying not to smile as he began pouring the ink into the tiny capsule. something about the way you complimented him did something to him, an almost primal feeling.

"the name's [y/n] carter matthews." you revealed.

"beautiful name miss matthews," farleigh hummed smugly and sucked in his teeth.

"now since you wouldn't drop the name, you can drop your shorts." you looked at him in pure confusion. it wasn't clicking to you on where the tattoo was really going to be. farleigh saw the perplexed expression before smiling at your intoxicity.

"you want a tramp stamp ..meaning the area needs to be free for me to move properly sweetheart. the shorts would get in the way, you understand?" it finally clicked in your head that farleigh was just doing his job. you quickly nodded before unbuttoning your shorts you wiggled out of them. farleigh casually looked away to fill another ink capsule. your shorts revealed black lace panties and an everlasting blush laying across your face. you always tend to forget how no-filtered tattooed shops can be. you believe they are the group of people who've really seen it all. farleigh turned up the music no louder than 2 more notches to hear you in case you needed to talk. farleigh didn't take any shame looking at your curves and pretty panties. they were pretty. they'd be even prettier ripped on the flo–

"thought you were going to get lucky tonight huh?" farleigh taunted to break the upteeth moment of tension. you laughed dryly while getting comfortable.

"fuck you .." you murmured sassily. farleigh only chuckled again a surprised 'o’hoh' laugh. his tone knocked down another pitch, causing a shiver to run through you. you were tipsy, in your underwear, with your backside facing a sexy mysterious stranger in a tattoo parlor. the thought of this being overly spontaneous briefly crossed your mind, but you did enjoy spontaneous things.

farleigh pumped the foot lever, increasing the height of the chair to his preferred height. your backside was now towards the height of where farleighs chest was when he sat down. your ass was now this attractive man's face. you had to calm your jittery mind from feeling too much embarrassment. he began the process of shaving your lower back and priming your skin for the stencil. you fully spaced out, in the attempt to keep yourself calm. you only had a few tattoos, a chain cuff on your bicep you shared with your best friend and writing on your collarbone. this was going to be considered a big piece on your skin.

"you want it above your back dimples?" farleigh asked as he swallowed thickly at the mere sight of ass in front of him.

"i have back dimples?" you snapped out of your thoughts to turn to him. farleigh nodded with a small grin before meeting your eyes. you nodded in response and exhaled before going back to your thoughts. farleigh sighed, keeping his eyes only on the stencil, or trying his best. with how you looked back at him, your back arched and facing away from him, he already expected his body to warm up.

you were his type. his type, and doing a tramp stamp on his type during the late night wasn't ideal for him, but luckily you were facing away from farleigh so if he were to get riled up, he could calm himself down before the tattoo was done.

"ready?" you nod again, hearing the tattoo gun turn on. you kept your lower body completely relaxed but held onto your arms in tension. the needle finally hit your skin and it felt like brief warm pinches. it wasn't life-threateningly painful but if you were to rate it, you'd give it a 6 out of 10. you relaxed the rest of your body some more before turning your head to a more comfortable spot in your arms. you listened to the gun and the music in the background, occasionally humming along. over the course of the hour, you and farleigh made small talk, talking about the general facts of each other's life.

you learned farleigh lived in london for the majority of his life, had a degree of liberal arts under his name, and had a grey cat named lola. you didn't peg him to be an animal guy, but a pet cat makes sense. he seemed a bit more reserved as you talked about his daily life. he is usually fairly booked up regarding the tattoo shop but works at a bar 2 days a week. "do you make good tips as an attractive bartender?" you queried, moving your head just slightly in his direction. farleigh laughed slowly as he was finishing a line on the stencil before starting another.

"you think i'm attractive?" farleigh inquired with a cheeky tone. you could tell he was smirking like an idiot just by how he sounded. your face was gaining color but you couldn't move. you simply owned up to it. "well would you rather i call you conventionally attractive?" you replied sassily.

"i'd rather you to walk around the bush instead of beatin' on it sweetheart." your chest felt warm now. as a matter of fact, your entire body was warming up from the nerves. you exhaled slowly before swallowing the lump in your throat.

"yes, you are attractive. and you still didn't answer my question." you muttered. farleigh was almost done with the line work on your tattoo, smiling like an idiot. ruffling your feathers was good entertainment for him tonight. he finished the line work and turned off the gun before going to stand up.

"if you must know, i do, make good tips. being 196cm high flipping cups and bottles, with tattoos in a black button-up tends to attract more attention than desired." farleigh walked around and bent down to your eye level with a cheeky smile.

"wanna see the progress?" you matched his smile and got up, being immediately reminded that you were half naked. you stood up and looked in the mirror anyways, admiring the clean work. truth be told, your ass also looked good with the tattoo and you arched your back a bit more in confidence.

"its pretty ..how long for the shading?" you mumbled whilst continuing to admire yourself. farleigh watched from the chair, eyes glued to you. his body nearly ached at the sight. farleigh chewed on his bottom lip slowly, studying your gorgeous features.

"hmm .. –well i mean–" he began, chalking it up to catch himself lagging. "another hour maybe. we can also just reschedule–"

"finishing it tonight is fine, yeah?" you interrupted, turning your head to look at the brunette. farleigh nodded, suddenly grabbing a lanyard of keys from on top of his shelf.

"i'll be right black. i'm going to go lock up. you just stay here and look pretty." and with that, farleigh exited the room.

was he flirting? did he just call me pretty?

you dwelled on it for a few seconds, smiling to yourself. you liked this game he was playing. and you certainly were posing in the mirror on purpose. you knew it didn't hurt to test the waters, but now its looking safe to jump in even. you sat back down in the same position, when you heard farleigh coming back.

"now, for the shading, you might bleed ..y'know ..since you have been drinking." farleighs word made sense. you knew the risks though. being with a man like farleigh only reassured you wanted it done.

"i'll be okay. i just want it done." you shrugged. farleigh stared at you for a handful of seconds before sucking his teeth in reluctance. you didn't seem like the type to endure pain, but maybe he was wrong from the start.

"alrighty then. just don't run then yeah?" you bit your lip at his choice of words as a certain heat grew in your core. you slowly closed your legs for a split seconds from the feeling of butterflies. you braced for pain before farleigh began the shading process. it felt like continuous cat scratches, with a hot knife. by the 15 minute mark, you'd finally strained out a painful moan. farleigh took notice, taking glances after he finished a line. you whispered another pained sound.

"you're doing so good [y/n]." he commented, his gloved hand holding you securely. you tried your best to focus more on where his hands were on your body rather than the several needles stabbing you. over the course of 45 minutes, you bitch and moan. you had tolerated the first 30 without audibly cursing.

it gets to the end of shading and farleigh noticed you had been rather slowly inching away from his hands further up the seat. it was so subtle he could only tell now when he was finishing up. the way your arms flexed while holding your head sent a pulse through his body. the curve of your arch accentuated as the pain lengthened over the course of the hour. you began to feel hot from the pain, a meek whine running past his lips.

"don't think i havent noticed you running [y/n]." you then felt his large hand grab your hips and pull you off the chair, and onto his lap. for a split second, you forgot about the pain and could only focus on the tent pressing up against your clothed cunt. you were getting nervous but so hot and bothered. you control the instinctive urge to roll your hips before looking back at farleigh. whining, you hope he'd budge but he doesn't bother.

"we're almost done. you wanted it. so you're going to sit here and take it like a good girl sweetheart." he's right. you wanted it, and you wanted it bad. not the tattoo, but him. he knew what he was doing. the ball was in full play and it was your turn.

"you're right– ah– i do want it .." you exhaled wearily from how your skin ached. you heard the gun turn off and felt farleigh shuffle just a bit. you looked back to him leaning backward to reach his desk, grabbing a sealed packet of something, he placed it back in his tray next to some paper towels and a water wash bottle. farleigh picked up the gun and continued with no warning which caused you to gasp slowly.

what a bitch move. you slowly unfolded your arms and grabbed the sides of the chair to push your forehead into the leather cushion.

"fuuck." you seethed, tone mixed with arousal and pain. it felt so good, so bad all together. the needle merely tamed you from pouncing onto farleigh. farleigh cooed and coaxed you into sticking it out, saying things like 'you're doing so good for me' or 'just like that'. frankly his praise was not helping at all and you knew he knew what he was doing saying those things to you.

you started to bleed, farleigh immediately making sure to wipe it away. he noticed every time he stopped to wipe excess ink off an area, your hips would roll against his, causing a dreamy sigh to escape past his own lips. he was getting hard, and you knew what you were doing. you felt so dazed with the buzzing of the gun, the buzz of your own, and the tension of the room collapsing onto the two of you. you felt the firm tent in between your thighs, feeling a throb every few seconds. you held back an arousal chill from going down your spine and continued to move only when the gun was off your skin. you could feel the slightest cool of the blood seeping through your pores and forming drops on the surface of your skin.

"almost done." farleigh mumbled, but he began shading a portion that made you squeak and nearly jolt from the hot pain. your hips were moving away from his hands again and up off farleighs lap. farleigh chuckled and let you move, holding the gun back. he admired watching you relax again with your back rising from your slow, erotic-pained breaths. as you were composing yourself with paying no mind to the brunette, farleigh sighed again more dramatically before leaning forward to kiss your shoulder. you flinched and immediately relaxed, allowing him to caress your back with slow, wet kisses. they caused you to gasp and let out breathy moans.

"you wanted it," farleigh murmured against your skin, silently undoing his pants. "so take it."

you felt his gloved fingers outline the fabric of your panties, trailing them between your asschecks before reaching your second pair of lips. you sucked in a slow breath as his fingers simply lingered over your folds, occasionally over your swelling clit. you pushed your hips into his hand, but he then pulled his hand out from your underwear and pulled off the glove.

"you ready?" he asked in a low tone into your ear. he basically loomed over you even while sitting.

"for what?" you replied, opening your eyes to look back at him. but as soon as u did, he swiftly scooted you back on his lap, where his cock sat in between your ass cheeks, pressed up against your pulsating pussy.

shit.

you whined and pushed up against him, but his hand held your hip in place. "not until i finish." he stated before starting up the gun again. as a responsible tattoo artist, farleigh would never want to jeopardize the health of the tattoo. so he kept his ungloved hand away from the area, stretching the skin from a further distance on the back when needed.

"farleigh–" you protested.

"not. until. im done." you annoyingly huffed and kept ur head pressed against the chair. his cock throbbed against your pussy, which then clenched in response. the panties were the only boundary. farleigh wanted to get this done as smoothly and quickly as possible you rail right here in this parlor. he was finishing one last shaded part, wiping away blood before you were pulling away again. farleigh's patience was stretched thin. and it had now snapped.

"fine, since you can't wait until i'm done.." he scoffed and swiftly moved your panties to the side before rubbing the head of his cock along your second folds. he lifted your hips and sat you down on him. your eyes widened and your body went immediately limp by the sudden wave of pleasure. you felt every inch fill your walls, even gracefully brushing up against that spot.

"oh fuck–" you managed to say, staying immensely still. you felt like a cat who got its neck grabbed, feeling frozen. you felt good everywhere inside though, the pain of the tattoo being overruled. farleigh noticed how still you went, chuckled.

"hm, didn't think you'd go completely limp under some dick [y/n]. if i didn't know any better i'd say you were a needy little slut .." you couldn't respond, only replying with a whimper.

the gun went back on for the last time for farleigh to finish the last tiny portion of your tattoo. farleighs cock throbbed in you as he finished up, signalling he was also as eager as you were. after the 2 longest minutes of your life, you heard the gun turn off for good. you felt farleigh shuffle again, wondering if it was truly finished. farleigh had decided to take a pic of such an erotic sight from an above angle. the tattoo, your pussy lips around his thick cock, he wanted to cherish this. farleigh grabbed the paper towel and water, spraying the water on the irritated inked skin.

"f-fuck its cold–" you hissed. "no warning?"

"i think you like no warning, [y/n]. you like the element of surprise." farleigh hummed as he wiped the excess ink-mixed water. you then felt him spray water again, this time he allowed it to trail down your ass, between your asscheeks and down to where he was plugging your hole. "damn.." he whispered, continuing to watch the water drip around your lips. they clenched every few seconds, farleigh feeling your walls clenched around him.

"it’s cold." you murmured again, slowly beginning to move your hips but farleigh stopped you again.

"yeah i know, but its needed. one more thing, needy slut." you smiled at the new nickname, you wanted to show him how you could live up to it but you stayed put, allowing him to finish his job.

farleigh grabbed the sealed packet and ripped it open. it was a thin piece of plastic and he pulled off a plastic cover, laying the thin piece over your tattoo. he made sure it was secure before throwing leftover plastic packaging on his tray and rolling it away.

finally.

you leaned up against the leather chair and looked back at farleigh with his cock buried in you. you began to move your hips slowly but he continued to talk, and clearly struggled.

"the plastic is basically a– mmh–..second piece of protective–" farleigh then sighed briefly, his eyes glazing over in a daze as you rode him gracefully. he had to keep his composure to at least explain safety. "–protective skin layer ..y-you can take it off t...tomorrow–"

"uh huh–" you grinned, continuing to fuck him. a groan escaped farleigh and he tried his best to continue to speak while you enjoyed his struggle.

"when you wake up, rinse with water and anti– ..a-ant–..fuck.. hah fuck–"he whispered, looking up at you who was clearly enjoying themselves a little to much to his liking. suddenly, he grabbed your hips and held them in place as he began to deep stroke you.

"sshiiit–.." you dragged, immediately losing strength as he took over. farleigh heard you curse and laughed, keeping it slow.

"you gotta let me finish giving you the safety rules because this is my job [y/n], understand?" you heard the firm tone in his voice which caused you to obey quicker than usual, but he was filling you with every slow stroke he took.

"yes ...s–sir." you breathed out and finally submitted to stay put.

"now, when you wake up, wash gently with antibacterial soap and water and pat it dry," his large fingers slowly wrapped around your neck from behind, tingles shivering down your back. you were ready tohe plowed open. god you trembled at the mere thought that was about to happen in seconds.

"after drying it, i want you to rub a thin layer of healing ointment on it and continue that twice a day for a week, understand?" you only nodded

his cock simply leaving you incoherent, but farleigh didn't allow that. he gave you a small series of quick thrusts which resulted in a handful of loud moans coming from your lips.

"do you understand?" he asked again.

"–yes sir ..y-yes sir." you moaned, gripping the seat of the chair below you. he smiled, pulling you closer into him by ur throat.

"well then, lets get started." farleigh started fucking you at a steady pace immediately. it was like counting every inch on every stroke because he'd fully pull back before entering all of you again. he was going to ruin you tonight. farleigh moaned when he'd pushed deeper every few strokes. your walls were so wet and warm and he wanted to use you like a pocket pussy. farleigh began to fuck you standing up. the slick wet sounds of your lips around him turned you on even more as he stuffed your insides.

"fuck– ohh fuck farleigh.." you seethed. you couldn't believe how good he was fucking you. your eyes didn't see the room unless farleigh stopped for a moment, because they'd only see the back of your head. you could hear your own pussy sucking farleigh off, getting the shivers all over.

"agh– fuck." farleigh huffed, slowing down. when he did, he felt another head rush as he watched you fuck him back needily. you moved your hips, fucking farleigh in near desperation. you needed him in an incomprehensible way, a primal need to be filled with his cum.

but farleigh had to slow down or he was going to cum in the blink of an eye. you were basically sucking him in and your wet walls were hot against his cock. he wanted to savor every moment, every stroke, and every moan . farleigh then pulled out and turned you to face him. it was refreshing to see his pretty face again, especially with how turned on he visibly looked. he sat leaned down and stood you up. you smiled, happy to be face to face with him again. he smiled at you, picking up one of your legs. he held it in the crevice of his elbow, lookin down to see your pussy fully exposed with his cock lining up to pound it.

"what if i fall?" you asked quickly, holding onto farleighs arm as you stood on one leg. farleigh chuckled, positioning his legs to hold both of you securely.

"i wont let that happen. now, open up for me." he whispered against your lips. as he pushed into you again. you gasped from the new angle, staring into farleigh's eyes as he now pushed up against your g-spot. your eyes immediately began to glaze over. you were going to lose your mind in this position.

"ah– ..oh– oh, god ..fuck." you cried happily. you felt your walls tingle from being stretched so easily. you were already beginning to shake as farleigh continued to fuck your g-spot. your core was burning now.

"farleigh– shit.. farleigh!" you moaned into his mouth, struggling to kiss him but you oh so wanted to badly. your eyes rolled back and your hips began to buck. you went fully incoherent as you suddenly felt a splash between the two of you. with every stroke, you squirted, letting out the most desperate of moans in farleighs arms. your walls clenched harder as you sprayed him which caused him to slow down again. a shudder went down his body as he almost finished then and there. almost.

"please..please dont stop." you begged. you only wanted one thing now, to be fucked and used like a pocket pussy. he started maneuvering his hands to slide under your legs before getting his arms fully under your thighs to hold your ass securely. farleigh's cock poked at your entrance and you gasped, your hair dropping for a moment but you were curious if it was going to for. farleigh caught your eyes with his before slowly entering you. he began to move you, using you as if you were his own personal toy. immediately gave you one long stroke, and you gasped loudly because it scared you because it was the deepest you had ever felt him.

"w-wait" you grabbed his shoulder out of fear. farleigh stopped all movements, scanning your face.

"what? did i hurt you?" he asked in noticeable concern. you chuckles breathlessly, smiling bashfully. now you felt embarrassed you had nerves.

"no i-...i-ive never done this before and it went super deep …but ..just go slow okay?” farleigh nodded and smiled reassuringly at you. he began to move your hips again. you felt his size at a different angle now and it was ruining your mind now. he was hitting a spot right above your cervix that set off alarms in your brain. you were nearing your climax.

"mmm.." farleigh hummed contently. his mouth hung agape as he held you from under your thighs, moving you up and down to his liking. the best part was you were taking all of him, down to the base of his cock. you had a hand wrapped around his neck and the other gripping his shoulder whilst being fucked you into heaven. farleigh began to fully stroke you again with your hips fully connecting to his on every thrust. you wore a broken doll eye expression; one eye closed, the other endlessly rolling back with your mouth fully agape. the amount of ecstasy pulsing through you shook your limbs and your thighs violently shook in farleighs slender hands. your toes curled and pointed with an occasional hip twitch. you were trying hard not to fall over the edge.

"you wanna squirt again? yeah? hmm?" the hung brunette taunted and chuckled. that smug laugh didn't help. it shook your stomach into millions of fireflies, not butterflies, because your core burned and your walls twitched.

"y–yeahghh.." you answered weakly in pure emotional-physical overload. immediately after you replied you begam the water works, squirting on every thrust with a staggered cry for full 30 seconds. the burning feeling of your core overwhelmed you. every squeeze of your pussy sent you into a mental frizzy. every sense of yours was sent into overdrive as farleigh fucked you silly.

farleigh watched the tears on your face. you looked a beautiful mess, and he knew you were enjoying yourself because you were begging endlessly and you kept moaning lewd submissive things. how you wanted to be used like this everyday, how he made you so wet, how his cock stretched you thin. farleigh picked up speed and aggression. you were going to milk him if he kept it up. you knew there was no way in hell you were gonna stop a hook up like this. you were going to take farleigh's cock like a good girl and recover for the next week.

"yes ...yes– yes ..yes!!" you yelled. your brain was in full overdrive. your eyes had rolled fully back and your body couldn't take it anymore. you wrapped your arms fully around farleighs neck and hugged him close as you moaned in tears. your entire body shook in his arms but he adjusted his grip to keep you in place as you became a screaming, shaking mess.

"you wanna cum like this don't 'cha? you wanna finish all over me yeah ..go ahead [y/n], cum for me," as if his words were the trigger, you sucked into a long gasp.

"yeah ..yeah, there you go ..atta girl." your legs locked up and your vision flashed white. your nails dug into farleighs nape before your walls began to violently contract around his cock. a burning intense wave washed over your core and you fully convulsed in the man's arms. you felt like a star exploding. you felt every fiber of your being was dipped in ecstasy. you couldn't think, your mind filled with a loud blank tone buzz, farleighs voice sounded so far away. you felt pure bliss, the pleasure coming in waves. all of a sudden, you let go of the breath you were holding and realized yourself crying in farleighs hands.

"[y/n] breathe, please ..it's okay. i'm so sorry. are you in pain? look at me.." farleigh was sitting down with you in his lap. you blinked slowly and got a hold of your breathing, sniffling.

"i .." you began, looking around for a moment. your head felt fuzzy but you were mentally present for the most part. you damn near couldn't stop your legs from trembling though.

"i think ..i ..had an outer body experience." you said between breaths. you wiped your soaked face and looked up at farleigh who looked scared.

"are you ..okay?" he asked cautiously this time. u sniffled and paused for a moment before nodding.

"did i hurt you in any way?" you shook your head, finally connecting the pieces. you laid your head in the hollow of his neck and made a meek sound of some sort.

"no farleigh, you didn't hurt me." you said slowly, still trying to calm your heart. "i think ..i had the strongest orgasm of my existence." farleigh laughed wearily. cupping your face with his hand.

"so, it was so good you cried?" you whined shyly, hiding your face even more.

"it was a really ..really strong orgasm." you admitted, sniffling again. "i actually only saw white and my ears rang for a bit, so.. i didn't hear you if you said anything after you told me to cum." farleigh tried his best not to laugh again but a warm-hearted chuckle couldn't help but escape his mouth.

"christ [y/n], you scared the shit out of me. i thought i was 'bout to be put on a register." you covered your mouth and sniffled a laugh before shaking your head quickly in response.

"i promise you only just gave me the best hookup of my life farleigh." the brunette bit back a smile, feeling his face warm up. he looked down at you before finding anything else to look at, knowing it was now or never to get it off his chest.

"and if i didn't want it to just be a hookup?" farleigh theorized. you froze for a moment before looking up at him, seeing he was looking only forwards.

"then .." you began before scanning farleigh's anxious body language. you then smiled and pecked his lips. "it won't be just a hookup. stay the night with me and let's see where this goes." farleigh was taken by slight surprise before smiling again. he engulfed you into a nuzzling bear hug whilst you giggled in his arms. the both of you sat together in silence, listening to music while already thinking of round 2.

© orngeblossm , do not copy my work.

ty for reading !!

[thechildofshadows]

PARTNERS IN WINE

Avery Grambs x Jameson Hawthorne - 2.1k

masterlist

Hello and a Happy St. Patrick's Day to all who celebrate! Here's the promised 'Jameson takes care of drunk!Avery' fic, @saythewordheiress. You did not ask me to write it, but I have done so anyway! (because I like doing fun things, especially if it means skiving off schoolwork!) Let me know if you guys want a part two, because I think I set it up pretty well to write a chapter for Grayson and Lyra. This is different from what I usually write, so the quality might be worse. This fic, as I said earlier, is one where Jameson takes care of a drunk Avery. She's drunk for about half the fic and hungover for the other half, so if you don't like reading about people being drunk, or people throwing up ... wrong place, I will see you next week! It is also partially a chat-fic ... you'll see what I mean, because it alternates between actual storytelling and texting. It sounds bad rn, just read it. If you hate the texting, there is actual writing, and if you hate the writing, there is texting. Have fun!

CONVERSATION: KEVIN, JOE, NICK AND THE BONUS JONAS

NASH: Alright you’re going to love this

JAMESON: am i

NASH: Maybe not

NASH: so you know how the girls had a night here

JAMESON: yes

JAMESON: get to the point nash

NASH: there was some rum involved

GRAYSON: Is anyone dead, bleeding, or currently in the hospital?

NASH: no

GRAYSON: Then what’s the problem?

JAMESON: you text like a karen

XANDER: Nash hesitates to tell you, so I shall!

XANDER: They got really drunk.

NASH: …

NASH: Y’all have been quiet for a while

NASH: I’m not afraid of a fight

NASH: I have Oren

GRAYSON: Oren won’t help.

JAMESON: they’re not hurt, jfc calm down loverboy

JAMESON: how much is really drunk?

NASH: like a lot.

NASH: Avery and Max kept drinking after Libby stopped

NASH: they’ve gone through a lot of bottles.

XANDER: Avery recited Shakespeare off the top of her head

JAMESON: do you know which one

XANDER: A Midsummer’s Night Dream

XANDER: The queen’s monologue

JAMESON: omg she was learning it last week for that lit course

NASH: Gotta say

NASH: if this whole inheritance thing stops working out

NASH: she has a future in theater.

GRAYSON: From one solo?

NASH: hey she and Lyra got a pretty good recital of Hamlet in

NASH: they sound better than you do when you’re sober

JAMESON: i think gray might cry lmfao

GRAYSON: I’m not.

Jameson’s favorite thing (person) in the world was Avery Kylie Grambs.

That being said, he had no idea how to handle the woman while she was drunk. And in denial.

“Look, I’ve walked in a straight line, and … and I got back home fine. I’m not thaaaaat drunk.”

Jameson looked at Avery, who has tucked herself into his side. “Oren drove you here, and that line was definitely not straight.”

“It was …” she mumbled. She tried to take a few steps by herself, and fell over against Jameson, who wrapped an arm around her torso to steady her.

“Jesus Christ, how much did you drink?” Avery had a pretty high tolerance for alcohol, and her liver probably died three times over for her to be this drunk.

“I’m not Jesus, I’m Saint Avery, remember?” Her voice slurred as they reached the stairs. Avery tried moving, but she tripped on the first stair and nearly brought Jameson down with her.

Okay, that plan is out the window. Jameson hooked an arm around her legs, and lifted her in a bridal carry, walking away from the stairs.

“Where’re we going?” her words were basically mush at this point, but Jameson was able to make them out.

“Your room is pretty high up, Heiress, and we are taking the shorter route.” He stopped at a random point in a hallway, and tapped it three times. The wall slid away, and revealed an elevator.

Jameson put Avery down, and half-pushed her into the elevator. He clicked the button for her floor, and kept her within his arms as the elevator. It was a pretty short ride, but the sudden stop (which was pretty smooth) caused Avery to lose what little balance she had, and nearly fall over.

Jameson saved her from an encounter with the floor. Again.

She was still putting her full weight on him, so he picked her up again.

As they were walking to her room, she started giggling.

“What’s so funny?”

“You!”

Jameson had no idea what she was talking about. “What?”

Avery giggled again. “Like that. You’re funny. And pretty. Like really pretty.”

Jameson nudged at the side of her head with his nose. “Just pretty?”

“Yeah. Really pretty.” She rested her head against his chest.

“I thought you’d say I’m sexy.”

“That too.”

As soon as she reached her bed, she fell asleep. She was already in pjs, and it didn’t seem worth waking her up again to get fully ready for bed.

Jameson, who had been in bed fiddling with a puzzle Xander gave him, had already been in ‘sleep mode’ for the past hour. After making sure Avery was underneath a blanket and wasn’t about to fall off the bed, throw up, choke on said throw up or all three, he got in beside her, and was surprised that Avery promptly attached herself to his side.

“You’re not really asleep, are you, Heiress?” He asked with a smirk.

She pulled him closer. “I … love you.”

Jameson gave an amused smile and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “I love you too.”

She didn’t respond, and Jameson figured she was truly asleep.

“Good night, Avery.”

Avery woke up the next morning- and ran straight to the bathroom.

Jameson was sitting on the counter next to the sink, as if he had been waiting there, but she barely acknowledged him as she bent over the toilet. He held her hair back as she threw up, and rubbed circles in her back. His touch was gentle, and Avery would've appreciated it more if she hadn't been spilling the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

“Good morning, Heiress.” he said with a smirk once she was done.

She shot him a glare, but quickly looked away as her head began pounding. “Don’t even try.”

“I didn’t say anything.” He joined her on the floor, placing a kiss on her temple, and offered her a bottle of water.

She began to drink it, and felt her headache ease somewhat. She leaned into Jameson and closed her eyes, taking a minute to relax and allow herself to slow down. With the nausea out of the way, she felt closer to sleep than ever.

She checked the clock on the wall. 9:45.

It was still too early for her.

"Woah." Jameson tapped her hand. "You're not sleeping until you've had something to eat."

"What?"

Jameson shrugged. "You're probably going to throw up again when you wake up, you might as well have something to throw up instead of pure stomach acid. You're lucky you ate before drinking last night, otherwise you would be in significantly worse shape."

She opened her mouth to respond, but she felt her stomach turn, and quickly dove for the toilet. Jameson held her hair back as she threw up bile, and kept dry heaving. She almost collapsed against the toilet and felt Jameson tie her hair and walk out of the bathroom. Avery wondered if she was in such bad shape that he couldn’t even be around her.

Avery tried to move, but her vision went temporarily black as she got up, and she wobbled for a second before catching the countertop. "Ow."

“How much did you end up drinking last night?” Jameson re-entered the bathroom and helped her sit on the countertop, giving her a bottle.

That’s why he left.

Avery noticed it was Gatorade rather than water and raised an eyebrow.

“You need the extra hydration, don’t look at me like that.”

Avery would’ve rolled her eyes. She instead decided to open the Gatorade bottle, but lacked the energy to actually open it.

“And she said she didn’t drink at all last night.” Jameson gave her a smirk -oh god, how could he be hot and helpful and unhelpful so early in the morning?- and helped her tip the bottle into her mouth.

She finally found the strength to talk. “Did I really say that last night?”

“Among other things.” He stood between her legs, and gently took the bottle from her, capping it as he moved it to the side.

Avery poked his chest. “What else did I do?”

Jameson gave her a crooked grin. “Finish the food.”

Food?

He produced a packet of crackers out of nowhere, and Avery groaned. “They’re disgusting.”

“They’re what you’re least likely to throw up.”

Avery frowned, and Jameson tore open the packet. “Take it from a Hawthorne man; we know the best ways to get drunk, and the best ways get over a hangover.”

He fed her a cracker, which was bland and flavorless, but the thought of any other food made her want to throw up.

Avery got halfway through the packet before she felt drowsy again. She didn’t realize it until she felt a series of gentle taps on her hand.

“Just one more, Heiress.” Avery was leaning almost entirely on Jameson, her head in the crook of his neck.

Avery tried to respond, but she was almost fully asleep, and Jameson took it as an answer. “Alright, you’re too sleepy for this, let’s get you to bed.”

He lifted her off the countertop almost effortlessly, and gently placed her on her bed, placing a kiss on her forehead. He might’ve said something, but sleep washed over Avery, and anything he said was long gone.

DIRECT MESSAGES TO: GRAYSON HAWTHORNE

JAMESON: how drunk did the girls get

JAMESON: even i never got hungover this bad jfc

GRAYSON: I couldn’t tell you.

GRAYSON: She’s stubborn as ever.

GRAYSON: She won’t even eat food.

GRAYSON: She also says that she’s not drunk.

JAMESON: she’s not tho????

JAMESON: she’s hungover??

JAMESON: don’t tell me you’ve been telling ur girl shes drunk.

GRAYSON: Don’t tell Xander.

GRAYSON: Or Avery.

JAMESON: lmfao i just got avery back into bed

JAMESON: try harder

GRAYSON: She just ran to the bathroom.

JAMESON: have fun

She ended up waking up about two hours later with a blinding headache-

“-And that’s what the painkillers are for.” Jameson sat on the edge of the bed and handed her two pills and a glass of water. She quickly gulped down the pills and all of the water, and she felt relief wash over her about five minutes later.

“Jesus Christ.” She moved closer to Jameson and leaned her head against his shoulder.

“How are we feeling, Heiress?” She looked up at him and he flashed her a smile.

“A lot better now. How are you so patient?”

His eyebrows rose. “I’m not.”

“You knew exactly what to do.”

“That comes from a combination of regularly having gotten hangovers, and being a Hawthorne.” He gestured wildly with his arms. “Efficiency is key.”

She bit back a laugh as Jameson talked about his ‘process’ and how many tries it took him to perfect the hangover routine.

“-so you got the better end of the deal, you hopefully will never have to experience a true, raw hangover.”

“Thank you.” Jameson looked down at her and she shrugged. “You didn’t have to help. It was pretty gross.”

“Anytime, Heiress. And I’ve seen gross. I lived with Grayson.”

Avery swallowed. “We woke you up last night as well, and I didn’t plan on getting drunk at all. You were completely unprepared.”

Jameson’s eyebrows flew into his hair. “If you ever meet an unprepared Hawthorne, please disinherit them.”

When Avery didn’t laugh, he sighed. “It’s okay, Heiress. We all drink a little too much sometimes, and no one goes out planning to get wasted. We have a whole shelf in the pantry with ‘hangover-safe food.’ It’s not a burden to help you, and it’s never a bad thing to spend more time with you.”

Avery opened her mouth to argue back and Jameson clapped a hand over her mouth. “I will always be there for you, whether you like it or not. It’s not a bad thing.”

She felt her breath catch in her throat, and she paused for a minute before she spoke. “Alright.”

He flashed her a smirk. “It is also fun not being the one drunk for once.”

She rolled her eyes and Jameson wrapped an arm around her. “Brilliant. Now do you want to see whether Lyra finally stopped arguing with Grayson?”

“Oh, she never does.”

“Today might be different.”

“How so?”

“She’s hungover for one thing …”

GRAYSON: Where did they get the alcohol again?

JAMESON: avery’s asking if Lyra’s okay.

GRAYSON: She’s sleeping.

JAMESON: gray it’s like 1pm

JAMESON: why did it take you so long to get her to rest.

GRAYSON: Apparently, Lyra has a severe distaste for all things involving alcohol.

GRAYSON: How did Avery get her drunk?

JAMESON: she says Max did it.

GRAYSON: I shouldn’t have expected anything less.

GRAYSON: I thought I was done with hangovers when you stopped drinking.

JAMESON: and then you decided to fall in love

JAMESON: this is not my fault

GRAYSON: she’s waking up.

GRAYSON: Maybe I’ll finally sleep.

JAMESON: that’s what you get for not sleeping when people do

GRAYSON: I’m not going to grace that with a response.

GRAYSON: Goodbye, Jamie.

JAMESON: you’re not going off to war jfc dont sound so dramatic

JAMESON: well, you kinda are

GRAYSON: … I’ll pass on the sentiment to Lyra

JAMESON: he didn’t mean that -Avery

JAMESON: I did

JAMESON: see you later.

fin.

ENDING NOTES This fic was kind of a rollercoaster, and it was harder for me to write ... for some reason. I specialize in angst. Thanks for reading - please like, reblog and leave feedback in the notes. Or just throw blackberries at me. Anything works. It's St. Patricks Day, and I literally live in Walmart Ireland, and I ... made this fic blue. (yaaay) This looks shit in light mode, im sorry. The taglist has a grand total of one person (thank you, Jude) and is looking for more people, so if you want to be added, lmk. (I joined the writing side during TIG's lowest point, but we are going to deal with it by throwing more fics into the pit.)

Taglist: @inmyheaddd

[spurbleu]

disciple ✞︎

[ken sato x afab reader]

S. if you look for God, you won’t always find him. but you always found Ken.

warnings: mdni, religious imagery, mentions of vaginal sex and oral (both receiving), angst, toxic(ish) situationship, grinding/leg riding, ken before his growth arc, maybe a lil ooc

a/n: this one is a little nasty, sorry. i promise the next one will be cute to make up for it lmfao. inspired by @mitskicain and her beautiful work here.

word count: 3.8k

࿓༚︎︎‧✞︎︎⁎︎✳︎⁎︎‧︎✞︎࿓︎༚︎

Somewhere along the way, you had become devoted.

The Bible’s spine bound to your own- the alters of your chapel nailed to the foot of your bed. Velvet cushions the color of your undereyes- swollen mauve. You slept there, allegiance to something larger than yourself keeping you to its feathered seats, molded into a ceaseless kneel.

You could call him many things- a whore, bastard, a good (no, great) fuck- but Ken Sato was no god. Your spite made sure of it, refusing to enter the coitus infused oak that built your confessional. The stench of sex would not pull the truth from your stubborn lips, white in denial (wedding veil, erotic). His influence on yourself couldn’t be larger than your own. 

It wasn’t. It would never be.

You wrote out that lie on his thigh, your teary cunt on the harsh fabric of his trousers. They felt rich against the lace of your panties- embroidered in every language of your arousal, highlighting the blush as it sheens through the fabric.

“That’s it, baby. Ride yourself out- filthy girl.”

Obedience. You groaned- frustrated, mostly with yourself. It was out of character for you- doing bidding without complaint. Sculpting your body in the ways he wanted you to, foggy minded and pussy drunk. Since when were you willing to take orders?

You supposed it was his drafting party- 3 years ago. Arrogant, young bastard then- high on the birth of his success- talking to you like he had the world in the palm of his large, fledging hand (Atlas, before the world wore him down, too). Despite it, your friend had begged you at the bar,

“Give him a chance.” She was dating a Dodger at the time, albeit a much more mature one.

Reluctant, you entertained. Forcing an airy laugh at his formless jokes, many of them losing the punchline behind his liquored teeth. You would run your hand up his shoulder, massaging muscles under Abercrombie. They had been bigger, then- plumper and less relaxed- yet another desperate attempt to stand out.

Obnoxiously amateur. It was stamped on his forehead, his tongue, and his knuckles as he drove you to his apartment, black ink cracking the faulty persona he had created for himself.

There, he fucked you senseless.

His god given gift must have been stamina, you decided. He made the night endless, morning suspended by the brutality of your next orgasm, the expanse of his mattress (not yet expensive, impatient for his first paycheck) memorizing the way you screamed his name and the taste of your drool (vodka, and the admissions you were wrong- prayers).

It’s when you realized his orders always seemed to align with your desires- spoken or not.

You moaned again, hips curling against the space above his knee, grinding like your orgasm would return your dignity with a fat, blue bow. Replace what you had lost to the shape of him, fill the hole that had once been your own. Now who’s the amateur.

He held your hips with a plum grip- thumbs bruising the patch of skin beneath your dress- folded in careless wrinkles on your waist. It was one of your favorites- not that he cared. He could buy you twenty more of the same ones, if he wanted to. But he didn’t- no, now, he wanted to see you fold and whimper over the shape of his quads.

“C’mon baby. Cum for me, show me what I do to you.”

It’s funny. Your knees were half bent, straddling him in shaky rhythm. Your fingers interlaced behind his neck, hands sailing the nape of his neck, brushing against shore of hair- searching the waters for minimal stability. From far away- it would’ve looked like you were deep in prayer.

The twist of your nose mistaken for devotion, not lust. Your interlaced fingers and touching foreheads a physical vessel for the god you were calling out to- his name spoken quietly in breathy moans that fell from under your tongue. A religious ceremony- the Eucharist between your legs- wine against lace (filth in a chapel, dust on candles).

Your orgasm was sinful, the damnation near worth it as you crumpled into his chest, sighing your reconciliation. His hands slid up from your hips to your waist, eager to hold the space under your arms, palms pressing against your rocky exhale.

He pulled your face from his chest with a single hand, gripping your teeth through your cheeks. It wasn’t rough, but it was strong enough to break you out of your sexed stupor, your eyes meeting his as you searched for answers in the grey of his iris.

How did you get here?

Grinding his leg like it was your deliverance- like it would somehow stop the horns from growing. Your transformation from a devil into something lucid- a little more deserving of limbo. The red of your lips kissed away into a tasteful pink, the dim light above his bed illuminating your mussed hair into the apparition of a halo.

Equally- he torn the putridity from you, smudging the grime in a cross on your forehead (Ash Wednesday, burnt innocence and palm branches). Your crimes, pockets of lust found between your weeping cunt and glossy lips, held you captive to his embrace.

You were one big step away from salvation, and three small ones away from hell.

So instead of moving, you lay stagnant on the bed of your shared apartment, his back turned away from yours. There, you were left to think about what brought you to Ken Sato- God or Satan? Perhaps both, found in the gentle snore of the goliath next to you, his features in sleep contrary to the harsh lines that structured his jaw awake. They were softer, here, innocent.

You knew better.

Ken wasn’t a man of chastity. The way he fucked acting as your testimony, near selfish as he chased your orgasms, each shudder of your legs a building block to his tall ego. How, when he arrived at your dimly lit porch, breath low, there wasn’t that begrudging, drawling slow talk. Pointless questions about the other that neither really cared about.

No, Ken pulled you close. Skipped the part where you get to know each other, or that airy friction before your lips meet. Instead, you both pilfer your manners, settling for the impolite shape of a kiss, a precursor to how he’ll fold you tonight.

Perhaps that’s how you know him well. You’ve become so good at reading his touch on you, palm searing the details of his day with his lifelines into the small of your back, that you don’t even need to ask. People tended to speak with their words- but Ken had a particular fluency for the use of his hands.

They tell you other things, too. How his immaturity can still be found in his desperate sighs and arrogance. How his favorite meal is the one between your legs. How quickly he can fall asleep, and how he talks in it. You listen, wondering if this time, he’ll say something forgiving (like your name).

But that’s where it ends. You both fall somewhere between strangers and lovers, knowing more than a stranger would but significantly less that a lover should.

You still don’t know his favorite color.

But why would you want to? You didn’t- shouldn’t- care. As long as he kept his cock buried the in plush of your cunt, or his mouth on it, you couldn’t. It could be something poetic like sapphire, for all you care. But you knew if he ever asked, he’d say something stupid like,

“The color of your cheeks when I make you cum.” Abhorrently charming, and motivated by his own libido, you’d think, before straddling his thigh. Romantic enough to make the request of you riding his leg, dirty enough to actually get you to do it.

Again, that thoughtless obedience. You were losing your edge, that ardor that made you chaseable, out of reach. But now he had you around his finger, and it drove you mad.

You both knew you have every ability to walk away. To stand up, pack your things, and leave. You could never see him again, find a decent man who doesn’t talk to you like you’re some whore, and settle down. White picket fence- within your reach- just out the door. Ken wouldn’t chase you- but that’s it- isn’t it? He wouldn’t care.

But you wanted him, didn’t you. He fucked the unpredictability out of you- the effortless curl of his index finger bringing you on your knees, mouth open in a worship. You wanted to have him guessing, on his toes, like he had you.

“I only fucked you because my friend had begged me too,” You had said one morning, an attempt at regaining it, “You were charity work.” You watched the ridged lines of his silhouette for a reaction.

But there wasn’t one. He only chuckled, standing as he stretched the inflation of the dawn off his shoulders, “Yeah…I was pretty annoying back then, wasn’t I?”

You were approaching tantrum. Had you lost your bite? Were your canines dulled- since when were you a domesticated dog? Where along the way had he cured you of your rabidity? You came up dry.

So defeated, you had said, “Yeah. You were.”

He turned to you, that familiar glint in his eyes, not dissimilar to a priest before a homily (delivering the truth), “But you came back, didn’t you?”

He was right. You called him- three days later. Midnight, swallowing your pride and your arousal as you asked, “Want to come over?” and hopeful when he replied “I will never say no.”

And he hadn’t. You suppose that’s where your bite came back, canines softer but still effective. That when they tear into the softness of his neck, coming back bloody and hysterical, he bent into you. He started kneeling, eating you out like somewhere, beneath your noxious folds, was redemption.

(Is this where you’re his god? Above him, moaning his name, hips rolling in tandem with his tongue? If so, you feel powerless. Because outside the bursa between your legs, you had nothing to offer.)

But he never said yes either. He would just hang up, and in 15 minutes be at your door, seconds before his mouth was on yours. Maybe, he was saying yes then. Spelling out a y, e and s in the hickeys he left on your neck. But the selfish, younger part of you wanted to hear him say it.

Whisper it in your ear as he fingered you, or as you licked his tip, kneeling before him as he whispered his little plea. Yes, yes, yes, yes. Hear the heat of orgasm in the bobbing of his adam’s apple.

But instead, he talked to you rather than about you, when he was close (delusion- that he saw you in that moment).

“Your littl’ cunt it my favorite- y’know that sweetheart?”

You were folded beneath him, a rare time when you faced each other. His head was against yours, hot breath fanning on your bruised lips as his rutted into you, shroom tip making stars fuzz on the sides of your vision. It made his utterance, motivated by your clenching walls, beyond intimate.

You couldn’t help the weight those words held in your hands. Favorite. Such a complicated feeling.

You knew he fucked other girls- his whorish grin buried into dozens of cunts before yours. But a young, childish creature was born in the cavity of your chest- envy. It’s plump hands tearing the rips in your indifference, revealing the head of your heart. Bent over into the bed that would never be just yours, you felt it leak out of the intimate parts of you, slicking his cock as if it would stain him.

Although, there was an impish pride in it all. That you had bewitched him enough, ass flaring against his hips, flesh opening wide and obediently for him, that he made a mistake in calling you a favorite. A pedestal for you to kiss his feet at, where you looked down at the other disciples and you knew, you fucking knew, he was a close to yours as he was ever going to be.

That’s why, in the normalcy of it all, of being ‘the one’ (less romantic than you had thought it was when you were a girl), you weren’t surprised when he asked you to live with him.

Two years ago, now. He had been lying next to you, the drowse of sex pulling his chest up in a rhythm you found repulsively soothing, he asked you, “Do you want to move in?”

And because you had never been more causal about anything in your life (exhilarating, the apathy an illusion of control), that you replied, “Sure.”

Huge apartment- stench of wealth written in every spotless crevice. Modern, grey arches and colorless domes- highlighted by the rich brown of the oak that surrounded the exterior. The bedroom view overlooked Anaheim, and most mornings you’d catch yourself staring at the sunrise, another sleepless evening behind you. It was your favorite view of the city.

Not that Ken knew- you never told him, and he never asked.

That’s how you planned to keep it. Even if you lived together, nothing about your relationship would change. You weren’t going to role play the happy wife- waiting at the door with his liquor and lace under your apron as you asked him “how was your day?” over dinner. There would be no domesticity. It would stay a house not a home.

But eventually, it became neither. Instead, it became a church.

Business with reality ate away at both of your lungs, that by the time you reached the door, you were breathless and crawling. You found ceremony in asthmatic sex; body already accustomed to the feeling of asphyxiation.

There was never room in your lungs for actual romance. Not all liquor could be rum- not all love could be sweet. You settled with the discovery as you rode out your frustrations on his cock, feeling as he stretched you out (merciless, perdition by pleasure) the grip on your thighs motivating your assault.

Tell me, it would say, tell me with your hips.

Routine.

It was your service. The Gospel, as he whispers in your ear how much he missed you today, how much he needed this- you. How quickly you were brought to your knees, feeling as his cock stretched your throat- more room for the hymn of his name.

How you became the choir, the altar servers, the priest and the attendees all at once. How he made you everything, then (except for of course, God. He played that role in your selfish exhibition). How when you screamed his name, your cunt memorizing the feverish pace he thrust into you, angels heard worship.

You could feel it happening- that subtle, long, change from a devil to a disciple. That as his cock reformed the shape of your walls, your cervix slowly morphing into the shape of a crucifix, he made you a follower.

It was another year before the candles snuffed. His mother disappeared.

You had heard of Ms. Kato before. Not that he would ever take you to her- you aren’t exactly the type of girl you bring home (a vice, really. No mother wants to meet their son’s damnation.) But everyone knew about Ms. Kato.

He talked about her in interviews, and besides slumber you haven’t seen his face that soft before. Admiration- a son who loved his mother. It humanized him, and sometimes you’d find yourself searching for a similar plasticity as he cleaned you up, holding your bambi legs (if you got lucky, he’d place a kiss on your knee, gracious. Hopeful.)

You decided she had no place here, with you. Not because you hated her (far from it)- but out of a compassion. You wouldn’t stain the one thing that made him redeemable. A tenderness that shouldn’t be corrupted. There were equally parts of you that you would never share, and he would never know- for that very same reason.

Because if you do, you’ll be judged empty handed and irredeemable.

But then he cried.

He cried, in front of you. The peak of vulnerability, curling into your arms after breaking a kiss that felt particularly dull, uncharged. You had agreed, so many times, to keep things casual. To ignore the tug at your tendons to reach out, or to ask about him. To find out his favorite color.

And against all your better judgment, you embraced him. You held him as he sobbed into your chest, a boy missing his mother. Your hands bridged the gaps in his hair strands, fiddling the parts of his body he couldn’t feel in that moment (keep some semblance of distance, if that were ever possible).

You both fell asleep like that, tangled in the dips and rifts in your bodies. His tears had stained your shirt, not that you minded. It was nice, having him daub you with something less lewd- placing his tolerance on the crest of your chest.

The next morning, you sat on the edge of the bed as you watched him get dressed. There was a sluggishness about him, a depression between the sleepy jostle of his shirt, stretching over his heavy chest. The daybreak was dimmed by his swollen eyes, the imprint of your chest showing up a red rash on his cheek.

“Do you…want to talk about it?”

A mistake, but an empathetic one. Asking about him. Without sensuality, the motivation to get between his legs, that familiar ache in your cunt. No, this was a different ache- much higher- fluttering in the bluntness of your heartrate.

When he turned to you, it swelled, and you realized you had crossed a boundary. A thick one, the one that glued things together for this long. He didn’t glare at you- in fact there wasn’t expression. Dulled knife without bloodlust, just a utensil, half used and ready for the next meal.

“No,” he had said then, and you knew it was over. End of an era, nail in the coffin.

He told you he was moving to Japan shortly after. As he was packing his things into the U-Haul, you watched him from the doorway, and the world seemed to narrow between his acnetis. You swallowed as he taped the last box.

He stood in front of you.

Thinner, than three years ago. Older, a bit more mature- hell you’d even call him a man. He wasn’t playing dress-up in a fancy suit or in his baseball uniform- no, here you found him rather casual- in sweats and old merch. A hat, brush back your favorite texture- thick rooted hair.

3 years of your life, packed in a U-Haul and out the window of an airplane. Not that you even expected it to last this long.

But what was it anyway? A sorry excuse for a relationship? An exchange of goods that both of you needed but neither knew how to ask for? An empty embrace, without personality but with all the intimacy? You couldn’t figure it out.

What happens to a churchgoer when it’s stolen from them? Candles snuffed, building bulldozed, the beautiful stained glass broken in faithless shards at their feet, eroded by angel tears. Left to find another one, you supposed.

But that’s the thing- you weren’t just going to church to worship something, but someone. And now he was leaving, as you both agreed you would not follow, left to explore the expansive hole he drilled within your body by yourself.

You weren’t bitter- in fact you found yourself understanding. Every God abandons- and it will always feel too soon. There wasn’t a point in begging, praying, kissing. You had done your job, washed his feet, let him move on (why couldn’t you do it with him?).

“What’s your favorite color?”

His eyebrows furrowed as he gave you the apartment keys, half out the door with his last box- photos. Maybe you were in there, somewhere (would he frame it?). “What?”

“You never told me,” you found a goodbye in his eyes, so there wasn’t a need to say one back, “I want to know.”

“Why?”

You shrugged. There wasn’t an answer that would satisfy him anyway. He searched your eyes, perhaps for your own goodbye. When he came up empty handed, his shoulders caved with a sigh.

“Don’t have one. But I…” guilt. There it was. The desire to clean up half the mess you made, recognition that by leaving, you’re destroying a follower and her morale, the goodness and obedience you had built for so long. It flashed across his features in a ripple, rock hitting the water. A weak smile, and for a moment you had been convinced it was real (God’s son, a little more human, a little more tangible).

“I have always loved the color of your eyes.”

Cruelly romantic, and in the most inopportune time.

You caught a glimpse of what could have been as he drove off. Taking you with him, fucking you in the airport bathroom, hand keeping you quiet. On the plane, he’d interlace your fingers through his as you lift off (he finds out your afraid of heights). You live in Japan, he teaches you patiently how to say hello, holding you after making your bed. A domesticity, a place of worship, lost to an inability to talk- to risk.

He didn’t kiss you when he left, but you both know that was for the best. That your frenzied physicality, the only thing that seemed to keep you attending church, was absent in your goodbye.

It really was over.

He left your apartment half empty (church without an alter). He didn’t call like he said he would, neither did you, and your devotion simmered into hardened, bitter lines. Resentment was found in every corner of that apartment (because there wasn’t a place where he hadn’t touched), and truthfully, yourself (again, imprinted).

It didn’t take long before you moved out as well.

While packing, you came across a picture you took together at his draft party. You both looked so much younger, and it reminded you how big you could smile. A memory- that although you had convinced yourself you were never charmed by that amateur, there was a reason you found yourself under him that night.

And, funnily enough, for the next three years.

You burned it.

Fuck him. You would think. Good riddance.

But above your head, a flame flickered to life- orange in its birth, fueled by the ashes of your fervor, the years of your bleeding knees, and that fucking picture.

Even now, he’ll remain in your subconscious fidelity.

What a bastard.

[that-gay-guy-from-hell]

Uncontrolled Instincts: Vergil x Male Reader

MINORS DNI; THIS IS FOR ADULTS ONLY

SERIOUSLY, GO AWAY!

SUMMARY: The eldest son of Sparda has been through many trials and tribulations within his almost fifty years of life. Despite this, Vergil was still learning about the different ways his heritage could bring him to his wit's end-- how it could bring him to his knees and leave him completely and utterly at your mercy.

BEGINNING NOTES: Requested by @kasianthus on Tumblr! (Sorry this took so long--didn't know if should still stage because of that so sorry if you aren't really into DMC anymore in the like year this took lmao sorry) This legit has been sitting half-finished for months (Like this was requested way back on March 5th lmfao); so I figured I should probably finish it lmfao 🦢💧🦢 Top/Dom Vergil x Sub/Bottom Male reader Pre-established relationship Semi-mindless smut with a lil' fluff Lots of smut--like a ton. Rut (Vergil); the reader is unaware of this being a thing in devils Minor scent kink Small masturbation scene (Vergil) Mating/Breeding kink (Possessive of the reader) Biting/Blood (Bleeding?) kink: Vergil bites hard enough to draw blood (he is a devil after all) then does some kind of painful stuff--it’s not very long or anything but I figured it is important to mention. Bruising + Scratching Minor Oral (blowjob; Reader receiving.) Monster fucker stuff; dick sleeve/slit stuff, etc. Devil Trigger sex Overstimulation Knotting 💧🦢💧 >Unrealistic sizes for his Triggered dick(s)--just let me have fun. If you want actual sizes, go to Vergil’s H/C chapter. >Because of the mental state Vergil’s in, he’s a bit sappy--almost reminiscent of V--during some parts. >I used the concept art from DMC 5 as a reference for Vergil’s (regular) Devil Trigger; figured I should put that here to avoid any confusion (since it’s very different from his 3-design and semi-different than his 4-design). Dante’s 5 DT has pupils so Vergil’s does too (even though the concept art doesn’t; neither does Dante’s concept art btw).

===

     “That is an idiotic suggestion,” Vergil’s lip twitched as he lightly snarled, “Although I shouldn’t expect much else from you.”

     “Yeah? Well, if you’re so damned smart,” Dante crossed his arms as he leaned back in his chair, scowling at Vergil, “Then what’s your plan.”

     “I told you,” the blue devil squinted, “I can handle it alone.”

     Dante slammed his hands down on his desk and shot up from his chair, “And as I have told you ,” he rounded to the front of his desk, leaning against it slightly, and stood face-to-face with his older brother, “ No, you can’t. ” 

     The devils stared at one another, growling while exchanging death glares. Amongst the loud snarling, however, a stressed-out sigh could be heard. Lady, who had grabbed a beer, was trying to ignore the twins' incessant bickering. She's been waiting for over an hour for Nico and Trish to swing by and pick her up and she was almost at her breaking point. Quietly, she tapped her fingers against the half-drunk bottle while grumbling to herself. A part of her felt like she was babysitting two toddlers rather than sitting at the establishment of two middle-aged devil hunters. As she raised the bottle to take a drink, a loud commotion behind her caught her attention. Slamming down the bottle, she whipped around with a venomous glare.

     With hands wrapped around one another, the twins wrestled momentarily only to be cut abruptly by Vergil slamming Dante’s back through the railing and treads of the staircase. A loud strangled coughing came from Dante as one of the metal bars speared him through the chest, splattering Vergil’s face with a trace amount of blood. 

    “What is wrong with you two?!" Lady’s tolerance had finally run out, "I just fucking fixed yesterday's damage!” She stood from her seat, arms crossed.

     Hearing her irate tone, Vergil released Dante’s neck from his grasp and stood up; not saying a word. 

     Dante groaned, looking up at his twin, “Lil’ help?” He stuck out his hand which Vergil used to yank Dante back to his feet.

     Vergil straightened his coat, “I think I will take my leave for today-”

     “Good,” Dante shifted uncomfortably, placing a hand over the gaping hole in his middle, feeling it slowly repair itself, “Can’t stand you being so pissy.”

     Lady pinched the bridge of her nose, “You are no better, Dante. Both of you are acting like children.”

     “I am not,” Dante huffed.

     Vergil glared at his brother from the corner of his eye before strutting towards the garage door, “I am leaving,” he stopped after he was slightly past Lady and turned over to his shoulder, addressing her, "Contact me only if necessary.”

     With that, Vergil left The Devil May Cry.

==

     Upon opening the front door to your shared home, Vergil instantly felt a heavy hazy heat spread throughout his limbs. He took a slow deep breath as he stood in the entryway, trying to get a hold of himself. Unhurriedly, he hung his coat and slid off his boots, mumbling to himself about his next move. He decided that a shower may ease his mind as he wandered into the cozy co-inhabited home.

     The blue devil warily looked around, trying to avoid you. Eventually, he found you in the bedroom, making things difficult, since he needed to stop in there for clothing. He peered in through the door and saw that you were lying on your stomach, reading a book while softly humming. From where he was standing, he got a perfect view of your ass, only worsening his issue . 

     Vergil shook his head and took a deep breath trying to deter his thoughts; only after which did he realize that getting a deep whiff of your scent was perhaps the worst thing he could do at the moment. He stood with a scrunched face and closed eyes as he tried to ground himself, doing his best to ignore the overwhelming perverse thoughts eating at him, and the fiery feeling spreading to his lower half.

     You turned over and sat at the edge of the bed, dangling your legs over the edge, “Hey-! You’re home early,” you flashed him a cheerful smile that quickly fell as you got nothing but silence in return, “Everything alright, Vergil?” 

     “Yes, everything is fine,” Vergil’s eyes avoided yours and his answer was quick and emotionless.

     You raised a brow at his seemingly discombobulated reaction, “You sure?”

     He nodded and moved to grab some casual clothing from the dresser, “I am going to shower.”

     Your brow raised further, “Okay..?”

     Vergil looked over to you as if he were going to speak but closed his mouth, turned away from you, and left.

     In the brief moments that your eyes met with his, you noticed the small bits of dried blood on his clothes and face. It was probably Dante’s, knowing how much the two had been fighting the past week or so; however, that didn’t make it any better nor did it ease your mind. You slid off the bed, and placed the book on the nightstand, leaving the room. Unhurriedly, you meandered down the hall as you mulled through what could have upset Vergil so much. 

     As of late, he's been in such a sour mood that he barely even says "Good morning" or "Good night", not to mention the lack of physical affection. He hasn't even been sleeping in the bedroom with you, "preferring” to sleep on the couch. A frown decorated your face as a wicked thought echoed in your mind, "What if he is distancing himself so he can disappear…"

     You shook your head, "He'd never do that, he loves me... Right?"

     With another shake of your head, you decided that you were going to talk with him once he's finished his shower.

     When Vergil entered the restroom, he lazily tossed his change of clothes off to the side and turned the shower faucet as cold as he could. While the water ran, he stripped down and neatly placed his worn clothing in the hamper.

     Just being in your presence had made him unbearably hard and was driving him up the wall. It seems even the Dark Slayer isn’t able to conquer his instincts, much to his vexation. 

     A quiet hiss left his lips as he stepped under the icy water. Vergil’s skin was beyond sweltering, being so hot that it was bothering him; a man whose body runs on average at around 120°F (49°C). The contrast between him and the nearly frozen water created a sauna-esc environment--fog quickly filling the room. As he washed his face off, he stared mindlessly at the wall. He’d never experienced something like this before; and, to be quite frank, it's exhausting. The sheer amount of emotional ups and downs was enough to make him nauseous. Not to mention that he’d been avoiding any sort of affection towards or with you for nearly a week.

     It all mixed up into a hellish disaster that Vergil just wanted to end. Tired of the immense toll this was taking on him, in every way possible.

     With folded arms, he stood facing the water as a small discontent grumble left his lips. He had hoped that the cold water would have killed his hard-on; however, it didn’t. Now he was just miserably standing under frigid water with a rigid cock. 

     Vergil let out a low growl of irritation, his face scrunching into a grimace as he lightly pinched the bridge of his nose. Despite not being one for masturbation, he decided to try and handle his urges alone. He ran his hands up his face and then slowly back down, sighing loudly. Then he turned around and leaned his forehead against the wall, the water now beating against his back; a feeling that would have most definitely troubled him if he weren’t so worked up. 

     His brow furrowed as he shut his eyes, placing one hand on the wall and the other around his throbbing dick. Slowly, his hand moved at the thought of what he’d do to you if only you were here harshly pinned between the wall and him. 

     The feeling of you squirming underneath him as he bit down on your neck. Your groans as he shoves himself inside your tight hole. The feeling of your hands in his hair, pulling it in ecstasy. How deep and hard he would pound your insides. Growling obscene and perverse comments into your ear and watching you react; feeling you react. Folding you as he bent your legs up as far as he could, his nails digging into your skin. 

     Vergil wanted nothing more than to claim you --to breed you --to leave you unable to move and full to the brim with his cum.

     The blue devil’s face scrunched further with every quickening stroke, trying to reach his peak, “Ngh- ha~” A frustrated whine of a huff escaped his nose as he bit down on his lip.

     Unknowingly, he started bucking his hips into his hand in pursuit of the tantalizingly close orgasm. However, try as he may, it never came; all he managed to do was work himself up even further and nearly break his fingers from how hard he was pressing against the tiles.

     After what seemed like an eternity, he removed his hand from his cock and just stood there with his eyes closed. He placed his face against his bicep with a deep exasperated inhale, trying to figure out a solution that wouldn’t involve him explaining what was happening. 

     A soft knock at the door caused Vergil to choke on his exhale, “Vergil, you alright? You’ve been in there for over an hour…”

     Although you didn’t care how long he took, it was a bit concerning when his longest shower ever was fifteen minutes . In combination with how he was earlier, you were well within your right to worry. 

     He felt his cock twitch at the sound of your voice as he ran his thumb across his tip, doing his best to subvert the idea of asking you to join him, “I am fine,” he straightened his posture with a small sigh, “I will be out momentarily.”

     The blue devil waited to hear you walk away before he turned off the water and stepped out. He dried off and slid on his black boxer briefs and an indigo t-shirt. Then, as per usual, he went to pomade his hair but found his tin completely exhausted. Vergil balled up his hands, his nails lightly puncturing his palms in anger. In his heated departure from the shop, he had completely forgotten to pick some up before returning home. In a vain attempt at normalcy, he used the dampness from the shower to slick it back. 

     Then the real issue became apparent. He needed to figure out how to hide his excitement . The blue devil mulled over different ideas as he moved his jaw back and forth. It was then that he noticed he, unintentionally, grabbed a baggy set of grey sweatpants; ones that would be able to hide most of his painfully aching flesh if he wore them just right and tucked himself in a very specific way. 

     After a few attempts, he managed to get it right and looked at himself in the mirror; it was barely noticeable, allowing him to take a sigh of relief. As he opened the door, he was able to place where you were in the house by the sound of your heart, you were in the living room. Knowing that if he saw you he’d lose the struggle with himself, he quickly slipped into his study; which was right between the bathroom and bedroom.

     The Dark Slayer quietly shut the door and turned on a desk lamp. The room wasn’t anything too elaborate or fancy; it only contained three bookshelves, a small desk, and Vergil’s favorite chair. The blue devil grabbed his current book from the desk and sat down, making the plastic ever-so-slightly creak underneath him. With the lick of his fingertips, Vergil paged through to where he had left off in the novel. 

     After nearly ten minutes of re-reading the same page over and over, Vergil slammed the book shut with a growl. At this point, his body was beyond burning with lust and he wanted nothing more than to soothe his pulsating cock. Moving his jaw in thought, he debated trying to relieve his itch again; however, before he could decide, a gentle knock came from the door.

     “Vergil..?” your voice was barely audible.

     In a panic, Vergil snapped back, “What?” He scrunched his face and pursed his lips in immediate regret at how he answered. 

     There was a moment of silence before he heard you sigh, “Never mind, sorry; didn’t mean to bother you. I’ll leave you be.” 

     As you began to walk away, Vergil bolted up from his seat; upsetting you was the last thing he wanted to do. Opening the door as quickly as possible, he called out to you, “Wait-!” 

     You turned around; only a dozen or so strides away. With a brow raised in curiosity, you noted how disheveled Vergil looked: between his outfit, hair, and how overall ragged he looked you knew something was wrong. The two of you stood staring at one another for a minute or so; neither of you being sure what to say or do next. 

     The blue devil turned from your gaze to look down, shifting awkwardly, “I…” he stood with his lips slightly parted and shifted once more.

     You took a few steps towards him, “Is something wrong, Vergil?” 

     He shook his head ‘no’ and tensed his shoulders, “Stay back,” although he intended it to sound commanding, it sounded more like he was pleading.

     Your brow creased, “Why?” 

     That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? 

     The intense aching in his body only worsened by being near you, he scrunched his face trying to block out his insatiable yearning for you, “I can’t-” Vergil looked up from the flooring to you as he spoke softly, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

     “What does that-” you shook your head, “Vergil, what is going on?” You continued to steadily and carefully approach the high-strung man. 

     With every step you took, his body tensed up further and further. Part of him wanted to run as far from you as possible, ashamed and afraid of his need; the other wanted nothing more than to slam you against the floor and let into his sinful primal desires. He closed his eyes and took a deep steading breath; doing neither of those things--unintentionally allowing you to get closer.

     You stood only two or so strides away and were able to hear a faint growling, “My Love?” When you went to grab his hand, his eyes snapped open.

     Vergil jolted backward and hit the still-open study door that was behind him… which broke it right off its hinges with a loud cracking thud. You flinched at the sudden loud noise and pulled your hand back.

     He turned to his side slightly to look down at the broken door, “Fantastic…” he then turned back to you with a sigh, “Forgive me, I-”

     That’s when he noticed where you were staring at his body.

     You squinted and pursed your lips, doing your best to stifle a small laugh, “Is your weird mood cause of that ?” You gestured with your eyes down to his painfully obvious hard-on.

     Vergil shifted his jaw and huffed out a meek answer, “It is more than that, I am afraid.”

     “Care to share?” you set a hand on your hip and smirked, very much oblivious to the severity of what was going on.

     The blue devil shook his head, “No-” A shiver ran up his spine as he watched you slowly and intensely eye him up, “You’re not going to like the answer.”

     “Vergil, we’ve slept together quite a bit,” you gently grabbed one of his hands, “What is so different now?”

     His voice was strained as he gripped your hand tightly and paused a moment for a moment before continuing, “This is out of my control.”

     “What? Vergil,” you furrowed your brow in confusion, “What does that mean?”

     He opened his eyes and stared at you momentarily, using his tongue to play with his teeth in thought. 

     “Don’t make me beg,” you lightly teased.

     “Fine,” Vergil pushed you against the wall, a knee placed right between your legs, and holding both your hands off to your sides, “I want you,” he leaned closer, his breath tickling your ear, “I need to--” he paused for a moment in thought, “I need to breed you,” behind his voice you could hear a rumble, telling you how desperate he really is. 

     He placed small kisses along your jawline and pulled back to look you in the eyes, pleading with you to save him from this torment of self-restraint he has been going through for nearly a week now. 

     You raised a brow, “And how’s that any different than normal?” You gave him a suggestive sultry smirk. 

      He cautiously placed his lips atop yours; despite his current affliction, he wanted to make sure that he took things slow--at least, slow enough that he wouldn’t hurt you. The kisses were long, heated, and sloppy. The both of you moved your mouths together in an almost exaggerated manner, perfectly synchronized. Vergil pushed against you and a low rumble filled each of his motions; doing his best to show you how much he needs you. How much he desires you in your entirety; mind, spirit, and body. How much he wishes to consume your frail humanity and turn you into his sinful plaything. 

     The blue devil’s grip tightened around your wrists as he fought his urge to demolish you right here and now. The heat from his body was overwhelming. Both he and you were acutely aware of it, a very thin line of sweat adorning the two of you. Vergil pushed his leg up further between your legs, lovingly nudging your slowly growing arousal, listening to the faint groans you gave.

     After a few minutes of these slow impassioned kisses, he slid his tongue into your mouth. Excitedly he explored every bit that he could. Though Vergil had tasted your sweet tongue many times before, he always had the same amount of giddiness as he did the first time. His growling had become prominent enough that you could feel it within your mouth; a new, but welcomed, feeling. 

     With a gentle roughness, Vergil bit at your lips and tugged on them, which you lovingly returned. A small smirk decorated his lips as he let out a happy huff against you before diving into another plethora of fiery lustful kisses. With each languid motion of his plush lips against yours, his grip tightened around your wrists; gradually losing the arousing factor and becoming painful--you weren’t even sure if he realized that he was doing it.

     Breaking away from his lips for a brief moment, you let out a low hiss, “Vergil, that kind of hurts,” you squirmed against his hold. 

     He stood there with his forehead against yours, loosening his grip slightly. With a low husky growl of a voice, he whispered against your kiss-swollen lips, “I need more,” he nuzzled his nose against yours, “Please.” His eyes met with yours, they were heavy and glazed over; he wasn’t asking you, he was begging .

     “Just--” You did your best to stay calm, knowing that Vergil was far from it, “Give me a minute to get ready and I’m all yours..?” 

     A small displeased grumble left his lips before he bit at your lower lip, pulling it slowly, then whispered against you, “You’d best hurry,” he released his grip on your wrists, “Best not to keep me waiting,” he turned and walked towards the bedroom, leaving you in a confused light-headed daze.

     Once within the bedroom, he grabbed the nearly empty lube from the side table and set it on the tabletop. Absent-mindedly, he began to tap his foot, doing his best to ignore his slowly thinning patience. Vergil was still rather uneasy about informing you about what was truly going on. The two of you had been romantically involved for many years now, but it was only within the past year that the two of you had become sexually involved. In hindsight, Vergil regrets not explaining the consequences of doing so.

     The consequences of mating with a devil.

     A nearly inaudible creak in the floorboards caught Vergil’s attention, pulling him from his thoughts. Instantly, the blue devil was upon you and was as close to you as possible, his lips connected with yours once again. With a startled moan, you grabbed his biceps and felt him dig his fingertips into your sides as he tried to pull you impossibly close. 

     Not giving you a chance to think, Vergil moved you over to the bed and had you pinned beneath him. Using one of his hands, he held both of yours above your head as he stared down at you. He placed his free hand on your cheek, thumbing over your skin slowly, a small smirk tugging at his lips. 

     The blue devil’s hand drifted down your neck and to your chest, “I am sorry for this.”

     “For what?” You tilted your head.

     Without answering, Vergil leaned down and bit down on your neck. A sharp pain caused you to flinch and let out a low groan. He’d pierced through your skin and was working his teeth further into your flesh. It was uncommon for Vergil to make marks where others would be able to see them, but he never has drawn blood or bitten you this hard before. An uneasy feeling pricked at the edges of your mind--the unnerving feeling of being a devil’s prey.

     Once Vergil felt the mark was dark enough, he leaned back up as he licked his lips and teeth clean of your blood. Your eyes met with his and Vergil had a crazed stare that sent cold shivers down your spine, it was a feral dominant look that only worsened the growing bad feeling in your gut. He moved to the other side of your neck and gave it the same treatment; puncturing your flesh deeply.  

     You let out a sharp moan as you felt him remove his teeth and give the new mark small loving licks. Curious as to how’d you respond, he took one of the tips of his split tongue and pushed it into one of the teeth holes. With pursed lips, your brow scrunched and you pulled away from the feeling; however, Vergil wasn’t done. He quickly placed another bite atop the same spot, moving ever-so-slightly out of line with the already there divots. The blue devil was enjoying the iron taste of the thick red substance and he wanted to taste you more; perhaps a side effect of him being the only Sparda descendant to consume human blood in mass? 

     With a third bite to the same spot, you finally spat out a whimper; one that wasn’t of pleasure. However, the devil didn’t notice and clenched his jaw harder at your struggling. 

     “Vergil, stop-!” You jerked away from him with a voice that was somewhere between angry and frightened--not a hint of enjoyment in earshot.

     It took him a moment to react, removing his teeth with a low faintly animalistic huff. The blue devil leaned up and looked down at you, watching you writhe at the painful feeling, assessing the situation. A prominent red stain had adorned his lips, teeth, and surrounding skin; he looked as if he were truly attempting to eat you. A few tears pricked at the edges of your eyes which caused him to look away, almost shameful. 

     “Vergil?”

     He released your hands and sat still, looking like a kicked puppy. 

     You leaned up and gently placed a hand on the side of his jaw, turning him to face you. Vergil’s eyes were glazed over and his lips slightly parted, still very obviously aroused but hesitant to continue. You ran a thumb along his lower lip, wiping blood off the stained surface. Slowly, you connected with his lips. 

     With a loving force, you pushed your lips hard against him and moved your hand from his jaw to the side of his neck, firmly holding him. Using your other hand, you grabbed a fist full of his shirt and pulled him into you. All the while, you’d pushed your tongue into his mouth which earned a surprised muffled moan from Vergil. 

     His mouth tasted, unsurprisingly, of blood and was broiling hot. Vergil worked himself into your grove, moving along to the rhythm you were setting; a rarity in your relationship. You moved your hand up from his neck and interweaved your fingers with his hair, grasping the strands tightly. A small amount of pride pricked at the edges of your mind as you heard him let out a low unfiltered moan and felt him tremble under your grasp. This, however, didn’t last long. 

     Unwilling to remain submissive, Vergil pushed you downwards again. Mindlessly his kisses began to wander around your skin placing small kisses along your clothed shoulders and chest. In return, you gently groped at his shoulders and arms, earning a low moan from your devilish lover. 

     You noticed that he was still wet from his shower as you ran your hands under his shirt giving his skin a soft smooth feel. Your fingertips flattened against his pecs, kneading against him. Slowly, you made your way over to his nipples and pinched them tightly. His back arched slightly at the feeling and he let out a low breathy moan.

     However, the blue devil’s hands weren’t stationary and had begun to move, drifting downwards. They rested right at the edge of your shirt for a moment as he felt you grope his chest. Then, bit by bit, he slid his hands underneath your shirt. Taking the hint, you removed your hands from him and pulled the fabric over your head, tossing it somewhere in the room.

     The blue devil’s slender fingers groped along your chest, seeming almost desperate to feel your body. Your hands grabbed the edge of his shirt and began to tug at it. Vergil leaned up and pulled his shirt over his head, looking down at you with slightly labored breathing. 

     In all his years of life, in neither Hell nor the human world, has he ever had he found another so captivating as you are. Even during times like these, times of sinful lust, you still managed to look holy to the tarnished devil; a sacred being that he’d gladly become a martyr over, someone he’d give his life up for. Despite his irritation at his current affliction, he can’t help but be glad that it is with you and that he found someone he wants to spend the rest of his life with.

     As he stared, you stared back. 

     A small amount of pride tugged at your heart at how you’d managed to get someone like Vergil, someone so beautiful. Your eyes focused on his partially agape kiss-swollen lips that he’d roll his tongue over moistening them every so often. His hair was down courtesy of the lack of pomade and clung to the still-wet skin of his brow, giving him a rather ragged look. Despite Dante being his twin, the two looked nothing alike in your eyes--even with the same hairstyle. Slowly your gaze traveled to his half-lidded eyes when you noticed something; his eyes were the icy glowing blue of his Devil Trigger. 

     You wriggled to sit upright, “You’re quite worked up, huh?” With a smile, you watched Vergil’s face become red and you placed a hand on the side of his neck, thumbing over his throat softly.

     “Why do you say that?” his voice quivered a bit as he felt your hand slowly move down from his neckline to his hips.

 ��   “You’re acting… strange ,” you ran your hand close to his bulge, purposely missing it, and rested your hand on his thigh.

     He gave you a half-confused half-disappointed look.

     “Not that I don’t find this…” you gently rubbed his thigh, earning a stifled moan from the devil, “ aggressively dominant side of you alluring.”

     “Do you?” he smirked slightly, “How strange…” Vergil leaned in and gave you small pecking kisses.

     You smiled widely and spoke between kisses, “Care to share what the special occasion is?” 

     Vergil quietly chuckled and murmured against your lips, “In time.”

     Between loud sweet pecks, you gently whispered, “Come on, please Vergil?”

     Instead of answering, he gave you a long kiss; one that only broke once he felt you pushing away for air. Vergil’s fingers gently ghosted the three-times-bitten dark spot he’d left on your neck, staring with concern.

     Noticing his upset attitude, you grabbed his hand and brought it to your lips, kissing his knuckles.

     “Does it… hurt ?” His voice was soft, with a small tinge of sadness.

     “You want me to be honest?” 

     He nodded.

     “Yes, it hurts, but-!” You made sure to cut him off, knowing damn well what he was going to say, “It’s fine and it’ll heal,” you ran soft kisses up from the hand you’d been kissing and to his shoulder, resting there for a moment, “It’s alright.”

     “I am sorry for harming you,” he looked to the side, his eyes meeting with yours, “I didn’t think that I…” His voice cracked as gazed upon you with remorse.

     You leaned up from his skin and looked at him with a soft smile, “Don’t worry about it, Vergil…” With a soft sigh, you leaned forward and placed a soft gentle long kiss on the underside of his jaw, “It’s flattering to know that you want me that badly, dear.”

     Vergil pushed you back downwards, straddling your hips. His fingertips pressed into you as he eyed you up and down and, with a low dark desperate tone, he remarked, “That doesn’t even scratch the surface of how I feel right now.” 

     As he began to run his digits down your body, he leaned down and placed a very soft kiss on the tender spot. Bit by bit Vergil began to kiss down your middle, mumbling very softly against you, “ “The Fountains mingle with the river/And the rivers with the ocean,/The winds of heaven mix for ever,/With a sweet emotion;/Nothing in the world is single,/”,” he stopped right above your navel and lightly bit at the skin, staring up at you and locking with your eyes, “All things by a law devine/In one another's being mingle -/Why not I with thine?”.”

     He continued until his head was between your thighs. You propped yourself up on your elbows and saw that he was already staring back at you. With hot and heavy breaths, he kissed the inside of one of your thighs all the way to your dick, then gave the other thigh the same treatment. 

     “Vergil-” You swallowed apprehensively, “Are you sure that you’re alright to be doing--”

     “I won’t harm you,” he gave you a small smile with half-lidded eyes, “I promise,” his breath was heavy as he brushed his cheek and nose along your bulge, speaking in a quiet needy manner, “Let me taste you, please.”

     Your breath caught in your throat as you tried to keep up with the sudden mood change; Vergil going from overly dominant to an almost submissive pleading. Before you even answered him, his fingers were within your waistband and were pulling at the fabric, completely exposing you to him. A small moan left your lips as you felt him kiss along the insides of your thighs once more. They were slow sloppy kisses, licking and biting at the sensitive skin. 

     Vergil stared at you for a moment, a smirk of pride tugging at his lips from how you were watching him with bated breath. Very unhurriedly, he ran his tongue down from your tip to your balls. As he ran back up, he split his tongue apart and slid your cock between the two sides. Encouraged by your low groans, he did the same motion back down. 

     Carefully he took your sack into his mouth and began to lightly suck on it. Instinctively, you placed a hand in his hair and grabbed it harshly, making the blue devil moan lowly. As he released you from his mouth, he made sure to stick his tongue out and run it up your seam. 

     Your fingers tightened as you let out a groan and a quiet call of his name. 

     Returning to your shaft, he placed kisses along the underside of your dick upward. Once at the top, he licked at your slit and watched as you squirm at his motions. With a heavy breath, Vergil placed his lips around your cock and gradually took you into his mouth. His hands found purchase on your hips and he pulled you as close to him as possible, the tip of his nose touching your lower abdomen. You fully leaned up, to get a better view of him, and placed both your hands in his hair as he bobbed up and down at a moderate pace.

     “Vergil~ fuck that feels good,” you groaned as he began to move faster at your words. 

     He smirked in response. Although he’d never admit it, he enjoys hearing you say he’s doing good; that he’s the reason you feel good. However, unlike normal, he wasn’t planning on bringing you to your peak; instead, he removed himself from your dick and stood up. The two of you shared a long heated kiss that he used to lean you back down, then he pulled back.

     “Turn over,” his voice was low and gravely, palming himself at the sight before him. 

     With a small nod and smirk, you did as you were asked. You could hear Vergil shuffling around before feeling him rejoin you on the bed with his hands kneading against your ass. Although his motions weren’t particularly aggressive, the pressure he was using was extreme and was going to undoubtedly leave bruises. If you listened very closely, you could hear him purring behind his growling. 

     You let out a small laugh, “You’re quite pent up, huh?”

     He momentarily paused, his hands still gripping you, “You could say that, yes,” before you could respond, you felt him dig his fingers harder into you, “May I?”

     With a smile, you turned over your shoulder to him, “How cordial,” you softly laughed, “Go ahead, I’m all yours Vergil.”

     Once he let go of your butt, Vergil smirked slightly at the sight of you lifting your hips up a bit. He was almost tempted to skip prepping you but he bit his lip; he can’t have you getting hurt, he needs you to be available for him. After lubing up his fingers, he slowly slid the first digit inside. 

     Taking a deep breath, you did your best to relax into his hand. Vergil shifted so he could kiss you while continuing to stretch you. He placed several gentle pecks along your neck and your jaw, a rather loud purr coming from deep within his chest. 

     As he slid a second finger inside you, he heavily laid his head on the crook of your shoulder and began to give the area small heated kisses. You let out a small moan and turned towards him, kissing the top of his head. A smile tugged at your lips as you felt him let out a low happy sigh, his lips just barely hovering over your skin. 

     Another stifled moan came from you as he began to curl his fingers and return to kissing your neck, slightly nipping at it as he traveled along your neck and shoulder. 

     Quietly, as if afraid to speak, Vergil whispered between kisses, “I love you, my delicate little Lily.”

     With a soft laugh, you looked at him, “That’s new-- “Lily”..?”

     He chuckled, seemingly embarrassed, “Yes, I thought it appropriate. Do- do you not like it?” 

     “I don’t mind; just curious as to- ngh-” You groaned as you felt Vergil add a third finger.

     “As to what, my love?” A cocky smug smirk tugged at his lips.

     “Why did you th-think,” you closed your eyes and bit your lip, doing your best to hold back a moan, “to use it now?”

     Vergil hummed in thought for a moment, making sure to keep his lips close enough to your skin that you could feel his lips vibrate--sending a shiver through you, “Because you remind me of such…” He removed his fingers and leaned up, “You are so very fragile-- so very breakable; and yet,” a chill ran up your spine as you felt Vergil run his nails from your shoulder blades down to your hips, leaving a minor scratched trail down your body, “you allow me to taint your beauty --to toy with your naive innocent humanity….” 

     His hands rested on your ass momentarily, letting out a low sigh, before fully removing his hands. 

     With a gravelly sensual tone, he continued, “Do you want to know why I want you so badly, Dearest?”

     Hearing him shuffling around slightly, you nodded as a small amount of butterflies began to form in your gut.

     The blue devil laid down over you, getting as close to your ear as possible, “Because you are mine-- my human plaything; do you understand?”

     Against your lower back, you could feel his cock twitching and could feel how unbearably hot his skin had become. You swallowed hard, “I’m not sure I do.”

     Vergil placed his forehead between your shoulder blades. He used one hand to prop himself up and the other was around his dick, stroking it slightly, as he whispered, “You are bound to me; in both heart, soul, and body .”

     Without allowing you to respond, he prodded at your hole with his tip and slowly began to inch his way inside. A loud moan left your lips as you did your best to relax into him; feeling each bit of him that entered your body. 

     “You are my mate,” once fully seated inside you, he returned to your ear, “My one and only,” the blue devil kissed your ear, then gently bit and tugged at it, “for the rest of eternity.”

     He sat back up with hands now placed on both sides of your hips. In response you picked your ass up, creating a downward dog position. 

     It started slow and controlled. He’d only pull out an inch or two and very carefully push himself back in, not wanting to harm you. However, these gentle motions didn’t last very long. Vergil did try his best to control himself; biting his lip, gripping onto you (unintentionally bruising you yet again), et cetera, but it didn’t work. 

     Vergil pulled his dick out, leaving just the very tip of it inside you, and rammed into you. It was hard enough that you jolted forward and let out a moan that was somewhere between pleased and startled. He repeated this motion but picked up the pace with each jab. Soon enough, all that could be heard throughout the house was the sound of his balls hitting your skin and your moans of bliss. Vergil wrapped his hand around the front of your neck and pulled you upwards, bringing you into a kneeling position.

     Now using quick shorter thrusts he wrapped his arms around your middle, holding you flush against his body. A small amount of drool left the corner of your mouth as your vision became blurry, completely engulfed with the feeling of Vergil inside you. Mindlessly, you laid your head against the top of his shoulder which gave him plenty of room to bite and suck at your neck. One of your hands found its way to his hair, grabbing it tightly, and your other was neatly interwoven with a hand from your devilish lover. Your grip tightened on his hand as you moved your hips, doing your best to complement Vergil’s pattern. 

     This pose didn’t last very long. Vergil roughly shoved you back down and stood up, pulling out completely. Before you could question, you felt him harshly yank you over onto your back. Now facing upwards at the disheveled man, you got a proper view of him and you noticed several things that were just ever-so-slightly off. His teeth were much sharper and slightly thicker. A finite amount of scales had appeared on his cheekbones. The glowing icy blue eye color that you’d noticed earlier, was even more apparent and had heavily dilated pupils in the middle that were intensely trained on you. 

     You placed a hand on his cheek, very carefully thumbing over the black-blue scales. He leaned into your touch, his eyes closed tightly, and gave your palm a long kiss, momentarily staying with lips pressed against your hand. An unintentional confused 'huh?' left your lips at how hot his breath and mouth were, he was scorching; the hottest you’ve ever felt from him. Slowly, he opened his eyes and leaned back up. 

     The blue devil slid off the bed and pulled you to the edge then put his tip back inside only to slam as hard as possible into your hips. 

     “Fuck~ Vergil,” you arched your back and wrapped your legs around his hips.

     With a smirk, he repeated the action and created a pattern of extremely hard and moderately forceful thrusts that he switched between every four or five thrusts. Vergil looked down at you with a devilish smile, reveling in how undone he made you. Getting an insurmountable amount of arousing pleasure from the sounds of unintelligible gibberish moaning coming from you. The sight of your body being moved by just the force of his jabs. All he wanted to do was feel your insides even more, to reach as far as he could inside and claim every bit of you.

     He grabbed your legs and pulled them up, resting them on his shoulders. The feeling of sinful pride he had only increased as he heard you call his name and saw your hands grabbing the sheets tightly. He slowed his hips for a moment, still maintaining the force of each thrust but trying to prevent himself from making a mistake and Triggering.

     Vergil’s hands slid from your calves to your thighs, firmly kneading against your skin--his fingertips being imprinted into your skin with dark marks. A very distant dark part of him wanted to eat you, to bite your flesh --to mar it up --to cover you with his scent --to make sure you know exactly which devil you belong to. He licked his lips as he let out low heavy breaths from his partially opened mouth. Feeling his peak coming, he looked up at the ceiling as his thrusts became shorter and his pace picked up, moving faster than before.

     Typically, he wouldn’t finish this fast but he couldn’t help himself. All he’s wanted to do for nearly a week is just fill your insides, and he was going to do just that. Vergil shifted slightly, making sure to hit your prostate with each gyration. 

     He let out a loud growling moan, cumming inside you. Only a few moments later did you call out with a sharp moan as you felt an intense orgasm ripping through your body.

     Slowly, Vergil rode out both your orgasms. Gently, he removed your legs from his shoulders and pulled out of your body. You gazed into space for a moment before leaning up slightly to see Vergil, confused as to why he hadn’t said anything.

     You audibly swallowed as you stared at him, “Y-you’re that pent up, huh?”

     Vergil shamefully met your eyes. He was still hard and had scales on several other spots on his body. The thoughts of allowing himself to cut loose, to show you his inner urges without a filter made him both unfathomably terrified and overwhelmingly aroused. This was bad and he knew it, and seeing you so blissfully unaware of the danger you were in only tempted him further.

     “Vergil,” you sat up fully a small grunt leaving your lips at the dull pain from being slammed so hard, “You alright?”

     His lips thinned as he furrowed his brow, avoiding your gaze once more, “I am fine; however, I…” He paused, unable to finish his sentence.

     “We could try it out, you know,” you gave him a meek smile as his eyes flicked to yours.

     He shook his head ‘no’, “I can’t risk hurting you for something so trivial.”

     “This is obviously not ‘trivial’. You never have this issue-- not to mention how different you’ve been acting,” you reached out to grab one of his hands, “What’s wrong, Vergil? You can tell me; I promise I won’t judge or get upset.”

     The blue devil intently watched as you ran your thumb over his knuckles, “Fine…” He moved to sit beside you on the bed, staring straight ahead, “You know what an animal in “rut” means, correct?”

     You nodded, “Yeah,” your eyes thinned as you slowly turned to him, “Vergil, you don’t mean--?”

     “I should’ve told you before we…” he sighed with his shoulders tensing, “Because you and I became intimately involved, I now will go through this every spring,” he looked over to you, momentarily locking with your stare, “and you are the only one that can give me… relief .”

     With a slow nod and deep breath, your eyes flicked between his hard-on and his gaze, “Guess I didn’t provide enough “relief”, huh?”

     He gave you a small smile, “I’m afraid it’s not something that will be able to be soothed with only a round or two or even three, my love.”

     You moved your jaw in thought and stood up. Sighing softly, you moved Vergil’s arms off to his sides and sat on his lap. You placed one hand on his chest and used the other to push a strand of hair out of his eyes, resting the hand on his cheek afterward. A loud purring emanated from his chest, vibrating your fingers, as you stared softly into his icy-blue eyes, “I love you so much Vergil; you know that?”

     The blue devil smiled, “I do,” he leaned closer to you, placing his forehead against yours, speaking in a breathy whisper; his breath ghosting along your lips, “I love you as well; more than words could ever describe.”

     The two of you connected lips and the hand that was on Vergil’s chest slid up to his face; allowing you to cup it between your hands. Vergil took his hands and ran them down your sides and then settled to hold your lower back as he continued to give you sloppy sweet kisses, gently pushing his mouth against you. 

     Cautiously, Vergil bit at your lips to ask for permission to enter your mouth; which you accepted. He let out an unintentional elated moan at the feeling of your tongue with his. His fingertips dug into your skin, pressing and kneading against you in excitement. With a lustful aggressiveness, Vergil pushed you onto your back--down onto the floor of the bedroom. 

     Making sure to maintain the kiss, Vergil shifted the both of you around so he could line himself up with your hole. Slowly, he slid back inside and devoured each of the divine noises that you made in response. That thought made him growl slightly; he wants to defile you over and over, to hold you for as long as you will allow him to. 

     Only once he was fully within you did he break off the kiss and allow you to take a deep breath. He held himself up with his arms, looking down at your breathless form. A prideful smug smile tugged at his lips as he began to move slightly, grinding himself into you. It didn't take long for him to reach a moderate pace. You reached up and ran your hands along his body, feeling each divot, each curve, each soft and hard surface; taking notes to yourself as if you hadn’t ever been allowed to touch him before. His heart was pounding so fast that you could feel it no matter where your hands were.  

     The blue devil’s mind was reeling. He was so engrossed in how good you feel that he hadn’t noticed how hard he was slamming into you, pushing you along the floor with each pass of his hips. His growling had returned, albeit tenfold louder and a great deal more animalistic; completely replacing his moans. 

     Although you know Vergil has issues with you touching his back, you were too immersed in the moment and wrapped your arms around him. One of your hands found its way to the back of Vergil’s head, threading your fingers tightly into his hair. You did your best to try and wrap your legs around him too; hoping to prevent him from shoving you along the floor any further. 

     He did stop for a moment, only to take the opportunity to pick you up and slam you against one of the walls of the room; knocking several things from their hanging spots. A sharp moan left your lips as you felt his nails aggressively dig into the sides of your thighs. Vergil placed his mouth at the crook of your shoulder and nipped at the skin, leaving various marks. 

     You let out a slight hiss as he got a little too close to one of the deeper marks from earlier; in a way to seemingly apologize, he gently licked at your neck. He then leaned back and looked at you for a moment, letting out a set of shaky breaths. Vergil connected lips with you as you slid both hands into his hair; grabbing fistfuls of the silky white strands. His kisses were aggressive, pushing your head against the wall. Your body tensed, legs tightening around him, you were getting close--and so was he. 

     Quick jack-rabbit thrusts replaced his previous tempo. His wandering grip continued as he slammed your hips down into his, moving your body in a harsh rhythm with his. The two of you parted lips allowing you to throw your head back--at least the best you could being against a wall--and Vergil placed kisses on your windpipe. 

     The blue devil placed his head on your shoulder as he focused on fucking you. It didn’t take long for him to reach nirvana, spilling himself inside you with a low sustained frustrated growl. You reached your peak as well; cumming with a low grunt and gentle groan of Vergil’s name. 

     He ground against you and let out gentle shuddering breaths against your neck, giving you slight goosebumps. Without removing himself, he carried you back over to the bed and laid you down. Propped upwards using his hands, he stared down at you. Vergil was breathing heavily with a hung-open mouth and had a layer of sweat on his brow. More scales had appeared and his stare was oddly blank, as if he were lost in deep thought. You watched as he used his tongue to play with one of his canines and his brow twitched into a slightly agitated state. 

     “Vergil?” You weakly grabbed one of his biceps, giving it a light squeeze, “Is everything okay?”

     A set of quick blinks brought his eyes back into focus, accompanied by a shake of his head, “Yes, I am alright--sorry.”

     After a pause, he leaned up and gradually removed himself. A shiver ran up your spine at the feeling and you stared up at the ceiling for a moment before tilting up to look at the blue devil. 

     “Oh…” You gave him a dumbfounded stare. He was still hard, cock twitching at your surprise.

     Once you looked up at Vergil’s face, you saw that he had crossed his arms with one hand over his face; mortified and ashamed of what was happening. 

     With an awkward laugh, you took a deep breath, “So, how many rounds do you need, again?”

     Vergil’s eyes slowly met with yours as he shook his head, whispering, “I’m… unsure.”

     You scrunched your mouth to the side, “What about trying to use your “Trigger”? You seem even worse off than earlier, Vergil.”

     He removed his hand from his face and shot you a stern glance, “No, I can’t risk hurting you--”

     “Vergil, if you keep this up, you will hurt me,” you grunted in slight pain as you sat up fully, “I can only take so much,” you laughed slightly, placing a hand on the back of your neck, “Especially with how rough you’re being.”

     The blue devil thought for a moment, his tongue playing with his teeth. A part of him knew you were right, that if this continued there was a very high chance he would hurt you, and he really loved the idea of allowing himself to let go--to show you what he could really do. Still, the sheer amount of uncontrollable possibilities kept him hesitant. 

     What if you don’t like it and he’s too far gone to stop?

     What if he manhandles you too hard and breaks something--either something in the room or, more importantly, you? 

     What if he hit you against the wall or floor too hard and hurt you? 

     What if he bit you and couldn’t stop himself from sinking his teeth in too far?

      What if you died because of him and his stupid demonic instincts?

     “Vergil..?” 

     He flinched at your sudden closeness. You’d gotten up and were standing in front of him, concerned that he was standing silently for so long. With one hand on his bicep and the other cupping his face, you made small circles with your thumbs. His eyes fluttered shut and he leaned towards you, placing his forehead against yours.

     The two of you shared a very sweet and emotionally soft kiss, drawing it out for quite some time. 

     With lips just above his, you quietly pleaded, “You can do whatever you need to, Vergil; it’ll be okay.”

     Vergil swallowed hard. With one final squeeze of his arm, you let go of him. His eyes flicked all over your body as he gave it one final thought. Taking a deep breath, he nodded; he had to try it. 

     All he could hear was the loud pounding of his heart as he allowed himself to Trigger. Soft cornflower blue light filled the space. You smiled at the sight before you. It wasn’t very often you got to see Vergil use either of his Devil Triggers; his normal Trigger being a much rarer sight.

     Under his breath, he let out a soft chuckle at your doting stare. Although he’s never told you, he finds it amusing that you’re so enamored with his devilish forms. He unfurled his wings from his sides and mindlessly stretched them outwards before bringing them back in close to his body. Pride pricked at his heart as he saw your expression of such a trivial act.

     Cautiously, you approached him and reached out to touch his chest. This was the first time Vergil had allowed you to be anywhere near him while in a non-human state. His scales were hot to the touch, but not painfully more along the lines of freshly dried linen or hot asphalt. Through your fingers, you could feel a low rumble coming from within his chest.

     With a slight shake, Vergil placed a hand over yours and locked eyes with you. Uneven breaths left his lips as he waited for you to say something-- anything. 

     You smiled softly and inched closer, placing your head on his chest, “You are so beautiful, you know that?”

     A noise somewhere between a scoff and a laugh left his nose, “That’s not what one should say when face-to-face with a devil.” Vergil wrapped his arms loosely around you. 

     “I’m not just face-to-face with “ a devil”,” you smiled wider and looked up at him, “I’m face-to-face with m-my…” you stumbled over your words as an embarrassed shade spread across your face, your confidence quickly dissipating.

     “Your what?” He tilted his head in curiosity, wanting nothing more than to hear you say it.

     With a voice no louder than a whisper you looked away from his eyes, “with my mate.”

     He stared with parted lips before giving a small smile, “How strange to hear you say that,” Vergil leaned down to you, whispering, “Are you sure this is alright?”

     Without answering, you connected your lips to his. Your hands slid up to the base of his neck on either side, gently scraping your nails on his scales as you went along. His arms tightened to pull you closer, placing one at the small of your back and the other on your ass. Slow careful kisses turned to sloppy impassioned French kisses. Vergil's tongue desperately felt the inside of your mouth, now being able to reach even further inside. You let out a surprised grunt at the feeling but were quickly distracted by a harsh groping motion against your ass. 

     Once you broke apart, the two of you stood staring at one another. Curious as to what he’d do, you ran your hands slowly down his torso. The heat coming from his body was unbelievable but his lower abdomen was tenfold worse. Distantly you found yourself worried if his cock would be too hot for your body to take in. As your fingers worked their way down, you took note of the texture changes between his chest, stomach, and the bright blue V that pointed to where you were headed. 

     Gently, you rubbed your fingertips up and down the glowing area, earning a stifled groan from Vergil. Curiously enough, you were expecting the area to feel akin to the rest of his scales--hard and rough--but were greeted by a warm velvety silk feeling. As you kneaded against him, he pulled you into another set of passionate kisses. The hand from your lower back traveled up your spine and braced the back of your neck, pulling you as close to him as possible. 

     Mindlessly, he leaned forward and dipped you back slightly. He broke from your mouth and kissed the corner of your mouth. Bit by bit, he kissed along your jawline, to your neck, and finally your throat. All the while, your fingers continued to their original destination. Carefully, you teased the area around his still-hidden cock and lightly ran your middle finger along his slit. Vergil’s breath hitched and he stopped his kisses, his breath washing over your skin. 

     A sultry smirk tugged at your mouth as you felt his tip begin to emerge. Vergil’s wings uncontrollably flexed outwards at the odd feeling, much to the blue devil’s surprise--and slight dismay. He’d never thought about trying anything even remotely sexual while like this, so the feeling of your fingers kneading against him made him feel as if he were a virgin again; feeling overwhelmed by nothing but the slightest of your touches. 

     You slowly ran his tip between your fore and middle fingers, feeling pre-cum dripping onto your digits. His cock was pleasantly warmer than normal, eliciting a small groan from you as you thought about him being inside you. The cum that decorated your fingers was also hotter than normal and seemed to be much thicker. The blue devil took a deep breath and shifted slightly, his wings curling around the two of you. In an almost painfully slow motion, Vergil ran his tongue along your neck, small papillae scrapping the sensitive area. He let out a shaky breath as you stroked along the sheath where his cock was, making his cock appear much faster than intended. 

     Before you managed to have him fully out, Vergil picked you up and placed you onto the mattress. He placed both his hands beside either side of your head, still standing, and his wings outstretched behind him. You stared up at him as a small shiver ran up your spine at the sight. Vergil’s eyes were dilated heavily and were fixated on yours. A part of you knows you should be afraid or at least apprehensive about what is happening, but you couldn’t be bothered; you were much too invested in the moment. 

     A wicked grin adorned his face, teeth on full display,  “You really want me, don’t you?”

     “And if I do?”

     “Hmph,” the blue devil leaned back up and pulled your hips to the edge of the bed. 

     With slow long pumps, he touched himself to the sight of you. However, when you tried to lean up to see, he quickly pushed you flat. 

     “Did I tell you to move?” His voice was utterly layered with an overwhelming dominance.

     Your gut churned and twisted as you waited with bated breath for him to ram your body, except, the blue devil knew he had to be careful with you. Although it was seen as a dominating move, Vergil laying you back was done to keep you calm. If you’d seen him fully erect, you would’ve tensed up tenfold worse and this would’ve been much more difficult than it already will be. 

     He grabbed the lube from the nearby table and coated his cock. Whatever excess was on his hand, he very carefully put it at your entrance--making sure his claws didn’t knick you. After a small debate, he dragged you a bit closer and put your ankles on his shoulders, aligning himself with your hole. 

     “Relax,” he placed a hand on your stomach, skin dipping down slightly from the tips of his claws, “Just focus on your breathing.”

     You pursed your lips and stared mindlessly at the ceiling, doing just as he said and taking deep calm breaths, trying to keep yourself from tensing. 

     Vergil pushed his tip in, earning a gasp and deep grunting moan from you. Bit by bit, he continued to push inside, doing his best to fight the urge to slam against you. You were gripping the bed, pulling on the already decimated sheets. The size of Vergil’s cock normally is something that would make most men green with envy but the size he was working with now was nothing short of “porn star” material. 

     His hand that was on your gut slid up to your chest as he leaned down into you, causing him to push inside quicker than intended. Doing his best to not cut you with his claws, Vergil groped at your pecs and lightly kneaded against you. Low in his chest, he was emitting a purr that was intense enough that you could feel it through his hand. 

     After what seemed like an eternity, he was fully seated within you. Heavy deep lust laden breaths left your agape lips as the blue devil closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of your innards snuggly squeezing around him. Vergil could feel your rapid heartbeat and could practically taste your arousal; being able to smell human pheromones just like a human can a fresh baked bread, sometimes being strong enough to give a taste to the air. It made his body ache, giving him a strong sense of pride to know that you were just as madly into him as he is you.

     You placed a hand atop the charcoal-grey scaled hand on your chest, “Vergil…”

     The two of you locked eyes and Vergil leaned down to you. Gently, he kissed you. It was a physical manifestation of a promise; a promise that he will take good care of you.     The black and blue scaled devil tilted back upright, his fingers lightly clawing up your middle sliding to rest on each side of your hips. With slow careful--almost fearful--motion, he began to test what you thought of his devilish body. A string of low groans left your lips as you closed your eyes, focusing on the feeling of his cock. Your chest was moving in an almost exaggerated manner as Vergil slowly ramped things up. The unhurried nature of his movements allowed you to feel each rib of his cock, feeling every time one would leave and re-enter your aching hole. 

     In an elongated teasing manner, Vergil removed himself out to his tip and pushed back in--making sure you felt every bit of him and savored him. He closed his eyes, doing his best to keep a level head as he intently listened to the breathy moans leaving your lips. 

     Once more, he removed himself out to the tip; this time, however, he slammed back inside. A sharp mixed noise of a grunt, moan, and gasp came from you. His eyes opened as he repeated the action; making sure to remove himself slower than before and return twice as hard. 

     Your back arched at his actions, eyes focused on the ceiling above you. When you looked back at Vergil, his eyes were trained on yours with an unplaceable emotion hidden behind his gaze. His emotion became clear when he harshly pulled out and slammed his hips against you; no longer feeling the need to hold back. 

     With each thrust, you were pushed up on the bed and his hands would yank you back down to meet the brutal bucking of his hips. All that could be heard was the sound of his hips hitting yours and the wet squelching from the previous rounds and copious amounts of lube in your ass. Concentrating on your expression, Vergil failed to notice that his claws had sunk into your skin which anchored his grip into you. Leaning down, he placed his face in the crook of your shoulder; kissing you carefully. 

     After a moment, he leaned back up slightly to place his nose beside yours. You placed a hand on his cheek, thumbing over the leathery skin. Your pinkie mindlessly ran along the silver spikes that formed a beard of sorts at his jawline, curious as to what it felt like. He leaned into your touch and, despite him still jackhammering away, he felt a warm sweet feeling at your overly gentle treatment of him. 

     “Grab onto me,” Vergil whispered, his voice thick with lust and uncharacteristically gruff. 

     You did as he asked, wrapping your hands around the backside of his neck. Vergil picked you up and wrapped his wings around you, pushing you tightly against him. A small hiss slipped through your lips at the feeling of your dick rubbing against Vergil’s torso. It didn’t hurt per se but it was extremely overwhelming. Your nails dug into his scales, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. 

     Seeming to notice your distress, the blue devil began to lightly lick and nip at your neck and throat. He took a long deep inhale of your scent, pressing his chest against yours, desiring to get closer to you than possible. As he exhaled, you felt his hot breath wash over you and tickle at your skin causing you to let out a restrained laugh. 

     With a hum, Vergil slowed slightly and took a moment to enjoy the closeness of your bodies. The feeling of your soft human skin against his scales made his gut twist. A distant hidden part of him felt an odd arousal from the idea of how fragile you were--how he could crush you instantly if he wanted; completely contradicting his main anxious mindset.

     Moving your hand to his chest, you pushed him away, confusing Vergil for a moment, before you cupped his face and pulled him into a kiss. Lazy sloppy kisses caused him to let out a small moan, which intensified at the feeling of you repeatedly biting at his lower lip. His thrusts switched to a moderate pace as his fingertips kneaded against you. As you pulled away, he let out a disappointed huff, which was quickly replaced with a dark low gravely moan. 

     Despite not being able to break his hide, you leaned down and bit his neck; at a somewhat odd angle because of the horns that wrapped around to the front of his head. It is rare for Vergil to allow you to bite him, however, feeling you claim him--just as he did you--made his body ache. After a moment, you stopped and placed a soft kiss against him. You repeated the action on the other side of his neck, Once done, you trailed kisses along his neck to his throat and placed an elongated kiss against his Adam’s apple. Vergil let out a small grunt at the feeling and, when you tilted back, you were met with heavy half-lidded eyes. 

     The blue devil nudged you to expose your neck and placed his face in the crook of your shoulder, breathing heavily, “I love you.”

     Without allowing you to respond, he pushed your hips downwards and fucked into you as quickly as possible. A loud groan left your lips at the inhuman speed of Vergil’s cock and you grasped at whatever you could, causing Vergil to let out a surprised huffed moan at your unexpectedly rough touches. His claws left the new loving craters in your thighs and slid to your ass, pulling you apart. 

     Before you could question, your eyes went wide. The blue devil pushed his knot inside you, somewhat forcefully, as he let out a thunderous semi-whiney shaky moan. Once buried into you, his hands returned to your hips and his claws to the same holes as before. 

     You let out a whimpering moan as you hit another peak, feeling his cum gush inside you. He hadn’t disclosed anything about a knot or that he was going to use it inside you, but you weren’t complaining. It felt as if he’d been pent up for a year with how quickly and how much was being released. 

     It was both a painful and heavenly experience.

     All the while, Vergil could only continue to repeat your name and whisper how much he loves you; almost as if he were begging for you to say it back, as if you weren’t already committed to him. With a soft kiss against his horn closest to your mouth, you whispered, “I love you,” which caused him to grind against you, attempting to further spear you than he had already.

     Unsure what to do now you were stuck together, Vergil laid you back down and laid atop you. His wings were stretched out flat and his forearms were wrapped around your torso, across your shoulder blades. With his face directly down onto your chest, his eyes fluttered shut and he purred loudly. Although you wanted nothing to do but lie still, curiosity got the better of you, and you ran a hand along his horns which made him purr tenfold louder. 

     Admittedly, Vergil wanted to stay as you were, interlocked and him pinning you down; but he also wanted to patch you up. You could feel how fast his heart was beating; whether it was from fucking, cumming, or nerves was anyone’s guess. All you could do was lay there and take it while listening to his breathing and purring. The two of you stayed interwoven for nearly ten minutes, Vergil shifting several times in an attempt to remove himself. 

     Finally, he stopped twitching. He stood back up and carefully slid out which was accompanied by an audible pop and your hips quivering. Vergil’s chest heaved as he de-triggered. Beyond tired, he returned to the same position as before and laid against your chest.

     “Vergil?” Your voice was raspy and very overtly worn out.

     Without moving, he spoke against your skin, “Yes, my love?”

     You placed a hand in his hair, running your fingers through the utterly disheveled white strands, “How do you feel?”

     He quietly laughed, “I am calm, for now; if that is what you are asking.”

     With a heavy exhale you hummed a sound of relief.

     “How are you feeling?”

     “Want me to be honest?”

     “Mhm.”

     “Like I was just in a category five hurricane.”

     “I’m sorry,” he placed a kiss against your breastbone, “Is there anything I can do to make up for it?”

     Lightly, you ran your fingers down his neck to his shoulder blades, sliding up his arm, “Help me get into the bath?”

     Vergil smiled, “Of course, my dear,” he shifted upwards and placed a kiss against your lips, “Anything for my mate.”

===

ENDING NOTES: Originally I had planned to also have Sin Trigger sex in this but I thought that would be a bit too much to digest from one story; plus “Bed of the Blue Devil” is entirely based on that aspect.  Also between the teaser from yesterday (early this morning) and now; I found out that I have the ‘rona so… Life is really great--it’s just one thing after another, I finally wanna write and do stuff but now I’m exhausted and feel like someone beat my skull in with a sledgehammer  🦢💧🦢 Poem Quoted: “Love’s Philosophy” Percy Bysshe Shelley

If you like this please consider checking this on my AO3. There are extra chapters and my H/Cs over there, so please consider checking them out! Comments, Likes/Kudos, and shares are always appreciated! Thanks so much for reading!! :)))

MASTER LIST FOR TUMBLR

[emmg]

wip whenever blabla

tagged by my wife @heylittleriotact and tagging back all my other spouses, we're in a polycule now, no you don't get to leave @aldisobey @caffeinatedmunchkin @jainydoe @thepalehorsevictoria

I don't have much else in the works right now, aside from this bit from the next part of Aftertaste, which I’ll probably drop at the end of the week. Just having fun letting Rook terrorize Emmrich, lmfao

****

Why the hell had he worn a cardigan? He tugs at the sleeve, disgusted. Now he just looks like a dejected, albeit expensive, librarian, a man who catalogs sorrows instead of books. Then again, maybe it wasn’t a complete miscalculation. The loose fabric at least conceals the burgeoning evidence of his disastrous self-soothing strategy, which consists of inhaling what feels like half the canapés and mini tarts circulating the room like a locust in designer wool.

The server, a lanky boy with the posture of a wilting houseplant, has begun to orbit the room with increasing evasiveness, his trajectory subtly adjusting each time their eyes meet. No doubt he has taken the cardiganed menace for either a lunatic or a man with intentions. Who could blame him? He had, after all, attempted small talk.

"Are you from here?" he had asked, chewing.

"What are you studying? Ah, architecture, fascinating discipline. The poetry of form, the language of space. So… buildings and such?" Swallowing.

"Theo, you say? A fine name. Stately, even. I once knew a cat named Theo." Fucking Maker. 

Rook, of course, is perfectly at ease. She would fit in anywhere—a sinking ship, an Orlesian ball, a courtroom in which she is quite obviously guilty. Until she speaks, that is, and tells some unfortunate soul to kill themselves or, for variety, go lick an electrical socket (which, functionally, amount to the same thing.)

But she is lovely, so lovely, and loveliness is an all-access pass to the small, effortless miracles of social grace. People forgive beauty before it even has the chance to offend. Her hair, glossy and pale, is woven into a thick braid; her dress, a slip of silk that had cost him far too much, is the kind that suggests an invitation without ever formally extending one. She had thanked him for it in the usual way: by sticking her tongue down his throat. That had been most enjoyable. 

He shifts, catching sight of himself in a tall mirror placed, rather cruelly, beneath the worst lighting imaginable. For a moment, he is arrested by his own reflection, standing there like some weary apparition clutching a champagne flute. The cardigan, he now reasons, was not such a poor choice after all. A forgiving silhouette. He inhales sharply, stomach obliging, fingers smoothing back his hair. Posture, at least, is still under his control. And height—yes, height is a mercy. It distributes excess, conceals indiscretions. He prods a rib, as if checking for damages. 

Maybe Rook has a thing for the distinguished professor who looks like he drinks expensive whiskey while brooding over obscure philosophy aesthetic. Or maybe he’s just drunk and hallucinating entire futures again. Maybe, when the time comes, he will slip that absurdly expensive watch onto her delicate wrist and then sink to his knees in some ridiculous display of devotion before she allows him to fuck her. But not before he spends an equally ridiculous amount of time in front of his mirror at home, confirming that he is, in fact, as "pretty" as she insists. Despite the grey hair. Despite the cardigan. Despite looking like the unfortunate result of a librarian’s indiscretion with a waiter who has already accepted that his tip will be “the pleasure of the job.”

Arms slip around his waist, and in the mirror, he sees Rook pressed against his back, her face flushed, her expression loose with wine and pleasure. Her nails catch on a loose thread of his cardigan, and—because destruction is a compulsion, not a choice—she begins pulling. She is going to ruin it.

"You smell so good," she sighs against him. "This is nice."

"I'm glad you approve," he says, patting her hand where it rests on his abdomen.

She takes another deep inhale. “Like you raw-dogged a Wintersend tree, jerked off with a fistful of basil, and went down on a rosebush as if it was the love of your life who just returned from war.”

So. She’s drunk.

[distraughtlesbian]

can i speak my truth ? can i keep it real ? there shouldve been more in-party conflict in blades 2. like obviously mc should’ve gotten to cuss mal out in particular when he was like You Dont Know What We’ve Been Thru as if getting kidnapped and forced into a magically induced coma and getting your blood stolen and having constant benadryl nightmares is a walk in the park lmfao, and also just gotten to talk more about what they went through and how it’s impacted them

but also there should’ve been way more beef between the other party members. like girl if i’m nia and i’m spiralling scorning sleep and food constantly hunting for a way to free MY GIRLFRIEND (!!) from the clutches of some goth elf cunt on top of making the fantasy catholic church christlike again and repressing my inner shadow demon and one of my friends is like “hesdeadjim.png give up also fuck you” and then fucked off to be an alcoholic pit fighter, i wouldve actually just thrown hands when we saw each other next. no magic no nothing just me and my nasty little fingers (covered in paper cuts from all the arcane shadow tomes ive been reading) coming straight for her eye sockets. staff of silverlake should’ve been nia’s weapon and she should’ve leapt into the pit in chapter 4 and clocked imtura in the skull with it.

like you bitches should be CRAZY!!!! you should all have DISORDERS!!!! you should be begging ravens perched on busts for RESPITE AND NEPENTHE from your memories of me !!!!!! the moon should never beam without bringing you dreams of ME and the stars never rise but you feel MY bright eyes. tyril should be half-mad with grief and stress he should be mumbling to himself and seeing mc’s silhouette in dark corners. nia should be clearly and obviously off her fucking rocker and constantly on the verge of self destructing and taking us all out with her. imtura should be constantly blind drunk so she doesn’t have to feel her grief or anything at all really. mal should have been in the wind the second it started looking like mc wasn’t coming back and nobody’s heard from him in months. kade should be in a bottomless pit of grief bc when he was stuck in the shadow realm we never gave up hope and we went to rescue him but now that the tables are turned he’s slowly losing hope and day by day and night by night we recede and he becomes more faithless. threep and loola should be inseparable sleeping in a pile together never beyond a wing-length from one another and keeping obsessive tabs on all the other party members no matter how far-flung across morella they are because they’ve already lost everyone and everything they knew to the shadow court once and they’ll be damned if they lose anything else. also kade and aerin should’ve built up a weird semihostile rapport bc once everything fell apart and everyone went their separate ways it was just the two of them in the whitetower palace and kade would go to his cell and sit out of arm’s reach to vent about his time in the shadow realm and his grief and hopes and fears. they both knew and loved mc, in their own ways, despite how aerin hurt them, and now they’ve both lost them, maybe for good. maybe one day aerin starts talking back

where is the SPICE where is the FLAVOUR? where’s the DRAMA where’s the OOMPH where’s the PANACHE? you cannot look at me and tell me these dysfunctional bitches wouldn’t fall back into their worst habits once the one person who held them all together up and vanished into the void. why am i not ending each chapter feeling like i’ve just gotten punched in the dick bc the love is so obviously still there and that’s why it hurts so bad. they should’ve put their whole budget and pussies into forcing the party to fit themselves back together even though they’ve all grown new sharp edges and keep cutting each other up. they should’ve gone full dark no stars about it. grief is an amputation but hope is incurable hemophilia you bleed and bleed and bleed, plants that are split down the middle dont heal they die, you are a language i am no longer fluent in but still remember how to read, what lived and died between us haunts me still, if someone asked me at the end i’d tell them “put me back in it”, i care what ghosts think of me, come back even as a shadow even as a dream, someone has to leave first this is a very old story there is no other ending to this story, etc, etc, you get it you understand. also the mc should’ve come back WRONG.

[itsbeeble]

Down? Astronomically.

Summary: Sangyeon doesn't like sweets. That doesn't stop him from visiting you and your bakery every single thing and leaving with the one thing he hates.

Genre: smut, fluff, mild angst

Pairing: idol!Sangyeon x bakery owner!afab!reader

Fic Warnings: Sickeningly sweet (bah dum tsss) fluff, strangers to simps to lovers, mild mild angst, mentions of food, Sangyeon's cringey as hell actually (like he's down BAD down bad)

WC: ~6.4k (oops)

18+ MDNI, AGELESS BLOGS DNI

SMUT WARNINGS BELOW THE CUT

Smut Warnings: y/n definitely has an oral fixation, soft dom!Sangyeon, pussy drunk!Sangyeon, y/n drunk!Sangyeon (he’s down astronomically bad your honor), he’s like obsessed with everything about her, public sex (they fuckin in the bakery 💪 but it’s closed and the lights are (mostly) off lmfao), standing by big dick!Sangyeon until the day I die, hair pulling, tummy bulge bc why not, lowkey size kink hdjgfsj, uhhhh p in v sex (protected. yall better wrap that shit); i think that's it but lmk if i missed anything.

A/N: 5 months and 6.4k words later and this sangyeon rec is done. anon i'm so sorry for the wait i'm so horrible. Also thank you to pookie (Fawn) for beta reading half of this but she had to bail and I told yall 3:30 so.... yuh. Also this is the first time I've written smut since Doll so please don't be harsh on me i'm sorry if it's bad

~

Sangyeon doesn’t exactly know when he started coming to your bakery. He doesn’t even like sweets, so why does he keep showing up in the dead of night and leaving with several boxes filled with sweets and a piece of cake stuffed into his mouth?

You.

Gorgeous, kind, brilliant, sweet, you. Coincidence? He thinks not. 

At first, he’d started going because Eric had recommended the coffee. And then he met you, stumbling out of the kitchen with a smear of pink frosting on your cheek, a dye-stained apron, and strands of hair slipping out of your tight bun and clinging to your forehead. He didn’t believe in love at first sight, but seeing you in that near-disastrous state, yelling at the poor cashier? God, maybe he should start believing. 

Down bad, Sunwoo had called him a while ago when Sangyeon had dragged him along on his nightly coffee trip. Down horrendous, actually. Sangyeon had forced him to carry all four boxes of treats you’d sent home with him, ignoring how the younger member of the group had whined about how sore his arms were going to be. No, he didn’t pay any attention as he sent the boy along. All of his attention was on you, watching you wipe down the counter and talk about how busy your day had been. 

In the end, he’d only left because Jacob kept calling, begging him to come back to the company to get the boys back in order. 

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite regular!” You’re beaming at him when he walks in the door, your hand placed on the shoulder of Hyejin, a younger and newer employee. You shooed her away, ignoring her questioning of who this mysterious man with a hat and mask on was. When the door to the kitchen shuts and you’re sure she isn’t coming back out, you circle the counter to stand in front of Sangyeon. “I’m assuming you want your normal order?” 

Sangyeon ignores the buzzing in his body when you call him your favorite.

Sangyeon quirks an eyebrow, and though his face is hidden for the most part, you can see his hat shift with the tensing of the muscles in his forehead.

“You have my order memorized?” His tone is teasing, and you feel your cheeks warm. 

“Well, I mean- you just- you’re here every day, and- and I just-” you stumble over your words, a low laugh from the man in front of you causing your cheeks to go from pink to red in an instant.

“I’m kidding,” Sangyeon promises, nudging your side with his elbow while he moves to the register. “I think I would be offended if you didn’t know my order by now.” You hum, a delicate and angelic sound that has Sangyeon feeling fuzzy. He forces the feeling away, tapping his card on the screen in front of him. It lags for a moment, and you awkwardly tap the screen to get it to move faster. Sangyeon smiles, watching you repeatedly try to tuck nonexistent hairs behind your ear. 

He leans forward, placing his elbows on the counter and peering up at you. You don’t meet his eyes.

“Do I make you nervous, Y/N?” You shake your head, and he clicks his tongue. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not nervous,” you insist, now slapping the screen, “this stupid thing is just- it’s just slow and I feel bad about taking up your time. I know you’re really busy-” 

Sangyeon cuts you off again. “I’m never too busy for you, cupcake.” You freeze, and the machine dings. Sangyeon’s eyes squeeze shut. Why the fuck would you say that? What moron says that?

“I-” you pause, drumming your fingers on the counter. “Your order will be out in a few minutes. Hyejin will bring everything to you.” 

He inhales, ready to apologize, but you’re gone by the time he can form words. The swinging kitchen door is his only indicator of where you’ve gone, and he mentally kicks himself. 

Across the counter, Hyejin clears her throat. 

“Iced latte for…Yeonnie?” Her voice lifts at the end, almost disturbed at the name on the cup. Sangyeon walks over, hesitantly grabbing the drink. “I’ll be right out with your boxes.”

“Not necessary,” he shakes his head. “I don’t need them-”

“Too bad,” the young girl purses her lips. “Y/N won’t let me leave until they’re gone so…”

“Oh…”

“Plus, I’m pretty sure she makes so much extra because you love her baked goods.” Hyejin stares him down, and he shuffles his feet. 

“Yep…that’s…that’s true,” an awkward laugh, “the one who really loves baked goods…” 

Sunwoo was right. He’s down astronomically bad.

~

“You’re such a fucking loser, you know that right?” Hyejin scrubs a baking tin furiously, grumbling about how these stupid drops of batter are gonna be the death of her. “Running away and giggling like someone my age because he called you cupcake.” You glare at her. She continues to scrub at the pan. “Do you even know anything about him?”

“Who even asked you?” His birthday is November 4th. I remember because he knew his friends were planning a surprise party for him.

“Nobody. I’m just the unfortunate soul who has to sit here and witness your gag-worthy flirting with Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome.” You throw down your rag.

“I’m not flirting with him! He’s a paying customer!”

“Mhm. A paying customer who you wanna fuck sooooo bad.” She smirks at you, and whether mocking or not you know she’s right. Would you ever admit that to her face? Absolutely not. 

“You know what-” You pick up your rag and jab a finger in her direction. “If you keep this shit up I’m cutting your hours down.”

“Do that and I’m telling Yeonnie that you want him inside of you. Call it a taste tester or whatever.” 

“You know what,” your face is burning up again and your grip on the rag tightens. “Get out.” 

“Nope.” Hyejin sets down her sponge and smiles at you. “I’m not leaving until I’m scheduled to leave. Unless we finish early, that is. So you better make a plan to jump this guy’s bones before I help him instead.”

Your rag hits the ground, a groan rises from your throat. And yet…you can’t help the smile that pulls across your lips. You can’t help the warm feeling in your chest that blooms with every thought of this masked customer who only ever goes by Yeonnie, even if you don’t know what he looks like under that mask and hat of his.

~

“You called her what?” Kevin reels back, his eyes wide and his jaw dropped. Sangyeon cringes. 

“Yeah…”

“Why would you say that? That’s like…textbook ‘do not call a woman this unless she’s your wife!’” 

“You think I don’t know that?” Sangyeon flings himself back on the studio floor, a loud thump echoing around him. The other boys had left a few minutes ago, and, oddly enough, Kevin was the only one he trusted enough to tell this to. “God, I’m such a moron.”

“No,” Kevin coos. Sangyeon frowns, rolling his head on the ground to look at him. “You’re just a dumbass who-” Sangyeon flings his foot out reaching to kick Kevin. “Whoa, hey, let me finish!”

“You’re just gonna make fun of me!” Sangyeon whines. 

Kevin purses his lips.

“For a 26-year-old man, you sure are childish.”

“Are you gonna help me fix this or not, Kevin?”

Kevin hums. 

“Operation Sangyeon-does-get-bitches is a go!”

“Call it that again and I’m getting you kicked out of the group.”

~

“So,” Hyejin leans against the counter while you mix up the batter for a cake. “Has Yeonnie come in yet?” 

You purse your lips, carefully pouring part of the dry ingredients into the stand mixer. 

“He doesn’t come in until later usually.” 

“You must be so disappointed.” You don’t respond. 

Truthfully, it is disappointing. Sure, you know he’ll be coming in later on. You know that he’s likely going to be your last customer and for that, you’re relieved. However, the wait has you picking at the skin around your nails. Anxiety builds inside of you. Cupcake is what he had called you. Just a small amount of affection, and for that you had shut down. What if running away had sent the wrong message? What if he thought you hated him and were just being nice? “You shouldn’t stress so much,” Hyejin stops the stand mixer, taking the empty bowl of dry ingredients from your hand. “You’ll overmix the batter and then the cake will be gross.”

“A professional, are we?” A lighthearted smile passes over your lips. Hyejin shrugs. 

“I’m here to learn, aren’t I? I’m not gonna get through culinary school by working at a gas station.” 

“That’s true.” 

“Anyway,” she huffs and grabs a tray of macarons, “just remember the plan and he’ll fall right back in love with you. Guaranteed.”

“How do you know?” You pour the cake batter into a few baking tins, ensuring that all are evenly layered. 

“Have you seen how he looks at you?” She scoffs. “That man clearly couldn’t care less about the sweets you give him. He’s here for you and the coffee. Not the cakes or the cookies or the brownies. He’s here for you. No one comes in that often for some baked goods.”

Have you seen the way he looks at you? Yes. You had. Just briefly, though, when his hat had lifted enough for the light to pass over his eyes. The corners were crinkled, clearly smiling under the mask. You’d thought he looked so pretty, even if you couldn’t truly see his face.

You knew him as Yeonnie. That’s the name he had requested the first few times he came into the bakery. He didn’t give you a full name, and you joked that what he gave you sounded like something you’d name your dog. He’d laughed, and when he did it had been like the air was punched out of you. It was such a beautiful sound, and somewhere deep in your mind, you had vowed to make him laugh every time you saw him. 

Then he was showing up every day, asking about what didn’t sell very much that day. Every day he would buy them all. And every day, you cracked a joke that had you hearing that gorgeous laugh of his. 

Never, however, had he called you anything but your name. Maybe you cared a bit too much about what he thought of you. Maybe you cared a little bit too much about the smudges of frosting on your face, the sweat-slicked strands of hair that clung to your hair after being in the kitchen all morning and afternoon, preparing for the next day’s pastries. 

Never had you hidden from a man you loved, even if he didn’t quite know it yet.

~

“So,” Sangyeon leans against the counter, watching you get his drink ready. “Anything exciting happen today?” His hands are shaking, but he hides it by drumming his fingers against the counter. You’d been quieter than usual, ducking your head whenever he looked at you.

Now he was worried that he made you uncomfortable.

“Not really,” you shrug, cupping your hand around the rim of the go-cup to prevent too much splashing as you add a bit more ice. “It was kinda busy, but it was bearable.”

“That’s good,” Sangyeon nods, tugging his mask further up his face. He peers around you, squinting as he searches for Hyejin through the window on the kitchen door. “Where’s Hyejin today?” You shrug.

“I sent her home early. We slowed down a lot about an hour ago and I had already gotten a lot of things done so I told her to head home.” 

“So you’re here alone?” Sangyeon frowns. “That can’t be safe.”

“I mean…” you run your tongue over your lips, “I dunno. I do it all the time.”

“You shouldn’t.” Sangyeon frowns, “This is a big city, what if something happened to you?” 

“You saying you’re worried about me, Yeonnie?” You lean toward him, your lips twitching up. 

“Sangyeon.” He blurts his name out before he can stop it. You blink, your eyebrows knitting together.

“What?”

“My…my name.” He takes a deep breath. “It’s Sangyeon. Not Yeonnie.” 

You nod, frowning.

“Why didn’t you just tell me your name in the first place?” He inhales, shaking his head.

“It isn’t that simple, cupcake.” 

“Why not?” You drum your fingers on the marble countertop. “It seems pretty simple to me. I ask for the name of the order, and you say ‘Sangyeon.’ Easy peasy.” 

Sangyeon can’t help but laugh. He can’t help the disbelief at how calm you are. Sure, the reveal of his actual name isn’t that big of a deal. Maybe you thought he was just uncomfortable around people. A bit socially awkward.

The smile returns to your lips. 

“Can I ask something?” He nods, leaning on the counter to look you in the eye. The hat casts a shadow over his face, but you can see that little crinkle that you’d been longing to see up close since the first day you met him. “Why do you wear this…” you wave your hand at him. “This little get-up?” 

He falls quiet, and for a moment you think you’ve made him uncomfortable.

“I…I’m sorry, Sangyeon. I don’t- I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t apologize.” He cuts you off, and your mouth shuts. “I just…I didn’t want your opinion of me to…to change. If you saw my face, that is.” 

“If I saw your face,” you echo. “What, are you famous or something? Oooh, are you an idol?” 

Boom, right on the money.

You can see the emotions in his eyes. The fear, the shock, the confusion, the nerves. You can see his hands clenching around his coffee. A pit forms in your stomach, growing larger and larger as he shuffles back. Toward the door. 

Away from you.

“Sangyeon…” you speak slowly when you circle the counter. “Are you…”

“I have to go,” he spits out. “I’m s- I just…I’m sorry. I have to go. I’m just-” his breathing is shaking, and he back into the wall. Sangyeon stumbles, whipping around and shoving through the door before you can say another word. 

And after all that…you couldn’t even give him the cake you’d planned on giving him for his birthday.

~

Sangyeon is pacing. His footsteps are quiet, muffled by the carpet beneath his feet. His hair is in disarray from hours of tugging at the strands. 

Kevin is sitting on his leader’s bed, eyes drooping and his head resting on one of his hands.

“Dude,” Kevin pinches the bridge of his nose. “You do know that she probably thinks she messed up somehow, right?”

“God, I just keep making things worse.” Sangyeon groans loudly, kicking away one of the shirts lying on the floor. 

“I love that I get to sit back and watch you ruin your love life before it begins.” Kevin stretches his arms above his head, his eyes squeezing shut and a yawn fighting to leave his mouth. 

“Gee, thanks Kev.” Sangyeon scowls, throwing his body face-down onto the mattress. Kevin shifts to the side, patting the older man’s shoulder.

“I’m just speaking the truth. You shouldn’t have reacted like you did. What happened to being in love with her? Did you really think she would expose you for being an idol?” 

A tough question. Sangyeon would like to say that the answer to that question is yes. He would love to trust you with his whole being, with every fiber in his body, but he’s been burned before. He’s been burned, and he doesn’t want it to happen again. 

“I just…I got scared, I think.” Sangyeon’s hands fold under his cheek, his voice slightly muffled. “I just got so scared because I care about her so much, but what if…what if she isn’t…” his voice trails off.

“She isn’t like Nabi.” Kevin frowns. “Is that what you were worried about? That she was like Nabi?” 

“I…I think so.” 

Another pregnant pause between the two of them. 

“Here’s what you’re going to do. And this time you are going to listen to me and you are going to follow every bit of my instructions no matter what happens. You are going to do this tomorrow. You aren’t going to let this simmer. You are going to go there tomorrow night, you’re going to apologize, you’re going to confess, and you’re gonna have amazing sex, badabing badaboom, we get our free pastries.” 

“There’s no way you’re just helping me because you want free baked goods.” Sangyeon clicks his tongue, rolling onto his back. Kevin scoffs.

“Who do you think I am, Juyeon? No, I’m helping you because we need you to get laid and fucking relax.”

“Somehow that’s even worse.”

“Yeah, well you’ve been up our asses with this next comeback on the rise. Now are you gonna listen to me or are you gonna fuck up again and make us all miserable with your moping?” 

Sangyeon bites his tongue, fighting back a retort. “I’ll listen.”

~

“What are you doing here?”

Sangyeon practically cowers under the weight of Hyejin’s gaze. Her eyes are narrowed, her lips drawn into a thin line. He’s abandoned the mask and the hat. The only thing shielding him now is the hood of his sweatshirt. 

“I need to talk to Y/N.”

Hyejin snorts. “You think she wants to talk to you after what you did?” 

Regret boils inside of him, and he digs the nail of his thumb into his pointer finger. 

“Please, Hyejin. I just- I just need to talk to her.” He watches the college student think. Watches her consider her options.

“Wait here. I’ll go see if she wants to talk to you.”

“Thank you, Hyejin. God, thank you-”

“Don’t thank me,” she snaps. “I’m not doing this for you, so don’t thank me.”

~

You’re in the back, listening to the conversation just outside the door. Your hands tug at the edge of your apron, your eyebrows knitting together. 

“Do you want to talk to him?” Hyejin is careful to speak only when the door has stopped swinging, her voice hushed and her hand resting on your arm. “I won’t force you to go out there, and I can stay longer if you don’t want to be alone.” 

You smile, placing your hand over hers. For the shit you two give each other, she’s one of the few people you can rely on.

“It’s fine, Hyejin. You can go home.”

“You sure?” 

No. “Positive.”

~

It’s dark in the bakery. The blinds have been drawn shut, the door locked and most of the lights turned off. Sangyeon stares at the box you place on the table in front of him. Your eyes are trained on the ground, your teeth digging into the plush flesh of your lip. 

“What- what did you make tonight?” His voice cracks, and he grimaces while clearing his throat. What a great start, dumbass.

“A cake.” The statement is cold, and he gnaws on his lip. “For you.”

“For me?” He echoes, tugging it closer to his side of the table. You place your hand on top of the box, pulling it back toward you. He drops his hands back to his sides. 

“Not right now. Not until you explain what the hell happened last night.”

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out. You flinch, your body curling in on itself. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“Why did you run off?” Your voice is quieter than he’d ever heard it, and he has to strain to pick up the words you’ve said. “Why…why did you leave?”

“I don’t- I swear it isn’t your fault, cupcake.” Another flinch, and he snaps his mouth shut. 

“Then why did you run?” You lift your eyes, and he can see the tears waiting to fall. He can see you fighting to keep them at bay, to keep calm. 

“I…” Sangyeon sighs. “It’s a long story. One that…that I didn’t really want to have to tell you. Not yet, at least. Not like this.”

“You don’t trust me, do you?” Your voice shakes, and Sangyeon shakes his head, one of his hands reaching forward to touch your own. He hesitates, his hand partway across the table before he decides against touching you. “It’s okay if you don’t. I get it. Fans are…they’re crazy these days, I know.” You try to laugh, but you break off into sniffles.

“I trust you, Y/N,” Sangyeon protests. “I really trust you. I ran off because…because I didn’t want this to end like the last time I trusted someone.” He drags a hand down his face, laughing in disbelief. “My last relationship was rough. I thought I could trust her, and she…she betrayed me. So because of that, I was scared.”

“Of what?” You press. “Letting go of the past? Loving me?”

“Yes!” He exclaims, erupting from his seat and running his hands through his hair. “Fuck, Y/N, I love you so much that it hurts. All I ever want to do is hold you, and kiss you, and- and-” he shakes his head, and you rise from your seat. “It drives me crazy because you make me so happy to see you excited to give me things that I don’t even like but I take anyway because I just love you so fucking much. And- and I’ve wanted to tell you everything for so long but I just- I couldn’t-” 

His lips are soft, you think when you kiss him. They’re soft, although slightly chapped. He’s frozen in place, his hands hanging in mid-air on either side of your body. He remains like that and you pull back, afraid that you misinterpreted everything.

He doesn’t let you get very far, his arms wrapping around your midsection and yanking you back into him. 

~

It’s so soft, the way he kisses you. Sangyeon doesn’t move too fast, cautious and hyperaware of everything around the two of you. His hands have untied the apron around your waist, tossing it somewhere amongst the tables and he’s placed you up on the counter. His hands are all over you: moving up and down your back, caressing your cheeks, squeezing at your hips, running over the tops of your thighs and through the strands of hair that he’s tugged out of the claw clip. 

His tongue is in your mouth, but he’s not using any force. Sangyeon lets you take the reins, set the pace. Whatever you want, he’ll give you. He’s yours. He lets your tongue prod at his own, lets you suckle at the wet muscle to your content. Your body is shaking against his own, and a smile crosses over his lips. 

Sangyeon pulls his mouth from yours, his smile widening when you whine and chase his lips. His hands are on your waist, holding you in place. “You’re shaking, cupcake.”

“Want you so bad, Yeonnie.” You reach for him again, your lips just grazing his before he pulls back.

“What do you want?” One of his hands drags along your leg, running higher, and higher, and-

“Want you to eat me out.” 

Sangyeon’s eyes go wide. So maybe he’d just been teasing you, but he hadn’t expected his sweet little baker to be so bold.

Your hand pushes against his chest, and he stumbles backward a few steps. There’s a dazed look in his eyes as he watches you unbutton your blouse. The delicate fabric slides down your shoulders, and Sangyeon swears that he’s drooling over you. The shape of your breasts in the orange glow of the fairy lights, the steady rise and fall of your chest while you breathe. 

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, and your cheeks grow warm. He reaches for you, but hesitates and puts his hand down again. You watch as he drops to his knees, practically crawling to you, and you can feel your panties dampening from the action. There’s a warm feeling in your gut, one you haven’t felt in a long time. His hands are quick to undo the button of your jeans, and he watches you as he tugs the zipper down. You’re leaning back on the counter, eyes struggling to stay open and on him. One of your lips is tucked between your teeth, red and puffy from you chewing on it.

Sangyeon drags your jeans and panties down in on harsh tug, and he helps you lift your legs to step out of them. Your legs are soft, he notes to himself. He leans forward, his lips touching the soft skin gently. You flinch, and he pulls away. 

“Why-” your voice trembles. “Why’d you stop?”

“You flinched,” he shrugs. “I will only do what you want me to, cupcake. The second you show discomfort, I stop until you tell me to continue or to leave. I’m yours. Whatever you want is what I want.  But right now, I really want to drown in this sweet pussy of yours.” He doesn’t move though, his cheek resting against the inside of your knee and his eyes are lidded with lust. “I’m not doing anything until you say so, cupcake.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, and a nod of your head has Sangyeon practically moaning as he pulls himself closer to your core. 

“Fuck, cupcake, you’re dripping f’ me.” He coos, gauging your reactions as he prods at your entrance with the tips of his calloused fingers. You whine, trying to squeeze your legs shut, but his broad shoulders keep them open while he plays with your sopping pussy. His thumbs spread you open, and he watches you clench around nothing. 

“Hurry up, Sangyeon,” he grins at the desperation in your voice. 

“So needy,” he hums. You click your tongue and one of your hands laces in the soft strands of his hair. Your grip tightens, and he whines when you yank him closer to you.’

“Well,” you hide the way your voice shakes when you feel his breath right up against you. “I need a bit of a taste tester, you know? Need to know if she’s sweet enough- oh fuck-”

His mouth against you before you can finish your statement. His mouth is wide open, his tongue swiping along your folds, dipping inside of you and just grazing your clit, knowing full well that’s where you need him the most. Your hand is still in his hair, but your grip has gone slack. Your jaw hangs open, your head tipped back, and Sangyeon can feel him growing harder just at the taste of you in his mouth. 

His eyes drift shut, his hands grabbing your thighs and pulling you impossibly closer to his mouth. His neck has tipped back at an awkward angle, one that he knows is going to hurt later, but right now? With your pussy dripping against his face and the pretty little moans and whines you release? Sangyeon couldn’t care less. He's enraptured by you. He's obsessed with your taste, and he knows that even if he doesn't like sweets, he'd make an exception just for you.

“Sangyeon,” you’re breathless, pitch raising as he sucks at your clit, laving over it with his tongue. “Sangyeon, please.”

“Please what, cupcake?” His voice is muffled, not even bothering to pull away from you, and the vibrations of his voice have your back arching. “What do you need?”

“Need you inside of me,” you whine. “Please, please I need you so bad. Been waiting for so long. Haven’t you been waiting for me?” 

You’re a seductress, Sangyeon decides. A succubus. Sent here to torment him. To get him drunk on you, so much so that he’ll never want to leave. So much so that he’d sell his soul just to get a taste of your nectar one more time. 

“Have to make you cum, cupcake,” he denies your pretty little begs. “Wanna make you cum, just once before I fuck you. Please? Please let me make you cum?” His eyes are glowing in the light of the bakery, and you let out a high-pitched whine. He doesn’t wait for your response this time. He drowns himself in your pussy, tongue reaching inside of you for as much of your arousal as he can get. He sucks harshly on your clit, teeth grazing it and drawing loud cries from your lips.

Your legs tremble. A knot is growing in the pit of your stomach. Your body jerks. 

“Oh, fuck, Sangyeon-” Your cry trails off into a loud whine, your orgasm washing over you like a wildfire. Sangyeon drinks you up like he’s been in a desert for a week without water, moaning just as loud as you. Getting drunk on the feeling of your thighs shaking around his head, overstimulating you as you come down from your high. 

He doesn’t pull away until you physically kick him away from you. His face is drenched in your juices, his eyes glazed with need, and you have a sneaking suspicion that if you asked, he would crawl over and drag another orgasm out of you in no time at all. 

But you don’t ask. You need him inside of you so desperately that now you’re the one crawling to him. He’s still fully dressed as you perch your body over his, your core pressed right up against the bulge in his pants. His hands are tight on your hips, and he watches as you tug his sweatshirt up his body. 

“Did you plan for this to happen?” You smirk when you find bare skin under the soft hoodie. Bare, golden, skin, with toned abs like no other. Fuck maybe you were gonna get drunk on him.

He grins at you. “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. What are you gonna do about it?” You click your tongue and slide off of him to sit on the counter. He sits up, eyebrows knit together as you swing your legs and smile at him.

“Planned or not,” you hum, “you should probably fuck me before I change my mind and eat that birthday cake on my own.” Sangyeon scoffs, but he’s pulling his pants down his legs and walking over to you without another word.

You, on the other hand, are taken completely aback. He’s big. Like…big in both length and girth. You wonder if you’d be able to wrap your hand around it, but you don’t get the time to think about it before Sangyeon is in front of you, tearing open a foil packet and rolling the condom onto his cock.

“Is it gonna fit, do you think?” You reach your hand forward, wrapping your hand around it. You were right. 

Sangyeon hisses at the contact of your hand wrapping around his sensitive cock. “We’ll have to see, won’t we?” 

You smile, your legs wrapping around his waist and tugging him closer to you. Your hand is still on him, guiding him to your entrance. You both hiss at the initial push into you. It stings, the stretch more than you’ve had in quite a while. 

“Shit, you’re tight,” Sangyeon grips your thighs tightly, his fingers holding you so tightly that you swear there will be bruises after this. You whine, your arms coming up to wrap around his shoulders. 

His arms slide up, holding you close to him as he continues to press inside of you. Sangyeon whispers words of comfort into your ear. He pauses whenever you whine in discomfort, hushing you as he continues to push into you. He bites his tongue every time your pussy clenches around him, muffling the groans that threaten to escape. 

You, on the other hand, are moaning shamelessly despite the discomfort. You can feel him everywhere, touching every inch of you and just kissing that sweet spot inside of you. Every time he pushes further into you, once the sting passes, the pleasure is quick to replace it. It overpowers every other emotion inside of you. Your legs wrap tighter around him, forcing those last few inches into you until his hips are pressed tightly against your own and his breathing grows shaky again. You clench around him, and his body jerks. 

“Little tease,” he practically growls. “Clenching around me like you want me to cum too fast.” You laugh, but it cuts into a moan when he pulls out a few inches and shoves himself back in. Your nails dig into the back of his neck, your fingers lacing into his hair and pulling lightly. "Feels so good, Yeonnie.”

“Weren’t you the one that said that was a dog's name?” He moves slowly against you, and at first, you don’t respond, your lips attached to his shoulder and sucking dark marks into the skin. “Cupcake, careful with the marks.” Sangyeon pinches the skin of your thigh and you whine.

“Stop complaining and just fuck me already,” you plead. Sangyeon smiles.

“Whatever you say, cupcake.” You can’t get another word out. Sangyeon pushes you onto your back, barely giving you time to adjust to how he feels in this new position before he’s thrusting harshly inside of you. 

He’s harsh with his pace, each thrust punching the air out of your lungs, forcing out moans and cries and begs for him to go faster, harder, right there oh god right there Sangyeon. He lowers his mouth to your shoulder, giving you the same treatment he’d just scolded you for, listening to everything you say and every sound you make as he does. The sound of his hips slapping against yours is so loud and he can feel your arousal dripping down your pretty cunt and allowing him to go faster, to fuck you harder. 

Then he sees it. It’s faint, but when he looks down at you he can see the outline of his cock pressing against your stomach. His pace stutters, and you whine when he slows down. 

“Cupcake, look at you.” He coos, grabbing the hand that’s in his hair and bringing it down to your stomach. You raise your head, eyes fluttering when he thrusts again but you can feel the bulge against your stomach. You force your eyes to stay open the next time he thrusts into you, whining when you see it. “So fucking pretty, baby. So fucking pretty, and so small that my cock is pressing against your tummy, wanting to get out, hm?” You whine again, raising your hips to meet every thrust. 

He’s getting close. He can feel it. Every thrust, every clench, every whine. It’s all drawing him closer and closer to the edge, and he knows you can feel his cock twitching inside of you. He knows that you’re getting close again, he can feel the way your walls are fluttering around him rather than persistently clenching. 

“Are you close baby?” His hand comes up to rest next to your head, and you whine.

“So close, Yeonnie. Please I’m so close-” Your hips stutter against him, and the knot in your stomach goes tight. 

Sangyeon swears he goes blind for a moment with how hard his eyes roll back. His body shakes against yours, his cum filling the condom to the brim. Your back arches, your chests brushing together and he wraps one hand around your back, pressing against your shoulder blades to hold you close to him while the two of you ride out your highs. Both of you are panting, your bodies slick with sweat, and you can only imagine what anyone walking outside is thinking-

“Oh my god, we just fucked in my bakery.” You sit upright, your head knocking against Sangyeon’s in the process. He snorts, rubbing where you just hit him.

“You’re realizing this now?” You smack his arm, and he laughs, pulling away from you. The two of you are quiet for a few minutes, quietly cleaning up and getting dressed. Well…Sangyeon gets dressed. You’re stuck on the counter, your legs proving to be useless now. Sangyeon smiles at this, grabbing your clothes for you and helping you tug your jeans on. 

“We’re not fucking in here again.” He quirks an eyebrow.

“So what you’re saying is my car is next?” You punch his arm again, but he just laughs. “I’m kidding.”

“Are you though?” 

“...”

“Lee Sangyeon!” He laughs again, taking you by the hand to keep you steady on your feet. The two of you stand there for a few minutes, in the middle of your bakery with the orange glow of the fairy lights. 

“Did you mean what you said?” You ask, letting him lead you back to the table you’d left the cake on.

“About what?” Sangyeon peers at you, his head tilted. 

“About not liking sweets.” Your cheeks are warm. It’s a silly question, but it had bugged you. Sangyeon smiles, ducking his head.

“Yeah… I was really just here for the coffee.”

“Then…Why did you take what I gave you?” You pout. “If I had known you didn’t like that stuff, I would’ve given you something else!” 

“Because I like how happy you sounded when I told you the recipes you were trying tasted fantastic.” He says simply. “I would hate if I said or did anything that made you upset.”

“But you…” you purse your lips. “Then why did you run away? I know that you said someone had…betrayed you before…but did you really think I would do that to you?” 

Sangyeon sighs. 

“I didn’t know. Obviously, I trusted you- I trust you. But…somewhere inside of me I just couldn’t help but be a bit too cautious. I couldn’t stop myself from being afraid that this would turn out just like that relationship did, you know?” You nod, drumming your fingers on the table. “Can I see the cake you made me now?” 

“After all that, you wanna see the cake now?” You scoff and he grins at you, tugging the box toward him. “Whatever. It’s nothing special anyway.”

“Anything you make me is special.” He argues, flipping open the lid of the box. He gasps.

“Do you like it?” Sangyeon doesn’t respond. You get nervous. “Yeonnie?”

“Oh, you want me sooooo bad.”

~

TAGLIST: @winterchimez @juyeonszn

[a-lesbianshadowinthenight]

Some more Jesslupe head canons because they have taken over my entire brain and I fear will never crawl out

- Jess tries, okay they try, to go along with Lupe’s grumpiness but sometimes its just sooo put on that Jess can’t help themselves and smiles

- Lupe manhandling Jess into cuddles instead of just asking

- Lupe doing something at the kitchen counter and Jess squeezes her hip and Lupe YELPS

- You are so right about Lupe being a little 🙂😑 over Jess calling her “brother” and maybe someday she gets a little tipsy and admits it to her

- More about tipsy/drunk/ unguarded Lu, mumbling something half in spanish and accusing Jess of making her stomach feel “weird” (Jess, delighted, is like “butterflies?” And Lupe is like No. 🫠😑 (yes))

- Lupe is such a fusser when shes trying to get comfortable enough to fall asleep but if she’s holding Jess she falls asleep within minutes

- Jess kissing Lu to shut her up when she’s spiraling <3

- Lu half teasing refers to Jess as “her butch” and Jess LIGHTS UP (going to write this into a fic hehe)

- Lupe whispering nonsensical or mundane things into Jess’s ears to make them laugh and Jess is trying to wiggle away because it tickles (but also not trying that hard because Lupe is smiling and they like being silly with her) (Lupe is like what’s so funny? Why are you laughing? i’m trying to tell you something important Jess!)

- Jess always saying “Lu” in that impossibly soft tone. You know the one. <3

i am a PUDDLE ON THE FLOOORRRRRR i love these so much

lupe defs lays the grumpiness on thick sometimes and secretly sometimes it’s because she wants jess to pay attention to her. also she secretly likes when jess says she’s cute when she’s grumpy because everyone always tells her she’s too angry and needs to cool down

LMAO i love the idea of lupe propositioning wrestling bc she wants to cuddle and jess just flops on top of her like ‘this is what you wanted right?’

hahaha YES and jess thinks it’s so funny that it bothered lupe but now they use hermano as a term of endearment so it’s fine because jess made it a sweeter intention when they toasted lupe

HERE FOR LUPE BEING GRUMPY ABOUT THE GIDDY FEELINGS LOL i wrote it into my fic that she gets mad because jess ‘made her fall in love with them’ but then jess gets them all flustered and they soon forget what they were mad about 😏

omfg lupe calling jess her butch i feel FAINT

i wonder if anyone else called lupe lu before jess bc i feel like they could have been the first one to call her that and she lovessssss it

lupe calls jess ‘jessy’ sometimes to annoy them lmfao

[lambilegs]

i lovee love the thought of lee harker being high as hell, especially that she doesn’t like to get drunk so she just rolls a fat blunt in the comfort of her house

if she smokes one with reader i do think she would get nervous at first, fingers slightly touching everytime they passed the blunt and lee’s face gets warm. or if they borderline have a crush on each other, lee would get clingy and touchy, and she would get embarrassed the next day after she realized she slept on top of reader after their sesh.

YES RIGHT!! like, she doesn't drink, and I feel like that's because she doesn't like lack of control or not being able to remember much the next day. but, I really feel like she'd be down to get high -- like, the poor girl needs it, she's practically heaving in stress half the time. and you're so right, I think she'd relish in doing it in the peace of her home after work, or before going to sleep.

YESSSS hehe, she'd be such a dork, just clumsily handling the joint because she's faintly trembling from the hand-on-hand contact with reader. and I feel like the haze from the weed has her feeling even more sensitive and reactive to all your little touches, too lacking in self-awareness to control her small little gasps, or the way she flinches when you get closer, or her smiles. she wouldn't be able to resist bubbling with laughter whenever you do something endearing, and she might even mumble without realizing, "you're cute," which has you both freezing right after LMFAO. and she'd just look, like, so much fonder than usual, you know? like you said, definitely blushing a lot, but also just unable to resist staring at you unabashedly, her eyes so gentle and glossed over at she smiles at your side profile, only turning away when you catch her.

THAT IS SOOOO STINKING CUTE HEHE. like, if you touch her face, once she gets past the initial surprise, she wouldn't be able to hold back from leaning into your palm, every instinct in her body just urging her to let go and give into you. same if you hug her, or lay your head on her shoulder or in the crook of her neck. as usual, she'd be a bit surprised, but as opposed to when she's sober and likely to stiffen up or gently move away, she'd eventually sag against you, nuzzling and giving into her dormant desires to be close to you.

when she'd wake up, she'd be SOOOOO disoriented LMFAOOOOO just looking around with wide, bewildered eyes... but then if you're still asleep she'll probably lay right back down and enjoy it for a few more secs hehe

(also omg the nap thing -- idk if you've seen it but it reminds me of that friends episode where joey and ross fall asleep together and they're both so horrified when they wake up but also loved it sm LMAOOO. that'd be lee KJKDJ)

thank you sm for all these thoughts hehe I enjoyed reading them so much and they're so true to our awkward bbg MWAH <33

[snow-blower]

A PART 2?!?:!2kjdkadbfke

Wanna tell us more???

Oh, I would love to! Thank you for asking me and allowing me to rant about this because, boy, do I have ideas!!

Okay, so think. The date goes absolutely terribly. The guy turns out to be much more of a dick than reader already thought. Maybe he made some innoporiate comments, spent half the date on his phone, or is just generally a prick.

So, reader leaves early. Maybe she's walking home in the rain, maybe she texts Robb to say she's walking home. Maybe she's a bit tipsy. Robb, obviously worried, goes and finds her. He meets her halfway back to her place, she's stumbling slightly, pouting and leaning into him as he helps her back to her place.

She's clearly a little drunk, mumbling about how the date was terrible and she wished she had never gone. Maybe she murmured something about wishing it had been a date with Robb instead. He ignores it, because she's drunk and obviously, it's not true, right?

Maybe he tucks her into bed. Maybe he lies down beside her because she gets clingy when she's drunk. Maybe, she wakes up completely embarrassed and frustrated. Perhaps Robb brings up what she said about him jokingly, and she goes bright red because she really did mean those words. She admits that maybe she's had a crush on him for ages, and only went out with that guy last night because she was sure Robb didn't like her back, or maybe she wanted to make him a little jealous. And then, maybe, maybe, hands start wandering, their lips meet and they have soft morning sex before the suns even up.

Or, something along those lines. Idk lmfao

[wetcatspellcaster]

I saw you respond that you a very much not an SJM fan 😅 fair enough but I did want to ask what books/series you did like or would recommend that are of a fantasy/romantasy vibe!

lmfao, i am destined to become known for my parasocial enmity with the wingspan lady on this hellsite.

I don't read stuff with the same vibe as SJM all that often anymore. I used to read a lot of paranormal romance but the heteronormativity of SJM clones was upsetting me, so I've turned more towards the romance genre or just straight up fanfic these days.

So these recommendations might not be the perfect overlap but-!

Books with Fey Romances that are good

Holly Black, for all your fey needs. Tithe is the OG (and if you like sad men with white hair, have I got a blorbo for you!) but The Cruel Prince is her most popular series, that most people have read. The Darkest Part of the Forest is also an amazing standalone novel with a bit more creepiness than the other two. Not very explicit sex.

Olivia Atwater's Half A Soul and Ten Thousand Stitches are regency romance novels with fey associations, the first book is about a girl under a fairy curse and the second is about a fairy himbo trying his best at being a fairy godmother. No sex, that I can remember.

Heather Fawcett's Emily Wilde's Encyclopedia of Fairies. I've talked about this book a lot. If you like my fanfic, you will like this book, because this book was written for Me specifically. Not very explicit sex.

The Falconer series by Elizabeth May. This is the closest in this list to what SJM writes, only this is. um. better. Much sex, but also just... 'what if we started an apocalypse together, and the guilt meant I was scared to touch you, but we've got nothing else to live for now so why shouldn't I just do it?'

Fantasy Books with Good Romance

T Kingfisher's Swordheart and Nettle & Bone - both standalone novels. Swordheart is just Howl x Sophie dynamics, if Howl was a martial class, and also. A sword. Some sexiness.

Uprooted by Naomi Novik (if we count the love interests as both the hot sexy wizard man AND the protagonist's gal pal). Some sexiness.

Gods of Jade and Shadow by Silvia Moreno-Garcia. If you like your immortal/mortal romances, this is a pretty stellar read tbh. Some sexiness.

In Other Lands by Sarah Rees Brennan. This is such a fun book just generally but the slowburn of a 7 year high school romance sent me a little feral actually. Some sexiness.

Daevabad trilogy by S.A. Chakraborty. Now, this one is a little bit evil bc its an epic fantasy trilogy that is quite dense, and the romance is amazing but it takes a WHILE. *I* can write an evil slowburn, but there is nothing more evil than what happened in these books bc everyone is so fucking repressed. Alternatively, The Adventures of Amina Al-Sirafi by the same author, which cut to the chase a lot quicker, romance-wise.

Fantasy Books that are 😌😌 sexy 😌😌

The Dark Days Club by Alison Goodman. This is my favourite paranormal romance I've read in recent years, and they don't even have sex but I'm putting it here because um. they did. to me. That's what happens when you write a regency romance where if a woman takes of a man's coat they have 37 horny thoughts about it in real time. Imagine if Darcy and Elizabeth for P&P were also fighting demons at the same time as falling in love (not metaphorically. literal demons.)

Mating the Huntress by Talia Hibbert. Talia Hibbert's books in general fucking slap but I wish she'd written more paranormal romance than just this ONE story bc um. This was. um. Good.✌️

A Marvellous Light and A Restless Truth by Freya Marske. Freya Marske is also a popular fanfic author, and it shows with the way she writes sex.

That Time I Got Drunk and Saved a Demon by Kimberly Lemming. This author is the one who went briefly viral bc she accidentally has a book cover with Astarion on it lmao. This book was the first in that series, and unfortunately it wasn't for me (dragon shifter porn, I did *not* know going in) but the sex was really, really well-written, if that's something you could be into.

[celestie0]

🪷 CTFUUUUUU your gojo and reader sex tape post was so hilarious omg. Ngl to me they don't give the vibes of a couple that make one (I don't mean this as an insult omfg now that I wrote it it sounds rude as hell) but the type who are professional phone fuckers.

Doja cat's Cyber sex is their national anthem I just know it I had a little locker room talk with reader she told me 😙. And yeah what you said abt gojo's schedule being all over the place as a player I'd thought that too, which is why phone sex is 🔛🔝 for these two. Just two freaky frogs omg I know that dude sluts her out bad and she doesn't want it any other way

He's a player (the *other* type of player) too so ofc he'd have expertise in the area of tasteful nudes but reader's learning curve will be so exponential gojo would be left in the dust in a short amount of time😁 RIP BOZO‼️

Imagine a little roleplay scenario where reader dresses up as a cheerleader for gojo after he returns from winning some final match as a victory treat. That dong goes up at an angle of elevation so steep you could make a mean trigonometric question off of it. I need him BAD I need him esp when he's sweaty after a gym or practice session I'd climb that man like jack was climbing that beanstalk.

Anyway I hope you've been doing well sweets! Thanks for being so nice to me in your last ask and I cannot wait to see what you have in store for us I wanna see that horndog be his authentic slutty self around reader finally 🗣️🗣️

Imagine a little roleplay scenario where reader dresses up as a cheerleader for gojo after he returns from winning some final match as a victory treat.

oh dear sweet baby jesus the scream i SCRUMPT AT THIS…HOW HAVE I NEVER THOUGHT OF THAT oh mygooodd that’d be so fuckin hot 😩😩😩 i ran to add that to my notes LOL my head is in my hands i need to write that so fucking bad. HIM RAILING HER WHILE SHE’s WEARING A SKIMPY LIL CHEERLEADER COSTUME AFTER HE JUST PLAYED AN INTENSE GAME babe u cooked w this ty

HAHAHA i feel like they would make a sex tape but they obv wouldnt post it or anything lol it’d just be something they’d do when they’re both drunk asf while on vacation in their hotel room n then they freak out once they get home n realize they lost the flashdrive n someone out there in barcelona is now jerking off to their amateur avante garde porno

And yeah what you said abt gojo's schedule being all over the place as a player I'd thought that too, which is why phone sex is 🔛🔝 for these two. Just two freaky frogs omg I know that dude sluts her out bad and she doesn't want it any other way

okay you’re so right ab cyber sex being (at least post grad) kickoff couple’s anthem 🤧 that “i wish u were here rn” yup. but also LMFAO THATS SO TRUE AB THE SLUTTIN HER OUT he’d have her so downbad she’s flashing her titties at the webcam just cuz she wants to see him cum all over his stomach while he’s jerking himself off to her pixels ✋🏼😩 i was not anticipating to start this day off so horny LOL

idk i like to think all the nudes kickoff gojo has received in his life have been raunchy asf so when he’s so desperate to get a glimpse of kickoff reader while he’s away for work n is like “babe send me a pic please” for the first time n she sends something that’s genuinely really tasteful n artistic n subtle but sexy n leaves a bit to the imagination i feel like that wld drive him more insane than any explicit nude ever would HAHAHAHA

THE DONG GOIN UP YOU COULD PERFORM TRIG ON IT IM CRYING babe i wish to be half as funny as you are some day 🤣🤣

thanks my lovee omg im so happy you’re looking forward to it :””) 💕 you’re my honeybunch sugarplum pumpyumpyumpkin i love yaaa

- ellie 🐸

[rightpastnowhere]

POV, LAST and NEXT for the writing ask game?

hiiiiiii i can always count on you in my ask box with writing games <3

in the time its taken me to respond to this after the other inbox prompt, i actually started working on something new lmfao, which is just a silly one shot where i throw my desire to be comforted after a closing shift onto vex so i can have percy comfort her <3

LAST:

He glances at the rough-hewn analog clock hanging on the wall — an old gift he made for Vex, one of his first clocks, that she’d brought when moving in — to see that it’s about 10:25pm. Vex’s shift ended at ten, but he’s not incredibly concerned; she usually gets out late, either finishing her own task or helping someone else, and the commute itself is fifteen minutes by Vex’s… well-loved (nearly falling apart) motorcycle. 

NEXT:

It’s after about half an hour when he’s broken again from his fixated haze of concentration by Trinket — Vex’s very fluffy, very large, and overall very grizzly bear-like dog — heaving up from where he’s been laying against Percy’s legs. 

POV:

(for context, vex hasn't actually shown up in the draft of the work one-shot yet, so i'm gonna skip ahead a bit in my outline)

"Hello, Trinket," Vex murmurs as she walks through the door to her precious dog's wide grin and wagging tail. She kicks off her shoes, letting them clatter randomly in the entryway with every intent to arrange them neatly letter. She lets her bag fall from her barely-mustered grasp to give the boy some scratches behind the ears, tiredly mussing the fur around his jaw like Vax always does.

He trails after her happily as she drifts towards the couch, which she collapses onto face-first as soon as she's within range. The last of the tension from the past nine hours finally relents, and she feels all of her muscles finally relax.

"Well, Trinket, it seems like your mother has fallen victim to the couch once again." Percy's voice is muffled by the throw pillow her face has sunken into, but not enough to mask the fond, faux-dramatic tone that she adores so much. She lifts a heavy hand to flip him off upside down, and he laughs openly in a way that he really only does at home (or when he's drunk).

Two hands pick up her legs where she'd left them hanging off of the edge of the couch, and gently move them to rest fully atop the cushions. There's a dip in the middle seat as Percy joins her, and then he softly takes the hand and folds her middle finger back down before pressing a light kiss to her knuckles.

"I won't bother asking how work was," he says dryly, and Vex laughs into the pillow.

(i just spat that out into the tumblr text editor because it's late and i'm not going for perfection lol. i hope you enjoy vex participating in my nightly routine, except i don't have a percy, i just have two cats that i scoop up against their will to give them hugs <3)

no excuses writing meme

[hopelesshaidys]

.・。.・゜✭・.✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

labyrinth

EDIT: i fucked up and forgot to add a pic and it won’t let me so. yeah. also i fixed the out of order mistake i’m so sorry😭

ONCE AGAIN THE OC JORDAN IS NOT MINE‼️‼️‼️ it’s the dearest @kotoprincesa !!

hey…life…am i right?

yeah hopefully you saw the post LMFAO ya boy has had a weird week

i’m sorry this is a short one but like i said shit is crazy

i rlly hope i’ll have time to write tomorrow 😭

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

AND SINCE THIS IS LATE IM GONNA FINALLY TELL U HOW EVERYONE GOT THEIR NICKNAMES FROM BKG MWAHAHA YES:

Sero-tape arms/soy sauce:

1. tape arms is from when it was their freshmen year of high school, and sero once got RLLY drunk at some senior’s party….anyways he got tied up by a bunch of girls. with tape. (yes he did cry as the gang ripped off the tape) fun fact!! Jordan was actually at that party (their cousin was the hostess) and was the one who told the bakusquad abt him getting taped up!

2. soy sauce is from the very first prank Kaminari did on the channel where he gave sero a glass of soy sauce but told him it was coke (sero didn’t speak to him for three days afterwards)

Mina-pinky/raccoon eyes:

pinky is like rlly obvious she has pink hair, BUT raccoon eyes is a much more funny story! you see, just like her lover; kirishima, she too had a sort of…alt-y phase. in her case, she experimented with black clothing but more importantly, black eyeshadow. like. a LOT. kirishima thought it was the CUTEST thing ever and was low key upset when she stopped doing it💀

Kirishima-weird hair/shitty hair/spiky:

he just had a rlly bad haircut when they came back to school for their sophomore year, it was legit like how teen guys had it in the early 2000s-gelled up into spikes 🫥

Kaminari-Sparky:

he tried rewiring their broken fan in college. got electrocuted. went to the hospital. yeah.

Hitoshi-eyebags:

he may not get sleep now, but it was RLLY bad their jr year of high school dear GOD. everyone would have to FIGHT him to get him to go to sleep, even putting that powder melatonin in his drinks 😭😭 (it was actually kats’ idea :(( such a sweetie)

Shoto-IcyHot:

shoto had this…phase…half way thru sophomore year of high school where he would over work himself with sports/work that he would literally put on icyhot every. single. day. (it drove EVERYONE crazy but no one dared to say anything)

Jirou-headphones:

ALL throughout high school jirou always had her headphones in. there wasn’t one time where she wasn’t listening to music and bkg being the old man he is thought it was “incredibly rude” and “disrespectful” (karma is a bitch tho bc after this HIS nickname was old man)

Momo-ponytail:

yeah the gang wasn’t kidding when momo went thru an INTENSE ponytail phase like she would gel it and everything😭😭😭the girls would be begging for momo just to keep it down or else she’ll keep getting called jojo siwa by the freshmen

Iida-four eyes/glasses:

….uh it’s kinda obvious LMFAO

Ochako-pink cheeks:

so bkg and ochako were actually #besties after they put their differences aside (after bkg apologized to izuku) and she would ALWAYS go to him and rant abt her crush on Iida. so, as “revenge” he would call her pink cheeks whenever she was talking to Iida. HOWEVER that so backfired on him bc the nickname made iida think bkg liked ochako (he also noticed their newest infatuation w/each other) and iida one day went to bkg to tell him HE liked ochako and was like “i see that you and ochako have made a new relationship, but i just need to tell you i have feelings for ochako.” anyways. bkg was going thru new anger management stuff and he had to take VERY deep breaths in order not to lose his shit LMFAO

Izuku-Nerd:

….do i really need to say anything? 🤨🤨

hope you enjoyed that! thank you for the wait i love u guys 🫶🫶🫶

.・。.・゜✭・.✫・゜・。.

fun facts! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

- you know it’s bad when kats is up at 1AM

- ain’t i a genius for that thomas the train gossip account? huh? hm?

- Jordan keeps their man in CHECK (they love each other) and Sero is half scared, and the other half find it very sexy

- also when i wrote that part all i could think of is that one song “walk him like a dog sis” because toshi and Jordan got that covered

- do u like mina and kiri’s users😇😇 idk if i do but whatever

- that gc has…some stuff in it. mainly just all the things of bakugou’s the gang has taken, broken, or lost LMFAO

- toshi and kam are just so cute i’m throwing up sobbing rn

- kiri always scowls at “unnecessary” language but then cusses too… double standards (he has never once called out mina tho HA)

- i feel like i’ve said this before but i need to say it again; i just KNOW in my SOUL kiri uses the laughing emoji

- sero and kam are mina’s ultimate hype men

- kacchan and deku-bed friends forever!

←Prev˚✧ Next→

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ updates every wednesday and sunday! happy wildest dreams wednesday ✧.*

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ TAGLIST IS OPEN just message or comment: @lovelytayy @0anodite0 @bakugouswh0r3 @amethyst123 @nijirosz @dabis-vigilnate-girl @allnamesredacted @ch3rryhaze @ectoplasmictoast @cathwritestragediesnotsins @tati-the-fangirl @autumnfay @call-me-prodigy @chuugarettes @sammyam @kotoprincesa @bubblewordsofsodapop @biggestbeequeen @tqnk @el-hart @i-simp-for-mha-men

[caycanteven]

@mothiepixie drug me right into another one and I fuckin' love pirates man...and I didn't even fight it lmfao. Enjoy this fun drabble I wrote up~ Fair warning, I just wrote this for fun; no idea how accurate appearances or any of the like are and I came up with "The Black Fiend" myself cause ships have cool names teehee.

The storm raged outside, but among the drunkard squabble and unrelenting retelling of stories on the seven seas, it was a hushed whisper.

This tavern wasn’t a first for her, but it was definitely one she came to seldom enough. Company wasn’t something she avoided like the plague, but she preferred to be alone when she drank her spirits. Cheers to the tavern mates who were Three Sheets to the Wind, but she wasn’t them.

She learned the hard way what it meant to take her eyes off her surroundings and get too comfortable.

She paid the price.

A minor price, but a price, one that wasn’t paid in silver.

She lifted her tankard to her lips, downing a swig of the rum within. With a lazy brush of her arm, she wiped her mouth of leftover sprits and breathed deep. It burned, but it felt so good. It always felt good.

Out of the corner of her left eye and beneath her hat, she noticed a body place themselves on the stool beside her. She grunted under her breath. Out of all the places in this damn tavern, they chose there to place their ass?

She stilled a moment before drinking once more from her tankard, her brow raised with sudden curiosity and surprise.

A lass? It was unlikely, but who would wear such robes like that around if they weren’t…though even she knew better than to judge first sight. After all, she hid well beneath her own rags just to make’er livin’ on the sea under the interpretation she was male.

Or used to.

She set her tankard down slowly in order not to draw attention to herself. She eyed the company sitting on her left thoroughly. They hadn’t requested anything, though perhaps they were already drunk. She could make out a tuff of orange below their own hat, hair no less. A rather beautiful color, like the embers on hot coals. So perhaps they too, understood the importance of hiding their appearance?

It was all too…odd. She snorted and she returned her attention to her drink. She didn’t need to bother her still sober thoughts with that of a random—

“Ye come ‘round here plenty?”

She stopped twirling her tankard, her lips just barely touching the lip of the cup. She hadn’t expected the body to speak. Why would they? She squinted her eye and she slowly put down her tankard with a heavy thud. She leaned against the counter, elbows pressed against cracked wood.

“Aye,” she muttered and she kept her eyes forward.

“Got a name?”

She glanced over, finally seeing the face of the company beside her. Feminine features, as expected, though their face was peppered in freckles and markings; their eyes were as crystal blue as the sea itself. She had to admit, they were a beauty.

“Aye.”

They seemed to be patiently waiting for more, but when she didn’t reply, they pressed further. “Gonna share it?”

“Lass, don’ ye think that��s a bit far for someone ye neva met?” She tilted her head as she turned to acknowledge them, brow raised in question.

“Isn’t that how you greet someone properly?”

Something about them was different from those she met before, behest unwillingly. Their dialect, their posture and their words…

“Ye ain’t from ‘round here, are ya lass?” She spoke with a chuckle laced in her words. They seemed naive, ignorant—perhaps she could indulge in their conversation.

The blue-eyed beauty huffed and looked away for a moment. “Ye can say that.”

She hummed softly with consideration, before taking a quick swig then placing her tankard back down again, half empty. “Ye trade me yer name, I trade he mine, is that fair lass?”

She watched them process her bargain before nodding once.

“Aye. Motti.”

Motti? Interesting, she thought as she looked this Motti up and down. Holstered to their front was a flintlock no doubt, but it was in poor shape. It made her skin crawl but she resisted the temptation to question its condition. The rest of Motti physically looked healthy, disregarding the cuts and bruises healing on her rather gentle skin.

She snorted softly before turning her body more so to face them, smiling ever so slightly, the corners of her lips curled in a smirk.

“Lexico, pleasure to make ye acquaintance. Ye call me Lex, fer short,” she hummed with a nod. Lex watched the expression on Motti’s face brighten with surprise. So she had not anticipated Lex being a woman perhaps?

“I wasn’t sure—“

“Ye’d find another like ye? Aye, don’ really. Not like how yer doin’…” Lex grunted as she swirled her tankard. She chuckled at the bewildered look on her companion’s face. She chuckled and she shook her head. “Ye don’t worry your pretty head ‘bout it. Yer still standin’, so ye good enough to believe yer well off.”

“I suppose yer right,” Motti nodded and turned to face the bar’s surface. “So Lex,” she continued after a moment, “ye happen to know anything about a captain of a ship…named Nightmare by any—“

It had happened far too quickly; a glint of metal in the tavern light, and before a Motti could register, a blade was held at a threatening point.

“Lass, ye be sure to swallow yer words,” Lex warned lowly, but there was tension in her voice. “Ye don’t speak so easily of the Black Fiend ‘round this port.”

Mottie swallowed, though gently placed the tip of her finger against the blade and pushed it away.

Lex narrowed her gaze, then slowly put her knife in her belt. “Ye brave, I’ll say that.”

“Please, Lex…” Motti pleaded quietly, moving closer to speak under breath. “I need to find him.*

Lex hissed softly as she hid her disapproval behind her drink.

She had almost finished it off before she returned a cold but curios gaze to Motti. Her eyes looked the lass over with scrutiny, but eventually relaxed slightly. “Why are ye doin’ that, lass,” Lex muttered and gave her a softer look. “The Black Fiend doesn’t sit still long enough to bring attention ‘bout. The captain more so,” she muttered, but hesitated when there was evident disappointment in her company’s face. “Royal fleet’s been chasin’ him for a long time.”

“Ye wouldn’t understand,” Motti huffed and grumbled curses under her breath, eliciting a chuckle from beside her. “I need to find him. He…”

Lex watched as the blue-eyed lass—no doubt a young pirate herself—beamed at the mention of the captain of a The Black Fiend. Lex knew that look, the glittering behind the eyes.

Lex nearly spit out her rum.

“Ye can’t be serious.”

Motti looked up quickly, the feather of her hat dancing and bobbing. She nodded once, yet hesitantly. “Yes. He’s a lost lover, to say less,” Motti huffed. “I’ve been searching for so long, but only now have I got something to run on.”

Lex nodded slowly, resisting the urge to question how that—the two of them—happened. Once Motti finished their quiet exchange, Lex sighed and pushed her empty tankard away.

“I need a crew for my ship.”

“So ye chose a tavern full of drunkards to look?”

Motti shrugged. “Easier to get them to say yes.”

Lex couldn’t stop herself from actually laughing the more she listened. “Aye, ye keep that tid bit about The Black Fiend to yerself and ye might have it in yer favor.” She sighed, though seeing as Motti was frowning and her eyes were focused on the bar top, Lex couldn’t help feel for her.

She knew what it was like to lose a lover.

She sighed, knowing she’d regret this if this didn’t go to plan. Though, it had been forever since she had a crew to call her own, a ship…a chance to sail those waters again. “Ye chose the right person to ask first,” Lex grunted and she tossed a couple shillings on the bar.

Motti beamed again in surprise and hope. “Ye considerin?”

“Aye. Ye need someone who can handle weaponry,” Lex nodded and gave Motti a smug grin. “I got all ye need to know about it. Not to mention, I got a good shot.”

Motti seemed to be in disbelief. Lex witnessed her eye move slightly to her right, obviously staring at an injury long scarred. “Ye sure?”

Lex chuckled. “Aye…” she smiled and she held out her hand.

“Don’t need two eyes to shoot a man dead. Now how bout ye let me take a look at that ol’ flintlock?”