Paraphernalia

satan kisses you the same way he kisses cats. that means you get small, consecutive kisses on any spot he can reach at that moment: your forehead, your hand – it doesn't matter much to him, anyway. you're chilling on the couch and suddenly you're bombarded with the tiniest kisses on your head, yknow?

i also can not get over his little cat head bump. absolutely does that randomly to you, as gently as he can manage. it mostly happens when you're in public and he wants to be affectionate with you, just cause i hc he's not into pda much. im so in love with him.

as soon as gabby starts calling reader mom ugh i’m sure miguel starts thinking abt actually asking the reader to marry him

this is a part of my flower shop au, fics are linked in my masterlist in case you want to read them if you havent :)) (gn!reader who's called 'mom')

miguel is an emotional man

he was near tears when he heard gabi call you mom for the first time

it made him see you in a brighter light

one that highlighted your features and made your skin glow

ever since gabi called you mom, he's been thinking of how stunning you'd look in your wedding outfit

miguel can tell that gabi loves you dearly, I mean she called you mom for gods sake

but he loves thinking about the excited smile she'd have when she sees you in your pretty outfit walking down the isle

he can practically picture how he'd be crying the second he sees the door open

after dreaming about it and being slightly disheartened that there's no ring on his finger yet

he searches for hours on end for the perfect rings

wonders whether to get a big diamond or smth dainty and cute

also tries to discreetly measure your ring size

meaning he steals borrows one of your rings to take to a jeweler

— oh and by the way im married (zhongli) .

synopsis !! zhongli neglects to inform his friends that he's married.

contains !! they/them reader but referred to as wife, comedic dialogue

Z H O N G L I

Perhaps it's the fact that you've been married for centuries that informing others didn't seem to be a priority for Zhongli.

It wasn't obvious either. He had his day job and you had yours. To regular couples, the amount of distance you two spend would be a little strange, but time is something you have in abundance so it didn't really matter when you spend a few days apart doing your day jobs.

It was Hutao who brought it up the on the evening's Lantern Rite dinner.

"Aiyaya, it seems like everybody alive and dead has a date for this year's lantern rite."

"Hahaha! And here we are celebrating a feast with new and old friends. It doesn't sound like much of a loss to me." Venti laugjs, pouring himself a drink that threatens to overflow from his hand.

"I'm not saying it's a loss, I'm simply wondering wouldn't some of you want to spend the night with a special someone?" She smirks, eyes scanning the group. Chongyun coughs into his cup as Xiao averts his gaze from the troublemaker.

"If you're asking for my opinion, I'd say everyone here is quite special to me," Lumine smiles warmly before glancing at the two archons and yaksha, "I'm sure there's still time for dating in the future. We're not that old."

"Well. . ." Hutao turns to Zhongli. He raises a brow, placing down his cup.

"May I ask why you're staring at me, Director Hu?"

"No reason~ It's just, as your boss, of course I'm a little bit concerned. Aren't you wasting your youth by not going out on dates, mister Zhongli? I'm sure there's a line of Liyuens who would love to–"

A burst of laughter comes from the green bard. "Oh, him? On a Lantern Rite date with someone else? (Name) would surely kill him."

"(Name)?" Everyone questions.

"Huh? He didn't tell you?" Venti tilts his head.

Zhongli coughs, "Ah. . . Please don't be concerned about my dating life, Director Hu. After all, I am already married."

Silence.

A cup drops.

Tea spills (literally).

Then,

"Married?!" The restaurant shakes as Hutao and Lumine jolt upright, hands slamming the table.

"Married." Zhongli confirms.

"What! For how long? When? What's their name? Why have you never–"

Zhongli hushes, trying to calm his boss from jumping over the table. His face dusts a light pink, perhaps embarrassed by the whole ordeal.

"For a few. . . years now. As you know, they're (Name). And as for why I never mentioned my wife. . ." He glances at the crowd, ". . . I simply forgot."

"You. . . forgot," Xingqiu slowly repeats.

"Yes, it seems I've forgotten to inform everyone. Then again, is it not obvious that I'm a married man?"

Chongyun covers his face in his hands, processing the whole ordeal, "Thinking back. . . mister Zhongli always had a domestic kind of aura. It seems so obvious now."

"Wait, wait, wait! How come I didn't know about this? We work together almost everyday! And why does Venti know! Didn't you two just met! Do you even have a ring?" Hutao interjects, flabbergasted as Zhongli and Venti freezes.

In truth, he does have a ring. One he carved himself made of only the most precious of jade and metal. It has rested under his glove for centuries—

Under his glove also hides his draconic arms, golden veins against dark brown, almost scale-like skin. Proof of a entity greater than human.

"Ehe. . . about that," Venti nervously looks away, "I've actually. . . met his wife before!" He covers up, voice laced with enthusiasm.

"Yes, yes, my wife is quite fond of Mondstadt's songs. They've frequently visited the nation before."

"And you don't come along?" Xiangling asks.

"I don't."

The group blinks.

"And what about the ring? I never see you wear a wedding ring." Hutao narrows her eyes.

"That's because I don't wear it." He answers bluntly.

". . . and you never introduced them to us because. . .?" Lumine questions.

"Because . . . I haven't had the time to?"

Hutao rests back on her chair, her eyes glazed in judgment, "No offense mister Zhongli, but you seem like a terrible husband. If you don't get your act straight, I'd say your marriage won't last."

His jaw drops. Venti laughs.

|| ko-fi support / character m.list ||

~ bonus ~

"Darling, am I a terrible husband?"

"No? What makes you think that?"

"No reason. Although I believe we should try dating publicly."

tumblr has been deleting my last paragraphs why

//for some reason tumblr has been deleting my last lines in drafts so i have to type this so my last sentences wont get deleted

"No reason. But perhaps it's about time I show you off to the public more."

ko-fi support | character m.list

ko-fi support / character m.list

character m.list / ko-fi support

I love the legitimate fear in his eyes here.

It's less that he's shaken by the fact that he almost died, and more by the fact that he would have died a hero. A man willing to die for the justice of the denizens of Hell, believing in the friends he has to carry out the mission. And it's THAT fact, that possibility that his reputation would have been RUINED if not for pure dumb luck on his part, scares him. He would have been fine dying, he wouldn't give a shit if it was in the blaze of glory. But the fact that he would have died a HERO is what scares him more.

THAT'S how you write a good villain.

weird girl smau izuku edition... please....

weird girl: i. midoriya edition !!

☆ : fem!reader, fluff, crack, one itty bitty suggestive joke

✄ : i feel like a lwk make him too mean but he is such a bitch tbh so idk

- in which you’re midoriya’s weird gf !

Miguel thots? ohhhhh I’m on it like I wish I was on that man. I like to think he’s actually quite the flirt/tease

Imagine that man manspreading in a booth / on a couch, leaning back, arms sprawled out on the back of the couch just nearly taking up the whole space. And when he sees you, he locks eyes with you with his stoic furrowed brow look.. and adjusts himself in the seat with that little thrust of his hips and sinks back further, only to let a slight toothy (fang..y?) smirk show when he sees you choke on your drink

How he’d come to talk to you at your desk, and point something out on your screen just so he has an excuse to lean in and tower over you from behind you, face next to yours, arms on either side of you bracing himself with his knuckles on your desk

Maybe he’d think he’s just flustering you, but when you tell him he smells good he has to clear his throat and stand up to compose himself just so he doesn’t blush

Little things like slipping in a “that’s my girl” even though you’re just his secretary, his hand on the small of your back when passing by you, finding reasons to show off his fangs, winking at you when he catches you staring.. he’d be SUCH a flirt

Same girl. I wanna comb that man like a tree 😩

Miguel has his way of….how do I say it…testing the water. He senses that you’re into him, but he’s no fool and just assume that everyone wants him. He knows himself. Of course, he can’t help doing more of the teasing either, especially when he sees how flustered you get. It excites him at the prospect.

He can also be a bit cocky too once his suspicions is confirmed. Perhaps, he intentionally run into you on your way to the lab, or perhaps he intentionally sprawl himself over the sofa and just take up as much space as possible, so other spider people can’t interrupt the two of you. Whatever it is, he’s slowly concocting plans to woo you, I supposed 😂 for a man with little patience, I think, it’s a lot of effort for his part.

clownfish! Izuku imagine

based off of this

Izuku was a shy one, the clownfish mer always hiding in his anemone, whenever someone he didn’t know passed by.

He slowly poked his head out of it, to check if it was safe. It wasn’t. He found himself staring into the eyes of another, femme clownfish mer. He squealed, darting back inside where it was safe.

Izuku didn’t come out for a day.

The need to find food eventually pushed him to leave, as he scrounged for some algae, maybe he could even find some zooplankton? As he nosed around the reef, he saw once again, the same female he saw a day ago. He immediately booked it back into his home, the shy mer hiding there for two days this time.

Why couldn’t she leave? She was always hanging around, finding food that would have been his, and to make matters worse, appeared to live nearby. He had to find food. He was starving.

So with great effort, he clambered out of his home, on the hunt for food. He finally found some, quickly collecting it into a handmade basket.

“Hello.” A soft voice said, from behind him. Izuku yelped, dropping his basket and its contents, slowly spilling everything onto the floor. You scooped it up for him, giving it back.

“You look thin.” You murmured, slowly circling him. Were you inspecting him? Izuku swallowed nervously, staying as still as possible. He knew that clownfish femmes were much stronger, and usually bigger than mascs. And by the looks of it, you were a femme. He was screwed. You were going to take away his food, weren’t you? He was a weak mer, no use to you. Kacchan was right. He was weak.

“Have you been eating? You won’t be able to protect the young if you’re not strong.”

What? “Young? What young?”

You made a sheepish expression, “my bad. I thought since you were the only clownfish masc mer around here, you had a partner, and that they were protecting the young instead of you, given how..flimsy you look.”

He flushed, him, having a partner? The idea was flustering. “O-oh.. no, I don’t even have a partner.”

You hummed, “alright. Well. If you ever need one, you know where to find me.” You gave him a zooplankton, then left, leaving him stunned. Did you just flirt with him? You didn’t want him as your partner, did you?

He was weak. You said it yourself. You didn’t think he was adequate, right?

Hi! Can I have maybe a head canons or scenarios request for Dante (DMC 5 and Netflix version) with a fem s/o who's loyal towards him and very caring towards him.

As if the reader would do everything they can to make him happy and show how they love him or cared for him. What would both versions react about this?

I don't just write for Dante, yall can send in requests of Vergil, or V or Nero >3

Thank you for this, it's so cuuuute

DMC5 Dante absolutely loves it.

♡ His s/o is a morning person. Always up before him unless he hadn't went to sleep in the first place, or he makes her sleep in with him. She'll show her love to him with acts of kindness.

♡ Keeping the place clean is one of them. Dante knows not to dirty something reader has cleaned unless he wants to be the one to reclean it. One time, he had to mop the whole place from stepping in with mud.

♡ By the end of that day, the two of you were dancing to the music you had playing to help motivate him. The floor didn't get clean, but that was okay. A memory with Dante that's filled with smiles and laughter, shared kisses... that meant more.

♡ Definitely has a habit of showering him with kisses on the daily. Doesn't matter what he is doing - as long as their are safe - she'll walk up to him, cup his scruffy face in her hands and pepper kisses all over his face. Each time saying something so tooth rotting sweet.

"handsome," kiss "strong" kiss "you always do such a good job" kiss "I love you."

♡ Surprises him with strawberry sundaes. And most of you money goes to pizza - but that's fine. You're not the one in debt.

♡ What really gets him is when he's noticed how nothings went out yet. Electricity, his water, it's all still on even though he knows he hasn't paid it in months. Tries to ask Morrison about it, but all he gets is, "You have someone who cares, Dante."

♡ Shaving. He doesn't do it often, since how fast it grows back. But when he does shave - you're more than happy to do it for him. Settling upon his lap with the cutest expression of focus as she is careful with shaving him. When done, she can't help but to rub her check with his affectionately. Reminding him of a cat.

♡ You practically do everything for him, it's how you show your love. But don't get it wrong, Dante tries his best to show you that kind of love in return. Except, his comes in the way he practically worships you.

2025 Dante doesn't feel like he deserves it.

♡ His S/0 is someone he's known for a long time. Having started out as friends until he decided he would try. Just for her. He's scared to become attached to anyone, and this shows whenever he subconsciously pulls away from you.

♡ You're patient though. And with every action you do, you make sure to poor every ounce of care and love into it. Making him know he is truly loved.

♡ Not a hunter, but you're not defenseless. For from it. When his s/o has discovered what he does, she spent the whole night learning what she could from him. Every now and then, you'll try to sneak up on him, but he always knows it's you.

His hands automatically gripped beneath your thighs when you jumped on his back. Hands covering over his eyes as you tried to change your voice, failing. "I'm robbing you!"

The silliest grin appears on his face. "Oh, yeah? What're you taking then, pretty?"

You groan, before smiling. Removing your hands and leaning more over his shoulder. Hands cupping his face. You declare, "You're heart!" before kissing him.

♡ He appreciates your loyalty. He see's it in how you reject any other man who wished to be with you. In how you stay by his side no matter the dangers. even when he's having a difficult day and say's something he shouldn't have.

♡ You love him in the way you would start a warm bath or shower whenever he returns home a completely mess. In how you join him and wash the gunk from his hair. And he feels it when you hold him at night. Fingers running through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp. In how you whisper, "I love you..." In such a soft, sweet whisper.

♡ Dante doesn't like caring. Always makes it a point not to. When in reality, he cares the most. And even though it is still difficult for him to voice or show this, he tries his damn hardest. Just for you.

TO YOU, FOUR YEARS FROM NOW

for @soleillunne : kaedehara kazuha + “in tune with all our dreams.”

kaedehara kazuha x gender neutral reader.

word count: 2k.

content: heart-wrenching angst to fluff + modern au. suggestive.

this idea occurred to me last night, and because you like angst, i thought, ‘why not?’ it may have come out somewhat messy, but i still hope you like it, aly, love ! <3

reblogs and comments are much appreciated!

his words crash against you like waves breaking against sharp jutting rocks.

he’s leaving. tomorrow first thing in the morning. he’s departing to study on a whole different country for the next four years, at least.

your childhood playmate, turned best friend, turned boyfriend.

kaedehara kazuha is going away and you can do nothing about it.

your emotions twist nightmarishly inside your heart, venomous ice you didn’t know you were capable of spreading through your bloodstream.

the cruel sentence is out of your lips before you can think about it.

“we’re breaking up. goodbye, kazuha.”

you don’t bother to turn around when your now ex-boyfriend reaches for your wrist, his hold slack when you pull away. you don’t respond when he calls you that nickname he gave you all those years back when you were still hopeful kids.

kazuha is left there, standing alone, a breeze now unwelcome prickling coldly against the back of his exposed neck.

raindrops of shattered dreams start falling from the midnight sky. you are grateful for them, your tears will be less conspicuous that way.

that night silence fills your darkened room. no text messages or calls come through, no beacon of hope awaits you tomorrow either when you awake to a grey dull sky.

it’s better this way, you think, as you start to get ready for your day.

—

miles above ground, it feels like hell, kazuha thinks.

the boy stares blankly at his phone, screen pitch black. there were no notifications from you today as morning dawned in teary colorless hues.

for the first time in almost two decades, kazuha is at a loss for words.

why did he wait so long to tell you about this? sure, it’s his dream to pursue his passion for literature, but why did he have to tell you something so huge last minute?

he wanted to surprise you with his gift. now it only weighs ominously inside his backpack.

with the ebb and flow of the plane, kazuha closes his eyes. images of you on the edges of shattered mirrors are all the company his dreams can offer.

—

you miss him. badly.

months have gone by, and you still can’t wrap your head around the reason behind your decision that night.

maybe you wanted to avoid missing kazuha, needing him, like you do now. perhaps you deemed yourself just a distraction for him at that moment.

what you are certain of, however, is that, like this, you are a mess.

on late evenings, you find yourself staring out the window, as if by doing so, the boy you still love would show up out of nowhere.

when taxis stop, you perk up, just to chide yourself internally; kazuha is not magically arriving in one of them, he is no longer your prince charming.

forgetting about kazuha altogether might be for the best, you decide, after tilting your head upwards in the bus for the thousandth time when new passengers come in.

you should focus on the book you have to read for class, right now, you muse internally, directing your gaze back to the pages.

—

four years have passed since that eventful night. and as time has ran by, new memories have made their way into your mind; new friends, graduation, part time jobs and lovers that didn’t last.

you’ve been well, mostly.

however, the shards of your broken dreams with kazuha are still safely kept behind stained glass doors into the chambers of your heart. every now and then, they like to lodge into the ridges of the unclosed wound, waking you up in starless nights, with his name in your lips the moment your tear stained lashes open.

but as you’ve been doing for years, you dismiss them, trying to focus instead on the titles in front of you.

reading’s been your most trusty companion these last years, your visits to the local bookstore frequent on weekends. searching for new releases or old undiscovered gems, dreaming about laughing, or crying, or both, to the tune of the words… it’s exciting, in a way. it also keeps the vault of bittersweet dreams more or less locked, when your thoughts travel to distant lands on board of book pages.

sighing to yourself, your fingers graze the various tomes of the poetry section.

one of them makes you stop in your tracks.

‘unsent letters to my dove.’

and it’s the last part of the golden embossed sentence that causes for your heart to momentarily stop.

he used to call you that.

but it can’t be him, can it?

with trembling hands, you reach for the volume. the covers are crimson red leather, soft to the touch. golden lettering spells out the title, reminiscent of long gone sunlit afternoons that smell of childhood. an intricate pattern of maple leaves is drawn around the margins.

maple leaves. his favorite.

you breath catches in your throat when you open the hardcover and your eyes land on the dedication written in italics on the first page:

“to my beloved hummingbird, i’m sorry i couldn’t give this to you four years ago. wherever you are now, i dedicate this collection to you.”

that childhood nickname. that’s what he called you. that’s what you didn’t respond to the night you walked away from him.

no. this must be just coincidence.

you’re just being delusional.

you better check the author, yes, that will surely clear things out.

going back to the cover, there it is, in swirling coppery calligraphy: k. isshin.

that wasn’t his name. however, it doesn’t stop your hold on the book from going slack, you and the copy almost dropping to the ground if it weren’t for the person that suddenly stabilizes you with one arm around your waist, and catches the book with the other.

isshin. didn’t he tell you something long ago about a certain art from his ancestors being referred to by that name?

you don’t have time to ruminate on it for long before an all too familiar voice interrupts all train of thought.

“are you okay?” the boy that’s been intermittently haunting your dreams for the past four years asks.

his voice is still as soft as you remember it, though deeper, with a newfound warmth and richness to it.

it doesn’t help your already racing heart.

“i… i-i’m… fine.” you manage, at the same time your eyes meet his.

shooting stars flash before the sunsets of his gaze when recognition crosses his perfectly sculpted features.

you’re even prettier than he remembers. the memories he’s cherished and old pictures in his phone definitely can’t do justice to the you standing right before him now.

for a few instants, you just stand there, the book still held between yours and his hand. you are simply lost in every detail of kazuha, the boy you left standing under the midnight rain once. kazuha, your ex-boyfriend. kazuha, the boy you never stopped loving.

kazuha, who has written a whole book about you, it seems.

“you… ah… you almost dropped this.” kazuha suddenly breaks the awkward silence, pushing the hardcover into your hands, his cheeks a pretty shade of red, like the poppy fields through which you and him used to run.

“i… uh, yeah… thank you.” you make to walk towards the register to pay for it, but a hand gently holds your wrist.

this time, you turn around.

for a second, kazuha hesitates, his body having reacted as if on autopilot, as if his heartstrings commanded his soul to not let go of you ever again.

“are you free after this?” he asks. it’s uncommon, the way he almost mumbles it, eyes of embers not quite meeting yours.

he is aware this question is playing with fire, and flinches after a few moments pass and no reply leaves your lips.

then:

“sure.” you say, nodding. “have somewhere in mind? if not, we can go to my place.”

“sounds good to me.” he smiles, gently.

it’s pouring when you exit the shop. this time, you stay together under his red umbrella.

the trip to your apartment is mostly silent. there are too many feelings to unpack, too many apologies you wish to say, too many questions.

and the book, safely tucked under your coat, protected from the rain as if it was a precious treasure.

—

“make yourself at home.” you comment, as you open the door to your home. setting the book over the coffee table, you rummage around the kitchen for some snacks.

meanwhile, kazuha loses himself observing how much of you there is in your modest home: some of your favorite books thrown here and there; a spare cardigan similar to the one you always loved to steal from him; pictures with some of your college friends… this little space is filled with the sweet breeze of your scent, one in which kazuha would gladly drown.

when you come back from the kitchen, tea and cookies in hand, to find him standing there, your cheeks heat up.

“i apologize for the mess.” is what your lips speak, yet ‘i’d like for him to stand here every day’ are the true words of your heart.

“not at all.” kazuha offers. “it’s quite charming and cozy in here.”

“ah… thank you.” is all you can manage without excessively stuttering. busying yourself setting the plates, you take your chance to ask:

“that book. you wrote it, didn’t you?”

silence settles between you both again, tension palpable in the air, an invisible wall that didn’t use to be there years ago.

“so you noticed…” kazuha muses, melancholy evident in his tone. “i- that night-”

“i’m sorry.” you snap before he can continue further. “about that night. i was stupid. i hurt and left you, all out of my own impulsivity and egoism.” your hands tighten around the tea-cup you are holding. taking a deep breath, you steel yourself for the words you’re going to say next. “so i understand if you hate me now. i… i was mean to you, kazuha. i don’t deserve your friendship anymore and-”

his warm calloused hand comes to rest on top of yours, the frenzied string of words leaving the mouth he used to kiss, cut off.

“you are right, you don’t.” kazuha pauses, the scarlet lakes of his glance, ablaze with longing. his thumb traces your lower lip. your breath catches at the back of your throat. you want to utter his name, yet no sound comes out. then: “you deserve more than that, my hummingbird.” he almost breathes, in the few inches separating both of your ardently longing lips.

the invisible wall between the both of you has just shattered.

without knowing exactly how or what instant, his lips end up on yours, drinking in every version of you. your hands lose in the now longer strands of his smooth hair, their color, the same as the moonlight that sang the melody of your first kiss years ago.

now, kazuha kisses you with a new ardor, as if he’s trying to memorize you by touch alone, were the stars to fade away.

the cracked edges of the dreams you tore down that fateful night beg to be let out from the opaque case in which you’ve kept them all these years.

and, soon enough, the instant kaedehara kazuha undresses you with a softness you wouldn’t have believed possible even in your wildest dreams, the vault opens.

your hands ridding him of his garments are the wave of magic wand needed to set you and him in tune with all your fervent dreams once more.

“dove” falls from kazuha’s lips again and again and again, the waves of his praise, a mantra that softly caresses the pink sand beaches of a paradise only he is able to bring you to.

the skies no longer cry, you and kazuha, its most wondrous and intricate constellation. formed of stars seemingly apart from each other, brought close by a fate greater than the verses your poet writes could explain.

a sliver of moon illuminates the cover of your lover’s eulogies to you.

you slumber sweetly in kazuha’s arms. in your dreams, he reads you his poems.

maybe, tomorrow, that will become your perfect reality.

𝘪 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘦𝘹 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦

dante/f!reader

summary: after it took so long to get over him, you end up in his arms again

word count: 3.1k

warnings: sex pollen/fuck or die, dubcon, breeding (one-sided), reader is not of sound mind for most of this

Not-so-newly single but only recently starting to get over it, your night out was supposed to end differently. Alone at the very least, in bed with someone else as the true best ending of this scenario — but not back in bed with your ex. The friends you’d gone out with would be so disappointed should they hear that Dante had managed to weasel back into your apartment after you spent two weeks looking at the tshirts he’d left behind before finally throwing them into a box that lived in your closet. They wouldn’t believe it was a life or death situation that had you clinging to Dante in an alley, it sounded so stupid. “Hey guys, some demon attacked me on my way home haha!” 

Crazy. Certifiably insane, even. To say that a demon attacked, sprayed you with…something and as a result you fucked your ex like a rabbit in heat until you passed out from exhaustion was a first class, one-way ticket to a mental institution. 

But that was the unfortunate truth.

The night had started in the club, you’d finally accepted the invitation to go out and get over Dante. Losing your hot kinda-boyfriend was truly a tragedy but it was time to move on and stop grieving the relationship and alcohol was the way to do it. The goal was to get into bed with someone else, a good lay to get over it before trying to secure a rebound — but even just dancing your problems away would’ve been a good use of your time. 

The music was loud, bass and drums rattling your ribcage and you were having fun. A couple people danced with you, one guy was actually very attractive and you were hoping something could come of it — which was why you agreed to leave with him. Your hand in his and a wave to your friends as they whistled and cheered you on, all proud that you’d taken a huge step in getting over Dante. 

That was the last time that night you truly felt like you were in control. 

He lived only a few blocks away from the club, so you didn’t mind walking with him to cool off a bit and get to know him some more. His name was Kyle, he worked as a bouncer at another club in town, and he was also getting over a bad breakup. He was cute, told bad jokes that you couldn’t help but laugh at, and it felt like there was a chemical reaction happening between you two which gave you hope that maybe this could stretch past just a one night stand. 

Until the demon appeared. 

Dante had told you enough about his line of work that you were aware of demons and hell being real rather than just something put in the Bible to scare people into “behaving”. You also knew that you stood no chance if you were ever toe-to-toe with one without the white haired menace acting as your protector — and quickly learned that Kyle stood no chance either. 

The sound of his pained screaming registers moments after the demon struck, and you can only stand in horror and watch the…creature claw at him until the screaming finally stops. You couldn’t help, but you were next in line to get ripped apart in the well lit alley by the monster that looked a bit like an insect. Maybe a cicada? Or a locust?

A sweet smell wafts through the air, lavender and — was that vanilla? Or maybe a cake-y smell? Too sweet for an alley but your thoughts start to scramble and it feels too hot now. You want to leave, but your feet are rooted to the asphalt below your shoes and you don’t know where you would go if you could leave? Were you supposed to be anywhere but here in front of this creature that was clearly meant to be your mate?

“Chosen.”

The whisper sends a shiver down your spine; it feels so wrong yet also calms you at the same time. You were chosen by such a wonderful creature, a superior life form chose you to be its mate. To carry its offspring and produce a new, stronger generation.

Chosen. You. Only you. Special girl. A strong girl. 

“Chosen.”

“And here I thought I had squished enough bugs tonight.”

That voice was familiar, comfortable — safe? Possibly. 

But he was now driving his foot through your intended mate’s head. That wasn’t good. 

“The only thing she’s chosen for is a long life and good night of sleep.”

You can only watch, horrified as the owner of the apparently safe voice hacked and slashed at your mate. It must be customary for two males to compete to prove dominance to the fertile female, because your mate fought until he finally fell to the familiar white haired man. 

“...I thought he’d be crunchier. Oh well.”

“You killed him.” Your whisper brings his attention from the corpse back to you, and he moves quickly to stand before you as he talks. You don’t really hear what he’s saying, too focused on the gory scene deeper in the alley, until he’s kneeling in front of you with his hands carefully holding your shoulders as he tries to hold your attention. 

“Hey, hey, it’s me — can you hear me?”

“You?”

“Me. Dante. C’mon, honey, talk to me.”

“Dante?” That was familiar. You know the name, know how it connects to the voice, the eyes, the lips. Dante, he used to be your lover — he could be a mate. He could help you fulfill your purpose. “Need-“

“Yeah, baby, I’ll get you home.”

Home sounded good. Sounded right. 

“Need you to fuck-”

“Not right now, a pretty girl like you needs to be put to bed properly.”

He’s able to throw you over his shoulder and stand effortlessly, and your loins are practically singing at how lucky you were to have been selected by two capable mates and the more capable one was carrying you home. He was going to bed you, breed you as you were born for – you! 

The walk to your apartment feels long, and is made kinder by the way his hands held you firmly on his shoulder. One large arm wrapped around your waist to keep you secured to his shoulder, fingers of that hand pressing into your side to maintain a good grip while his other hand rested on your ass — and you assume there’s no functional reason for that hand to be there aside from just feeling you, and that thought makes you giddy at the thought that he found you attractive. This strong man, your mate, was admiring your child-bearing hips. Did he feel the warmth of your core through your jeans? Did he know just how badly you wanted him, how slick you’d gotten just being in his hold?

You’re set down on your feet once your apartment door is open, but the world around you is spinning which makes staying upright near impossible. Thankfully Dante is there to steady you, letting you lean forward into his sturdy figure as he guides you backwards into your apartment. 

“Did that bug hit you or something? Did you swallow something?”

You shake your head, but your hands move of their own accord to his belt to get to what you needed. He was going to breed you, you could help him get undressed. 

“H-hang on. You’re not okay enough for-“

“I was chosen.” 

“You were basically drugged.”

You don’t know why he’s arguing with you — he fought your mate to win you. He was supposed to be breeding you right now, claiming you as his mate, but now he’s not? Did you do something wrong? The thought pierces through your core, almost as if your womb itself was getting prodded at by a sharp blade in search of the most vulnerable part. 

“Oh, shit, please don’t cry.”

“Hurts.”

“What hurts?” Your shaky hand grips his wrist, guiding his hand from where it rests on your arm to settle over your stomach where it felt like you were getting stabbed repeatedly. The warmth of his hand soothes the pain but only barely, a whine leaving you when his fingertips press into the soft skin of your stomach in an attempt to massage you. “Let’s get you laid down. I’ll stay tonight and if you’re not better by morning we’ll figure that out.”

You’re reluctant to agree, but let him guide you to your bedroom while his hand stays planted on your stomach. You feel much better after he’s gotten you out of your clothes, opting to stay in just your bra while telling Dante that clothes made you too hot. At least you think that’s what you said, his confused expression suggested that he didn’t understand what it was you said but that was a problem for later. Right now you were feeling too hot, too empty, and you needed him to keep touching you.

“Hurts, Dante.”

“I don’t know how to help you, honey.”

“Touch me.” 

He had to. He chose you, he brought you home, he had to breed you. Claim you. He could make this all better if he did what he was supposed to do as your mate. 

You can only stare at him as he looks away from your half naked body, clearly thinking hard about something. Was he second guessing his choice? Did he-

“The bug blasted you with pheromones. That’s the same bug that…oh.” Your head tilts in unison with his, legs opening wider when he leans in closer to make room for him. “You're so horny this likely won’t register but if I don’t make you cum you will die from those pheromones.”

Didn’t he understand that you’d been asking him to fuck you all this time? Had you really been chosen by such a stupid man to be his mate?

“Please, Dante.” The whisper leaves you as his hand settles on your thigh, the other carefully pushing you back onto your mattress while he mumbles assurance that he was going to take care of you.

Your mouth falls open when his fingers push between your folds, the pain in your core dulled slightly by the stretch. This was what your body had needed — him, Dante, your mate. He was to claim you and ease the pain finally. A forearm is pressed to your hip, those two fingers that were once stretching you open are now parting your folds, and you sigh when his tongue slides through to lap at your essence while his thumb circles your already over-sensitive clit. 

The orgasm crashes over you before you could process it, your hands moving to his hair to try and pull him closer and give you more. Instead, his other hand comes to replace his tongue, two fingers pushing into your cunt easily while his thumb continues to play with your clit. 

“Are you going to cum again already?” He sounds amused, but you can’t formulate the words that you need to tell him that he was right. “Let me have it, honey. Cum for your mate.”

He keeps your hips pinned down through their attempts to roll and buck, what sounds like praise being mumbled into your pussy further soothing the pain in your womb. This was what you needed, and he was taking care of you like he had promised — as a mate should. You just needed him to fill you now, fill you and keep you full and breed you. 

“Dante, please,” you whimper, meeting his gaze and biting your lip as you watch him lick his. “Need you inside me.”

“Seems like you’re doing better.”

You nod your agreement; your skin didn’t feel as hot or itchy as it had previously and your brain doesn’t feel as foggy as it had previously. There were questions starting to form regarding Dante’s presence that you’d get answers for later, but the pain in your core still lingered and that needed to be addressed. 

“Still need me to fuck you?”

You nod, perhaps a bit too eagerly if the way he smirks at you is any indicator, but are rewarded by his hands releasing your hips so he could get himself undressed. You want to help, but are stopped by the sheer eroticism of Dante stripping himself of the various straps and belts that kept his weapons attached to his clothes. This was a man who was strong and capable, willing to protect you and proved earlier that he would succeed in doing so, and he was going to fuck you. 

…and then you’d remember why you were mad at him, hopefully. You’re not even sure where the thought came from, but there was a nagging feeling at the back of your mind telling you that you were very upset with the man who was now kneeling between your spread legs – you just couldn’t quite remember what you were mad at him for. 

The blunt tip of his cock coming to rest between your folds has your eyes closing your fingers digging into the soft linens beneath you as he presses forward and stretches you. There’s no time or consideration for adjustments, you’d wager that Dante had trusted in how wet you were and how much he’d prepped you – and you’re not complaining since this is what you needed.

“Just stay put,” he breathes into your ear, his hand taking yours and pressing it into the pillow beside your head. He’s still moving his hips against yours even as he speaks, the heat and desperation radiating off of him in waves as he presses a kiss to your cheek before he gently bites at your jawline. “Stay put and let me take care of us, will you do that?”

You nod, your compliance earning you another kiss before he’s pulling out. Before you have the chance to complain, he’s turning you over and pulling your hips up so you’d be propped up on your knees in front of him before he’s pushing back into you. There was no gentleness, no careful consideration of your human fragility, this was Dante on a mission to get you off and hopefully stop the pain that was still throbbing at your center and serving as a reminder that you were still unfilled. His hands grip your hips hard enough that you’re certain there would be ten little bruises decorating your skin later, and he muffles his own sounds of pleasure by biting into your shoulder, it hurts but in the best way possible as he fucks into you at a brisk pace that had your headboard knocking into the wall. 

“You feel so good, y’know that?” he breathes into your ear, every other word punctuated by a grunt that makes you weaker than the one before. There’s a new heat burning inside you, this one you knew how to cope with and were glad it was Dante making you feel this way. “Missed you s’much, princess. Glad I’m here with you. Savin’ your life and all that.”

“Can you shut up for ten minutes?” You ask, your voice rising in pitch when his fingers make contact with your sensitive clit. You needed more but at the same time it felt like too much, and that has you arching back into him at the feeling of the rough pads of his fingers against the nerve bundle. “Fuck!”

“Stop runnin’, baby,” he chides, pressing his face into your neck to ensure you felt his chuckle in your skin. “Gonna make you cum, gonna make you feel better.”

This time you stay put when his fingers graze your clit, and you feel all coherent thoughts leave you as your body continues to rock with his as his fingers begin rubbing quick circles while his thrusts increase in pace. All that mattered was him, Dante, your stupid ex not-quite-boyfriend, and your approaching orgasm – anything else would have to wait until you could breathe normally again. A thrust punctuated by a pinch to your clit has your body going rigid beneath his, and he’s talking you through the orgasm until his own hips stutter and he pulls out to release on your ass.

“You were supposed to–” 

“You are probably crazy fertile right now and the last thing we need is a baby.” The logic is sound even if the ache in your womb said otherwise. He was going to have to recall the last hour or two to help you piece together the scattered memories you did retain, but you know he’s looking out for your best interest. “More importantly, do you feel better?” 

“A bit.” There was still the ache but you didn’t feel like you were being stabbed anymore, and you could think a hundred times more clearly than you were previously, you’re confident you could manage the rest of the night. It was probably that the more you could orgasm the faster it would go away if he wasn’t going to cum inside you. Which was also smart, even if you hated that you were giving him credit for a good idea. 

“Give me ten minutes and we can go again if you want.”

“Clean your cum off my ass first and I’ll think about it.”

“Always makin’ me work.”

Looking back, it still feels like a fever dream but you know that pain was too real. Your body was too sore after going round after round with Dante until well after sunrise with a couple naps scattered between for your night to have gone in any other direction. 

And now you’re sitting naked on your couch with said ex as he drank coffee from the mug that had always been his. Crazy, stupid, and just plain dumb. After it took so long to get over him, here you were – and all because of a stupid bug demon. 

“Are you gonna keep starin’ at me or do I have to fuck you again?”

“Why are you still here?”

“Makin’ sure we got it all out of your system, silly girl. Can’t have you going out and fucking the first person you see.” He even has the nerve to tease you — after he broke up with you. Just because he saved your life didn’t mean that he could act like that. 

“Why not?”

“You’re not that kind of girl, even if you tried to be last night. Yes, I was keeping an eye on you — that dude in the true religion was not your type. Too douchey.”

“I dated you.” 

“At least I don’t walk around covered in rhinestones like I’m trying to be the disco ball.”

“You stalked me.”

“Bet you’re glad I did, otherwise you would’ve been a demon’s fleshlight and then its dinner. Or worse, left to die in that alley.” 

You did remember how much it had hurt before Dante finally gave you what you needed, and it felt ridiculous to say that having sex with Dante saved your life — but here you were. 

You fucked your ex and it saved your life. Stupid.