#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.

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[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

vote on sequel here !!

࿓༚︎︎‧✞︎︎⁎︎✳︎⁎︎‧︎✞︎࿓︎༚︎

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.

[laiiaaa]

THE PART WHERE YOU KISS ME — JJ MAYBANK

summary: You're stuck with the job of getting a very drunk, very lovesick JJ into bed.

length: 2.4k

contains: tooth-rotting fluff, obsessed boyfriend JJ, soooo touchy he can't keep his hands off of you (can you tell my love language is physical touch lmfao???), mentions of heavy drinking of course, zero plot, he's a flirty little freak and i hate him

note: Not the happiest with this but I haven't posted in a week and I'm in the middle of writing three other pieces right now...so take this as an apology gift for not having the GFAW chapter out yet <3

Driving to the Chateau this late is never ideal, especially when you’re tired and ticked off from a busy shift. Your feet and back ache, your head could use a few Advil, and you would be perfectly happy to stay home and sleep for twelve hours. 

But when Kie calls you, groaning and saying Your boyfriend is wasted and won’t shut up about you and you need to come pull him to bed, you go. It’s as simple as that, really. Partially because JJ is already painfully stubborn when sober and only gets worse as the night goes on (code for: he won’t listen to anyone but you), and partly because you get a sweet kick out of his clinginess and extra loving.

So when you finally pull up and hop out of your car, the sound of Pope sighing Finally doesn’t surprise nor offend you.  Kie and Sarah scurry over, welcoming you with hugs and jokes about how sorry they are they had to call you while John B and Pope still tend to the drunken blonde.

“It’s alright,” you assure them, “I don’t mind.” And you really don’t, not at all, not when he acts all the more helplessly in love with you.

The bonfire still burns on, red-hot embers breaking off into the midnight sky. Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon plays from a speaker nearby, and beer bottles litter the ground as you approach. The fire’s warmth wraps around you, a handle of Tito’s—only half full—entering your field of vision as you find JJ reclined back on the ground, an arm thrown over his eyes while his other hand taps along to the song. You crouch down next to him and hear him hum in tune.

John B stands behind you, feeling a little helpless. “He’s been talking about you nonstop since he got, like, three shots deep.”

“And as much as we love you guys together,” Sarah adds, leaning into the boy’s side, “He doesn’t listen very well once he gets started.”

You shoot them a smile over your shoulder. “It’s okay, I get it. You guys can head in if you want, this might take a while.” The two lovebirds wave you goodnight as they walk back inside with Kie and Pope, and you turn your attention back to your exceptionally troublesome boy. “JJ? Time to go to bed.”

He grumbles without moving an inch. “I told you to fuck off, Sarah, I just wanna see my girl.”

Your heart flutters at the name—his girl. You’ve never heard him call you that. Does he seriously think you’re Sarah? “Your girl?”

“Yeah, you know the gorgeous one?”

“Might ring a bell.”

“Yeah, well, she’s the most…the most beautiful person in the history of…of forever, and she’s mine, so get outta here n’…go flirt with John B or somethin’.” He lazily waves you off, mumbling something you don’t quite hear.

A smile fights its way to the surface, and you gently place your hand on the smooth plane of his shoulder. “Oh, but I wanted to flirt with you instead. How’s that sound, hm?”

He quickly pushes your touch away. “It sounds like my girl’s gonna kill you any second now, so watch it, Blondie.” He slurs his words as he speaks, pulling giggles from your lips. You gently take his wrist in your hand to remove his arm from his eyes and press a kiss where your fingertips touch him. His eyes stay closed, and he juts his chin in the opposite direction in protest.

“Jay, baby, I’m not killing anyone anytime soon,” you coo, leaning over his chest and face while running a hand through his hair. 

He opens one eye, suspicious of your claims, but quickly realizes it’s you, and turns to look at you like he’ll never get the chance to do it again, his expression swallowed by a smile. “When did you get here, baby?”

“Oh, just now,” you answer, laughter lacing your words, “Kie called me over.” You press a kiss to his forehead before sitting back up, your hand quickly taken by his.

“You should’ve come sooner.” His other hand makes its way to your thigh, smoothing over your skin. “I was waiting for you, all by myself, and—” he abruptly sits up— “there’s something I have to tell you,” he whispers. He casts a glance to the Chateau. “It’s top secret.”

With him this close, you can smell the vodka on his breath. “Yeah? What is it?” You loop your arms around his neck and scratch at the nape of his neck, to which he instinctively responds by wrapping his arms around your waist and rubbing the palms of his hands along your back.

“This is top secret, classified information, princess, you can’t just get it for free. Everything comes with a price.” A sly little grin comes over him, tugging you a little closer.

Knowing JJ, you already know where this is headed. You decide to play along anyway: “Name it, then. I’m sure we can strike a deal somehow.”

He mulls over his words before saying, “Hear me out.”

“I’m listening.”

“You—” he points at your chest— “give me three—no, five kisses for the info up front.” When you raise your eyebrows in suspicion, he continues, “And every follow up question is worth another kiss.”

“This must be very important information.”

“Very.” His hands, still soaking in the feeling of you beneath them, start to play with the hem of your tank top, fingertips slipping beneath the fabric to feel skin. “Better pay up soon.”

You feign a look of shock and place a hand on his chest. “I didn’t even agree yet, don’t get too excited.” 

He pouts with furrowed brows, convinced his offer would be impossible to resist. “Why? Baby, come on,” he urges, holding you tighter, “This is the part where you kiss me.” His eyelids droop with drunkenness and fatigue as he presses his lips to your neck, but you quickly take his jaw in your hand and pull him away. 

“Ah ah ah,” you tease. “You come to bed first, then I’ll give you kisses for your secrets.”

“But I don’t wanna go to bed.” His hands work their way from your waist down to your hips again, soon grazing your thighs the way he knows erupts butterflies in your stomach. “I wanna stay here with you…have you boss me around. You’re very sexy when you do it.” He smirks while looking up at you, and you know for a fact he’s just trying to push your buttons.

You roll your eyes and push his face away as you start to stand up. “You’re a pain in the ass, I hope you know that.” As bitter as you try to sound, you’ll always have a soft spot for him the way he does for you, especially when your bitterness is met with that beautiful smile of his. You hold out both hands, towering over him and urging him to stand. “C’mon, Jay.”

He leans his weight onto his hands, stubborn as always. “Will you stay the night?”

“Not if you keep this up, I won’t.” You lend him a condescending smile. 

“But Baby,” he groans, finally complying now that the stakes have been raised. “I haven’t seen you all day, and I miss you.” He starts to shuffle where he sits, taking hold of your hands as you pull him up, dizziness causing him to stumble into your arms. “Can’t a boy just get some love from his girl?” 

There he goes again—his girl. 

You loop his arm over your shoulder and wrap yours around his waist as you lead him into the Chateau, surrounded by his warmth and the smell that’s so distinctly him: a bit of beachiness, mandarin and musky from his body wash, a hint of marijuana.

“You’re very kind,” he rambles on, “for coming here so late. I missed you.”

“I know, baby. You told me.”

He makes his way up the steps with you, following as you open the door. “Well, I’m making sure you’re sure.”

“I’m sure, love.” You smile to yourself, a little caught off guard with how open he’s become.

“I still have to tell you that top secret information,” he whispers, leaning down to your ear-level. His body wraps around you as you stand in front of him to open the door to his bedroom, his arms start to wrap around your waist again. “And you still owe me kisses for it.”

You usher him into his room, shutting the door behind you. “C’mon, let’s get into bed. That was the rule.”

He does as you wish without complaint for once, though when he does sit at the edge of his bed, he also pulls you to stand in between his legs. “I’m in bed now.”

“I can see that,” you giggle, hands massaging his neck and shoulders.

“Does this mean you’ll give me a kiss now?”

“Not yet.” You tug at the fabric of his shirt. “Take this off, please?” You don’t think much when you say it, but once the words slip out and you see JJ’s brows raise as a cocky smirk crosses his face, you realize you need to cover your tracks.

He bites his tongue to oblige, nabbing the back of his tee before pulling it over his head. Revealed to you are his broad shoulders, his chest, those toned arms that are, admittedly, to die for, though you’d never tell him that directly. 

“You’re trying to undress me, baby?” he asks, too quick for you to correct yourself. His hands take purchase of your hips before taking up your thighs, his hands molding to your curves and getting treacherously close to your inner thighs.

Your face goes hot—why is he so good at this?—but you keep a straight face and grab his face, one hand cupping his jaw while the other supports the back of his head. “Do you want your kiss or not?” 

“Yes ma’am,” he responds, almost immediately. His eyes glaze over, entranced by everything you are. A drunk smile is sent your way, and he can’t really tell whether the tingling all over his body is just from the vodka, or if it’s your hands on his body, your snippy tone that he knows is full of love. He’s sure that no matter how flustered he can make you, it’ll never compare to how you make him feel with even the slightest of touches.

Your grip goes soft, and you rake your hand through his hair, his eyes falling shut and his head gone slack into your hands. “You’re beyond wasted, aren't you?”

He laughs heartily now, eyes still shut as he nods his head. “I can’t keep my eyes open any longer, princess.” Giggles line his words and his face scrunches in a smile, dimple on display.

“How much did you drink?”

“A few beers.”

“And?” You tug lightly on his hair.

“Mm, some vodka, maybe. A few shots.” His hands drag from the backs of your thighs, to your hips, to your waist.

“JJ.” You stare down at his clearly vodka-dazed face. “How many is a few?”

He hums to himself, as deep in thought one can be when wasted. “Maybe seven…or nine…don’t remember,” he mumbles.

You sigh to yourself, not surprised by his recklessness but still not all too happy with it. 

But before you can formulate a single thought, a single articulated response, he starts to pout—eyes still closed of course, because your boy is nothing if not a truth-teller. “You sound mad.” Even when wasted he knows you so well.

“I’m not,” you fib a little, for his own sake. You kiss his forehead, then his cheek before letting go of him entirely to pull back the covers for him. “Come on, time to sleep, yeah?” You give a soft tug on his hand as his body goes pliant.

He slowly but surely crawls properly into bed, giving you a show of his back muscles flexing and relaxing before falling face-first into his pillow with a hmph. You lay down next to him as he lifts his arm with all his might, slowly turning onto his side to make space for you. Legs intertwine without words, the warmth of his body blankets your senses, his weight grounds you.

“You need to hurry, princess. I need to…need to give you the information.” The words are half-muffled by his pillow, and his eyes are still shut. 

“Oh. We’re still doing that?” You’re surprised he even remembers the information at this point—whatever it might be. 

He squeezes you tighter into his body, pulling a smile from you as he groans. “Yes, we’re still doing that…it’s important. You need three more…”

“Okay, okay,” you soothe, and you press a kiss to his shoulder. “Does that count?”

“Mhm, two more.” A stupid, drunk, terribly charming grin crosses his face, and it feels like you’re falling for him all over again, teetering at the edge of a cliff. His arm, still heavy on your waist, shifts a little, and his fingers dance along your back and light fires where they touch.

You curl your hand, gently, along the crook of his neck and kiss his jaw. “And that counts as well?”

With the way you’re whispering your words into his neck, JJ swears he could die happily. “Mm, sure does.”

For the fifth and final kiss, the corner of his mouth. It curls into your kiss like he knew it was coming, and you give him one more just for good measure—and, maybe, because seeing him smile is worth his weight in gold. You brush your hand through his hair before hugging him a little tighter towards your chest, all too aware now that you won’t be getting any information out of him the rest of the night. This minor inconvenience, however, doesn’t seem to compare to having him in your arms, his breath against your neck, his arm wrapped around you to tell you he’s there, and he’s there to stay, and he wants to be there more than anywhere else.

You think that you could play this game a million times over. The part where you kiss him—that is, when his lovely, sweet little smile peeks through that rough shell—will never get old enough to retire.

(But for tonight, you can live without more of his drunken teasing. Just for tonight.)

[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).

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     “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

[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

[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.

[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 🐸

[crybaby-bkg]

Under Wicked Charm

Dabi x f!reader

Warnings: smut, no quirks, demon sex, incubus Dabi, succubus reader, blood kink/play, dom/sub undertones (sub leaning Dabi), reverse cowgirl, deep throating, cunnilingus, dick piercing (ofc), aphrodisiacs, 69 position, implied age gap, unprotected sex, mentions of wings tail and horns, a bit of praise, creampies, brief mention of pregnancy. please let me know if I missed anything!

Word count: 4.8k

Notes: I’m so not used to writing a dom top but I’m TRYING okay lmfao I love reading it but don’t write it enough but how will I get better if I don’t write it more!!!! also this has been on my ao3 for a while I just got lazy uploading it here lol but pls enjoy!!

Minors/blank/ageless blogs DNI!

also available on ao3!

The bar is darkly lit, a strobe effect being casted upon a crowd of people, drunk and high alike. It feels like everyone has been dancing for hours; feet sore, legs cramped, but somehow unable to stop themselves from grinding and groping, singing and screeching, until they drop. 

They don’t know that this is a club for the otherworldly. 

The fairies in the corner all snicker at the people who complain of the aches and pains, going round and round in circles, despite the stabbing pain they must feel in their toes. Dabi is all too familiar with it, after pissing a fae off once when he ghosted her. He can only imagine how the humans feel, being forced to dance this macabre number until they pass out from exhaustion. 

When that bores him, Dabi turns away from the crowd, rests on the bar in front of him. He whistles at the bartender, a witch who knows him all too well and the good stuff that he likes mixed in with his drinks. She nods to him before fixing it, and he catches her dumping something from one of her little vials into his drink, the black fume wallowing up and around her arm before she shakes it away, mixing it all in with a red straw. 

“You remembered,” He nods his head to her with a teasing grin, watches how she rolls her eyes as she pushes his drink over for him to catch. 

“And you never remember to pay your tab.” She quips back, but she can’t help the proud smile on her face when he downs half of it in one sip, groaning when he finally pulls the rim away from his wet lips. He licks the moisture away, before glancing up at her from under dark lashes. 

“What’s a tab again?” Dabi asks playfully, slinking away into the dance floor as she hollers for him to stop playing stupid when already is. He can’t help but snicker under his breath, sipping at his drink as he makes his way through the crowds of people until he finds the steps that lead up to the higher level, where the VIP sections are. He nods his head at Shigaraki, who sits in his section with his feet up and his phone in his hand, and instead of sitting with the boring fuckin’ crowd, Dabi leans on the railing that overlooks the lower section. 

He needs his meal for tonight. He’s gone a couple of days without feeding, mainly because he just didn’t feel like the hunt. It can become tiresome having to look for a potential meal; find someone suitable, desperate enough, flirting with them, convince them to take him home, screw them into their bedsheets, and flee before they could even wake up. He would much rather come in the night when someone is sleeping, but that proves to be a lot of work, too. 

So he looks into the crowd, ignoring the otherworldly people who want to spend a night with an incubus. His charm isn’t even as strong on them, so he doesn’t understand the hype of it all, plus he can’t even feed as well on them, so its really just a waste of time. 

But then, Dabi locks eyes with you. You’re in the middle of the dance floor, body turned, chin held up, as you stare at him from where he leans on the railing above. His eyebrows jump up in surprise, before he neutralizes his expression quickly. You were staring at him with such an intense look, he wondered if you were somehow other-kin that he hadn’t seen before. But you seem human for the most part, with a devilish little grin and tits to die for in your small top. 

Okay, color him intrigued. 

You dance amongst the people, although you don’t seem to be under the same spell as the people that the fae are fucking with. Your moves are sultry, all smooth and sweet and dripping sin off of your swaying hips like a leaky faucet. Dabi feels hypnotized, in a sense, as he watches you, taking another sip from his drink as he doesn’t dare take his eyes off of you. When you see his bright cerulean eyes drag up and down your body slowly, you grin even wider, and he fears he might see canines too sharp for a human mouth. But the imagery is gone before he can clock it, and he blames it on the potion that witch put in his drink. 

Dabi crooks his fingers at you, signaling for you to come to where he’s at, and you cock your head at him in response, a teasing little quirk of your eyebrow directed at him. He points to the stairs below, and feels a shiver rack up his spine with how you lazily drag your eyes from his face, to his hand, to the stairs, and back at his face. 

What the fuck is up with you, and why the fuck are you making him feel like this? Are you human? You look like it for the most part, but something about your allure makes him think that he’s in troubled waters and you’re the alligator ready to lock him tight inside your maw. 

Dabi blinks, and you’re gone. He doesn’t see you anywhere on the dance floor or the steps, and he wonders if he somehow scared you off. But then you tap at his shoulder blade, and it makes his head whip around faster than he thought it could. 

You’re even prettier up close. Your makeup is done up in such a way that your eyes look sharp, all shadowed depths creating dimensions that he feels like he might get lost in, your lips a deep plum color, your bottom lip just waiting to be bitten. 

“You ask me to come up here just to stare at me? I would’ve figured you had better game than this, Dabi.” Your voice is a low sultry tone, quiet despite the loud roars of the speakers in the club and—wait, how did you know his name? Dabi quirks a surprised eyebrow at you, pausing where he went to reach out for you, hand resting midair as he takes you in. 

“Do I know you from somewhere?” You couldn’t have been one of the humans he’s bedded once before; he would remember such an addicting face and voice if he did. You only shrug at him, saddling up to where he was leaning against the railing as now its your turn to overlook the people below. He watches you, follows your movements until your shoulders brush against each others, breath sucking in at the electrical zap that pulses through his body when his flesh skims yours. 

“You don’t know me, but I know you.” You flirt, winking at him and bumping him a little when he can’t take his eyes off of you. Dabi straightens out, clearing his throat a little as he tries to wrack his brain for every encounter he’s ever had where he could’ve seen you before. It’s rare someone knows him and he doesn’t know them in return, as being one who gets around due to his ‘line of work’. You baffle him, and you can tell how much the gears in his head are turning through the concentrated look that has fallen on his face. 

“Nice to formally meet you.” You tell him your name, reaching your hand out for Dabi to shake. He glances at it, and then your face, before he finally takes your hand in his own, squeezing the softness of your palm. He’d love to feel that wrapped around his dick tonight. 

“Tell me; what crazy fucking story have you heard about me to know me?” Dabi asks you, still holding onto your hand, now rubbing the backs of your knuckles with his thumb. Through the contact, he can start to release his pheromones, the shit that drives you humans crazy. While you won’t be able to smell it as much in the heady atmosphere of the club, it’ll sink into your skin, glide through your system until you feel high on the attention from him. And then after that—you’ll be wrapped around his finger and bouncing on his dick in no time. 

You go on speaking to each other for a while, flirtatious banter being exchanged between the two of you. You get closer throughout the night, from Dabi caressing your hand, to your own grazing the hair at his nape, to his chest pressed against yours, to your thigh straddling one of his as you press against each other. He thinks his charm has worked finally, if that hazy look in your eyes has anything to say about it. 

“Wanna get outta here?” Dabi asks you, his head tilted toward your own, his nose brushing against yours. Both of your arms are wrapped around his neck as you slowly sway to the beat, your hips grinding occasionally on his knee slotted in between your thighs. You nod, biting at your bottom lip, the lipstick you have on seemingly never budging and he makes it his mission tonight to smear it all over your face with his thumb and tip. 

“My place or yours?” You whisper to the air between your mouths, his hovering over yours, teasingly so. Dabi grins at that, warm hands squeezing once, twice at your hips. 

“Whatever’s closer.”

..

You come stumbling into your loft before you know it, clothes flying every which way. His boots are kicked off, and you still have a heel resting haphazardly on your ankle. His shirt rides up to his collarbones, and yours is somewhere left in a trail on the floor. You two can’t even make it to your bed, falling on the couch as Dabi pulls you on top of him, his hands gravitating instantly to your ass. He kneads the flesh in his hands, groaning under his breath when you start to rock your hips to no rhythm in particular, gasping inside of his mouth. 

You’re so intoxicating, so addicting, Dabi almost forgets that he’s the one in charge, that you’re the one under his spell, and not the other way around. It’s hard to remember that though, when his head starts to feel foggy and his limbs start to get too loose for him to not panic. 

Did you drug him? Even if you did, it would’ve burned through his body quicker than it would’ve dissolved in his drink. So why does he feel like this? Why does he feel like he’s the one under his own charm, like he’s a desperate bitch in heat that just wants to cum?

“What did you do to me?” Dabi asks groggily, laying his head down on a throw pillow behind him, disconnecting from your sweet mouth as he groans. He squeezes his eyes shut, starting to freak out internally, as an evil little giggle from you starts to float around the room. He doesn’t see the change happening in front of him, right on his lap, and only snaps his eyes open when your tone is way too devilish than any human should be. 

“Oh, little fledgeling, you have so much learning to do.” You purr to him, grinning, waving at him with sharp, black tipped, taloned fingers. 

What. The. Absolute Fuck?

“You’re a—a succubus?” Dabi asks, groaning again and clutching his sides when something pulses through him, something so strong and unwavering, that he has to shift his hips around to make sure he didn’t just cum on himself untouched. Your laugh floats throughout the room as you start rocking your hips against his, ignoring his almost pained groaned as you tilt your head back. 

“I’m a greater succubus, little fledgeling. Older than you could even comprehend.” You moan sweetly, taloned fingers starting to massage your tits from overtop your lacy bra. Dabi can only sit back and watch, dazed and confused and entirely too turned on to function as he takes all of you in. 

Your smile is wide, canines sharp and wicked where they rest just a few centimeter down from your bottom lip. Your irises an unnatural crimson, like stained blood, black horns twisting and twirling from your temples, tipped a dark purple like the stain on your lips. Your skin seems to have some glow underneath, a pulsing rhythm that correlates with the way you grind your hips into his, wings that span as wide as the room flapping and twitching with every little hiccuped gasp that comes up from his throat. They’re leathery and dark, just like the swishing, evil little forked tail that shoots out in front of Dabi’s nose, only to slyly trace the outline of his face, almost lovingly. 

You’re a sight that he’s never witnessed before, and for some reason, he feels blessed to have fallen under the trap of a greater succubus. 

“Why so shy now?” You ask him with a pout, leaning forward until your breast rests against his chest, nose to nose with him, your tail now rubbing the hairs on his eyebrows. Dabi sucks in a shaky breath, trying to regain his composure, the control he never actually had, and swallows thickly. 

“How did you disguise yourself so well?” He mutters, biting back a moan when you suck on the sensitive part under his jaw, hips still a slow rock on top of him. “We can always tell when someone is—when another one of us are—”

His brain is completely fried at the moment. Finds it hard to think, see, hear, and breathe with the way you tongue and nibble at his neck, with the way you put more pressure down on his pelvis with your own weight. He can feel his cock spurt against his thigh, fears he might cum without even directly touching you—but this was why he could never sleep with another succubus, especially not a greater one. 

You things were downright heathens, all tantalizing, all sweet and devilish little smiles, luring people in until you caught them with the honeyed trap between your thighs. But you—you were different. You were sin in and of itself, and Dabi doesn’t think that he could ever be a match for you. 

“That’s the power of being greater. I can disguise myself from anyone that I please, and I wanted to have just a bit of fun with my meal first.” He can hear the bite in your voice, the eery laughter bubbling up from your throat as you trace sharp canines against the flesh of his throat, threatening to bite. Dabi feels himself swallowing thickly before he can stop it, and you outright laugh at him as you sit up. 

“Now, are you gonna be a good boy and let me eat you?” You ask him breathily, tracing a sharp talon up his chest, grinning when he hisses at the trail of black blood you leave on his torso. Dabi glances at the trail, before meeting your blood red eyes, licking his lips as he nods slowly, gripping your hips tightly in his hands. 

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” Dabi mutters to you, eyes now solely focused on the way your skirt rides up as you sit in his lap. But you demand his full and complete attention, talons gripping his cheeks to make him look you in the eye, as the other hand trails ribbons of black blood down the other side of his stomach. 

“Beg for it.” You demand of him, licking sweetly at the seam of his mouth and pulling away when his tongue darts out to greet yours. “Beg for me to fuck you, fledgeling.”

Dabi downright moans at the tone, at the authority laying in your voice. He’s always been the one in charge, always took control with the little humans he would charm. But you, you’re all power and control and commandment, and he can’t help but fall pray to a demon older than his own ancestors. 

“Fuck me.” Dabi spits at you, letting his own claws extend as he digs them into the skin of your thighs. You glance back at them, chuckling at the little beads of blood that he spills from you, gripping his face harder at the sheer audacity he could have with you. 

“Attitude, I see. A stubborn one.” You muse, turning his face to the side to lick up the blood that you’ve squeezed out from his cheek under your talon. Dabi hisses at the contact, and you can smell his pheromones trying to take over the aroma in the room. How cute, he’s trying so hard to be in control. 

You couldn’t wait to ruin him. 

You pull back quickly, hands reaching down quickly to shred him of his jeans, a big pile of his clothes and your own making a mess of the couch and floor. Dabi can’t even keep up with how quickly you work, your tail flickering out to knick at his boxers, entirely too close to his dick when you expose him. He hisses, before holding his breath when the forked tip of it hovers menacingly over his mushroomed head, sitting up on his elbows as he gets ready to throw you off of him. 

“Scared?” You tease with a smile, watching how his low cerulean eyes narrow at you when your tail soothes over the precum dripping down his shaft, so fake innocent. You knick the side of your panties until they fall into a heap in his naked lap, grinning when his eyes immediately zone in on how your sticky lips split open when you sit on his shaft. 

“Does your pussy have teeth? That would scare me,” Dabi snips at you, his voice low as he grips your hips to start making you grind along his shaft, this time with no barriers in between. But you scoff at him, digging your nails into his hand until he releases you with a hiss, quickly maneuvering your body until your ass is in his face and his cock is in yours. 

“Shut up, and put my pussy in your mouth already.” You throw over your shoulder with a little huff, giving him no time to process the beauty in front of him before you lick a long stripe down from his tip to his balls. Dabi groans hoarsely, head thrown back as he holds onto your ass for dear life. 

“Y’don’t have to keep using your charm on me,” He mutters, damn near miserable with how hard his cock is throbbing in your warm hands. But you only chuckle at him, waving your ass in his face for him to get to work already, as you dip your tongue in his cockhole. 

“Why shouldn’t I?” You ask him in a hum, mouthing at his tip before you suck his mushroom head in your hot mouth. Dabi hisses, holding your cheeks open until he’s greeted by the pretty sight of your sticky lips and twitching hole and cute rim. His eyes go low as he sniffs in the pheromones that drip onto his chest, mingling with the blood that slowly evaporates from his skin, your essence dripping and mingling into his very being. 

“Because I already want you.” Dabi mutters, shoving his face between your cheeks and holding them closed until they swallow his head. He licks at you, feverishly, feeling your charm overtaking him more and more as he’s engulfed in where the scent is strongest. He can’t stop his hips from bucking up into your mouth as your smell surrounds him, licking doggishly at your cunt, making you moan high in your throat. 

“Yeah? Well I want you pliant and susceptible, like the easy little thing you are.” You tell him, reaching a hand back to shove his head even further between your cheeks, grinding back on his face as he starts slurping on your hole, determined to taste every thing slips from you. 

You sigh, ducking down to bob your head on his cock, taking him in easily, like you’ve been sucking cock all of your life. And in a sense, he guesses that you really have. Dabi pulls back for a breath, spitting on your cunt and thumbing it into the arousal that drips from your inner thighs, licking it all back up slowly. 

“Did you just call me a slut?” He grunts, grinding his cock deep into your throat, head falling back momentarily when he realizes that you don’t have a gag reflex. Most sex demons don’t, but he doesn’t sleep with them regularly, and you’re also greater, so it makes the experience all the more euphoric. 

“Well if the slut panties fit,” You tease him, reaching back to shove his face back between your cheeks when you realize that he’s had enough air. Dabi doesn’t complain though, but he does whimper when you start fondling his balls in your hand at the same time you swallow around his shaft, nose buried into the pubes there. 

Dabi suckles at your clit, feeling your hole throb against his skin, reaching a hand up to start gliding a bony finger inside of you. Your sultry moan vibrates around his cock, and it twitches so violently, that he fears it might jump straight from your mouth. But you keep him in, humming around him, soft, warm hands tugging and tugging at his balls until his toes curl and he can only find it in him to lap at your cunt like a dog. 

You’re messy, where you suck him off, all loud slurps and gulps and swallows, the sound of spit dirtying his pubes. He can hear the sticky sounds of your hands jerking off his shaft when you pull off, how your throat closes around him, how you pull his prince Albert piercing with your teeth gently, how your fingers rub at the seam of his balls. It feels like all too much, like he can’t keep up, like he might burst from the inside and spray your entire little loft in cum and black blood. 

Before Dabi can even register that he’s coming, you pull your mouth off of him, moving around too quick for him to catch, and he damn near yelps when he feels another, tighter heat engulfing him. He struggles to peel his eyes open, mouth dropped lewdly at the sight of you riding him reverse cowgirl style while he still cums from you sucking him off. He’s too sensitive, and you’re too tight, and too mean, with how you look over your winged shoulder and laugh maniacally at the pitiful and pained expression on his face. 

“Aww, poor little fledgeling can’t keep up? How fucking pathetic.” You bite at him, hips and ass dropping quickly as you ride him. Dabi tries his damndest to keep up, to slow you down with the pumping of his pheromones, but at the moment, he can’t even tell up from down. Can only lay there as you take him, fuck him the way you said you would, tight and hot cunt clenching down around him with every drop of your hips. 

“This dick only good for little humans, huh? Can’t hang with a succubus, now can you, baby?” You tease, grinning, one hand on your lower back as you fuck yourself down on him, moaning when the pierced head of his cock grazes something soft inside of you. You press down on your lower stomach where you feel him, eyes fluttering shut as you take him for your own pleasure. 

“F-Fuck, slow down s-some,” Dabi stutters uncharacteristically, teeth grit as he can feel his own canines starting to protrude, losing all sense of stability as your cunt clamps down tight around his dick. You’re trying to kill him, aren’t you? With your tail reaching around and under you to keep rubbing over his tightening balls, with your wings fluttering in his face, with your sharp talon reaching back to trail more blood down his bellybutton, pooling in his lap. It creates a wet slapping sound where you drop your hips, and the feeling of his cum and blood now staining your cunt and inner thighs only makes you howl in pleasure. 

“Keep up or shut the fuck up, fledgeling. This is all for me.” You growl at him, your playful energy suddenly gone as you glare at him over your shoulder. It shouldn’t make his cock throb the way it does, but he listens to you. Only because he wants to cum again and feel how tight you’ll get around him, his head hazy and filled only with thoughts of you riding him until he passes out on your couch. 

Dabi does as told, clamping his mouth shut, breathing heavily through his nose as he struggles with keeping up with you. He can only hold onto your hips, and hope that you cum first this time, because he doesn’t think he can handle you still going after he’s cum for the second time. 

Luck seems to be on his side though, as he feels his balls tightening once more, but you start to lose your rhythm, hips stuttering against his, a wet kissing sound every time you drop down. Dabi picks up where you seem to slip off, hands clamped tight around your hips as he starts thrusting up into you, watching the bounce of your ass and how your tail doesn’t know what to do with itself at the height of your pleasure. 

“Fuck me, just like that, baby, just like that. Make me cum on this dick, cmon.” You growl through gritted teeth, eyes clamped shut as you throw your head back, voice staccato and a low growl. Dabi clenches his jaw, focused purely on bringing you over the edge as his orgasm creeps up closer in his lower belly. He reaches around your hip, strumming quickly and messily at your clit, hearing you whimper out before you start clamping down tight around him. 

“Shit!” You yelp, body jerking as you orgasm, cunt suffocating his cock as you keep riding him through the throes of pleasure. Dabi unclenches his jaw, canines scraping his chin as he growls at the feeling, his orgasm not too far behind as he keeps fucking you through it. He stills when the first rope of cum spurts inside of you, back arching off of the couch when evil little you moans and starts rubbing at his balls with every twitch of them. 

“That’s right, little fledgeling. Fill me up, just like that, doing so well,” the praise you sing to him gets to his head as you keep grinding on his lap and rubbing at his balls. He thinks he might’ve cum dry at some point, his cock kicking inside of you despite not feeling any extra leaking from his tip. His eyes are screwed shut, his body pulled taut, finally collapsing into a heap on the couch when you stop riding and fondling him. 

Dabi swears he hears you say something about being knocked up with little incubus and succubus babies now thanks to him, but he’s out like a light before the words can even register in his head. 

…

When Dabi wakes up the next morning, he thinks that it might’ve all been a dream, that his sins are finally starting to catch up with him. But you’re standing in the kitchen across the open layout of your loft, in nothing but a pair of panties, your wings and horns and tail still on display and just as grand as he remembers. He groans, head falling back onto the pillow he slept on, as you perk up at the sound of him. 

“Good morning, little fledgeling.” You singsong, pulling out a few things from the fridge as you smile in his direction when he pokes his bedhead up from over the back of the couch. He looks so adorable like that, you think. 

“Breakfast will be ready in twenty.” You tell him, bringing flame underneath the pan in front of you with a snap of your finger. Dabi squints at you, frowning, as he checks the clock on your kitchen wall that’s framed by a black cat. Hm, cute. 

“I’m not hungry, and plus, I should be getting out of here.” Dabi groans, standing, uncaring of his naked state as you obviously don’t either. You both glance at each others bodies, before you turn from him, tutting under your breath. 

“I don’t think so.” You declare, scrambling the eggs before you, speaking up when Dabi opens his mouth to protest. “You’re going to stay here and eat, because you need your energy.” At that, he quirks a brow, strolling leisurely to you as he scratches his stomach, wrapping a finger around your curious tail when he gets close enough. 

“Energy for what?” He asks, grunting in surprise when your tail suddenly pulls him in, his front against your back as you look at him from over your shoulder with a devilish smile that makes his cock twitch against your ass. 

“Round two.” You say simply with a shrug before going back to the eggs. Dabi can only blink, before he shrugs with a nod. 

“Round two doesn’t sound bad at all.” 

[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

[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?”

[hopelessdelusional]

.・。.・゜✭・.✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

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

[swordmaid]

so sad my og tags on the shri’iia drawing is gone!! but here’s my comprehensive Thoughts on her clothing bc I wanted each piece to reflect on the narrative I have for her 🫰🫰🫶 shri’iia’s clothes (especially the upper half) are mostly costumes for her since her original assignment was to track down the drows who went missing (like a baenre noble and her entourage goes missing and shri’iia was assigned to figure out what happened maybe kill them if they betrayed lolth) but then she gets abducted by the nautiloid before she ever reaches the surface. so more thoughts under the cut!!!

• underwear

obvi based off the default underwear elves get BUT I like recolouring it to black/red because it gives a more ~sexy vibe, and that’s intentional since even her underwear is a costume! it’s what you expect drows to wear! and the only scene where you see her naked in her underwear is in the act 1 romance scene and in that point she has JUST broken her oath and she’s lost, delirious, kind of drunk. I didn’t add it but shri’iia is also supposed to be wearing a choker necklace that has the sigil of her matriarch’s house in the pendant - like a dog collar !!!! - and in the romance scene, she’ll be naked but she refuses to take off the choker since she’s still in denial about losing lolth’s favour, she wants something that she finds comfort in close to her. anyway, her underwear is a sexy looking lingerie and she’s probably wearing a thong and it’s very in line with the stereotypical sexual attire drows are known to have, and it’s part of the ‘surface costume’ that she wears — it’s not entirely her own style, she doesn’t have one yet.

camp clothes

the design of her camp clothes (besides it being based off the ones in game and makes her cleavage look so great hence why I always give it to her lmfaoooo) is also similar to her underwear where it’s mostly like a costume and not her own entire style. it’s a sexy corset that makes her look sm snatched and I imagine she went for that vibe in the off chance that she’ll need to seduce anyone—and she’s thinking that she might because she’s heard how the surface thinks drows are exotic and sexy so she’s using that to her favour.

it looks too tight on her and it looks uncomfortable which is intentional. she’s more concerned with the image that she gives off than actual comfort. overtime when she’s not wearing her facade anymore, she loosens the corset so it’s not as tight and I can see her getting new camp clothes altogether when they reach the city because she has no need to wear that costume anymore.

act one

her paladin costume!!! even though she’s a real paladin…. she doesn’t explicitly share the nature of her oath, only that she is one. she’s supposed to be an oath of the crown paladin of lolth as well but that’s not available in game so I just make her vengeance lmfao. but it’s very important that compared to her other outfits, her act one armour looks cleaner, obviously unworn. there’s no blemishes on the armour and the metal still shines. it’s very clear that it’s recently bought, and the tabard she wears under the cuirass doesn’t bear any sigil and the pattern is unassuming. the image that she is going for is a drow paladin who lives in the surface, and the costume is her idea of one. as act one goes on I can see her backstory becoming more convoluted as more questions come in, and there will be things that are conflicting like how she’s a wandering paladin adventurer but then her boots are too clean with no signs of travel.

as for her hair, im not sure if it’s canon or not (I want it to be!!!!!!!) but I like the idea that hair is a symbol of beauty amongst drows and they favour long hair in intricate braids that resemble spider webbings. I like the idea that in the first night her hair is done in an intricate braid behind her but they get simpler throughout the act 1 journey since she has no time to braid it and in the end, it’s just in a single plait she wears around. she cuts off her hair after she becomes an oathbreaker though, so the long haired shri’iia dreams are short lived 😮‍💨

act two

this is when she got over her denial and every existential crisis that came with it and embraced her oathbreaker title + her newfound freedom. she is dressed more like a knight now, and the armour is supposed to look pretty generic like something you’ll get from a standard forge, and I imagine she got it from last light where there’s more access to better equipment compared to the grove. anyway it’s still more of a costume to her since she’s in this stage she’s trying out her new oath, and she’s actually being more ‘knightly’ now in a sense that she’s now willing to do more good deeds just for the sake of doing good, and she’s following her own intuition rather than relying on a higher figure (like her matriarch) to make choices for her. i also think that’s the first time she wears heavy armour since drow gear usually leans more on light/medium weight so she def looks and moves a bit clunky and awkward.

it’s a transformative period for her appearance wise and in her own story! now she is tasting this freedom she’s left with and she’s seeing what she can make out of it, and what will happen to her. she’s free more or less, but she doesn’t know if that freedom is something she’ll want to pursue because the future is so new and unknown to her. I also think this is the start of her becoming her more genuine self and she’s peeling back the facade bit by bit but she’s not entirely there yet. it’s def a halfway point in her story

act three

this is when she’s becoming more genuine ! and her real self is coming out ! and she’s becoming a more fully realised version of herself and she’s learning what her new oath means entirely and the lengths she’ll go for it! there’s patterns in her armour, and different outfits, and the silhouette of the armour looks more flattering on her compared to her act 2 gear and it’s also supposed to resemble a butterfly…!! metamorphosis and all that, a change of self, etc. the set is also more detailed since she’s now learning what she personally likes, and she’s not wearing a costume anymore or concerned about presenting a certain image of herself. and in her story, it’s like the climax of her whole redemption / self reflection arc and it’s when she understand what this freedom actually means to her. the armour’s appearance is very her personality I think it’s kind of playful and bold but the edges of the armour is curved/soft. it’s the self she abandoned when she swore fealty to her matriarch and the self she has recovered throughout her journey.

the halberd is also much more intricate! but there’s not really any reason behind that only that I think it looks cool and it fits with the outfit lmfao

epilogue

this is shri’iia in a dress!! it’s whimsical and fun and sexy but in a more teasing way. her silhouette is based from male theatre costumes in the 1900s which is kind of like a callback to how she used to ‘perform’ or wear costumes early in the story but now it’s taking that concept and making her actual dress. the colour scheme is also inspired by tangled rapunzel bc her backstory is based off rapunzel lmfaoo and purple is so cute on her 🫶🤭 and the boots are based off actual prada boots which is so fun to me because they look ridiculous irl but it fits the vibe here.

anyway this is her 6 months later and she’s developing her own sense of style..!! I like the idea that though she’s technically a drow exile now, she’s not completely divorced from her culture and she likes meshing the usual drow style to what the surfaces wear. the off shoulder/plunging neckline with the skin tight leather boots is very drowic fashion to me but the colours and the airy shorts is influenced by what surfacers (or bards) wear. she’s a more realised version of herself 6 months later, and she has eyebrows now bc she’s growing it out and clock the promise ring ehehehhe 🤭🤭🤭 hag romance real!!!!!! 🤭🤭🤭🤭

[moonystoes]

Hey guys I want to talk to you about something that may not be that serious but it still bothered me and I'm pretty sure it will annoy some of the mascs (this is a big rant about elisa I'm sorry lol)

This all started when i found this fanpage (ireignx) on Instagram. She posted a screenshot of Elisa from the new DAZN video. Elisa was smiling and looking straight at the camera and she made a caption saying, 'why does Elisa look so different in this video compared to her matches'. Now I do understand that Elisa does sometimes look different, that's because the camera is right at her face. It's not a video from a 'football angle', elisa isn't focused or aggressive in these videos, and this is how Elisa is when she's relaxed. So I didn't think much of what she said.

But then she posted a video of elisa dancing in her story (if you've seen the dazn video, it's when she got a point and celebrated) and then made a caption saying 'ew I just got an ick'. I get that people like different things and sometimes get icked out at certain things, but for this? Really? After I saw this I just knew why she got the 'ick'. And that's because elisa danced like a girl. I don't care if I sound reaching because NOTHING was weird about that video. It's not like that one video where she was dancing like a drunk dad to no music (iykyk 😭😭😭 it still haunts me).

She also made a comment saying 'now we know why elisa is single'... lmfaooo I'll talk about this in a different paragraph. My point here is that mascs are still girls, they act like girls, they love like girls, the laugh like girls, they ARE girls. Don't look at masc women and expect them to behave like something they aren't. They just like to dress 'manly'. I bet this bitch closed her eyes when she saw Elisa wearing a bikini lolll.

This was one of the main issues when it came to Elisa. When you look at edits of her on tiktok, so many comments were straight women feeling confused and questioning themselves. Like 'omg I like men but she's so hot' or 'wait why am i feeling this way I'm straight'. To all the straight women that are attracted to Elisa and are questioning themselves, please don't feel guilty for your attraction. It's okay. Like I don't even know what my sexuality is and all my life I thought I was straight except the Kristen Stewart phase I had when I was 14 😭 and a ruby rose one when I was 11. I just hope you know that she is a girl no matter how much you try to make her look 'masculine' in your head. She's not some 'alpha male aggressive' guy you're thinking she is, even when her playing style is quite aggressive.

I think what finalized everything is when she posted this:

... yeah, exactly what I expected.

Okay...now about the whole 'elisa is single situation'. THIS BITCH IS SOO RUDE. ugh the way I was texting her and the way she was responding was actually making me fight my fight or flight tendencies.

Basically when she posted the 'now we know why elisa is single', I was confused because like...she literally said she's not what are yall on about 💀💀. So I decided to respond to that message by saying. (This is the screenshots of the convo btw)

"You must be new here" 👆🤓🤓🤓 you annoying dumb ass bitch 😭

"Oh dear" ✋️😮‍💨 LMFAOO BRO WHATTT

"Elisa out here liking big ass big tatty half naked girls"... and then she sends a reel from Nourhene....one of the biggest French infleunecers and YouTubers that has been on the public for YEARS. If you can't remember nourhene, this is her:

(The one on the left)

She was literally invited by PSG to meet the women players, and elisa gifted her a free ticket to the champions league match, they're literally friends 😭. And also... that reel she sent had no tits or ass in it LMFAO, like what are we talking about, girl was acting like its some porn blog or something. And even if elisa liked a naked porn video, that doesn't make elisa single, it just makes her a shitty girlfriend loll.

Also btw... do you really think elisa would have to LIE just to not kiss a fan?? She literally could've just said 'no sorry' but you really think she felt so bad about offending her to the point where she decides to lie about dating someone?? Babe no offense but your feelings are not that important and I don't think she would care that much about rejecting you. Also, Elisa is getting fangirls obsessing over her left and right nowadays, do you think she'd lie like that knowing the fangirls are gonna go fucking crazy and lose it? (Shh... I did too😔)

I honestly don't even know what else to add other than just... please idk use your brain or something? Like I'm so sorry this has been bothering me for two days ngl and I really needed to rant it out.

[shoezuki]

Drunk Gep anon back at it again. How bout I call myself Whiskey🥃?

Fully agree. Dude didn't make it to Captain of the guard with little noodle arms and a weak stomach. I'dimagine Sampo'sbeen slung over his shoulder more than once lmfao. He's defo been shoving bite-sized anything in his gob since he could crawl.

Also love earnest Gep!!! Gepard being all soft and inquiring. Bet Sampo isn't used to havin someone so genuinely interested/knowing of him but so gentle about it, with no ulterior motive. He's got Natasha but she's more the loving yet serious sister who damn near KOs him with the first aid kit when he tries to sneak out whilst injured. Now you've got my head spinnin with ideas!!

May we also consider:

Sampo fucks up. Geppie started gettin soft, not quite drunk but enough to loosen him into sayin things that make Sampo's heart warm and hands fidget, and he just stopped keeping track of his drinks.

He's on cloud 9. Maybe? He's not exactly ecstatic but he's havin a pretty grand time. Maybe cloud 7? He doesn't remember when they left the bar but they've been wandering about for so long it's gotten dark and his mind's too foggy to recognise where they are.

He's also too loose lipped, knows he's being too honest, that his attempts to play off his words as jokes is too long winded and fake but he also can't quite remember what he's said???

Gepard is havin a grand time. He's pretty out of it but can at least walk this time. Happy to trail after Sampo, ask questions about obscure places they pass in the Underworld and about the people, before working up to talk about Sampo himself. How he's a pain in the ass but he admires his work ethic yada yada. He's unfamiliar with the area so he's hoping Sampo knows where they're going. He doesn't.

Neither of em make it home. Not even into a building. Sampo wakes up in the geomarrow equivalent of a tree, doesn't fall purely because he's damn near tied to the thing. There's more half empty bottles on the floor and Gepard has absolutely no clue where his jacket is and Sampo does not own a cane that embezzled, where did he get that?

There's an attempted 'arrest' of course. Gep may be off duty but he's nothing if not devoted to his role. They don't make it far and Bronya/Seele find them half curled up on the floor, holding their heads up against the cold brick XD.

The previous night's open-hearted discussion is blurred but not forgotten.

~ 🥃

GBFJDV GODDDDDD ANON UR SOF RCEYEKE. GOD. FICK SHIT...

Sampo stumbling into gepard at a bar nursing a drink, not tipsy but still loose enough to tell sampo to leave rather than tryna arrest him right away. Sampo obviously staying cuz this is a Great Opportunity no way hes letting this chance to break down geps walls slip thru his fingers.

And just. Sampo wanting to get gepard to open up to him and break down his barriers. Totally to get info out of him of course its not like hes infatuated with the man and wants to know him underneath his position as captain.

Sampo doesnt realize hes getting drunk too, opening up himself. Doesnt realize hes actually having fun w gepard and enjoying talking with him. Doesnt realize hes actually answering gepards questions, telling both personal things about himself and small inconsequential things that arent important but gepard acts like they are.

Gepards genuine So SO genuine and earnest. All kinds of 'youre a hard worker you do help the underworld a lot even if you pretend you dont' and 'i know some of those tips about illegal operations were from you sampo thank you' and 'i admire how focused and strong you are. If only youd put the criminal stuff behind you' and sampo isnt sure if its the liquor or gepard hes drunk off of.

And it ending with gepard having the fucking worst hangover of his life, sampo tied to a large stalagmite passed out and snoring. Gepard like 'god my head hurts. That was the best night of my life. Time to arrest him i guess' and seele being the one to find em bickering halfheartedly while gepard keeps trying to get handcuffs on sampo

[dumplingsjinson]

naurrrrr, so a lot has happened since thursday last week ('tis now a tuesday). the long distant dude i voice called on thursday (took us 6 months and a fucktonne of communication issues in between) hasn't been answering my messages since the call and long story short, i'm kicking him to the curb for the meanwhile and if he ever replies then gg. ion need a partner OR a friend like that, ngl, because he's been inconsistent for the longest of fucking time, and i don't wanna agonise over someone like that any longer.

on friday, i went out with another guy. we'll call him... the cat dude, cause he loves cats and has one himself (she's the cutest thing ever, with the pics he's been sending me). first half of the date was a little boring, ngl. he's a lil' awkward. he was probably also a lil' nervous, which i don't blame him for.

and then we got drunk as shit for the second half, and i was leaning against him and everything while we were trekking around the city, and uh... AHEM. we ended up making out during karaoke. several times at that. i initiated most of them, too, because i wanted someone to kiss (mayhaps kissing is quite fun, imma tell you that much), so i'm like... LKFNEWLKFN. TAKE ALCOHOL AWAY FROM ME RIGHT NOW. a complete menace to society, your honour!

like, i still remember our first kiss where i turned around to face him, looked at him for a second or two then pulled him in by the nape of neck to kiss him. i don't remember how the other ones happened but i remember he initiated one of them. i remember him cuddling close to me, with me leaning against him, while we sang into our mics; him kissing my face (do guys just like... do that after you kiss them or what is this????). the karaoke room was like... right near reception and there's like a small window where people can see us so if workers/guests were walking around, they might have caught us doing that. so yeah. no decorum whatsoever.

i kissed him goodbye at the train station when he dropped me off (I WOULD NEVER DO SUCH A THING WHEN SOBER, I WOULDN'T EVEN HUG SOMEONE WHEN LEAVING UNLESS THEY GO IN FOR THE HUG FIRST SO BITCH), before i hopped my drunk ass on the train to get home (and now i cannot stop thinking about it for the life of me!!! fuck me!! and i also can't stop wishing i kissed him for longer LMFAO). he ended up staying at a hotel (i'm so thankful i didn't stay with him or else things might have happened and i would have woken up to true regretfulness).

saturday morning, i wake up with a slight hangover (so worse than what happened the week before this when i got drunk as shit) he messages me and says he enjoyed my company, both drunk and sober and i was like... oh. because i thought he didn't enjoy my company while sober LMFAO, but i guess i was wrong (or maybe he was being polite, i have no clue). and now i'm seeing him again this week saturday for a small picnic with the promise we won't be drinking any sort of alcohol. AND IDK MAYBE I'M STUPID but i think he might be feeling me a little? he's more fun over text than in person tbvh, but again, first meet ups are usually a lil' awkward ahaha. and like... he's chill and i wanna see where this goes. (all i can say is, guys definitely get vvvv clingy when they're drunk! you break that touch barrier earlier on and they'll be all up in your personal space esp when you decide to add a few drinks to the mix lmfao. and yeah i only got drunk with like two dudes so the sample size isn't big but ya know??). i know his ass remembers what happened even if we never explicitly talked about it, but i ain't even embarrassed about it at this point. i just find it so funny lkwnfklwenf

as for the mixed signals guy... the dude who kissed me while drunk and got all clingy with me? the one who told me a few days later that he liked someone else? the one who was supposed to watch the fuckin' barbie movie with me? he flaked on my ass LAST MINUTE so he could go have a study date with the girl he likes. (that girl, according to him, doesn't like him back, and he's been pissy about it ever since.)

this guy is a MESS. he keeps reiterating that we're friends and nothing more so i'm acting like a friend towards him even though he probably doesn't fucking deserve my friendship considering how he could so easily flake on a friend after they planned a hang out with him over a WEEK in advance. a whole fucking week, with solid plans, and he fucking flakes. all because he wants to see the girl he's simping after. rude ass fucking bitch! that is not a good friend quality to have at all. inconsiderate, if you ask me. thank fuck i was able to find another friend to go with me.

there's also a lot of shit going on with him and the more i talk to him, the more i'm like... my god, i should probably drop him. i've been telling my friends about it and they're like "is this man okay? you sure you still wanna talk with him?" and i'm starting to think - no, i don't. he has hella issues, thinks getting into a relationship is the only means of having someone care about him (completely disregarding the fact that friends can care about you, too, sometimes even more than a partner does), and he's done questionable shit in the past. he also says really questionable shit.

and, like, don't get me wrong, i wanna be there for him and like... i can partially see why he might be the way he is today, but we had a conversation about it last night and he basically tried to push me away and i'm out here like - why would you ask me to be your friend when your end goal is to push me away? why ask for someone to care about you when this is the shit you do???? you can't be there for someone who simply just doesn't want to get their shit together. it gets draining really fucking quickly.

oh, not to mention, he ghosted all of his friends when he got with his now ex so fucking gg, mate. he seems to expect me to do the same with him when i get into a relo and i'm like... motherfucker, i'm not you. assuming i'd do that, just because you did that yourself, is just so hurtful. a complete red flag of a human being, if you ask me. if he continues to be like this then i'm taking the left exit. i don't need this shit in my life, right now or ever.