#but had a request for it on ao3

[bridgyrose]

[Ruby rushed down the Mantle streets, heart pounding in her chest as she used her semblance to catch up to Penny, still keeping out of sight behind a few buildings. Slowly, she looked out from behind the building as she watched Penny land, taking a step back and stepping on a can.]

Penny: *looking in the direction of the noise and readying her blades* Who’s there?

Ruby: *slowly stepping out and putting her hands in front of her, voice cracking as a smile crossed her lips* Penny. You’re… you’re alive.

Penny: *slowly lowering her weapons for a brief moment as she recognized Ruby’s voice, then raising them once more, glaring at her* Do not you dare take another step! 

Ruby: *freezing in her step and taking a deep breath to calm herself* I… I dont want to fight, I only want to talk.

Penny: Talk about what? 

Ruby: About you. I-I thought you were dead and now you’re here and I-

Penny: You are the reason I was killed! I trusted you, and you used me to destroy Beacon!

Ruby: That wasnt me! *letting out a sigh and held her arm to her chest, looking away from Penny* I… I was framed and I’m still trying to clear my name. I think Ironwood had something to do with Beacon falling but I need proof.

Penny: *lowering her swords* The general would never-

Ruby: Then why did he bring his fleet to Beacon? Why was it his soldiers that turned against us when the grimm flooded through the streets? Please Penny, you have to help me clear my name. 

Penny: *pausing as she received another alert of grimm breaching the walls, and then a second for an airship that failed to identify itself after crossing Atlas borders* I have to go. 

Ruby: *taking a step forward, instinctively reaching out to Penny* Let me come with you! 

Penny: *looking in the direction of the grimm siren and lowering her weapons* How do I know I can trust you? 

Ruby: Because we’re friends, Penny. *slowly taking another step towards Penny, keeping her eyes on her* And all I want to do is clear my name, to show that I had nothing to do with Beacon being attacked. Please, trust me.

Penny: *nodding and walking over to Ruby, holding her by her waist* We take care of the grimm attack, and then you tell me everything that is going on. 

Ruby: *pausing for a moment as she felt Penny’s grip around her, hesitation in her voice as she tried to hide the nervousness that ran through her body* I promise, I’ll tell you everything I know.

[feyhunter78]

Pink Pastels

Description: Single dad Miguel who replaced himself in a new universe meets his daughter's favorite teacher, you, who just happens to have a shitty boyfriend and doesn't yet know how much the O'Hara family wants you to stick around

Pt 2

I cracked y'all, and I blame TikTok

“Ms. Y/N, watch me, watch me!” Gabi calls, waving her arms in the air to catch your attention.

“I’m watching, go ahead.” You encourage her, smiling brightly when she does a successful cartwheel, her hair spilling from the loose braid one of her classmates had done for her during quiet reading.

You know teachers aren’t supposed to have favorite students, you tell each and every one of your students that you don’t have favorites, that you adore all of them equally. But Gabriella O’Hara holds a special place in your heart.

“Did you see, did you see?” She asks excitedly, running up to you, dark curls tumbling wildly around her shoulders.

You kneel down, and brush the hair back from her face, still smiling brightly. “I did, that was amazing, who taught you that?”

“My dad, he helped me practice.” She says, giving you a toothy grin, one front tooth missing from where she’d knocked it out eating an apple yesterday.

A tear-filled lunch that had been until you reminded her that now the Tooth Fairy would come visit her. The idea of a sparkly fairy leaving her money in exchange for her tooth dried her tears quickly, and soon enough she was proudly showing off her lost tooth (safely contained in a Ziploc bag) to anyone who would listen.

“Well, it seems like your dad is a very good teacher, then.” You say, giving her shoulder a quick squeeze before her friends dragged her back onto the playground.

You stood back up and rejoined the other first grade teachers.

“She’s adorable.” Janey says, nodding at Gabi who was playing tag with a few other girls.

Janey taught in the classroom next to yours. You started teaching at the same time, but she’d been hired at Steve Rodgers Elementary a year before you. Janey was the first friend you made when you got hired, and you soon became close friends inside and outside school.

“She’s so well-behaved, too; I wish I knew who her mom was, so I could thank her.” You say, a slight grimace on your face, when you watched two boys from your class begin to shove each other.

You called out to them, and they stopped, giving you guilty looks before running towards the swing sets.

“There’s no mom, she walked out on Gabi and her father after she was born.” Melissa says, her arms crossed over her chest as she watched her kids.

Melissa was a senior teacher at Rodgers Elementary. A tough love works the best teacher with the confidence of a god, and a nose for gossip like you couldn’t believe.

“Oh, that’s so sad.” You say, your heart hurting for the sweet little girl who always wanted to sit next to you during story time. Gabi had told you about her dad many times, but never mentioned her mom, you just assumed she was away for work often, or that they didn’t have many things in common.

You looked at Gabi, watching as she helped one of her friends tie their shoes. Sitting beside them and patiently demonstrating on her own sneakers. How could anyone walk away from her?

“It is, but her dad…he’s hot, I’ve seen him in the pickup line, he’s like a male model or something.” Melissa says, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

You gave her an incredulous look. “Melissa! That’s a parent you’re talking about.”

She shrugs. “Hey, I’m married, I’m not gonna do anything, but one of you could.”

Janey turns her head to hide her laughter, and you smack her arm. “Janey, hitting on a child’s parent is wildly inappropriate, besides I have Todd.”

Melissa snorts, and you bite the inside of your cheek. Todd was not a popular man around the school, especially after what he pulled on your birthday.

The bell rings signaling the end of recess and your kids begin to line up, ending your conversation as the three of you are pulled in different directions.

There’s a knock at your door, and you look up from grading papers, to see Janey. “Hey y/n, Gabi’s father is here to see you?”

You shoot her a look of confusion and begin to tidy up your desk, then stand, smoothing out the wrinkles in your baby pink dress. “Oh, yeah, sure, let him in.”

Janey disappears, and the space is filled by a giant of a man. He towers over the desks, making them look even tinier than they already were. His shoulders are massive, his biceps you swear are bigger than your thighs, though you could be exaggerating, but you’re honestly not sure, and when he fixes those dark brown eyes on you, and suddenly the floor beneath you feels unsteady.

“Mr. O’Hara, how can I help you?” You manage to get out, motioning for him to take a seat in front of his desk.

“I’ll stand.” He says curtly. His voice is deep, settling in your bones, the faint whisper of an accent, and confidence behind his words makes you nervous for a moment, then you recognize the feeling, not nerves…something else, something much more inappropriate.

“Oh—okay, is there something you need, is Gabi okay?” You ask, realizing she isn’t in the classroom with him.

“She’s fine, just sitting outside with her book.” He explains, his eyes piercing straight through you.

“Margaret and Margarita, right? Your daughter an exceptional reader, in both English and Spanish, you should be very proud.” You say, giving him a smile, hoping the compliment will soften his expression and make it seem like he didn’t want to murder you.

Melissa was right, Mr. O’Hara was gorgeous. With a strong jawline, high cheekbones, a mess of thick dark hair, and perfectly formed lips, all tapering down to the body of an Adonis, clothed in a white button up that stretched across his broad chest, and black slacks that clung to his muscled legs like it was their job and rent was due next week. But his expression was flat, his eyes cold, his stance rigid.

“Why did you lie to my daughter?” He asks flatly, looking down at you, as if you were a bug on his windshield.

You blink up at him in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

“You should be.”

An indignant expression flashed across your face before you could stop it, and you saw Mr. O’Hara’s lip twitch. “I’m not apologizing, I’m asking for clarification.”

“You told Gabi that the Tooth Fairy was going to visit her, I wasn’t going to do the Tooth Fairy , she doesn’t need false hope.” He snaps, leaning forward slightly, towering over you.

The hair on your arms stands up, but you brush it off as a stab of guilt goes through you. He was a single dad, maybe he couldn’t afford such frivolous traditions. “Mr. O’Hara, if this is a financial issue, I am so sorry. I should’ve tried to comfort her another way, my sincerest apologizes.”

“This isn’t a financial issu—comfort her?” He stops midsentence, his brows furrowing.

“She was upset because she lost her teeth, it’s her first one, a ton of kids get a little scared, but the promise of a reward usually clears those tears right up.” You tell him, holding your hands up in a pacifying way as you talk.

His eyes dart down to your hands, then back to your eyes, lingering for a moment on your lips. “I didn’t—Gabi didn’t tell me she was scared.”

“She was probably a little embarrassed. She talks all the time about how brave you are and how she wants to be just like you when she grows up.”

His expression softens.

“I actually—”you turn to rifle through your desk until you find Gabi’s latest assignment—“have something for you.”

He takes the paper from you, and you can’t help but notice how his hands dwarf yours, his tanned skin is scattered with small scars, and his calloused fingertips brush against yours. “What is this?”

“I had the kids draw a picture of their hero and then write a few sentences about why that person is their hero. I think she was one of a few who didn’t draw Spiderman.” You laugh softly.

He cradles the paper and a soft smile spreads across his face as he reads her writing under his breath. “Porque mi papá lucha contra los monstruos en mi armario.”

“I had to look that one up, my Spanish is terrible.” You admit sheepishly, watching as he reads her words over and over again.

“Thank you, for this, and for comforting Gabi.” He says, folding the paper carefully and sliding it in his pocket.

“Of course, I love Gabi, she’s such a pleasure to have in class.”

He looks at you, really looks at you, and you’re struck by how similar he and Gabi are. They have the same nose, the same almost curls that frame their faces, and when he tilts his head ever so slightly to the side you almost burst out laughing. You can’t count how many times you’ve seen Gabi do that exact same thing.

“You know Gabi talks a lot about you, how pretty you are, she was right.” His voice is low, smooth, and sends a jolt through you. Then he takes his leave, with you standing there stunned, wondering what the hell just happened to you.

Eternal Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir

[that-gay-guy-from-hell]

Uncontrolled Instincts: Vergil x Male Reader

MINORS DNI; THIS IS FOR ADULTS ONLY

SERIOUSLY, GO AWAY!

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

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

===

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     “I am not,” Dante huffed.

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

     With that, Vergil left The Devil May Cry.

==

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     Your brow raised further, “Okay..?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     Your brow creased, “Why?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     The consequences of mating with a devil.

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

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

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

     “For what?” You tilted your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

     “Vergil?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     As he stared, you stared back. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     “You want me to be honest?” 

     He nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     “Vergil..?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     “And if I do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     It was both a painful and heavenly experience.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     With a heavy exhale you hummed a sound of relief.

     “How are you feeling?”

     “Want me to be honest?”

     “Mhm.”

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

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

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

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

===

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

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

MASTER LIST FOR TUMBLR

[toasted-buguette]

Into Your Own Hands

Summary: Ryis decides to pine from a distance in order to be a better wingman for March. The farmer has other ideas.

Ryis is many things: A son, a brother, a nephew, a pretty good woodworker if he were to say so himself. A friend, and he tried to be a good one. 

Ryis is also in love, although he would desperately like to not be. 

Mistria is, despite its constant activity, a very small town with a very close knit community. It’s one of the things that made him love it there, that and the quiet that let him hear birdsong with more clarity and variety. Everyone knew each other and everyone had some manner of bond that had existed for at least a year or two, so it made sense that the arrival of a new member of the community would spark interest in everyone. Ryis wasn’t exempt from this, after all the last time someone new came it was him, but he liked to think himself a little bit chiller about it than some others.

Chiller than March, he means.

March is, as much as he likes to hide it, a pretty good guy underneath all his bluster. He just doesn’t like change, when Ryis first moved in it took March a week to stop sulking and talk to him. It was only once Friday came along and Olric dragged his brother to the inn that he and Ryis actually got to have a conversation and that (Plus one or two of Hemlock’s drinks) was all it took to spark a friendship that would surely last a lifetime. Because besides being craftspeople and their mutual adoration of Mistria and its citizens, the quality Ryis and March shared in the highest quantity was their loyalty. 

Which is why Ryis can’t acknowledge his growing fondness for the new farmer. 

You see, after the earthquake a lot of things needed repairing and the citizens of Mistria needed a distraction, so a new face was just what the town needed. Ryis, on his part, was eager to welcome the new farmer into town, after all he knew better than anyone what it was like to be the new member of a well established community. Besides, he knew they would be working together on the myriad of reconstruction projects, so it was only natural that they get along outside of work. It helped that they were very easy to get along with. 

March, as is his wont, was not as receptive to this newcomer. No one was surprised when any conversation with him eventually led to him grumbling about the no good farmer who was only here for their own gain and totally wasn’t going to last the season. Ryis, at least, was surprised when these grumblings continued past the first week of the farmer being there. 

After all, the farmer went to very great lengths to talk to everyone frequently, March included, and usually once he got to know someone he mellowed out at least a little. But no, it seemed that March’s ire only grew with every attempt to make peace the farmer made. Ryis tried to reassure them that March would warm up to them eventually, (He had to, they were just too charming even for March to hate for long), but his reassurances could only go so far when March seemed to go out of his way to antagonize the farmer. It wasn’t until late spring that Ryis found out why March was being so… like that. 

For all his guardedness it only takes a couple drinks to get all of March’s walls to crumble like a termite infested fence, and once they did the blacksmith was the most open book in the world. There was no such thing as secrets with drunk March, so Ryis got a front row seat as March got to rambling about the farmer once more, and it instantly became plain as day that March’s blush that night was not caused by the beer. 

Ryis couldn’t remember a time March was ever so enthralled with someone. He sat there and listed out Ryis’ thoughts verbatim about how interesting and capable the farmer was, how helpful and hardworking, and Ryis realized two things simultaneously.

One: He was developing a crush on the farmer.

And Two: He could not, under any circumstances, let it continue to grow.

When was the last time March was so enamored with anyone? When had he ever been this animated when talking about something that wasn’t made of metal? March had always been a happy drunk but this was beyond anything that Ryis had ever seen from his friend and he wanted desperately for that happiness to continue.

So he resolved himself to try and help March realize the feelings he had while he was sober as well as pushing the farmer in his direction whenever possible. It was easy for Ryis to ignore his own feelings, at first, after all the farmer hadn’t been there long and was always running around going who knows where to do who knows what. Out of sight out of mind and all that, and when they were not out of mind Ryis could always find a project to take his mind off them for a little while. And when that failed to work he could always tell himself that once their novelty wore off so too would his unfortunate crush.

And then the general store was ready to be remodeled and all that flew out the window. 

Unlike with the bridge Ryis couldn’t do the whole thing alone in a single day, and aside from his uncle (Who he loved very dearly and wanted to enjoy his retirement as much as possible) the only person qualified to help was the farmer. So the two of them set to work and Ryis tried very hard not to think about how every time their hands touched when exchanging tools a shock would go up his arm and send his heart racing, or how every so often he’d look up from his work and see them so deeply focused that he fell just a little deeper in love. 

That, he thinks, is what finally broke the dam and now when he aims the farmer in March’s direction (Because he still does, because he loves March) it is accompanied by a horrible pang in his chest that he knows he’ll never be able to get rid of. 

‘It’s fine.’ He tells himself. He’ll make do with what he can get and he’ll blame the work on why he’s so flushed every time he joins the farmer on a project and when March can finally admit to himself that he doesn’t hate them Ryis will look on as two of his favorite people can freely admit their love for eachother and it will be because of him and maybe the ache in his chest will get a little easier to live with. 

The next time he sees the farmer, Ryis wants to hide in his scarf. They’re sweaty and out of breath and he can tell why when they hand him a stack of hardwood so big he wonders how they fit it all in their bag. They smile so wide when he accepts it and their face makes him want to melt. That doesn’t stop him from inviting them to the shop, of course. After all, it's hot and he can’t move all of that himself (he can) and wouldn’t they like to sit down and cool off for a second after all that work? Really it’s the least he could do after everything they’ve done for the town (for him). 

And now they’re alone in the shop and the wood is all put away and Ryis would talk about all the projects he has planned for it except the farmer makes it really hard for him to think and of course Landen is gone and can’t distract the farmer from him so they’re just watching him stammer with those intensely beautiful eyes of theirs and Ryis realizes a little too late that he said that last part out loud. 

Mortified, Ryis looks away and it takes him a minute before he can bear to take his eyes off the pile of sawdust they landed on and return them to the farmer. The sight that greets him when he does is not what he expected; The farmer is staring at him with a sort of half-smile and did they get closer? Their face is definitely closer to his than it was when he looked away. He bashfully tells them that he’s sorry and they should probably forget what he said and after a second they say that maybe they don’t want to. Maybe they gave him all that hardwood because to them his smile is the prettiest thing in the whole town. 

And every plan Ryis ever made to play matchmaker for March goes in the trash because hearing that makes his heart stop and when the farmer kisses him it is the most right anything has ever felt. And soon they’ll have to leave because it’s late and their chickens are still outside and then Ryis will have to grapple with the fact that he just kissed the person his best friend is in love with but for now none of that matters because after a season and a half of pining and pushing his feelings down it feels like he can finally breathe. 

And as the farmer leaves, trailing promises to see him soon behind them, Ryis revels in not having to dread their next meeting any more.

[creativitwincest]

You take requests O: what about them dying each others hair?

I can see Remus just being messy as all get out with it but he does His Best so Roman's hair is nice.

Remus 100% goes at it with his bare hands

[shhh-secret-time]

We're back with another Soulmate AU request AND another request from AO3, they're so rare these days! I wanted to do something special for Craig, I kind of feel like he'd be a fuck destiny kinda guy. Anyway y'all know the drill.

Warning: Hot Pokemon takes, Strong-Language, Clyde being a dork again

Pairing: Craig x GN!Reader

Crack

"Hm.."

Snap

"Dude. Stop."

Pop

"Dude! Stop!"

Clyde's voice pulls Craig's gaze over, the bored expression on his face would normally make anyone flinch back but Clyde's used to the look. Years of friendship with the stoic man will desensitize anyone to that kind of look. Craig swears it's just because Clyde's an idiot, no one else in South Park takes that kind of tone with him.

"You sound like a glow-stick over there! I swear you've already popped all those fingers a minute ago, are you on your knuckles now or something?" Clyde puts his DS down on his lap with a grumble.

He's slouched so far down on Craig's couch it looks like he's melting into it, the lower half of his body is barely on the couch at all. He's all but holding himself up with his legs while his back rests on the firm cushions beneath him. He looked like a slinky being tossed down the stairs, but if it got stuck going down a step.

"You're in my house." Craig responded so matter of fact.

Then he finished cracking the hand he was in the middle of working on. He presses his thumb against each finger on his hand. Once each little finger makes that satisfying sound, he wraps his hand around the other and squeezes. His thumb and index finger settle just below the knuckles, feeling the muscles and bone shift under his grip a shiver runs down his spine.

"Gaaaaaah! That doesn't hurt you? You're gonna fuck up your hands man." Clyde physically squirms at the sound, twisting and rolling back and forth as if he's trying to escape the sound.

"No. I like it." Craig picks his DS up from his lap and continues playing on the little handheld device.

"Alright but when you have old grandpa hands at the age of twenty-five don't come crying to me. Spongebob broken finger head-ass." Clyde smirks, returning to the game with his friend.

Craig side eyes him, shooting a small glare his direction but it goes unnoticed. Once again, Clyde is lucky he's one of his best friends. Being stupid makes you brave apparently.

The two fall into a comfortable silence, the music from Clyde's DS playing loudly while Craig's is shut off. The sound of both games going on at once drove Craig mad. If the music didn't line up it felt like someone jabbing him in the head. So, he settled for listening to Clyde's, he knew the brown-haired man liked the Pokemon sound track anyway. A small tradition they started in middle school that's held up. Playing Pokemon next to each other on the weekends, if one got Green the other got Red. If one got Sapphire, the other got Ruby. Right now, Craig has Diamond, and he has Pearl.

Craig was no means a perfectionist, but something about the incomplete Pokedex drove him mad. He hated looking at the black silhouette of a Pokemon uncaught, the taunting ??? made him want to spike the thing into the ground. They would spend hours next to one another talking about their teams, racing to see who could beat the Elite Four before the other, making fun of each other's favorite Pokemon. Craig long since beat the game and was just waiting on Clyde to catch up, he was still waiting on Clyde to catch his Slowpoke like he promised him forever ago.

Clyde was a Slowpoke.

He chuckles at the thought making Clyde look up at him with his brow raised but he chooses not to say anything. After a while Craig closes his DS and chooses to watch Clyde walk around the tall grass.

"You're using the Scyther I traded you?" he asks, resting his cheek on top of Clyde's head. Holding himself up right now sounded exhausting, Clyde made the perfect head rest. Even if he wasn't slumped down on the couch, their height difference allowed for it. To be fair Craig's height difference allowed him to do this to just about anyone. The only person he couldn't comfortably do this too would be Broflovski.

"Yeah! He’s my favorite! He's a handsome devil, reminds me of myself!" Clyde tucks his chin in between his index finger and his thumb, the smug smirk on his lips makes his face look stupid.

"Do you wanna evolve him? You can trade him over and we can turn him into a Scizor."

"Nah, then I'll lose all the affection I've been building him with! Look I've got two little hearts by his head! He loves me man!"

"You can build it back."

"Maybe you can toss away your Pokemon’s affection, but not me Tucker! He doesn't need to change! He's perfect the way he is!" Clyde exclaims as he throws his hand in the air.

Craig's about to respond but stops when Clyde encounters another Pokemon, a Pachirisu nothing out of the normal. But what was out of the normal was the stripe on its tail wasn't the typical baby blue, it was a bright pink. Craig's eyes widen as the sparkles swirl around the little animated creature.

And typical Clyde just button mashes through the whole thing, he's not paying attention to the DS, going on about his love for his Scyther. His thumb moves over the attack button and Craig wants to grab his hand to stop him. But once again he's not fast enough, and the low leveled thing is easily defeated by his level sixty something Pokemon.

"Um dude...you know I love hugs and all, but I thought you hated them?" Clyde's voice is muffled under Craig. Craig has him pinned under him against the couch, chest pressed into his side, arm outstretched to grab the DS.

"Dude! That was a shiny! You could have caught that!" Craig's exclaims shaking the man under him.

"What?! Oh man! I didn't know!"

"How the fuck didn't you know?! It sparkled! It's fucking pink!"

"Uh...was it?"

"What?" Craig stops shaking him at that, tightened fists around his collar loosen only slightly.

"I didn't know, you know I'm color-blind right?" Clyde takes the opportunity to sit up, he chuckles at Craig's expression.

Although rare, it's not unheard of. Craig isn't a robot, or a man born without emotions, he just has a hard time expressing them sometimes. Clyde knows that, but it's still funny every time he sees that crack in Craig's usual stoic nature. Even more so that it was over a stupid video game and Clyde's inability to see color.

So instead of responding to him Craig shakes his head and furrows his brows, confusion written clear on his face.

"Yeah man," Clyde takes a breath in between cackling. "I'm completely color blind, lost it when we were in high school. It's my soulmate thing. I see in black and white now." He waves his hand over his face with a dorky grin.

He doesn't respond at first, taking a moment to take in what his best friend was saying. "I just thought you dressed like that on purpose."

"Come on dude! Would it kill you to say something nice to me?! Just oNCE!?" Clyde smacks him with the cushion tucked behind him which Craig uses to beat him back.

After a brutal beat down using a couch cushion, Craig pulls back the weapon and looks down at the defeated pile of Donovan further pressed into his couch. He sits back with his leg pulled up towards his chest, arm thrown lazily across his knee.

"So, you can't see color because you haven't met your soulmate? That sounds rough."

"Yeah, it kinda sucks, it's gonna sound gay but I miss seeing things like the sunset and movies are kinda lame now. I still wear this jacket because at least I know it's red." Clyde collects himself and tries to fix his hair that's been flattened down.

"Hm." A low grunt and Craigs on his feet.

To anyone else it would be the end of the conversation, it would be their que to move on and talk about something else. But Clyde isn't just anyone. He's the guy who's been with Craig since they were kids, he knows that grunt. That shift in body language. Craig's uncomfortable but wants to say something.

"Come on Tucker Bear don't be like that, tell me what's going on." The nickname earns him a glare, but it stops the black haired man from going to the kitchen. He grins at him in return, telling Craig that he's getting what he wants.

"What have I told you about calling me that?"

"That you love it so much and you're so grateful that your best friend would give you the best nickname ever." The sentence is almost cut short from the way he scrambles back away from Craig, holding his hands up defensively. His voice is cracking from the way he tries to keep the giggle out of it.

Craig stops and sighs, his hands come up to the strings on the side of his hat. The frayed yellow rope splitting at the ends from how often he twists it between his fingertips. He does it when he needs to collect his thoughts, figure out a way to put them into words.

".... you didn't tell me you got your Soulmate thing." It finally comes out in a soft tone.

"Are you upset because I didn't tell you? I'm sorry man." Clyde's silly demeanor drops, quickly shifting to one that matches his friend’s tone. He stands up and follows him into the kitchen.

"No. I just..." A pause and he opens the fridge door. Scanning the inside for something to drink, his mouth is incredibly dry right now. "...didn't know. I thought you were like me."

"Like you?"

"Like...born without a mark or whatever."

"Oh."

That's all he can say, all that comes out of his mouth. Craig snaps the can of soda open and takes a sip and it feels like a rock settling in his stomach. His lips press together tasting the sugary drink on his lips. The rock in his stomach lurches up when he sees Clyde's eyes well up with tears, little beads of water spilling from his lids. For the second time that day, he makes Craig's eyes widen.

"Are you crying?"

He quickly goes to wipe the tears away from his brown eyes, the little orbs always looked like a baby cow's. Using the sleeves on his jacket, he sniffles and looks up at him. "It's just- you don't have a soulmate!"

"Yeah, I know."

"That's so sad dude!"

"I guess."

He sobs again, the tears spill faster and harder down his face. Craig sighs and gives into the over dramatic man an awkward pat on the back. The rest of the day was spent calming Clyde down and reassuring him that he wasn't actually angry at him for killing the shiny. They watch a few episodes of Red Racer where Craig describes the colors for him until he got tired of it.

All through the day the conversation gnawed at the back of his head. It followed him to bed and kept him from sleeping. Clyde refused to go home so he spent the night on the floor next to him. Didn't want to sleep on the couch but didn't want to sleep in the bed with him. Wanted to be near but not close enough to make Craig want to peel his skin off. He appreciated the idiot.

But it was that idiots fault he was thinking so hard on this. Why was he born without a soul-mate tic, or thing or whatever the fuck it was called. Were there others like him or was Craig Tucker really that just unlucky? Why did he care so much, he made it this far in life by himself. So why was it just now starting to eat at him?

With a huff he turned and rolled over towards the window next to his bed, staring up at the night sky. The moon was half full today, and it was cloudy out so he could barely see the stars. He was a grown man majoring in Astronomy, he didn't need a stupid mark to tell him where to go and who to be with. He could still see color fine. No flowers were blooming out of his face making his allergies act up.

No, it was just him. Just him and whatever was out there waiting for him. Right now, he really wanted it to be sleep.

Eventually he gave in to the tired behind his eyes, lids so heavy he couldn’t keep them open anymore but burned when he finally closed them. Clyde was gone the next morning when he finally woke up, he left him a text saying he was going to pick his sister up and do something with her.

It didn't matter he had class to get to anyway, the semester was in full swing, and he didn't have time to fall behind. As he gets ready, pulling his blue hat over his head and the matching NASA jacket over his shoulders, he peers down at his DS left on the side table. He picks it up and tucks it into the pockets of the jacket, in between classes he could wait in the lounge and play on it a little more. There wasn't much left to do but he could always grind his team to a hundred.

Once he feels ready, he steps out of his house and starts the walk to the bus stop. Ever since he moved out of his parents the walk to the college campus took a little longer than normal, so it was easier to just ride the bus there. He sticks his headphones in and settles in the worn-out seats of the dirty looking white bus. Somehow cleaner than the yellow ones from when he was still a teenager, but not by much. The music from his DS playing in his ears drowns out the sounds of people mumbling to themselves and whatever other weird thing South Park could throw at him.

It also drowns out your footsteps. Drowns out your question if the seat next to him was taken. So, it isn't until he feels you sitting next to him that he notices you're there. He side-eyes you for a moment, which you return with a little nod. A part of him is relieved when you don't immediately try to make small talk with him. Instead, you offer him a little smile and go back to the book in your hand. His amber eyes travel down to peek at what it is you're reading, and he's surprised when instead of a textbook he sees a comic.

Guardians of the Galaxy

From the angle you were holding it, he couldn't tell exactly what issue you were on, but the cover looked good. He cocks his head to the side a little to get a better look. Feeling his eyes on you, you look up at him and raise a brow. It takes a second, but you piece together what he's trying to do so you close the comic and show it off to him.

You're on an issue he's already read through. He removes the headphones from his ear.

"I didn't think anyone else read the Guardians series." Craig says, it's out of pocket for him to be the first to initiate but the thought of meeting someone who's a fan like him is actually exciting. It's enough to pull him out of his little mental funk.

"Yeah! I just started collecting these issues last week! Have you read this series?" You say with a smile that’s a little too bright for him.

He nods again at you, and that's where the conversation should have ended. You go back to your reading, and he goes back to his game. But it doesn't, you lean over and catch a glimpse at what he's playing. He watches the recognition sparkle up in your eyes.

"Oh, which one is that? Gen four, right?"

"Yeah. It's Diamond."

"Oh! Cool! I've got Platinum! I gotta default to the third one because I don't have friends who play the game!" You laugh at your own joke, eyes going from the DS to his.

Craig stares down at you for a while. He sets the DS in his lap and pushes the palm of his hand against his fingers. Hands popping and snapping again, the little tic making him relax. You don't comment like Clyde does, but you are still talking.

"Gen four has to be my favorite in the series! I just couldn't get into Black and White!" That makes him stop and look at you like you're crazy.

"That's the best one in the series though."

"That's what everyone tells me, but I hated the starters!"

Time slips past him, the way you pull him into the conversation so naturally. It isn't until the bus pulls up to the campus that he realizes he's been talking to you the entire time. You perk up when the bus lets out a sigh and a hiss, telling its passengers that they've reached their destination.

"Oh, this is my stop! Hey, it was awesome talking with you!" You grin and stand up, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

You give him a little finger salute and take off, you're so quick to scurry away he doesn't have time to tell you that this is his stop too. Of course he's never noticed you around campus before, Craig was never one to waste his energy on things that didn't require it. He had his select group of friends and was happy with that, but now here you were wedging your way into his mind. As he stands up to get off the bus, lazily throwing the headphones over his neck, it dawns on him that he didn't even catch your name.

Oh well, so much for that. Maybe he'd see you around.

The universe must have answered that for him because the next morning he sees you on the bus again. He watches as you push past the isle of seats and plop down next to him with another book in your hand. A different issue, a different conversation. There are days where you sit in silence doing your own thing. Then there are days where you talk his ear off and he just sits and listens, occasionally throwing in his thoughts on whatever you're talking about.

But he listens. That was new, normally he just tends to zone out if he doesn't care. Somehow you find a way to make him care, a way to make him invested in the conversation. He even goes out of his way to learn your name and what you're studying.

"Ah it's just general studies right now, a little bit of everything until I figure out what I wanna do. I wasn't even planning on going to college, it just kinda happened." You tell him leaning back in your seat.

"What, so you just woke up one day and decided that was it?" Craig scoffs a bit at the idea but the amused glint in his eyes doesn't go unnoticed by you.

"Heh. Well Mr. Space-boy not all of us know what we wanna do with life from the womb." You snicker at his reaction, tallying another eyeroll in your head.

"It's Space-Man. I'm Space-Man Craig." He corrects you before moving on, so you don't comment on the little pink hue on his face. "I get that but how do you go from I'm not going to college, to just doing it?"

You smile, it's different than the dorky one you usually shoot at him or the one when you tell a bad joke. It almost seems sad. He can't put his finger on it, but he doesn't need to wait long for you to roll up your sleeve. On your wrist is a font that looks almost like an alarm clock, the block black ink reads "0:00".

"Had this guy I was with. Was with him for six years, we were high-school sweethearts, prom date, whole nine yards. They were my soulmate, the little counter on my wrist told me that much." You take a deep breath, and he watches the way your fingers move across the skin.

He pops his fingers again, pushing them against each other.

"Well, about a year ago I realized...I kinda hated it? Hated the fact this stupid mark on my body got to dictate who I fell in love with? I mean we didn't even have anything in common, and while we never really argued we just had a different outlook on life. I think a part of me still loves him, but...I can't really love him in the way this thing wants me to." You emphasize that you're talking about the marking on your skin by holding it up.

Little rays of sunlight brush across your skin and Craig can't help but follow it. You had a soulmate, of course you did. He feels that rock in his stomach again, weighing heavier than it did last time. The week he got where he wasn't thinking about this whole thing was nice, but now that he's reminded his body tenses back up.

He cracks his fingers again, squeezing the side of the palm.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to trauma dump on you." He raises a brow at you silently asking you what you mean by that. "Call it a sixth sense, or the fact that you pop your fingers and do that little Hm when you're thinking about something. So, I figured you were annoyed by the random dump."

You were more attentive than he would have given you credit for. He hasn't known you that long and you're already picking up on things that took Clyde years to. Then again, Clyde and attentive don't really go hand in hand.

"No, it's not you. It's the..." He rolls his wrist a few times trying to find the words, fingers eventually find purchase on the strings of his hat dangling by his face. "Soul-mate thing. I don't have one."

"Ah yeah, I can see how that's a weird topic for you then! But hey that's kind of cool!" You beam up at him, the sunlight slips off your wrists and onto your lips.

Wait, what?

"You get to pick who you wanna love, that's awesome. That means the connection goes deeper! You gotta build something with someone, nothing telling you to just jump straight into a relationship! No pressure, just you and the other person!" Your eyes are like little stars as you speak. A tiny galaxy that he can't seem to pull himself out of.

Wait, what?

Like clockwork, the bus stops and you go to get up. Except this time Craig is fast enough, he takes your hand. His fingers slip into your palm and stop you from moving. Your finger salute falls back to your side. He just looks at you for a while, the only thing he can hear right now is the collection of people getting off the bus and his own heartbeat drumming in his chest.

"If you're not getting off, I need you to sit down please!" The bus driver makes you flinch and sit back down next to Craig.

"Sorry sir!" You call back.

When you look back at him with a confused look, he freezes again. His mouth hangs open for a second, only to close. He almost looks like a fish out of water from the way he's trying to collect his thoughts. Craig expects you to get back up and tell him goodbye. To run off the bus and never speak to him again.

Instead, you sit there, patiently waiting for him to collect himself. You wait there even when the door to the bus shuts and the engine kicks back on. You look at him with wonder and he has to avert his gaze from you. Pulling his hat over his eyes for a moment because he realizes he's still holding your hand and the heat coming up to his face is too much.

"I... I’m sorry. I just wanted to-" What did he want? His mind was drawing a blank, he was floating and the only teather was your hand in his.

He knew he wanted to keep holding your hand. He knows your touch doesn't bother him like it should. He wants to steal a few more moments with you because these bus rides aren't enough time. Something he's never felt before.

"You're good. Take your time." You can't know what that means to him to hear you say that. To not pull your hand away and call him a freak for just grabbing you like that. Instead, you turn your palm over and give his hand a squeeze back.

"I want to...do that." He says it. With his eyes covered so he's not blinded by that smile on your face. He can hear it in your voice, the way you chuckle.

"Do what?"

"You know what I'm trying to say."

"Maybe. You better say it just so I can be sure." You're teasing him now, leaning forward so you can get a peek at his blushing face.

Craig huffs again, frustration building up in his chest. He moves the hat from his face and stares you down like a showdown. His brows knitted together with newfound determination.

"I want to build a connection past this." There. It's out. Out in the open, out in the space between the both of you. Confession falls from his mouth in that monotone voice he's so famous for.

"Hell yeah. I'd like that Space-Man Craig." You laugh and it sounds so sweet.

He smiles down at you, and it feels like a gift. It's the first time you've seen him look at you like that. You make a silent promise to yourself that it will not be the last time you see it.

"So, any idea where the bus is going now?"

"No idea. Wanna get off at the next stop and walk to campus?"

"Nope! You stopped me from going to class so now you're taking me out. I want food!"

Craig scoffs at you and takes the headphones off his neck, he offers you the other bud. He sticks the one in his ear and pulls out his phone. His fingers slide across the screen going for the music app. He hands you the phone and gestures for you to pick something.

You excitedly take him up on the offer, sticking the bud in your ear. You begin going on about whatever album you’ve been listening to, and the whole ride he sits and listens to you. Nodding along so you know he’s listening, not that he really has to. You can tell from the way he looks at you that you have his undivided attention.

So wrapped up in the music and your voice he doesn’t even notice the font on your wrist change. It’s not that boring clock anymore, it shifts and swirls around. A moving tattoo that eventually turns into a painting melting down your arm. The deep darkness of space with a little astronaut sitting on the moon, just watching the sun.

[greentea-and-honey]

@greensbeanspotatoestomatoes requested a bit of an adventure time fic and im more than happy to provide. I've been tapping away at this one for a bit, and im not quite sure where its going but hopefully i can make it something good. starring simon because yall OBVIOUSLY im fascinated with him. probably in the top three "most sad cartoon character guy ever". what a guy. he's got the Grief alright.

“Marcie, I…” Simon pressed his face back into the pillow, partially because the sun was in his eyes, and partially because the shame was too much to bear. “I can’t, okay? I just can’t.”

“Can’t what?” Marceline asked, unable to cross the room with the sunlight streaming through the blinds. An impossible barrier. How many more would Simon create?

“I can’t get up,” Simon said miserably. “I’m tired.”

There was silence, and it stretched on so long Simon almost thought he had convinced her. But then Marceline spoke in a quiet, almost nervous voice: “When’s the last time you ate?”

“I just had a yogurt,” Simon lied, and cringed into the pillow. It sounded fake even to him. “I don’t know.”

“Simon…”

“I’m not hungry, I’m fine,” Simon said, which was partially true. He wasn’t hungry, but only because it felt like someone had filled his intestines with hot lead. If he tried to put anything else in there, he was liable to explode. 

In fact, the lead had spread into every muscle, every bone, every cell of his body. Lifting his head, moving his mouth, forming words was a Herculean task, the undertaking of which was exhausting in ways he didn’t even think were possible. 

“You’re not fine,” Marceline said, and sighed. “Simon, seriously, if you don’t want to talk to me, that’s okay, but you really should talk to someone.”

“About what?”

“Come on, man,” she almost sounded frustrated, but she was too kind for that. “About how you’re feeling and adjusting, about feeling so ginked up all the time, about-”

“I don’t want to talk about Betty,” Simon managed to say, because he was pretty sure if he heard her name he would turn inside out or something. Saying her name wasn’t much better, but at least he felt more in control.

He wasn’t a stranger to grief. He had seen the world end, for Glob’s sake. He had already assumed Betty had perished in the bomb along with the rest of civilization, or she had been turned into a monster. He always hoped it was the first one. At least that was quick. 

But this was so much crueler, to dangle her in front of his face and then yank her away. At least when he had thought he had lost her before, it had been quicker. There was so much to distract himself with then. Finding food and shelter, outrunning the horrible things that oozed poison and misery, fighting the influence of the Crown, making sure Marcie was alright. 

Without the distraction, without the responsibility, and with the knowledge that there was no cold comfort of insanity to retreat into if it truly became too much, his very body seemed to collapse in on him. It didn’t even hurt so much anymore, the fierce and knife-like grief long gone in the wake of rebuilding after GOLB’s entrance and exit.

Now, everything was breathtakingly numb. Everything was terribly still. And he was so tired all the time he could hardly stand it.

“...what can I do?” Marceline offered. She couldn’t stand the helplessness of it. She and Bubblegum were alike in that, Simon supposed. They had to do something, they couldn’t ride it out. Simon used to be like that, probably. He couldn’t quite remember. 

“Nothing,” Simon said, and then in a strange burst of energy, without really meaning to, he said: “Unless you have another Crown or something.”

Marceline didn’t start scolding him, or gasp, and Simon managed to look back at her. She was staring at him, her expression one of open shock, horror, and hurt. Simon winced, his numbness washed away by guilt, if only for a moment.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t mean it, I don’t mean it, I just, I just,” he tried, finding his stamina had left him. He buried his face back into the pillow, unable to look at her. His eyes burned, but he was completely depleted from tears. “It was easier. It was bad but it was easier. It didn’t…it didn’t feel like this. It didn’t hurt then because I didn’t know it should hurt. And it’s selfish, and it’s awful, and it’s stupid, but it was easier. The pain was gone.”

He had said it, then, and it was out in the open. The shame was so powerful Simon thought he might shrivel up and die from it. Marcie didn’t deserve that. But none of them did. None of them deserved the husk that used to be Dr. Simon Petrikov. Hell, they didn’t even deserve the scraps of the Ice King. But things were rarely fair when it came to Simon, and even less fair to the people foolish enough to care about him.

Silence, and then, so small he barely heard it: “...it was still there.”

Simon glanced at her out of his periphery. “What?”

Marceline had tried to keep her face neutral and kind, but Simon could see her memories lurking behind her eyes. Memories he had helped create. He wondered if it might have been better if Marceline had found her own way in the wreckage of the world. Maybe. Probably. Almost certainly.

“It was still there,” she whispered. “All the pain. You just didn’t know what it was.”

[nyoomerr]

howdy and a quick psa: although i'm generally very appreciative of anyone who is willing to put time and effort into making my fics more accessible, please reach out to discuss it with me first before posting translations/podfics of my work.

[touchebozo]

thinking about writing... but i dont want to write any of my wips....... anybody got any suggestions for some practice,,, :D

(comments or anon asks accepted)

[renlyslittlerose]

But what if I were to do kinktober again...

[gayboymolloy]

How me of me is it to spend hours planning like three different projects with input from like ten different people and when I finally sit down to write what comes out is like 2k words of fanfiction that is NONE of those things lmao

[weadapt]

Dear Fanfic Writers, I request fics based on what I wrote below:

How is Cal even functioning with psychometry…? How was he when he was really, really young? Could his family have thought he was severely sick or going crazy? And when the Jedi found him, it was a relief that someone knew he was Force-sensitive and knew how to help and train him? I wonder when he was little if Jaro Tapal had him wear gloves for a long while until Cal started really learning how to control his ability… it must have been really, really scary and terrifying as a little kid, or even as a baby, experiencing visions that took over his mind when he touched certain things. I can imagine he was constantly crying and screaming as a baby and as a little kid and his family couldn’t for the life of them figure out why…

I need fics of baby/toddler Cal before the Jedi find him because of the dialog in the game where he says “I barely knew my parents”. I need his parents trying to figure out what’s wrong with him and perhaps realizing Cal cries and screams when he interacts with certain items when he’s at home or out and about but they can’t figure out why he’s so sick and has such bad reactions. It’s hard too letting anyone they know hold him because he seems to react to the jewelry or other clothing accessories they may be wearing when he touches the accessories. I need the panic when some reactions is just him spacing out and they don’t know how to bring him back. I need the moment when the Jedi find him and telling his parent he’s force sensitive and telling them they can help him but his parents can’t find it in themselves to say goodbye to him. I need them realizing after Cal has an especially bad reaction that they can’t help him and only the Jedi can and deciding, for his wellbeing, to give him up.

I need Jaro Tapal trying to soothe Cal

[wilting-fl0wer]

Heyyy guess who is posting in a bit :3

[havinga-psychoticbreak]

hii

can I request a megumi x foreign exchange student from america

I’m taking a long ass time, but know, anon, I AM writing it. Come back in a week 💪🏻

[ihhfhonao3]

ace attorney fic request: Maya starts taking clown training from Moe and gets her own clown uniform with the red nose and everything

OH MY GOD IM SORRY THAT THIS TOOK FORTY YEARS TO FINISH. All my motivation just DISAPPEARED like the beginning of May so I hope this scratches at least a bit of a (VERY LATE) itch. Thanks for requesting, fic is under the cut!

Lawrence Curls- better known as Moe the clown- wasn’t typically the type of man to be surprised by too much. If he was forced to pinpoint a moment in his life where he became so desensitized to practically everything, the last straw would likely be being a firsthand witness to murder. Not to mention that the person who was murdered was his own late boss.

There were many other events in his life that started to slowly etch away at his ability to care about most things. Practically losing all ability to ever talk to his wife or daughter was pretty up there in terms of life events that started to wear down the camel’s back. It was quite ironic when he thought about it- women always say that they love humorous men when it comes to relationships. But that wasn’t something that Moe was thinking about in this current moment. No, instead he was thinking about what to do with Maya Fey.

The girl had barged into the circus tent early that morning, startling Moe and almost making him lose his balance on a big inflatable ball. On accident, this time. But once he was sure that he wasn’t going to topple over, Moe hopped off the ball and asked what Maya needed. He remembered her being the assistant to that lawyer who defended Max Galactica not too long ago- Wright was his name.

Nothing could prepare Moe for the shock that came with hearing that Maya wanted to become a circus clown.

“I think it’d be fun!” She said. “And you’re one of the best clowns around I know!”

Moe almost corrected her by saying that he was likely the only clown around she knew, but he kept quiet. 

Maya continued to blabber on and on about how she admired Moe and his sense of humor, gushing about how classy and hilarious his jokes were. Moe thought she was simply being patronizing, but if that was the case, she sure as hell was convincing. Moe let Maya finish speaking before he talked himself.

“I just don’t really understand,” Moe said, eyeing Maya up and down. “WHY do you want to be a clown? Of all the careers there are, you choose… this?”

“Didn’t I make it clear? I admire you so much!” Maya said cheerily. “What you do is super awesome- I wanna be like you!”

“Yeah, well, I think you’re choosing the wrong role model here. This job made my wife leave me! HAHAHAHAHA!” Moe laughed.

Maya just stared at him.

“God, I miss her…” Moe mumbled. “I mean uh, this job doesn’t pay that well. Are you sure? I could teach you something way better, like business management!”

Maya made a face. “No thank you. I appreciate your offer, and congratulations on your promotion, but I’ve made up my mind.”

Moe sighed. “Whatever floats your boat, I suppose. Are you sure that this is what you wanna do? You’re completely and totally up for the task?”

Maya nodded vigorously. “Of course! I am but your pupil, sir.”

Maya made an exaggerated bow, and Moe laughed. He then told Maya to come back to the circus at the same time tomorrow, to begin her training.

So now Moe was here, sitting in his office, thinking about what he should do with this situation. He truly didn’t want to turn down such a sweet girl and crush all of her dreams, but she had such a bright future ahead of her doing what she was currently doing. Moe couldn’t exactly remember what it was specifically, but he was sure that whatever it was, it was miles better than being a circus clown. Looking back, Moe sometimes couldn’t even remember what it was that initially motivated him to become a part of the circus. He always thought himself to be quite funny, so surely the logical conclusion after that was to disappoint his family and become a clown. 

Of course, they hadn’t been disappointed at the beginning, but that wasn’t the point.

The point was, this Fey girl had so much life to live- and part of Moe worried that she was actively throwing her life away by choosing this career path. But another thing tugged at him- if she truly was passionate about this, who was he to stop her from following her dreams? Moe could remember a time when he himself was like that. Zealous and passionate, full of piss and vinegar.

Moe laughed at the phrase inside his head. What a dumb saying. Maybe he’ll make a joke out of that one at the next performance that was to come.

Eventually, Moe found his answer, after several minutes of deep thought.

He was going to accept the request and teach Maya how to be an amazing clown.

He quickly got to work writing down tips and ideas for routines that she could perform, depending on what area of clownhood Maya wanted to focus on. What she had to learn in order to tell jokes was very different from what she had to learn in order to dance on an inflatable ball. Moe made sure to take note of this, as well as write down rough outlines of ideas for routines that Maya could perform. At around two in the morning, he decided to call it a night and go to bed. 

Kicking himself for going to sleep so late, Moe dragged himself out of bed at the crack of dawn so he could practice a bit before Maya arrived. Sure enough, as Moe was reciting some jokes he had freshly come up with, the girl returned and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Ah! Maya!” Moe said as cheerfully as physically possible as he turned around. “Glad to see you again. You really are committed, huh?”

Maya nodded rigorously. “Totally! I’m dedicated to this clown thing! What’s my first lesson?”

“Well, have you thought about what kind of clown you want to be?” Moe asked.

Maya stared at him. “I didn’t know that there’s different types of clowns.”

Moe chuckled. “Oh yeah, there’s lots! …Well, actually, there’s only about four I could think of, and one of them is a scary clown, which we’re not doing. So you can choose between a joke clown, a stunt clown, or a prank clown.”

“What do each of them do?” Maya asked.

“Jokes clowns tell jokes like I do,” Moe said. “Stunt clowns do stuff like balancing on a big inflatable ball while juggling. And prank clowns suffer pain for the enjoyment of others. HAHAHAHA! I’m kidding. Well, not really. They do stuff like falling over on purpose and throwing pie in each other’s faces. Technically, I dabble between all three, but since you’re a beginner, let’s choose just one for now.”

Maya closed her eyes and thought. Within a few moments, she opened them back up again and said “Okay, I choose prank clown.”

“Excellent choice!” Moe said excitedly. “Now, let’s get to your training. Follow me to my office.”

Maya trailed after Moe as he headed to his office. Once he went inside, he opened a closet that had a bunch of clown gear. He pulled out a purple suit with yellow stripes on it and big plastic buttons that looked like pink flowers, then handed it to Maya.

“This will be your suit. Wear it well, it is a symbol of honor.” Moe almost burst out laughing at the absurdity of what he was saying, but he really wanted to sell Maya on this. He didn’t want to crush her dreams.

Just as Moe expected, Maya lit up and thanked him, then grabbed the suit and ran to the bathroom to immediately put it on. Moe waited for a couple minutes before Maya came back out, wearing the suit and a gigantic smile.

“Can I get funny shoes too?” Maya asked.

“Sure thing,” Moe replied, digging through his closet. “How does blue sound?”

“Perfect!” Maya said.

Moe handed the gigantic clown shoes to Maya. “Anything else you’d like?”

Maya tapped her chin, thinking. “OH! Could I have a big nose like yours?”

Moe stared at Maya. “This is my real nose.”

Maya went quiet. A moment passed before she said, “Oh… I am so sorry…”

“Ha! It’s totally fine,” Moe laughed. He was trying his hardest to not lose his patience, but he hated thinking about his nose. Far too many people thought it was fake for his liking.

Maya quietly took off her current shoes and replaced them with the big, broad blue clown shoes. She walked around the office a bit, trying out how they felt.

“They’re way too big, but that’s the point, isn’t it?” Maya said. 

“It is indeed,” Moe said. “Now you seem to be all set. Follow me down to the main tent and we can begin your training.”

Maya did a silent cheer as she started to stumble her way back to the tent with Moe. Moe walked extra slowly so as to not leave Maya behind, but she got a hang of the shoes quicker than he expected. Maybe she is meant to have this job, Moe thought to himself. Hey, I’d be crazy if I were to judge!

By the time the two had returned to the main tent, there were some other performers with the circus who were already there practicing. Maya watched as three women made a human pyramid together in one corner of the tent. It was extremely intriguing to her. 

Moe turned around to face Maya for a moment. “Stay here for a bit, will you?”

“I’ll be right here!” Maya beamed.

Moe strained a smile and then hurried to the front of the tent to meet Max Galactica at the entrance, who was just walking in. Maya couldn’t hear their conversation, but from the looks of it, Moe was telling him something important. After a couple of minutes, Moe returned to Maya.

“So, where do we start?” Maya asked eagerly.

“First off, I’m going to teach you what could be one of the most important things to know when being a prank clown,” Moe said. “And that is… the humorous fall.”

Maya seemed confused, so Moe stepped back to demonstrate. He walked a few paces before stepping on his own shoes on purpose, thus tripping and falling over. As he fell, Moe kicked his back foot slightly to propel him forwards and exaggerate the fall, and stuck his arms out to break it so he didn’t get too seriously hurt. Moe then stood up and took a bow as Maya clapped for him.

“What you’re gonna want to do is force yourself to fall,” Moe said. “After you do that, push off of the leg that still has a bit of traction. That emphasizes your fall and makes it funnier.”

“Okay, let me try!” Maya said.

Maya then followed suit in a similar fashion, tripping over her huge shoes and then falling over.

“Not bad, not bad,” Moe critiqued. “But you aren’t pushing forwards enough. Pushing off and forwards really gives the fall that oomph that audiences want. Practice again.”

Maya did as she was told, with her form only being slightly better this time.

“All right, practice your falls when you get the chance,” said Moe.

“I don’t get it…” Maya stated as she got up and dusted herself off. “Why do we want to break our fall? Wouldn't actually getting hurt be more funny?”

Moe snorted slightly. “You’re right, it would. But healthcare is too damn expensive in this country for us to be able to fall like you normally would. HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Maya looked a little bit disdained by that comment, so Moe coughed curtly and changed the subject.

“Ahem. Um, there’s different ways you can fall too, to switch things up so as to not be too repetitive in your routine,” Moe told Maya.

Moe then proceeded to show Maya how to fall to her side and how to fall backwards, as well as showcased the many different ways that one can slip on a banana peel. Moe explained the use of the banana peel and its significance to the clown act in a circus. Needless to say, Maya was truly enjoying her time learning how to perform in the circus. The magical glow in her eyes that was present when she was investigating the circus with Phoenix all that time ago had since returned, livening her attitude and keeping her cheery. Maybe Moe was disillusioned, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why Maya was so happy about this. He guessed that she was going to quit the whole ordeal sometime within the week.

Moe watched as Maya practiced her falls, mesmerized by her determination. Eventually, he snapped back to his senses.

“Um, I think that’s enough for now,” Moe said eventually. “Here, follow me. You can learn how to throw pies next.”

Maya beamed and wiped her hands on her pants, then followed Moe outside the tent. Directly outside of it stood three targets and a small stack of tin pie pans.

“Here is where I practice throwing pies,” Moe said. He picked up one of the tin pans, lifted it to his shoulder, and chucked it right at the target. It hit right in the center.

“That was awesome!” Maya cried. “How’d you do it?”

“Practice, of course,” said Moe. “And look-” Moe picked up one of the pie pans from the stack.

“We don’t have actual pies in them so we don’t waste resources, but we do have dirt packaged inside of them sealed with cling wrap and tape,” Moe said. He titled the pan to show Maya. Sure enough, there was a layer of cling wrap on the top of the pan, secured in place with duct-tape. Below the plastic wrap, inside the pan was a layer of dirt that filled the pan to about halfway. Moe handed the pan to Maya.

“Wow, it weighs almost like a real pie!” she said. “That’s super smart.”

Moe grinned. “Thanks, I came up with it myself. Now, throw that pan at the target, following my lead.”

Maya nodded and did as Moe did- raising the pan to her shoulder and chucking it as hard as she could. It landed near the left of the target.

“Almost,” Moe said encouragingly. “A little more to the right. Focus your eyes on the center of the target, at the bullseye.”

Maya retrieved her pan and tried again, getting closer to the center this time.

“Good!” Moe said. “Practice this and your falls for a little bit. Can I trust you to not burn down the establishment while I go work out some finances?”

“You can count on me, boss!” Maya said, straightening up and saluting at Moe, before proceeding to almost hit a nearby animal trainer in the head with a bad throw.

Moe grimaced. Part of him didn’t know how much he could count on Maya. She had ambition, but she was excitable at times. And new.

Moe headed inside the tent and eventually found Benjamin Woodman, who was aimlessly watching Max practice his magic tricks. Moe could’ve sworn he saw some scorn in his eyes.

“Ben,” Moe called. Ben looked up.

“Would you mind watching over the girl practicing pie-throws outside? She’s a newbie, I don’t really trust her to not knock someone unconscious,” Moe said.

Ben nodded and got up from his spot on the floor, exiting the tent without a word.

“Sometimes I wonder why I don’t fire these airheads,” Moe muttered to himself as he headed to his office. 

~~~

Maya picked up another pie pan and lobbed it at the target. It was slightly above the bullseye.

“So close!” she said to herself. She went to grab the three pans that she had just thrown, retrieving them from the grass. She then stacked them on top of the other pans that sat on the ground beside her.

Truth be told, Maya was having the time of her life. She was learning so much in such a short period of time, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she was learning about something that she actually cared about and wanted to learn. This wasn’t at all like her spirit medium lessons back in Khura’in. 

Maya threw another pie pan at one of the targets as a man in a white coat holding a ventriloquist dummy walked outside and started watching her.

“Oh, hello!” Maya said cheerily as she lobbed another pan. The man simply nodded at her.

Maybe he’s scared of my good arm! Maya thought confidently. She tossed another pan and then went to retrieve it.

The man watched her every move wordlessly, his expression unchanged and static.

“So, uh, what’s your name?” Maya asked, becoming increasingly nervous from being watched.

The man avoided eye contact, but in turn the puppet placed its wooden hand on its hip and spoke.

“The name is Trilo Quist,” the puppet said. “And this big oaf is Ben. Who’s asking?”

“M-Maya Fey…” Maya muttered. The man didn’t seem to move his mouth at all when the puppet spoke for him. Maya was impressed- the man must have lots of skill.

“Tell me Maya, why are you doing this… pan-throwing thingy? Don’t you have something better to do?” asked Trilo.

Gee, what a character! Maya thought to herself. “Eh, no, I was told to practice my pie throws. Mr. Moe said I should, actually.”

“Mr. Moe? Ha! A fool like that doesn’t need a respective title,” Trilo joked. 

Maya looked at him as she threw another pie pan. For some reason, that statement made her angry. “I’ll have you know that Mr. Moe has been nothing but kind and respectful of my goals here, not to mention very supportive and eager to teach me what it means to be a clown.”

“Whatever floats your boat, I suppose,” Trilo shrugged. Ben still refused to make eye contact. 

Maya threw another pie pan. “Why are you here anyways? I mean this in the nicest way possible, but if you’re just going to be here to insult my teacher, I’d rather you leave me be.”

“Your teacher, who is also my boss, I’ll have you know, instructed me to watch over you here,” Trilo said matter-of-factly. “He doesn’t trust you to not burn something down.”

“Har har,” Maya muttered. She wasn’t sure how much she liked this Trilo fellow. Surely the Ben guy was far nicer anyways.

“Why do you talk so much and Ben doesn’t?” Maya inquired as she retrieved her pie pans once more.

“That’s because Ben doesn’t have anything interesting to say,” Trilo said confidently.

Maya rolled her eyes as she stacked the pie pans once more and started to head back into the tent.

“Hey, where are you headed?” Trilo cried. “I’m not supposed to let you out of my sight!”

Probably because your regular job isn’t that important, Maya thought. “I’m just going inside so I can practice falling now.”

Maya could’ve sworn she heard snickering coming from the dummy, but she decided to ignore it. She found herself an empty section of the tent to practice in, wedged between some animal trainers and a magician. Maya cleared some of the sharp rocks and dirt from the ground and started to practice as Ben and Trilo watched her again.

As she practiced her falls, she wondered if Moe was going to come back. And she wondered how Phoenix was doing. And She wondered if Moe was proud of her. And she wondered if this was all a stupid idea.

“…Are ya sure you’re not getting hurt?” Trilo asked suddenly. “Because I’m pretty sure Moe will be a little more than ticked if he found that I was complacent in hurting a newbie. Even though you getting hurt should be your fault.”

“I promise, I’m okay,” Maya strained. Something about this Trilo guy made her irrationally irritated. Not to mention, if she remembered correctly, he was kind of a creep anyways. Maya wondered if it was the puppeteer or the puppet itself that was a creep. She settled on the idea of it being both of them.

“Alright, alright, I was just checking…” Trilo said. He sounded offended.

Maya was becoming increasingly irked by Trilo, but she tried her hardest not to let it bother her. She breathed deep in between her trips and falls, grounding herself before each time. After a little while, Maya was getting a tad bored.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if I looked around the circus a bit, would you?” Maya asked Trilo more than Ben.

“I would mind, actually,” Trilo proclaimed. “You can’t walk around unattended.”

“So escort me,” Maya said, putting a hand on her hip.

Ben looked increasingly uncomfortable. After a long pause, Trilo eventually muttered “Fine.”

The pair that was more of a trio started to walk around the circus. Maya watched the magician Max Galactica, Phoenix’s old client, practice his magic tricks. She watched as he cut a box in half and fiddled with some pieces of cloth that were tied together into one long string. Maya didn’t really understand how any of that related to being a magician, but he seemed to know what he was doing. 

Maya then went to look at the animal tamers. Ben and Trilo stayed around thirty feet away from the animals, much to Maya’s suspicion. She assumed it had something to do with the lion scandal that happened all that time ago. Maya watched as a tiger jumped through hoops and a woman rode on an elephant. Regina Berry, the lead animal trainer, was cheering the creatures on as they performed their tricks. Maya smiled. Regina looked like she was having so much fun.

Maya eventually lost track of time and realized that she had been on too long of a break when she found that Ben and Trilo were nowhere to be found and Moe was approaching her.

“Maya!” Moe called. “Maya, come out to the front of the tent please. I need to talk with you.”

Maya hesitated. She was a little nervous. Had she done something wrong? Did Trilo and Ben tell on her? Did they say that she hadn’t been practicing? Maya swallowed nervously and went to the entrance of the tent.

“Maya, I just wanted to thank you for your dedication,” Moe said. “Not too many people stick around this long, believe it or not. So I admire you for keeping with it.”

“Oh, uh, thanks!” Maya grinned. “I’m actually having a lot of fun.”

Moe reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. “Here. I wanted to give you this. As a reward- and since you did want to have one of your own.”

Maya opened the box and inside was a classic red rubber clown nose. She gasped and immediately popped it on her face, laughing at how it felt on her.

“How do I look?” Maya asked, spinning in a circle.

“Like an absolute fool,” Moe smiled. “So, I trust you’ll come back here at the same time tomorrow?”

“Yes sir!” Maya said, saluting Moe. “You can count on me!”

Moe laughed. “Get out of here. Go home, have some dinner, say hi to that Wright guy for me.”

“I will!” Maya said as she started to run home.

She had oh so conveniently forgotten about the clown shoes that were still on her feet, tripping over them when she had gotten no more than thirty feet from the circus tent.

[graveposting]

HI HELLO I FINISHED THE TCOAAL FIC I WAS TALKING ABOUT THIS MORNING please check it out if you would like a generous serving of fatalistic fucked up sibling sex with a side of canned tomatoes and death.

Title: Andrew's Bucket List Blurb: Convincing himself that he and Ashley are never going to make it out of their apartment alive anyway, Andrew decides to take care of anything he'd still like to do before kicking the bucket. But, if he's being honest with himself, there's really only one thing he'd like to do…his sister. Rating: M (18+) for Mmmmmwhat the fuck happened there oh god the siblings are they-

(please be gentle, i haven't written fanfic in many years and english is my second language, so it's probably a disjointed mess...also cause my brain doesn't work right when thinking about these two characters.)