👆 I'm only opening 6 slots to cover household expenses.
I still have a lot of pending orders! So I can't take any more for now
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"Vergil." A soft voice floats into his subconscious, chiming a second time, taking with it the smell of fire, "Vergil."
A warm hand presses to smooth skin, lids fluttering open slowly. A woman is over him, another soft call of his name, the sunlight makes a halo behind her before you come into focus.
You watch his pupils dilate, go from a slit in his frostbitten iris to rounded, the sclera blackened before it is washed back into white.
"You were dreaming." Your thumb caresses his cheek bone, pulling away but staying seated on the arm of the chair.
He always slept like this, pressed into the chair or couch sitting up, book lying open in his lap. Although lately he pours over tomes that do little for him in one way or another.
"Was I now?" He looks alert, not even his voice gives him away that he was in deep sleep. Dreaming of who knows what, something haunting you were sure but you do not pry.
You do not dare call it a nightmare.
Your fingers move moonlit hair from his forehead, immediately his hand runs through his hair to push it back roughly. He no longer needs to look into the mirror with that damned shaggy care free hair style, he could see that face in person any time he wished.
And he wished not to.
He will not divulge his past and you do not ask nor do you press. It was why he kept you around. Although occasionally you can see it, something he claims to have discarded long ago, a flash of it in his eyes drawing you back to him.
"'With ten thousand shields and spears.'" You sigh, rising and he grabs onto your wrist tightly.
Surprisingly his eyes are slit, a glare given when you make a comment that roots under his skin and rots his bones. It is as if you lanced him with your words and like in battle, he does not falter, "Do you always speak in Blake's poems? Or can you only regurgitate the last line."
"Shall I say the whole thing?" You take in a breath but he will not let you have this blow.
"'So he took his wings and fled. Then the morn blushed rosey red. I dried my tears, and armed my fears. With ten thousand shields and spears.'"
"You think that fitting?" He scoffs, grip on your wrist tightening as he retorts, "'How can a bird born of joy, sit in a cage and sing?'"
The air is heavy between the two of you despite the sun slicing through the curtains, so many emotions flash behind your pretty eyes and he can do nothing but stare. He has one goal, one purpose.
He only seeks one thing and that is power. He needs nothing else, can't think of, dream of, see anything else.
Yet still, his eyes linger on you.
"Tell me Vergil," You spit his name like a curse, like acid landing on his lap, fingers gesturing around the room, "who placed that bird in this cage?"
You scoff, you didn't expect an answer, and his silence is answer enough for you.
"A bird cannot be caged forever, especially not one of prey."
"Shh, shh Leon, Leon. You're home, you're safe." Your hand pressed against Leon's arm as he takes in quick shallow breaths. Gun unwavering as its pointed to the darkest corner of the room as Leon's eyes take the time to adjust.
"Leon, baby, we're home, you're okay." Another coo, another soft caress of his flexed bicep of the arm that props up his weight. Your heart racing nearly as fast as his from how he startled you awake.
Sitting up suddenly in a sharp inhale, his broad hand grabbing for his gun in quick motion, his other had protectively gone over your body so he could act as a shield.
Pressing a kiss to his exposed shoulder as you wait for him to slowly return to you, to step out of the nightmare he lived in his early twenties. From the blood, from the foul stench of rot, from the tattered welcome sign and the harsh words of his chief he never really got to work for.
"Do not hesitate"
Leon takes in another sharp inhale through his nose, although shaky. Trying once more, forcing himself to do a cyclic sigh. Two deep inhales and one long exhale.
By the time he's ready to fill his lungs again, he's setting his gun down, pulling you into his lap before settling into the plush head board.
"Sorry sweetheart, I know you didn't ask for such an early wake up call." Although there is hardly any mirth in his playful apology.
Sure to keep your gaze off of his face as he hooks his chin over your shoulder, watching his fingers interlace over your stomach as he pulls you impossibly closer.
"Hmm, I don't mind if it's you." Hummed sweetly as you settled against Leon, pulling the blankets over your laps.
Somewhere in the distance an early bird chirps promising a new dawn, if only one could last the final few dark hours.
"Buuut if you really wanna make it up to me," You lean your head against his, your hand coming up to scratch at his scalp, "you can bribe me with breakfast."
Leon chuckles, brushing his lips along the exposed skin of your shoulder.
"I can do that sweetheart," another kiss then another to your throat, working his way up to nip at your earlobe, "just let me enjoy you for breakfast first."
bodyguard leon and mafia boss vergil, hmm... i must know what happens when you're flirting with the 'help' 🎤
SCREAMING INTO THE MIC
OKAY SO! I am marked by Vergil and that I am HIS GIRL by wearing his amulet everywhere. He proudly gives it to me and I proudly wear it. Vergil is the only one to remove it and does so before a bath that he ran for me and puts it back on after my bath 🥰
When he is busy, and I have lots I want to see, cousin Leon is my body guard since Dante is busy often now.
So Leon has a bit of a crush on me and it doesn't help I flirt with Leon A LOT and that Vergil, although he acts like a doting husband, has YET to really kiss or touch me, he does not want me to feel trapped with him. (Okay but like he's given me his amulet WHICH IS HIS FUCKING HEART )
So I get pouty and bored and flirt with Leon for fun OR accidently say things that has Vergil's jaw TICKING. Ie. "V, baby! I had such a good time at the concert with Leon, he had to stand really close to me because it was so packed! Then the lead singer sprayed white claw on the crowd! Leon took me to the bathroom to clean me up and make sure my shirt wasn't stained."
And I'm wearing like a low cut top, the amulet is sitting nicely on my tits, and all Vergil can't think about is Leon touching my chest, and being in the bathroom or stall with me, and being sweaty and pressed up against me.
"Hmm, that's lovely, I'm glad you had a good time princess. Forgive me for not being able to attend. I've run your bath, I'll be up in a moment."
And Leon gets CORNERED AND CROWDED and Vergil has ALWAYS been fast so when he's moving slowly so you can see him you know he's pissed and he's over Leon with Vergil's light, other worldly blue eyes, growling in his harsh mother tongue "I hope you have not forgotten your place, cousin."
Leon just smirks, a chuckling scoff, "Well between you and her, no one will let me."
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Icy blue eyes track over the page once more, twice he's read the page you're on. With the extra time he can now take stock of the corners of the page, how there is an indent from the pinch of your pointer and thumb.
"You grip the pages as if they would fly away." He watches you startle from his voice, watches those pretty eyes cut into his skin when you look over your shoulder, "I assure you they are bound, there is no need to grip so tightly."
"You're too stiff." Your comment makes him bristle slightly, sharp sapphire gaze cutting into your bare skin.
The annoyed, condescending glare is the only reaction you can pull from him most days. Occasionally he will grunt his distaste with your unwanted comments or he will snarl back a cold clipped quip of his own.
His eyes return to a book he cannot decipher, ancient language scrawled across linen pages. The current object of his affection he's been neglecting you for. You sigh, annoyed yourself, finally asking the question burning on your tongue aloud.
"Why did you hire me?" Curiosity keeping malice from your tone, propping your head up on your palm as you stare at him from the bed. Even in this late hour he is still fully clothed. Dark slacks, dark dress shirt that looks as if it were woven armor and his long blue trench coat.
He sits in every chair as if it were a throne, legs spread slightly, shoulders pressed against the back, his head is only dipped to look down at the book in the dim light. It's stupid how handsome he is, how his cold confidence wraps around his muscular body like armor, and yet you can still get under his skin.
"You hardly speak to me. You don't touch me. You don't fuck me." Even under his heavy gaze, you do not waiver, if anything you try to stifle a giggle, "I'm starting to think you just like to have a woman around. Just enough to keep your room lively and your bed warm."
Cat like smile crossing your lips before you lower your head back down to the plush pillow, this time the giggle comes out. Dancing around his rigid body that tenses further when you turn over to give him your back. Adding one last comment before you curled against the pillow with the intention to sleep.
"I see, you're just lonely." It comes out soft, laced with pity. A mistake you'll be sure to learn soon enough.
Before you can react to the sudden presence standing beside the bed, a thick palm wraps around your throat. Squeezing just enough to slow the blood flow to your brain.
"Am I lonely?" His fingers dig deeper, edges of your vision closing in as you feel his weight dip the mattress behind your back, "So touch starved I would pay for company from a whore?"
Even with his strong grip, you jerk in his hold, yet still he keeps you pinned. Adjusting you as if you weighed nothing as he lifts you to his lap, pressing your back to his chest as he leans against the head board. His left hand smooths over your skin before it settles at your thighs, forcing them to spread open for him.
"Maybe it is you who is so lonely, so starved of touch and affection you're willing to trade coin for company." He looks down at you with a cruel gaze, "So starved that you're willing to be choked to be touched."
Your glare is unmatched, burning into his skin, hotter than any flame he's felt. Still he can see something beneath that nasty gaze, sees it is fueled by hurt.
You rear your head back for a headbutt although he simply turns his face away, the smallest of smiles graces his lips before it vanishes.
If there was one thing about you, you never took it lying down or without a fight. Your own stubborn will could be something to admire, although he will not admit that aloud.
"Who said I liked to be choked?" A hiss of your pretty tone, crushed beneath his light grip. He chuckles, leaning closer to press his lips to your ear as he shares the secret. Left hand hovering over your cunt.
"She did." Pressing his fingers between your folds hearing a pretty squelch as he gathers slick to press into your clit, "Hear how wet you are for me? All from a little breath play and you're already soaking my slacks."
Despite his hum he still sounds annoyed, brow pinched until your heels dig into the mattress beside his knees to give him better access. Your body betraying you as a rasped moan escapes your lips.
"Now which of us is licking knives for affection again?" A mirthless chuckle, the sound cruel by your ear, "Can I break you like this? Give you so much you shake and plead for me to stop?"
Your stomach tightens, his fingers skilled in more than just sword play. It is unfair how good this feels, how close you are from his fingers and words alone. From the way he makes you dizzy thanks to his hand at your throat, his thumb letting up enough to stroke across the column gently before he returns to his affections.
Your breath hitches, back arching as you press into his muscled torso before you're shaking. Pleasure washing over you in violent jerks of your body as you claw at the sheets.
"That's one." He smiles against the shell of your ear before hooking his chin over your shoulder. Looking down at his work as he continues the maddening pace, you cry out again, "That's two."
He teases you like this for what feels like hours, until his slacks stick to his skin from your bare cunt crying out for more. As he continues to dangle the power imbalance between the two of you as if it weren't already obvious in your day to day.
You've watched him cut down hordes of men with hardly a twitch of his fingers, faster than their bodies can even process, still speaking as their heads or torsos separate from their bodies. You've seen the way his eyes darken, sclera turned black making his eyes aglow the same as a predator's under a full moon.
He always looked beautiful bathed in moonlight, kissed by it until every strand of his hair was starlit. Otherworldly even without his darkening gaze, his shadow gave him away most nights. Stretching longer than any man's should, giving him a crown of two sharp points.
Your body is weak to him and it feels as if it is by divine design, slack in his hold, no matter how cold his touch may be. Unable to keep your knees up now as they fall open, body limp as your head falls back onto his strong shoulder.
His sclera has blackened, something that happens when his mood is heightened, usually nanoseconds before a kill, but this isn't that. This is something entirely different, cruel smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Frostbitten sapphire flick to your face, hold your gaze, his fingers slow to a stop. A gentle pressure with his left hand as his right does the same. Locked in your lidded gaze his eyes go beyond the veil and peer into the depths of your being.
Into your soul.
Without breaking contact he tilts your head every so slightly to press a chaste kiss to your jaw.
Your back arches, body shaking as you come undone from the simple affection.
"I told you that I was not the one who was starved." Baring his teeth in a manner that seems unlike him before he regains his composure as quickly as he lost it. His sclera slowly bleeds back into white, soon his gaze will be glazed over in boredom. An expression he doesn't have to force with most.
Weakly your hand comes up to run your fingers through his moon kissed hair, threading them into the strands.
"Vergil." Voice strained from his hold on your throat and the moans you forced past his grip over the past hour or so, still you surprise him, "You're a bad liar."
He moves his hand to bite until he tastes copper coating his tongue, sclera blackened again, you cannot help the satisfied cat smile on your lips.
No matter how small and defeated it may be at least for now.
"I told you not to call me by my name." He pulls back, lips and teeth stained scarlet, pink muscle slips past to swipe at the mess.
Leon hung over forced to be behind a desk for a short stint due to an injury forced to listen to my mini crumb vacuum because the cookies I crushed to put in my Greek yogurt got on my mouse pad
Finally he's had enough, his head throbbing as he places his large hand over yours to stop the little device, shutting it off by forcing your thumb to slide the toggle with his.
"Sweetheart, you can't just sweep the crumbs off your desk?"
You turn and glare up at him, big, scruffy, still half tipsy hungover Leon with his whisky breath poorly masked by months expired mint gum. A scoff escapes your pretty lips that his eyes linger on.
"No." Voice filled with disgust as you turn the little mini vacuum back on to finish what you started.
After his lunch break consisting of semisun exposure and flicking his father's lighter he doesn't use to smoke he returns to his desk.
Where the crashing sound of typing, phones screaming in the background, sticky sweet perfumes and the deep gurgle of air passing through the water cooler in the corner awaits him.
It grated his nerves, made his shoulders hunch as he sat on edge to every little sound, the normalcy of it all amplified the volume of simple ambiance thanks to his usual background noise of ringing gunshots, the stench of rotting flesh, and inhuman groans.
He sheds his sherpa lined jacket tossing it on the back of his chair, the office far too hot for his liking. Swivels as he stares at the ceiling, no real paper work for him to complete, he figures someone else takes care of it all for him since he's rarely here.
Finally his eyes fall to where his dusty keyboard sits, sees the small cup used at the water cooler with three white oblong pills, beside it a water bottle and an electrolyte black cherry limeade flavored packet.
Leon isn't an avid drug user but he's more than familiar with the shape of ibuprofen and acetaminophen. He hopes they're extra strength, swallowing them dry but curiosity gets the better of him as he rips the packet open with his teeth. Letting the light red powder pour into the clear liquid watching it turn deep in hue.
The powder clumps together reminding him of blood, how it clots together desperately in an attempt to close a wound, sometimes it's an impossible task.
"Ah," comes your pretty voice behind him, "I shouldn't have given you that flavor."
He tilts his head up, it sounds like you're more or less muttering to yourself as you reach for the bottle of liquid that's quickly turning a deep red.
Leon finds his hand wrapped around your wrist a second time today. His thumb absent-mindedly caresses the small tattoo on your wrist as if to soothe. Your brows furrow, looking down at him and he's seeing a new emotion from his normally grumpy and stubborn coworker for the first time.
A moment stretches between the two of you, slowly the gears in Leon's head turn, were you worried about him? Sensitive over something?
His eyes go back to the drink, the obvious offender here.
"Oh." It hits him, he doesn't dissect it aloud, "M okay."
"But it looks like blood." Blunt yet a pout to your voice.
"I'm curious about the flavor." Giving you an easy smile, quirking one of his brows.
"Ew, Leon." No disgust like before, if anything a giggle hangs in the air. Leon likes the sound of it, likes how it sits in his chest and spreads an easy warmth through his limbs.
"What? Not into vampires?" Licking his sharp canines, now he sees a roll of your eyes, shoving his shoulder before you slowly remove your wrist from his hand.
"Shut up, Leon." Moving back to your little desk to continue clacking away with your sharp claws, stopping only for a moment, "But if you don't, I've got other flavors."
He watches you flip your hair over your shoulder, back to your firm emails as he looks you over for a moment.
"Okay sweetheart, I'll let ya know if your blood is sweet enough."
Bakugou, Kirishima, Todoroki, Hawks, Dabi x Reader
⫸ Word Count: 1k
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!!: sex, masturbation
You get cleaned up – only to get dirty again
A blender whirring in the kitchen brings you downstairs. After your alleyway rendezvous, you needed to freshen up… and hopefully not run into anyone with cum running down your face or pressed into your dress.
Todoroki and Bakugou stand in the kitchen, their heads conspiratorially close together.
“I thought everyone was in town?” you interrupt. Blonde and red separate.
“Got bored,” Bakugou shrugs.
“Try this,” Todoroki hands you a cup with a white blended drink garnished with a golden pineapple wedge.
“You know I was drinking whiskey straight from the bottle,” you point out.
“Don’t be a shit, take the damn drink,” Bakugou scoffs, “Ya can’t live on whiskey alone.”
“Bullshit I can’t,” you mutter. You had dreams about that bottle and all the unhinged decisions you could make and blame on it.
“The bottle is empty,” Todoroki deadpans as he brings a cutting board and blender to the sink.
“Oh,” You cheerfully take a sip, “Well then thanks for the drink.”
You eye the two men wondering why they really came back. Bakugou you could understand — he didn’t seem like he wanted to go out anyways. But Todoroki? He seemed to be having a good time at the record shop. You lift your drink to your mouth… and miss.
“Oh shit.” It spills out of the corner of your mouth and down your jaw. Bakugou finger wipes up the droplets on your chin and pushes them into your mouth.
Your lips capture his finger. Vermillion eyes are glued to you as your tongue swirls around the fingertip. Maybe this is why they came back?
“You missed a spot,” Todoroki says.
“What?”
He leaves the blender in the sink and approaches you.
“Here.” Todoroki leans in. His hot tongue laves up the column of your neck. You can’t help but arch into him.
Definitely why they came back.
“Shouto,” you whimper under his warm touch. Nimble fingers slide up your thigh under your dress. Your panties are soaked. You know it. And you know he knows it when his lips curve into a smile against your skin.
“Really?” Bakugou throws his hands up in exasperation. “In front of me?”
Todoroki ignores him. “Hold on to the counter.” Obediently, you grip the granite countertop and brace yourself. There’s a shifting of fabric behind you. A zipper undone. Your dress piled above your ass. Panties sliding down your legs.
“Shouto,” your head falls forward as his cockhead nestles between your folds at your entrance.
“No,” Shouto teases and pulls back. Wrapping a hand around your throat, he pulls your head up. “Let him watch.”
A ruddy blush spreads over Bakugou’s face as Todoroki spreads your legs further apart. Your breath hitches as he finally thrusts into you at an agonizingly slow speed. Each inch elicits a moan, a lip bite, tears pricking the corner of your eyes, something from you. And Bakugou’s vermillion gaze tracks every movement. Lust pounds through his veins and his cock. Your faces shift in a complicated dance where you lead and he follows – all conducted by Todoroki.
Bakugou’s hand passes nonchalantly over his sweats. Even rearranging his hardening dick, you can still see the outline of it pressed up against the waistband. A shudder runs through you. Imagine having both of them at the same time.
Todoroki’s hips stutter behind you. “Take it out.”
Bakugou’s eyes fly from your face to his. “What?”
“Take your dick out and stroke yourself,” he says impatiently.
“Wh-”
“She fucking clenches when you do that and-”
Bakugou pulls his pants to mid-thigh. His cock stands at attention. You tremble again with thoughts of ‘what if’. What if he slid his cock into your mouth while Todoroki pounds you from behind? What if you took them both at once? What if Todoroki settled you on Bakugou’s dick and used you like a fleshlight to jerk the other man off?
A mewl escapes your lips as Todoroki’s hips snap against your ass. Fingers dig into your hips and pull you down hard.
Todoroki leans over you, his breath tickling your ear. “You like him watching?”
Bakugou’s forefinger and thumb circle his shaft, lightly stroking up and down. You wanted him to do more than just watch.
“You like him seeing your tits bounce as I take you?” he growls in your ear. One hand snakes down to the apex of your thighs. A simple graze of his finger against your clit has you whimpering. “You like seeing her come undone on my cock?”
Bakugou tosses his head back and fucks into his fist.
Desire burns along your nerves and you collapse into Todoroki as your orgasm washes over you. He’s not far behind you, his hips losing their momentum as they stutter against you and a rushing heat fills you. You stay joined for a moment, Todoroki’s softening cock letting come leak out of you.
He pulls out and braces himself against the counter next to you. In a daze, you stumble over to Bakugou who watches you with lust filled eyes.
“Can I?” Your voice trails off as you sink to your knees.
“Not this time, Princess,” he pants. Your heart sinks, but he continues, “I wouldn’t last a second with your pretty lips wrapped around me.”
Todoroki, finished tucking himself back in, stands behind you. His hands run down your shoulders, taking the straps of your dress with them. “Give him something to aim for when he blows his load.”
The edge of your dress caresses your tits as Todoroki pulls your top down. It stops momentarily on the stiff peaks of your nipples before popping free.
Bakugou starts pumping faster, his hand fisting his weeping cock with such strength you’d think he was working out at the gym. “Fuck.”
Hot drops splatter across your collarbone and tits. One even makes it up to your bare shoulder. Bakugou pants, lost in his own orgasm.
“Shouto,” you look up at him from your spot on the ground, “Can I have my panties back?”
He raises an eyebrow and taps a bulge in his pocket. “No.”
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Imagine being a stripper and you get awkward, shy, Izuku because you LOOOOOOOOOVE flustering him.
He stutters, can't keep eye contact (because they're glued to your body), his face is so flush it makes his freckles stand out that much more. It helps he slips blue notes into your g string although seeing him get all nervous with his pants tented makes it worth it.
But even better is when a guy tries to get handsy with you, a big club no no, and suddenly that shy, meek man stands tall, towering over the creep with his scarred hand wrapped tightly around the other man's wrist. So tightly it creeks under the pressure.
"When a woman says no, she means it."
(and maybe you get a little wet when you hear a quick snap.)
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