⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤLamb to the slaughter
⠀⠀⠀⠀ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤI'm running from my own reflection

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⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤLamb to the slaughter
⠀⠀⠀⠀ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤI'm running from my own reflection

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posting my fic, friday ! promise .
forgot how in depth i am when it comes to writing out full sex scenes in fics and not just drabbles
im working in the mines
doing love spells and writing for a request atm
finished the argument bit, now we're getting spicy

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doing love spells and writing for a request atm
gonna be that bitch and make nero cheat on kyrie with me .
after all he’s my coworker , my bestie , his uncle ‘s secretary when devil may cry was standing and had little business .
nero doesn’t have the excuse of trying to avoid me after , i’m everywhere he is . in his bed , in his head , underneath him in kyrie’s place when he’s intimate with her and all he can do is bust a nut because he pictured my moans instead of her’s .
this party is turnt , what happened to my panties ? meme , but it’s mark grayson / dante sparda
TW: death, major & minor character deaths, angst no fluff
" i think I want a farm." you tell david martinez randomly one night after a gig. the fizz of liquor tainted your breath and the ache in your trigger finger reminded you of a job well done.
you both were seated on the hood of maine's ride, he was less careful than you on getting sneaker marks smeared against cherry red paint, bullet holes still decorated the side of her passenger and driver side door, but other than that she was still beautiful. the paycheck you all would get from falco would cover damage and maybe maine can finally take dorio somewhere nicer than the afterlife for a humble drink; not that she would give a damn about niceities.
you overhead pilar brag about what he'd do with his cash when he hit the motherfucking motherload of gigs. he could practically taste the gold plated cock piece and the new upgrades for his inhumanely long hands.
" a . . farm?" david blinks, his head tilting too far to the side. thick eyebrow quirking upwards in blatant curiosity.
" yeah!" you lean back on your palms, head tilting upwards to watch the city's light pollution and acidic air dance over twinkling stars and warp the full moon's rays. " with animals that existed before nightcity , and its gonks killed them all. i want birds, chickens, and horses, maybe--"
" you think those fucking animals still exist?" pilar interrupts with a boisterous laugh, spilling beer all over his front when he throws his head back to laugh. you're loud enough for even his drunken senses to hear you, and considering he's chromed hella out, you don't doubt his auditory upgrades heard you and david talking. " that's such bull-SHIT!!"
maine swats him over the head with a large meaty whack of his gorilla mitts. the faux skin covering his implants ripple under the sheer force he uses to silence any other stupidity his drunk gang mate would spew out.
" mind ya' manners to our new choom, girl's got dreams." he grumbles, the end of his mouth curling into a warm grin just for your eyes alone. dorio winks your way under her man's large arm that's wrapped around her shoulders.
"if I could, id only own birds. something about having freedom. how easy it is to just run away from everything and fly as far as they wanted." you continue, drawing your knees up to your chest. cheek rested on both kneecaps while you turned your gaze back onto david.
something about the way you spoke. the dreamy way your eyes held just a little bit of hope and the spark of ambition or stupid determination to get your happily ever after far away from this hellscape. it made his thrumming chest squeeze, his breath hitch. at some point, david thinks he stopped breathing when he sees you smile while you continue your tipsy rant. you were so quick and eager to open yourself up to anyone that lent an ear; you sounded genuine and the most grounded human he's met. money and the thrill of your jobs never changed your spark. for some reason, you reminded him of some light at the end of the tunnel that refused to go out, no matter how hard night city tried to diminish it.
wuwa update x cyberpunk edgerunners and now i really want david
my baby , i’ll save u from urself

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tumblr deleted / ate all my asks - inbox submissions !!
i’ve tried every way to fix it , but no luck .
inbox is open ! please flood it
Trust Dante when he's drunk; he'd kiss you, and he would be snivelling and begging on his knees for you. guys trust me, i saw the comments. i can't give you a full ass plate of food all at once.
when dante kisses you the second time, it's something different. it tastes bitter, desperation lacing his tongue that scraped your taste buds. it mirrors the way his hands fist the solid-colored shirt you're wearing.
confrontation was something you would rather take your own life than ever decide to stare into your past lover's eyes and tell him what was going on in your life. time was unfriendly to you both, it was a fickle consistent trend that wore down the chasm of jagged black edges further and further between heated bodies till it felt like you and him were galaxies apart and on different brain waves of thinking.
he had come back to you in the dead of night, when rain was rolling down silver tin-covered roofs, and the glow of neon lights was setting your silhouettes ablaze in a fiery inferno. you opened the door, thinking it was your recent love. the kind that actually treated you right, that touched you the way you liked, that actually put a name to what you both were and called you names that didn't make the pit of your stomach curl in the way that made bile burn the back of your throat. the clear shock and then slowly churning tides of disappointment rolling over your face like icy tidal waves was something dante didn't think he would ever encounter from you.
where he had braced himself for you to burst out in grateful tears and fling yourself into his arms as you welcomed him home just like you always used to; when he was gone for long periods of time and leaving you in painful radio silence. he had been greeted with your disappointment and your front door being shut behind you, and not being invited inside your cinnamon-scented living room like before.
" expecting someone else?" he jokes, voice sounding tight and just as strained as the dry chuckle he lets out after.
" yes, i was." you dont joke. " what are you-- "
" you wound me, babe. you gotta work on those jokes of yours." he cuts you off, a step taken forward. dante is invading your personal space and leaning down to grace your lips with his own like it's an effective way to shut down your assumed brattiness. it's then that your face turns away, and you say his name like a stranger would. no heat and warmth of your typical affection in the curl of your tongue. his name sounds like a slur in the tone of your voice.
" dante. we can't." your gaze narrowly avoids the way the space between his brows crease, flickering emotions that he doesn't want to put much thought in what's causing his heart and head to hurt. "things have changed."
" not everything needs to be changed, babe."
" well i have," you frown. jaw set, teeth nearly grinding together in order to distract yourself from tearing up automatically. you can't take the shift in the atmosphere, the way the city nightscape is deathly quiet and the ringing in your ears has started to begin. " and it has, especially with us."
dante scoffs, his weight leaning back enough so he can dramatically roll his eyes. irritation brews just under the surface of his skin. the heavy crushing pressure in his chest digs harder, and he spits out the few words he can manage to utter. " don't tell me there's someone else already." already. it sends a pang in your chest.
your silence is his only answer. whether its out of spite to not reveal your new active love life, or just because you feel he doesn't even deserve an explanation. whatever answer it is that you want to choose, both would have resulted in the strained, snarky smirk dante has painted on his features. something in his chest snaps, and he can't help but to bark out a half-sob, half-choked-up laugh. it sounds painful, but it doesn't equate to the feeling he has of the forming black hole swirling around in his sternum. the hands near his sides tighten, nails digging into his palms hard enough to make his fists shake. it takes an insane of supernatural effort not to let his devil trigger react and go buckwild on the balcony of your apartment.
dante wants to hit something.
dante wants to scream and call you out on your bullshit.
dante wants to fall to his knees and clutch your sleep shorts, begging for a second chance and to apologize over and over till you take him back.
dante wants you to tell him this is all some sick joke or that this is just some nightmare. if he pinches himself hard enough, maybe he'll wake up in bed next to you. he'll pull you to his chest, inhale the rich scent of your skin and lingering notes of perfume that will lull him back to better dreams and deeper sleep.
however this isn't a dream, this isn't a nightmare. this is reality, and he's lost you. no amount of begging or crying would ever repair whatever he's done to you. he's such a piece of shit, and maybe he knows it. his one last request from you only further proves it.
" give me one last kiss before you go, then."
ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ
as requested :)) hope the angst really hits for y'all!

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dante kisses you like thunderous rain falls after he breaks your heart. his lips are crushed against your top lip that are pinned flat against your upper teeth. it's a sharp pain that he mistakes for your squirming reactions to it as you try to run away.
the heat of his bare rock hard chest pushes against your softer one, forcing you to accept the way his tongue tries to work its way into your sobbing mouth. he tastes like the dante you know, and love; yet the curdling tang of something new and bitter makes your features screw up with the lightning-fast conclusion that it is the lingering of Lady still on his tongue. he moves fast when it comes to comforting someone that he didn't want to claim yet. the title and the responsibility that came with the word 'boyfriend' made something in his lower intestine knot and his gut ache with a sharp pain he cringed at.
the hushed noises of your scuffle disturb the shadows of your night in a shared, gothic-looking room. the wind carries his attempts to cover a sob that crawls from your dry throat. his tongue can taste salt on the corner of your lips, tear streaks that haven't been given enough time to dry since you caught Devil Hunter and his Lady in the throes of some embrace. you didn't stick around enough to decide who threw themselves at who ; and who started to apologize to you when their burning ears heard your shrill gasp coming from the doorway. dante blames it on an adrenaline high, on his fear of losing one of the women he actually cares about in his fucked life. you haven't heard Lady's excuse, but you know you never will. she's halfway out of town, running away like it's her signature go-to when things get a little too personal for her liking.
his hands bunch up the front of your shirt, pressing over your sternum and letting the cool air of the room brush over your heaving breasts. his large fingers are pressed against your shuddering chest, lungs fighting for hiccuping breaths that get shorter and shorter the faster he kisses you. your own fingers are limp at your sides; the sides of your hands still pulsate from the earlier pounding you beat onto his chest when he pinned you in place and forced his lips on yours. his steel-like muscle is unforgiving to your delicate touch.
you should be unforgiving like that. hard around the edges and immune to weakness that squeezes your heart a little too tight when dante hurts your feelings. the leather of his fingerless gloves scraps against your flushed skin, and it only seems to be getting more and more aggressive when he can feel your knees start to weaken at how his entire stature engulfs you in his shadow.
his kisses that beg for forgiveness, for understanding, get messier. typical tongue wrapping around your salt-laden one, just so it makes it easier for him to drag wriggling muscle into his mouth and suck the bitter taste from your taste buds. he drinks your saliva, letting sticky strings of drool string you two together and decorate his sharp chin when the kiss finally breaks.
the fall