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omg tea: woke up this morning and i got my first request! i hope i do it right

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So I'm drafting my half-angel!reader x dante fic and here are some things I'd like to share for feedback and just because

first person pov

aura farming i recently learned what this phrase means and i love it

non-angelic behavior from a half-angel (i wonder who that's about)

there's more but ig this sums it up:

serious question: does this look fun?

extra extra serious note: still a huge wip bc i'm a full-time student who works 2 jobs

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I THOUGHT OF YOU BETWEEN THE BLOODSHED

pairing jason todd x gender neutral reader

jason todd comes home to you with bruised knuckles and a heart too full to name. the red hood is all sharp edges and violence, but with you? he's just jason—achingly tender, disarmingly soft, hands that break bones cradling your face like you’re something sacred.

"you taste like gunpowder," you murmur against his lips, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket, pulling him closer. his breath is warm, a little ragged, like he’d sprinted up the stairs just to get to you.

"that’s ‘cause i was shootin’ people," jason huffs, but there’s no bite to it—just that low, rough voice curling around the words like smoke. his hands are big where they settle on your waist, thumbs pressing into the dip of your hip bones like he’s memorizing the shape of you.

you hum, tilting your head to kiss him again, slow and lazy. his mouth is chapped, the faint metallic tang of blood lingering from where he’d bitten his own lip too hard earlier. but he sighs into it, lets you lick into his mouth like you own it, like he’d let you take anything from him if you just asked.

when you pull back, his eyes are half-lidded, dark with something that makes your stomach flip. the white streak in his hair is mussed from your fingers, and you reach up to smooth it back, nails scratching lightly at his scalp. he leans into the touch like a cat, a quiet rumble in his chest.

"missed you," he mutters, like it’s a secret. like he’s embarrassed by it.

you snort. "you saw me this morning."

"still missed you."

his nose bumps against yours, clumsy with affection, and you can’t help but smile. jason todd, red hood, the crime lord who’d put a bullet through six men’s kneecaps tonight, is nuzzling into your hand like he’s starved for it.

his fingers trail up your sides, over your ribs, like he’s counting them. when he speaks again, his voice is softer. "thought about you. when i was out there."

"yeah?" you tease, but your heart stutters anyway. "what, in between breaking bones?"

"especially then," he admits, and his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, catching on the swell of it. "kept thinkin’ about how you’d laugh if you saw me. how you’d roll your eyes at me for bein’ dramatic."

you do roll your eyes now, but he just grins, that crooked, boyish thing that makes him look younger. makes him look like jason, not the red hood, not the ghost of robin. just yours.

"you’re such a sap," you tell him, but your hands are gentle where they frame his face, where your thumbs trace the scars on his cheeks.

he turns his head, pressing a kiss to your palm. "only for you."

and god, if that doesn’t make your chest ache.

for some reason, tonight felt more... intimate. more warm and safe. soft and right. so right. the two of you sitting on the couch, with you situated on jason's lap as you cuddled and shared soft, tender kisses.

and you can’t help but stare.

because up close, he’s beautiful.

the way his lashes cast shadows over his cheeks when he blinks, long and dark like ink smudged on paper. the faint scar cutting through his eyebrow, a story he’d shrug off if you asked but you love anyway. his nose, slightly crooked from one too many fights, and the way it brushes against yours when he leans in, clumsy and sweet.

his lips are chapped, but they’re warm, and they part so easily under yours—like he’s been waiting for this, like he’d let you take and take until there’s nothing left.

and his hands. god, his hands. big and rough, knuckles bruised and fingers calloused from years of gripping guns and knives and the edges of his own rage. but right now, they’re gentle. one cradles the back of your head like you’re something precious, the other tracing idle patterns on your hip like he’s memorizing you.

you reach up, thumb brushing over the white streak in his hair, the strands soft between your fingers. he leans into the touch, eyes fluttering shut for a second—like he’s savoring it, like he’s starved for it.

and you think, this. this is the jason no one else gets to see. the one who sighs into your touch, who lets you trace the scars on his skin without flinching, who kisses you like he’s trying to say something words could never hold.

"what?" he murmurs, catching you staring.

"nothin’," you whisper, but your fingers don’t stop tracing the curve of his jaw. "just thinkin’ about how pretty you are."

his breath hitches, just a little, and you watch the way his throat bobs when he swallows. "pretty?" he echoes, voice low, disbelieving. like no one’s ever said it to him before. like he doesn’t know what to do with the word.

"yeah," you murmur, thumb brushing over his bottom lip. "so pretty it hurts."

his cheeks flush, just a little, and he ducks his head like he’s trying to hide it. but you catch it—the way his lashes flutter, the way his grip on your waist tightens, just for a second. like he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

"shut up," he mutters, but there’s no heat in it. just that quiet, aching vulnerability he only ever shows you.

your hands reach for his face, cupping his cheeks, thumbs brushing over the high curve of his cheekbones. his skin is warm under your palms and you tilt his head up just enough to see the way his lashes flutter, the way his lips part—just slightly—like he’s already waiting.

and god, he’s beautiful like this.

you press the first kiss to the corner of his mouth, soft and teasing, feeling the way his breath stutters against your lips. the second lands on the bridge of his nose, right over that little scar he never talks about. the third finds the dip under his eye, where his skin is unfairly soft, and he lets out a quiet, shaky exhale, his fingers tightening where they grip your waist.

"fuck," he whispers, voice rough, and you can feel the way his pulse jumps under your fingertips.

you don’t stop. you kiss the crease between his brows, the spot just below his ear, the sharp line of his jaw—every touch feather-light, reverent. and jason melts, his shoulders slumping, his head tipping back against the couch like he’s surrendering. like he’s letting you take him apart piece by piece.

when you finally press your lips to his, it’s slow. sweet. his mouth is warm, yielding under yours, and he makes this quiet, desperate noise in the back of his throat when you suck gently on his bottom lip. his hands slide up your back, fingers trembling just a little, like he’s not sure whether to pull you closer or hold himself back.

you pull away just enough to murmur against his lips, "let me worship you, dearest."

his breath catches, and for a second, he just looks at you—eyes dark, cheeks flushed, lips kiss-swollen and parted. then he’s surging forward, crashing his mouth against yours like he’s starving for it, like he’s trying to say yes, yes, yes without words.

and you let him. you let him take, let him press you closer, let him kiss you like he’s drowning and you’re the only air left in the world.

he kisses you like a man starved, all rough edges and clumsy hunger, but you slow him down with a hand fisted gently in his hair. "easy," you murmur against his lips, and he whines—actually whines—high in his throat, his hips jerking up against yours like he can’t help it.

you swallow the sound, kissing him deeper, slower, until his frantic movements still and he’s just shaking beneath you, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. his breath comes in ragged bursts against your mouth, his chest heaving, and when you pull back just an inch, his eyes are blown black with want, his lips slick and parted.

"please," he gasps, and it’s wrecked, broken, like he’s begging for something he doesn’t even know how to name.

you shush him with another kiss, this one lingering at the corner of his mouth, then trailing down to his jaw, his throat. he tilts his head back with a groan, baring the column of his neck to you like an offering, his pulse fluttering wild under your tongue. you bite down—just a tease, just enough to make him curse—and he arches off the couch, a strangled "fuck—!" tumbling from his lips.

his hands scramble at your waist, tugging at your clothes, but you catch his wrists, pinning them gently to the cushions above his head. his breath hitches, his thighs tensing beneath you, and when you finally meet his gaze again, he looks ruined.

"let me take care of you," you whisper, and his throat works around a swallow, his lashes fluttering.

he nods, once, sharp and desperate. "yeah. yeah, okay—please."

and so you do.

…1.4k full of soft jason- WHAT CAN I EVEN SAY TO THIS AHHHH I NEED MORE BUT MY BRAIN IS SO AHHHHHHH sorry, guys—i'm hopeless at writing anything steamier than slow kisses and yearning glances and whatever this is. maybe someday, when i've deemed that my skills are worthy enough, there'll be a part two. maybe-

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nobody asked for this (except i did see it on my tl so clearly someone is asking for it) but this is for crazies who understand the potential of the white rabbit

he's so crazy but it's okay bc so am i (warning: dmc netflix spoilers)

your average 'bonnie and clyde' -types. joker and harley quinn. a man and his ride-or-die.

You were intimidating when he first met you. With broad horns and and fierce wings. He almost took a step back.

And then, you told him who you were. A protecter for the weaker demons, victims in their own realm. You sought safe passage for your people, and the human man that roamed the desolate plains had a way.

The white rabbit promised you that your people would make it to Earth, but he couldn't predict what would happen once they were there.

You were held up by the goliath demon on one side of the veil as the refugees were held at gunpoint on Earth—not that you were aware.

The goliath knocked you back, sending you through the portal before crashing into a wall in the Earth realm. The goliath stuck its head through next, snatching the demons in the back of the group with its maw.

As your head and vision clear, you recognize the screaming before the gunfire. Your people were in terror, trapped between the malice of Makai and human hatred. At the center of the slaughter, you see the white rabbit. He's shocked and in anguish as the demons scream and erupt around him.

And then he's hit in the shoulder, and he just bleeds. There's no eruption or effect; he just bleeds. And you throw yourself into the fray—wing flexed out and enveloping you and the white rabbit. The bullets bounce off your rubbery hide and protect you from the brunt of the assault. And then the bullets stop, and you hear a gentle 'click'.

You barely catch a glimpse of the belt flying at you before it makes everything go white.

note: anyways, as the lore goes, you barely survive the explosion and the white rabbit keeps you alive, and ya'll both a lil crazy after that trauma but it's good bc plot TEA lmk what you think <3 @montybooks

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no but half-angel!reader dancing with Dante is stuck on my mind

Dante is always the one initiating dances—before a fight; in the middle of cooking; as you're reading. He'll offer you his hand, palm facing the sky, with a softened look of confidence. The way your hand slides into his is effortless before he pulls you into his chest, twirling you around with an arm wrapping around your middle.

He imagines he loves you a little more than you love him, and it's apparent through his constant desire to be close to you. And he's content with that. He hopes it's enough.

But he's caught by surprise when you finally initiate the dance with him, holding your hand out to him the way he's done to you so many times. You're surrounded by demons intent on killing the both of you, but your eyes are focused on him. There's no sign of fear or concern in your expression—you're smiling at him.

"You going to take my hand, or what, D?"

Dante huffs a laugh, ignoring the horde quickly approaching.

"I'd be an asshole if I turned you down," he admits, grabbing your hand a little rougher than he normally would.

A noise of excitement escapes your throat as Dante swings you around like an extension of himself—landing a bone-crushing kick on the demon behind him.

note: ahhh i love him so much i want a cute fight sequence where they're basically dancing with each other while taking out demons, and it looks so elegant but the hits they're landing are nausea-inducing

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I can’t sleep so here are some hot things I think Jason does

- Jason often walks around the house shirtless and has a terribly attractive habit of flexing in front of every mirror in the house. Oh and whenever he's near you, it's more like a show than just plain old flexing really. His little act is almost always followed up with a "holy shit babe, feel my bicep." It leaves you flustered every damn time

- He also has a tendency to engulf you in these tight bear hugs where his arms cover your body and you can feel his pecs pressed against your face. You never can resist the urge to nuzzle your face against his chest

- Jason's body is huge, he's built like a fucking tank and he knows exactly how to use this to his advantage. He corners and pushes you against the wall with such ease, you don't even see it coming half the time. He towers over you and it's crazy just how bad you want to kiss him in those moments

- He gets all up in your face when he’s teasing you or when he’s in a super playful mood. He even grabs your jaw to make you look at him when he knows you’re tying to tune him out. Jason’s such a pain in the ass, but he’s pretty so he gets a pass

- He’s such a chronic man spreader (but like in places that allow it… he’s respectful on public transport and keeps to himself, which actually makes him even more sexy in my books). and if you’re at home, he leaves enough room so you can get situated on his lap

- Jason loves to read to you. He’ll have you pressed up against his chest, with one hand stroking your hair and the other holding his book. His voice gets all low and husky and his accent tends to creep out too. Above all, his voice is gentle, soothing and just so comfortingly satisfying

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what if we switched it up from half-angel to half-demon? enemies to lovers

when sparda made the barrier, he had his right-hand in attendance. by serving him loyally, this elite female demon was brought by her commander to earth's realm after the war

once news of sparda's offspring reached her ears, her loyalty knew no bounds, and she sired her own with a fortunate human

when sparda left his sons, his right-hand left with him, taking her offspring with her

the elite female demon thoroughly raised the halfling to be a warrior before disappearing with sparda once she was ten

the halfling quickly made use of her talents and skills, climbing the ladder within the city underworld until she started her nightclub (cliche ikr) to make money over—and under—the counter, with a side hustle in demon immigration

the halfling knows who dante is the minute he steps into her club—with the red amulet resting boldly on his chest. part of her wonders how he stumbled into her nightclub. the son of the demon knight and the offspring of his lieutenant reuniting because of their entwined fate.

"If it isn't the demon hunter," the halfling greets, leaning against her office desk. "I hope you didn't hit anyone on your way up." "No, no," Dante drawls dryly, crossing his arms over his chest. The amulet shone glaringly in the light. "Your guys were total gentlemen. I almost thought one had a crush on me." "What brings you into my club?" The halfling brushes her hair out of her face as she sips her coffee. She could tell her invitation up to her office had flustered him. Dante probably wasn't expecting to get noticed so quickly. "I've heard you've been smuggling demons into this realm," he answers candidly. He falls silent, and the halfling frowns at the pause. "Yes? What about it? Spit it out." "I need passage into Hell." The conviction in his voice does little to capture her attention. She scoffs and takes another sip of her coffee. "Is that all? Simple." A deeply purple ball grows in her hand before she flicks it at the wall, ripping a hole through the wall. The other side of the purple veil revealed Hell's desolation. "Be on your way." "There's another thing. You need to stop smuggling demons into this realm." This made her laugh from her stomach. "I wouldn't push your luck. I think I'm already doing you one favor at a considerate fee." Free of charge—contingent on him leaving immediately. "It wasn't a request," Dante says confidently with a grin. "Don't think I couldn't tell you're one of them too." "Oh? That sounds like a threat. What are you going to do?" She responds in a hardened tone. The halfling snaps her fingers and the veil vanishes. "Now you can walk out of my club before I castrate you." "Now who's making threats?" Dante smirks, reaching for his blade. "Must be on the same page." She brandishes a karambit as her eyes gleam with excitement.

their fight ends in a draw, with most of the surrounding area of the club torn up as a result. dante is stronger than her, but she is faster and smarter than him. their sexual tension and fighting rapport is so condensed, that it makes their disagreement seem long-forgotten

a few months later, dante is breaking into her club for a job.

Dante didn't mean to break the window, but his lock-picking skills weren't the best. He figured there must not be any alarms since nobody came to investigate, and he managed to find his way up to the office without getting caught. Enzo told him a bad demon was on payroll in the halfling's club. She could overlook this. He was convinced. "This should be good," her voice made Dante jump in surprise. "What brings you into my club again, demon hunter?" There's a vague hostility in her tone, like he had crossed a line. Dante raised his hands up in surrender. "I just need one of your buddies to come with me for the night," he answers casually, shrugging. Her eyes widen before a look of outrage flashes on her face. "You don't fucking learn your lesson do you?" "Whoa, let's relax," Dante tries to placate, not in any mood to go hours fighting again—especially not when she seemed angry. "It's not a huge deal, your demon's just a murdering thug. You could find any other human to do the same busy work for you." That was not the right thing to say. "You come into my club making ridiculous demands, and think I'll just let you kill one of mine?" The lieutenant's offspring's hair lit up in flames and hardened demon skin spread over her human image. Tails sprouted from her tailbone, sharpened at the ends and waving dangerously. "Someone should really teach you some manners. Seems like mommy didn't get a chance."

note: i hope this dynamic makes it sense (it's a slow-burn)

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he's the most adorable thing ☹️

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inspired by this post!! by @cj-theyoungling

oh the screams ripping from your throat and the violent lashing of life returning to your body and jason just tries to hold it together with the worst, most heart-wrenching expression because he hates what he's doing to you. no one should have to go through the same pain he had been through, but he can't live without you. he knows that you're going to be cross with him, that you should have stayed dead—maintaining some fantasy that you died a hero's death. he hopes that you'll forgive him one day, but even if you don't, he can live with that. he can live knowing that you're alive too.

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i should be doing homework right now but instead i'm thinking about dante

Here's an extension of half-angel x dante: enzo hires them for a job (warning: aura farming)

"So what's the job again?" you ask, glancing at the back of Dante's head. He always walked ahead on a job.

"Enzo said there's a demon here. A few lucky lives got away to spread the news." He didn't look back, sending alarms off in your head.

"Why are you acting weird? You've been quiet since we left the apartment." You step forward to match his step,

"I don't know what you mean." Dante smirks, nudging you off balance with his hip, causing you to stumble out of pace.

You scoff because of course he wouldn't admit he's worried again. It's your first job since he refused to let you join after the incident. He was ready to leave you behind again, but you were practically on his heels as he was leaving.

You unlatch the whip from your hip and lob it around Dante's waist, using your superhuman strength against his, to pull him to a stop.

"Oh~ Lovely," Dante murmurs smugly, allowing you to drag him closer before leaning down to give you a kiss. You welcome his lips and loving caresses before cutting it short. "What?" Dante groans, bending down for more.

"There'll be more later," you promise. So stop worrying. "We should split up to get this over with."

"Huh? Not one of your better ideas." Dante frowns. "It's safer if we stay together."

"We've split up before," you remind him, pushing against his chest. "Let's just get this over with so we can get home faster."

Dante's teeth gleam as his grin widens, pulling you against him again. "I like the sound of that-"

"Perfect," you say with a disarming smile, pinching his side to make him jump off of you. "I'll take the west side, you'll take the east. Give me the signal if you find it before me."

Dante watches you with a gloomy expression as you send him a wave before turning around the corner.

The west side of the building was quiet. Usually, you can feel a demon's sinister energy—a shiver running down the back of your neck—but so far, nothing.

And then—

It was behind you, peaking around the corner and looking at you. You stop walking and hone in on its location, sensing it's about to attack.

"Well, come on then," you call out, turning on your heel and cracking your whip. "I need you to send my man a signal."

A bird-like monster crept into view, screeching dreadfully and flexing it's claws and wings.

The demon roared at you as you flicked your whip, striking it in the face. As it was disoriented, you wrap the whip around the monster's leg.

Yanking on your leather, the demon flies foward, over your shoulder, and into the opposite wall of the hall. The building shivered from the commotion.

And there's the signal. As the demon picked itself up against the wall, you sent a barrage of strikes against its torso and limbs, keeping it discombobulated until Dante arrives.

The demon's wing folded in front of your attacks, shielding it's body. Gritting your teeth, you aim for it's open areas, but it advances with it's wing protecting it.

"Shit," you curse, leaping out of the way before it could barrel through you. Your ankle is suddenly grabbed and you're swinging in the opposite direction, bracing for the impact against the ground. You release a guttural laugh before the demon throws you up again.

Wrapping your whip around the demon's beak, you pull yourself in and land your foot into it's skull. Falling on it's shoulders, you move your weapon around it's neck and squeeze with one hand. Your other hand grabs the demon's face.

"Die, asshole!" Your hand on it's face glowed bright as the demon screamed under you. In the next second, it withered away to ash.

You were left kneeling in the ash pile, holding your side and catching your breath. Maybe Dante was right and you should have stayed together for the first job back. You were a little out of practice.

A disruptive crash rang out somewhere in the building, close to your location considering how violently the floor shook beneath her feet.

The wall down the corridor caved in, revealing Dante riding another demon through the construct.

"Hey sweetheart, look what I found on my way to you." His smile is wide until he recognizes the state you're in. "You doing alright?"

"I'm fine," you assure him, holding your hand up. "Waiting on you, slow-poke."

"I guess it's time to stop messing around," Dante tells the demon, drawing his broad sword. "My lady's waiting for me." It screams at him, but it's soon permanently silenced.

"You think there are more of them?" You ask, staggering to your feet as Dante paces over to you.

"Nah," Dante says aloof, scooping you into his arms before you could even stand straight. "They've been taken care of."

"When did you-"

"I know how to keep a fight tidy and quiet," he tells you, knocking his forehead against yours, giving you a cheeky wink. He kept you in his arms as he walked you both out of the building. "Wasn't expecting the patrol though. Your signal caught me off-guard."

With your arms wrapped around Dante's neck, you drop your head against his shoulder. "Yeah, maybe you were right."

"Me? About what?"

"We should've stayed together." You ignore how Dante tries to look down at you, but your head is too close to his neck. His hands tighten around you, pulling you closer to his body.

"We'll stick together on jobs from here on out, alright?" Dante says it with no room for discussion, not that you would argue against it. "It's a lot more fun when I can keep my eye on you anyways."

"I was going to say the same thing."

note: i have so much more tropes for this man but the half-angel sweetheart that indulges in Dante's wild/aura-farming side is so cute to me

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i just finished DMC and I'm about to make it everyone's problem

here's a little headcanon i made up as i was watching

angel x devil trope where angel!reader is halfbreed of her kind, and a reward 'blessing' for the son of the demon knight

dante meets his half-angel one evening in his late teens, and he saves her from a demon that cornered her into a dead-end. she swears she didn't need his help with an awkward smile.

he realizes his half-angel is special when he has her spar with him. holding his palms out to her, dante isn't prepared for the absolute heat she lands on his soft muscles. his right palm throbbed around the hilt of his blade for days after that.

his half-angel has more in common with him than he initially thought. she was remarkably strong and fast. she never knew her dad, and her mother was a drunk.

it didn't take much convincing for his half-angel to leave her human life behind and join dante in his demon hunting career. she had a knack for it that made him feel more than simple admiration for her.

four years after they first meet, dante realizes he doesn't want a life without his half-angel. he figured it out after a Dance Dance Revolution performance, turning his head to see if she had glimpsed at his horrible score. he's blessed with the view of her reading on the couch, completely unaware of his game.

"Did you have fun?" she asks him after noticing how silent it got. Dante scoffs and crumples to the floor, close to the edge of the couch. "If you were paying attention, you would have seen my perfect score." "Oh, was it a perfect score?" his half-angel asks playfully, dropping the novel in her lap. "From here, it looked like you were improvising the moves." "You don't know what you're talking about." Dante sits against the edge of the couch, leaning close to her. "I think that's my line, big head."

the first time dante gets worried about his half-angel is during a hunt. the particular demon multiplied from it's dismembered appendages, and the two halflings were too quickly overwhelmed

her eyes were elsewhere when the spawnlings came up behind her, impaling her twice before throwing his half-angel like a ragdoll through the wall. dante became destructive at the sight

Her sleepy eyes scared Dante more than he'd like to admit. He should be grateful his half-angel woke up, but all he can focus is that she needs to rest, and he needs just a little more time with her before that. "Why are you looking at me like that?" She asks with a little furrow dipping between her brows. The soft smile she gives Dante warms him with relief. He reaches over and cups her jaw, feeling her pulse's steady rhythm under his two fingers. "You had me worried for a second," he answers, emotions clogging his throat. Dante reimagines his family's death, followed by his half-angel's close call. She hums leisurely, leaning into his hand. "I wasn't worried. I knew you'd get us out of there. Just needed a little motivation." His half-angel sends him a coy wink. As her words register in Dante's head, irritation washes his sentiment away, and he huffs an incredulous laugh. "You're insane," he tells her as she holds his hand against her and places a kiss on his palm. The same palm she nearly broke. "You're perfect. Thank you." "For that?" She mumbles against his skin, turning her head to look up at him. "For being alive."

note: it's short but a warmup cuz i got more

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i just finished the new Devil May Cry anime and let me tell y'all, when I say that man is FOINE😩 he is so babygirl gremlin wrapped up nice in a ripped, irresistible dreamboat.

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Took me until about halfway through college before I realized “study” means “play with the material in a variety of ways until you understand it” and not just “read the assigned chapters and do the homework” and I think that probably should have been discussed at some point prior to that.

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As long as you don't give up, even slow progress is still progress.