#if only to improve lol .v.

[keeps-ache]

a sketchpage i decided to just use a ref anyway lol

[kirby-the-gorb]

[lightbulb-warning]

i used to freehand comics all the time as a child and since the part i liked was the drawing part i would just draw panel after panel because i didn't want to stop drawing to think about icky icky words, plus the story TOTALLY still made perfect sense! to me! and noone else, but 'whoooo caaaaares omgggg its not like comics and sequantial art are a communicative meeediummmm lmaoooooo'. i spent my entire childhood telling myself stuff like "oh pfft I know this story by heart- ill SIMPLY remember the dialogue and write it later" ...and. I can't help but admire baby maiora's (call that a minora ba tm tsk) fucking audacity? hubris? confident wrongness? kid couldn't even remember to finish the comics in the first place? INCREDIBLE levels of unearned self assurance, wish that were me, genuinely- what an icon!!! anyway i think i have forever cursed myself

[unproduciblesmackdown]

as ever like: no two things Need to be juxtaposed, much less like material vs material deathmatch Only One Can Be Good, much less am i thinking i have thee objective word on fuckall b/c who does and it's like perfectly boring & unserious whenever someone just throws out Takes that are just "i think...[xyz] is [adjective]" like okay.

but anyways thinking of how, though differing in execution in a lot of ways ofc, deh & bmc start out in a v similar place & explore a journey to self-acceptance from a despairing starting point....it feels like a lot of the hindrance in deh's exploration of its own Theme there is in like, hey. :) hand on your shoulder. it's okay b/c you'll be able to be more normal. whereas w/bmc it's that it's okay b/c you'll be able to be more abnormal

[fingertipsmp3]

Kinda want to create one of those like 100 days of self care or mental health or something challenges for myself & post abt it each day to hold myself accountable

[kimmkitsuragi]

im nervous ... but again it's for a stupid reason

[ereh-emanresu-tresni]

My toxic trait is keeping dozens/hundreds of articles and videos in open tabs to read and watch later, and hundreds/thousands more bookmarked for later ref, then only actually getting back around to like 3 every few months

[contact-guy]

lol THIS ENDED UP BEING SO LONG but it's such a cute story opening that I had to draw Watson roasting Holmes's messiness for the newspaper and Holmes skillfully maneuvering his way out of having to do chores. It's all canon, even the indoor sharpshooting, except for the bit about the cold bath.

canon text under the cut:

An anomaly which often struck me in the character of my friend Sherlock Holmes was that, although in his methods of thought he was the neatest and most methodical of mankind, and although also he affected a certain quiet primness of dress, he was none the less in his personal habits one of the most untidy men that ever drove a fellow-lodger to distraction. Not that I am in the least conventional in that respect myself. The rough-and-tumble work in Afghanistan, coming on the top of a natural Bohemianism of disposition, has made me rather more lax than befits a medical man. But with me there is a limit, and when I find a man who keeps his cigars in the coal-scuttle, his tobacco in the toe end of a Persian slipper, and his unanswered correspondence transfixed by a jack-knife into the very centre of his wooden mantelpiece, then I begin to give myself virtuous airs. I have always held, too, that pistol practice should be distinctly an open-air pastime; and when Holmes, in one of his queer humors, would sit in an arm-chair with his hair-trigger and a hundred Boxer cartridges, and proceed to adorn the opposite wall with a patriotic V. R. done in bullet-pocks, I felt strongly that neither the atmosphere nor the appearance of our room was improved by it.

Our chambers were always full of chemicals and of criminal relics which had a way of wandering into unlikely positions, and of turning up in the butter-dish or in even less desirable places. But his papers were my great crux. He had a horror of destroying documents, especially those which were connected with his past cases, and yet it was only once in every year or two that he would muster energy to docket and arrange them; for, as I have mentioned somewhere in these incoherent memoirs, the outbursts of passionate energy when he performed the remarkable feats with which his name is associated were followed by reactions of lethargy during which he would lie about with his violin and his books, hardly moving save from the sofa to the table. Thus month after month his papers accumulated, until every corner of the room was stacked with bundles of manuscript which were on no account to be burned, and which could not be put away save by their owner. One winter’s night, as we sat together by the fire, I ventured to suggest to him that, as he had finished pasting extracts into his common-place book, he might employ the next two hours in making our room a little more habitable. He could not deny the justice of my request, so with a rather rueful face he went off to his bedroom, from which he returned presently pulling a large tin box behind him. This he placed in the middle of the floor and, squatting down upon a stool in front of it, he threw back the lid. I could see that it was already a third full of bundles of paper tied up with red tape into separate packages.

“There are cases enough here, Watson,” said he, looking at me with mischievous eyes. “I think that if you knew all that I had in this box you would ask me to pull some out instead of putting others in.”

“These are the records of your early work, then?” I asked. “I have often wished that I had notes of those cases.”

“Yes, my boy, these were all done prematurely before my biographer had come to glorify me.” He lifted bundle after bundle in a tender, caressing sort of way. “They are not all successes, Watson,” said he. “But there are some pretty little problems among them. Here’s the record of the Tarleton murders, and the case of Vamberry, the wine merchant, and the adventure of the old Russian woman, and the singular affair of the aluminium crutch, as well as a full account of Ricoletti of the club-foot, and his abominable wife. And here—ah, now, this really is something a little recherchè.”

He dived his arm down to the bottom of the chest, and brought up a small wooden box with a sliding lid, such as children’s toys are kept in. From within he produced a crumpled piece of paper, and old-fashioned brass key, a peg of wood with a ball of string attached to it, and three rusty old disks of metal.

“Well, my boy, what do you make of this lot?” he asked, smiling at my expression.

“It is a curious collection.”

“Very curious, and the story that hangs round it will strike you as being more curious still.”

“These relics have a history then?”

“So much so that they are history.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Sherlock Holmes picked them up one by one, and laid them along the edge of the table. Then he reseated himself in his chair and looked them over with a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.

“These,” said he, “are all that I have left to remind me of the adventure of the Musgrave Ritual.”

I had heard him mention the case more than once, though I had never been able to gather the details. “I should be so glad,” said I, “if you would give me an account of it.”

“And leave the litter as it is?” he cried, mischievously. “Your tidiness won’t bear much strain after all, Watson. But I should be glad that you should add this case to your annals, for there are points in it which make it quite unique in the criminal records of this or, I believe, of any other country. A collection of my trifling achievements would certainly be incomplete which contained no account of this very singular business.

-The Memories of Sherlock Holmes: The Musgrave Ritual

[leclerc-hs]

it's cool, we're just friends? - cl16

pairing: college!charles leclerc x fem!reader (friends with benefits!) summary: in which you and a guy in your class are friends with benefits OR you and your friends with benefits might be more? warnings: smut under the cut! thigh-riding, throat-fucking, p in v sex!, no condoms (bad!), badly translated french (pls correct me), angst, pining, NOT PROOFREAD!!!! word count: 4.8k! author's note: so i ALMOST scrapped this entire thing because i wasn't sure how i felt about it so if it sucks, i understand LOL. i had a lot of fun writing this and can see myself writing a lot of scenarios for them like before there was this many feelings involved? like maybe a spring break one shot for them, when they hooked up for first time ;) PLEASE let me hear your thoughts and any comments you have. I love hearing from you guys xoxo

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

THE WEIGHT OF his eyes bore into the back of your skull, a palpable presence as you immerse yourself in the lecture before you. It’s almost become a ritual at this point: a magnetic pull compels you to glance his way, and there he is, a smirk stretching wide across his face, as if he holds the upper hand.

In that fleeting moment where your eyes meet his verdant gaze, a fierce intensity ignites within you. It’s as if a wildfire unleashes, consuming you with an unbridled mix of desire and exasperation. Your stomach tightens with a fervent ache, betraying the absolute irritation you feel at his ability to rile you up with one look.

Internally, Charles wrestles with the urge to gaze at you as though you’ve strung the stars and moon just for him. Yet, outwardly, he remains steadfast, unwilling to reveal his vulnerability when it comes to you. Instead, he masks his emotions behind a practiced smirk—a façade. And the blushing reaction you give him almost every time, only enthuses him more.

“Arrête!” You half-shout, though it emerges more as a whispered urgency amidst the large lecture hall.

Charles leans in over his desk, his lips hovering dangerously close to the shell of your ear, a proximity that sets your heart racing with a rapid intensity.

“Est-ce que je te verra ice soir?” Will I see you tonight?

You kept your head straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge the warmth of him being so close, resisting the allure of his voice. 

“Peut-être.” Maybe.

At the front of the lecture hall, Professor Bernard stands tall, his expression grave as he prepares his common ‘you guys are smarter than this’ speech about the recent exam grades. He highlights the alarming fact that more than half of the class received a 70% or lower. And true to his reputation as the kindest professor, he extends an olive branch by offering retakes to those who seek improvement before dismissing the lecture.

You gather your belongings, ready to make your exit, when suddenly, a heavy arm wraps around your shoulder just as you cross the threshold of the door.

You? Aced it. Charles? Not so aced it.

Which you knew meant you were helping him study as usual.

-

You watch as Charles runs his fingers through his disheveled locks, each movement betraying a hint of frustration and determination. His lips form a subtle pout as he fixates on the study material you laid out before him, his furrowed brows highlighting the depth of his concentration.

“Mon chou, je ne pensais pas que tu m’avais invite pour ça.” I didn’t think you invited me over for this.

With a gleam in his eyes, he wiggles his eyebrows playfully as he collapses on the many pillows of your bed behind him. The papers scattered across the bed threaten to take flight, but your swift reflexes saved them from soaring away into chaos.

You narrow your eyes in mock annoyance, but the small smile tugging at the corners of your lips betrays your amusement at the situation.

“Tu dois étudier.” You need to study.

Charles stares at the corners of your lips, his eyes not straying once from them even as you spoke. 

“Embrasse-moi d’abord.” Kiss me first. He nearly begs; his face almost completely covered by the hood of his sweatshirt as he laid on his back beside your cross-legged figure.

“Étudie.” Study. Your words were firm, yet you could feel your resolve slipping under the intensity of his gaze, as it traces a path from your lips to your eyes, igniting a warmth that stirred whenever he was near.

His arm reaches up behind your neck in a swift motion, too quick for you to even see it coming. His fingers grabbing the nape of your neck in a tight grip as he brings your face down to his, your body toppling over his in an unnatural position from his force. His lips collide with yours instantly, and the squeal you elicit gives him easy access to slip his tongue into your mouth. 

He groans softly against your mouth, something about how sweet your mouth tastes. The moan that escapes your lips and melded into his mouth drove him absolutely crazy. The grip on the back of your neck didn’t loosen as he held you to him, giving you no opportunity to pull away from him.

Your tank top cladded chest was pressed against the side of his body, embracing you in his warmth. You press a hand to his chest, attempting to push yourself up, but he groans against your lips in detest before loosening his grip on your neck. 

“Est-ce vraiment necessaire.” Do we have to? He begins to pepper kisses all around your face, his fingers dipping under the straps of your tank top, tracing intricate patterns of the soft skin beneath.

You slip your hand under the warmth of his hoodie, his toned muscles flexing under your cold fingertips as you trail your hand up his chest and slip one leg over him, straddling his thigh. His skin was so warm. Almost like a furnace.

He sucks in a breath, as if your touch hurt him, but really, he craved it. He wanted you everywhere. The tight leggings that adorned your body did little to prevent Charles from feeling the heat and arousal of your pussy against his thigh. A smirk widened on his lips almost instantly. He knew he had you right where he wanted you.

He could sense your contemplative thoughts by one glance at your eyes. As if you knew he needed to study, but you needed this more.

 You could barely concentrate the minute Charles sprawled onto your bed earlier, his legs spread and shorts riding up to expose the muscles of his thighs. It was even harder to think with the way his soft green eyes look up at you, and the way his fingers felt on you.

His hand trails from beneath the strap of your tank top, your hardened nipples more than visible through the thin fabric of it, to the front of your breasts.

“No bra?” His thumb rolled a nipple between his thumb and forefinger above the fabric of your shirt. “Planning on getting fucked, hm?” 

Your hips rut against his thigh almost instantly in response to his words. The feeling of his thigh against your clit, causing a soft moan to slip. It was then, that Charles seemed to lose all restraint as his hand grasped the side of your neck and squeezed lightly, his thumb resting in the center of your neck. He flexed his thigh, his eyes gleaming at the sight of your blown out pupils.

“Regarde-toi,” Look at you. He edged you on. “Just wanna ride m’thigh, yeah?” 

Your hips move in their own rhythm, unable to stop. It just feels too good. You nodded repeatedly as you lean over, pressing your chest to his, as he claims your lips once again. His hot, tongue sliding against yours as the stubble of his facial hair scratches your chin.

You struggle, losing the rhythm of your hips until Charles slid his hands down to your waist, guiding your movements. “C’mon mon chou, tu dois travailler pour ça.” You have to work for it.

“We should study.” You mention, the pace of your hips not stopping. As if your body has a mind of its own.

“Nous sommes.” We are. He argues, his fingertips squeezing into the skin of your hips even more. “Now, keep rubbing that pretty little pussy on me.”

-

“Oh, what about her?” You point to the pretty brunette that was currently leaned against the wall, a red solo cup in her manicured hand, as she was deep in conversation with a few other girls that you haven’t seen before.

Charles sighs heavily, rolling his eyes just slightly. “Why are you pawning me off?” He cracks a smile, his elbows gently hitting your side.

You let out a small laugh before bringing your own cup to your lips. The liquid of your drink resting on the top of your lip as you finished a sip and turned to look at Charles. “M’not!” You shrug your shoulders. “Elle est jolie and keeps looking at you thinkin’ no one’s noticed.” She’s pretty.

He wouldn’t know about the ‘pretty brunette’ you claimed was there. He didn’t know about any other girl that was here. His eyes haven’t left your figure the entire night. Since you stepped in the entrance of the house he was by your side, it was like his body knew you arrived.

“Peu importe ça, m’gonna go dance.” Whatever. You stick your tongue out at him, earning a deep laugh, and saunter off to find one of your friends already on the makeshift dance floor in the living room of the house. 

Charles leans casually against the wall, his eyes tracing the contours of your radiant smile from afar. Despite himself, a soft grin tugs at the corners of his lips as he takes in the sight of you.

“Are you sure you’re not together?” One of his friends, Alex, teases, leaning in close to Charles and handing him a red solo cup, its contents mostly frothy beer foam from an evidently lazy pour. “I was thinking of asking her out.”

Charles’s gaze drift from the frothy mess in his cup to Alex’s expectant face, a furrow forming on his brow. It wasn’t the foam that troubled him, rather, it was Alex’s words that unsettled him. How was he supposed to respond? We aren’t together but I think I’m in love with her?

Charles clenches his jaw, fighting back the urge to speak his truth, as the words “have at it” slip past his lips with a forced nonchalance. With a hollow smile, he raises the cup to his lips, swallowing the acrid liquid with a newfound eagerness that masked the bitter taste of envy and longing festering in his chest. As Alex made his way towards you, Charles couldn’t help but feel a pang of anguish, knowing that he was relinquishing his chance to confess his feelings, drowning them instead in the depths of a cheap beer.

-

“Mmm, tu es tellement douée.” You’re so good.

You weren’t quite sure how you ended up in this scenario. All you remember is being dragged away from a game of beer-pong with Alex, his fingers gripping your wrist so tightly it could’ve left marks, and shoving you onto your knees as soon as he shut the bathroom door. 

Dwelling on the how’s and why’s seemed inconsequential now. Especially with his cock buried deep down your throat like it is right now, and especially with the praises that slip past his lips.

Charles lulls his head back with a loud groan as he flexes his hips into your mouth, giving you little to no opportunity to breathe. No opportunity to speak. But you didn’t care. You would do anything to please him.

“Tellement putain de jolie, mon dieu.” So fucking pretty, my God.

“Bet you’re soaked under that dress, hm?” His grip on your hair tightens. “Got you all wet without even touching you.” His laugh is deep and mocking. You feel your thighs clench, like it was an automatic response. “Only I get you like this, yeah?”

You press your face forward, not even needing his force as you take full enjoyment in the feeling of him in your mouth.

“So eager, mon chou.”

You moan at the feeling of his smooth cock against the walls of your throat. The vibrations of your moan, immediately sending him over the edge. His white, hot cum spills down your throat, filling you up, before he pulls out. A long string of saliva follows, your eyes completely teary. 

He lifts you from your knees, the cool tile of the bathroom floor no longer your support, his thumb gently resting on your chin as he studies you for a mere second. Taking in the streaky tears under your eyes and your swollen lips. He could already feel the blood rushing back to his cock.

“Bet you’re leaking all over yourself, yeah?” You catch the smirk that pulls onto his lips before his lips crash down onto yours. His teeth nibbling on your bottom lip for a brief second before he’s pulling away, pushing you up onto the bathroom sink counter as he stands in between your spread legs. “All achy?” He cocked his head to the side a little, like he knew something you didn’t.

It was so fast, you weren’t even able to ask questions before he leaned forward, his fingers slipping into the lace of your underwear, pushing them aside, and pressing his hot tongue to your soaked core.

You swore you’ve never moaned so loud in your life as you just did in this moment.  At the feeling of the kitten licks on your clit, at the feeling of him shoving two fingers into you, finding that spot he knew you loved most almost instantly.

Your fingers franticly reached into his tousled locks, pulling his hair probably harder than necessary, but he didn’t mind. In fact, he moaned right into your pussy. Like he couldn’t ever get enough of you. Like he would stay licking you for forever if he could.

“Mon dieu,” My god. You squeal as your head lulls back against the cool mirror behind you and bite your lip trying to conceal the moans.

You look down at Charles, his eyes already staring at you, his green eyes completely darkened now. It makes your stomach do a multitude of flips. Your attempt to squeeze your legs shut from the pressure building in your stomach, but Charles grips his fingers into the soft flesh of your thigh, holding them open.

A series of knocks are heard on the bathroom door which sends you into a total panic to which Charles yells “Va te faire foutre!” Fuck off!

 Your body squirms against Charles’ mouth and the granite of the countertop, but he holds you in place as if to say you’re not going anywhere until you soak my mouth.

He ate you out like a possessed man. Your chest is flushed red as the speed of his tongue picks up, sending you into overdrive. It wasn’t until he sucks harshly on your clit, the pressure of it, has you leaping over the edge into your orgasm. You came hard enough that your body arched, your fingers clenching his hair, pulling hard.

Charles doesn’t come up right away, he licks and licks until you’re pushing him off you. Both of your chests rose and fell in rhythm with each heavy breath, the lingering echoes of the lively party beyond the door gradually seeping back into your consciousness. It felt as though you had just descended from a faraway realm, returning to the bustling reality surrounding you.

His lips glistened, coated in you, as he stares at you completely fucked out on the bathroom counter. An unmistakable smugness in his expression.

His heart clenches as he drinks in the sight of you, so many emotions swirling in his chest. As you stretch your lips into that smile he loves so much, he feels a swell of warmth flood his senses, a tender ache stirring in the depths of his soul.

“Qu’est-ce qui te prend?” What’s gotten into you?

Not that you were complaining at what just happened. If anything, you wouldn’t mind if he wanted a repeat right now.

He nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders, one hand leisurely slipping into his pocket, while the other moved to grasp the door handle. With a patient stance, he awaited your readiness before even considering opening the door. “J’avais juste besoin de toi,” Just needed you. He whispers, his voice carrying a tender resonance, emphasizing the depth of longing.

And then he’s swinging the door open, guiding you both back to the party.

-

“Je pense que nous devrions arrêter.” I think we should stop.

The words felt heavy in your throat as you said them, your hand clasped in Charles’ hand as you sat across from one another in the campus coffee shop.

Charles chuckled softly, taking a leisurely sip of his drink, but when be caught the seriousness in your expression, his laughter faded. His eyebrows knitted together, a pang of pain igniting in his chest and spreading like wildfire.

You watched as he leaned his head back against the booth, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as if unable to meet your eyes.

“Que veux-tu dire?” What do you mean? He met your eyes again, and you noticed a subtle shift in their hue—they were slightly darker than their usual shade of green.

“Je ne pense pas que ç ava marcher.” I don’t think this is going to work out. As you uttered the words, a queasy sensation churned in your stomach, making you feel like you were going to be sick. Similarly, Charles felt a wave of nausea wash over him upon hearing your words, his own stomach in knots.

Just looking at him had your eyes burning, but you refused to let the tears fall. Despite the overwhelming love you felt for this man, you couldn’t ignore the reality that it was unlikely to progress beyond the messy situation you found yourselves in. What were you supposed to do? Be friends that fuck for the rest of your lives?

You couldn’t do that. You wouldn’t do that. It wasn’t a spur of the moment decision. No, you’ve been thinking about this for so long, but cutting it off was just too hard. Cutting him off was too hard.

As you watched him slowly retract his fingers from yours, his hand moving to pinch the bridge of his nose while he blinked, a fiery ache within your chest grew.

“We’re friends, always, right?” You asked, offering him a soft smile, though inside, your heart felt like it was about to burst from your chest. You reminded yourself that this was necessary. You needed to go on dates. Not that he was exactly holding you back. It just felt wrong to go on dates while sleeping with another.

“Right,” he responded, his expression devoid of a smile. “Friends.” He nodded slowly, as if carefully considering the weight of the situation before him.

“Est-ce que je peux demander ce qui a déclencé cela?” Can I ask what brought this up? His fingers tapped restlessly along the edge of the table, betraying his impatience as he awaited your answer.

Meanwhile, you sat twiddling your thumbs in your lap, occasionally stealing glances at them. Why did this conversation feel so unbearably difficult?

“Quoi?” What?

“Est-ce que j’ai fait quelque chose?” Did I do something?

You shook your head instantly, a small blush forming on your cheeks. “I just,” You began, but felt flustered as you took a pause to look back down at your fingers and then him again. His eyes made you feel hot all over, the way they never strayed from your face whenever you spoke to him, the way they dropped to your lips every so often as if he couldn’t stop thinking about kissing you. He couldn’t.

“I just think I need to go on dates.” You nervously smiled.

“You think?” He scoffed, throwing one arm over the top of the booth, and resting it there as he fell into a relaxed position. His eye twitched slightly, as he flexed his hand and clenched it like he was holding himself back.

You’re not sure how to respond. You had anticipated this conversation to be brief, perhaps along the lines of “I think we should end this,” followed by his immediate agreement. But apparently, that wasn’t the case. You could feel yourself growing flustered the longer you sat here. Why couldn’t he just simply agree, no questions asked.

You nodded, with slight hesitance. Did you really want to end it with him? No.

He shrugged his shoulders, pulling a little smirk on his face as he usually did. “Très bien.” Fine.

And that was that.

-

Charles decided that he had it up to here when you strolled into the house party, lips shiny with gloss, and you hand held in none other than Alex’s. It was as if you were trying to torture him. Like you knew that he loved you and you just wanted to hurt him a little more.

He’s watching, you can feel his eyes burn into you as you turn your head, pretending to listen to Alex as he rambles on about some story. You don’t let yourself glance over to Charles until later in the night, when he’s leaned up against the kitchen counter, a half-empty beer bottle gripped in his hand, eyes already on you.

You felt your stomach do a multitude of flips from the eye-contact, that you even almost pulled your hand from Alex’s. Like you were caught doing something wrong.

You quickly realized that you had little to no self-control, especially when it came to Charles. With his hair pushed back and the linen shirt half-unbuttoned, allowing the toned and taut muscles of his stomach to peek through, it almost seemed as though he wanted to make it even harder for you to resist. Like he wanted to punish you for not choosing him.

He had you right where he wanted you, sort of.

“Shh,” Charles nips at your earlobe, eliciting a mewl from you as he presses you against the mattress of his bed. “You want everyone to hear what a whore you are, hm?”

Another string of moans leaves your lips as he thrusts into you, the pads of his fingers gripping the front of your neck tightly. His eyes fixed on yours, the pace of his hips was slow, but so deep. 

“Tell me,” Charles began, his tongue trailing along your collarbones and up your neck until his mouth hovered over yours. “Still wanna play stupid games with me, jolie fille?” Pretty girl.

You whined as his hips picked up in pace. “Ouvrir.” Open. You did so without a second thought, only to be met with a string of saliva meeting your tongue. Charles groaned as you swallowed his spit, eagerly.

“Still wanna pretend we’re just friends?” He could feel your walls trembling as her hand snaked its way to the back of his neck, pulling his lips down to meet hers. It was a tangle of tongues and moans.

“Does he fuck you as good as me?” You couldn’t handle the way he was talking to you, staring at you, touching you. “Gripping me like you’re gonna come.”

You shook your head repeatedly. 

“That’s it,” His voice was gentle in your ear. “So good, mon chou.” 

Your breaths were jagged and heavy as he took you harder and harder. “Rub your pretty little clit for me, yeah?” 

Your body was shaking as you trailed your fingers down, fingers playing with your clit. Charles rested on his knees, his eyes staring at his cock being swallowed by your pussy, and the way your fingers toyed with your sensitive clit. He groaned at the sight of his cock coated in you. 

It wasn’t long before you careening forward with a cry, your body arching off the bed, as you came around his cock. Charles fell forward over you, an arm on each side of your head, as he cocooned you. His hips didn’t let up as you sobbed out, your toes curling.

Charles could feel his resolve slipping at the feeling of your soaked walls clenching him. He threw his head into the crevice of your neck, the rhythm of his hips faltering as you wrapped your legs around his waist, allowing him to thrust even deeper than before. He rolled his hips, pumping into you with such a fervent rush. 

“Mon dieu,” His groans were soft in your ear. “You feel so good.”

It wasn’t until you moaned in his ear, begging for him to come in you, that he lost all control. A deep moan, pressing his hips down against yours as he held you down, pumping his cum deep into you.

For a few moments, it was silent. Just the sound of your heavy breaths as Charles collapsed to the side of you. You both felt oddly at peace, even with the thumping of the house party music heard from the other side of his bedroom door.

Charles stood up, grabbing a towel from his bathroom, before bringing it to you to help clean you up. Something primal filled his chest as he stared at you sprawled on his bed, his cum dripping out of you. 

It was the last swipe of the towel when he finally spoke.

“We’re not friends.” He stated. He was sick of teetering around the topic. He was sick of seeing you with other guys at his house.

You opened your mouth to retort, but he held his hand up, essentially silencing you. 

“Stop pretending you want any other guy’s cock.” He stood before you as you sat up on the edge of the bed still naked, hands clenched at his sides in a fist. You began to stand up, your face turning red with anger, not because of his words but because he was right.

You grabbed your dress that was in a pile on the floor, slipping it on in a hurry. “Je dois partir.” I need to go. You began, “Alex me cherche probablement.” Alex is probably looking for me.

It was then that Charles raised his voice, if it weren’t for the loud music, you could’ve sworn the entire house would’ve heard.

“J’en ai tellement marre de ça!” I’m so sick of this! He runs his fingers through his hair, pacing the room back and forth. You felt your words caught in your throat as you stood still, your eyes following his every movement until he stood before you, his hands gripping your waist.. “Je t’aime!” I love you! He laughs after he says it, like he’s so pathetically in love with you and you have no care in the world for it.

“I cannot handle seeing you with another man.” He rambles off. “I cannot handle seeing you showing up here, to my home, holding another man’s hand.” He seethes, bringing his thumb and pointer finger to pinch the bridge of his nose as he breathes in, attempting to calm himself down.

“I know you love me.” His fingers grab your hand, pulling it up to his chest and holding it where his heart beats. Tears welled up in your eyes as you gazed at him, his eyes reflecting a wild intensity, his hair disheveled hair adding to his untamed allure. Sensing your vulnerability, he gently cupped your face with his other hand, offering you a tender touch. You leaned into his comforting embrace, as if seeking solace in his presence. With a silent nod, you pressed your head against his hand, a single tear escaping down your cheek, bearing witness to the depth of your emotions.

“I’m so sick of seeing people with what is mine.” He urged. “You can’t be someone else’s, not when you are already mine.”

“Charlie,” You drew in a deep breath, locking eyes with him, drowning in the depths of his green gaze. Every fiber of your being resonated with love for this man, an unshakeable devotion that consumed your soul.

“S’il te plait.” Please. His voice was a whispered hush as he begged. “Put me out of my misery.” 

He opened his mouth to continue, but you didn’t let him. You stood on the tips of your toes, leaning forward to press your chest against his as you pressed your lips to him. His arms immediately wrapping around your waist as you slipped your tongue into his mouth. He groaned at the taste of you in his mouth again, his cock already hardening for you.

You pulled off him, “Really?” He let a small laugh escape his lips as he pulled your mouth back onto his for a small peck.

“I’m a man in love.” He grins, like he has nothing to be ashamed about.

“Je t’aime.” I love you.

Charles tenderly pressed his lips to the side of your neck, his tongue tracing delicate patterns along the velvety skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Répète-le.” Say it again. He whispers, his voice husky with desire. As his lips continue down their intoxicating dance on your neck, his fingers trail the straps of your dress, gradually easing them down your shoulders with a tantalizing touch.

“Je t’aime.” I love you. He placed a small nip to your neck, eliciting a small squeal, as he lifted you up and carried you back to his bed.

“M’so in love with you,” He presses a kiss to your lips. “Don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

[evolnoomym]

Washing Machine Heart 🩶

Mom’s Best-friend!Joel Miller x f!reader

Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

Summary: Your Mom is not nice to you, her only Daughter, always picking on you whenever she can. To get back at her you decide to seduce and fuck her Highschool Best-friend Joel Miller. Oh she also has a crush on him so that’s a bonus.

Rating: 18+ mature content mdni!!!!

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: no use of y/n, female reader, implied abuse, childhood trauma, alcohol, smut, reader has no name only nicknames, size difference, age gap, readers age is mentioned and Joel is more than double sooo, mommy issues, strained relationships, petty shit, cream pie, tittys, choking kind of, teasing, Joel is tiny bit Pervy, of course Daddy kink, unprotected p in v,

If I missed anything please let me know 🙏🏻

Authors note: I was mad so this is what I cooked up lol

Shoutout to @cafekitsune for the dividers 🫶🏻

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so if you come across mistakes it might be due to that. This is my first time writing smut sooooo be nice please. I’m totally here for constructive criticism or feedback on how to improve. In general I appreciate comments, likes and reblogs greatly. 🖤

Song’s I listened to while writing:

I Hate My Mom by GRLwood

Class of 2013 by Mitski

I hope ur miserable until ur dead by Nessa Barrett

Bubblegum Bitch by MARINA

Backstabber by Kesha

Jerk by Oliver Tree

You know exactly when the relationship between you and your mother started deteriorating- The day she decided to choose your loser Stepdad, the one she only dated for 4 years, over her own 8 year old daughter. From then on you took a backseat in her life yet she still expected you to take care of her all needs. You hate her for what she did and you miss her like a little kid. You had to drag her home when she drank too much, you can’t even remember how often that happened. Always having to jump in between that asshole and her fighting cuz even though she practically emotionally abandoned you, you still wanted to protect her from harm's way. She forced you to grow up so quickly, it’s her fault you never got a real childhood.

For years you accepted that this is normal. The screaming, the violence and the degrading words became a part of growing up. You were a kid but not clueless, someone who loves you wouldn’t have done all of this. And yet all of them tried so hard to make you shut up and believe it’s what you deserved.

Luckily what happened did not entirely break you. No, you grew into someone who fought for herself since no one ever did that.

Of course you hoped she might realize her mistakes, apologize and change but nothings new with her. She’s great at pretending to be a better person to the outside world, than she is in reality, behind closed doors the mask unveils an ugly woman. A narcissistic self absorbed monster that took all your joy away.

It’s pathetic considering how much she always talks about getting abused by her own father but instead of breaking the cycle she doubled down on it. Going as far as using that as an excuse for what she did to her own child.

She only kinda stopped the abuse once you no longer were a small child. Now that you could fight back she did not corner you anymore.

But just because she couldn’t hit you anymore doesn’t mean the picking on you stopped, no, it was her mission to rid you of the last remaining confidence and self love.

In each screaming match she tried so hard to gaslight you into believing you were crazy for feeling offended by her disgusting behavior.

One time you asked why she hit you as a little kid and the answer left you completely blown away. She expressed that you cried so much, and did it to provoke her. What else could she have possibly done other than raise her hand?

Or another time she refused to acknowledge that she hit you at all but a second later told you that perhaps if she would’ve done worse you would’ve turned out better.

At some point you stopped calling her Mom and only went with her name. You knew that it must hurt but did she really deserve that title after everything she did?

Now at 21 years old the relationship is just as rocky, not much has changed.

Your mom has basically zero friends, she’s a bitch of course no one would want to be too close, well except for Joel…..Joel Miller that somehow was her friend.

Perhaps only since they have known each other since High School, he might have felt some kind of obligation towards her due to that. She told you once that Joel was the boy every girl had a crush on with his whole guitar playing thing they all swooned over him.

Even now all those years later Joel was a beautiful specimen, tall, broad shoulders, huge hands, strong arms you’d like to be enveloped by, tanned freckled skin, a cute butt, gorgeous brown curls with slightly gray streaks showing his age, big brown eyes, a prominent nose and soft pillow like lips.

You understand why your Mom had a crush on him, any woman would bend over for him if he’d say so. She thought it was not too noticeable but unlike Joel you caught it immediately.

She made you the reason for her life being so shitty but now after years of torment you saw a chance at really giving her a reason to hate you. Maybe something is wrong with you for liking the idea of breaking her heart so much but you honestly couldn’t care less. The one you felt sorry for most was probably Joel; he would be the pawn in your deranged game without knowing.

As it turns out though Joel is not as innocent as expected, the more you tried to get closer the more you realized he might be easier to seduce than originally anticipated.

You started with small things like hugging him a bit longer than normally so he could feel you perky full tits squished against his chest. Touching his arms and squeezing them but not too much as if to draw attention to it. And from his reactions, he did not seem to mind.

You were not worried about your mother, she never was the most alert to begin with.

When Joel came over for a barbecue you used the time alone with him in the garden while your mother was in the kitchen preparing god knows what to impress him.

Joel and you had some interesting conversations.

“Soooo you work in contracting, right?” You asked him sweetly. Joel chuckled “Yeah sweetheart, I do. But ya know tha’ already, so why ask?” You played it off as much as you could “Just making sure you didn't decide to switch career paths in the time I haven’t seen you…” you look up at him through your lashes, cheekily biting your lip. Joel of course fell into the trap, his eyes going down to your plush lips in mere seconds. Got ya you dirty old men.

You stepped closer until you two were only a couple inches apart. His chest almost touched yours. In this position you really had to Crane your neck up to keep eye contact consistent.

“What are ya doing Baby,huh?” Joel tilted his head slightly down towards your face. You just giggled at him “Nothin Joel, just…” with that you put your hands on his wide chest ruining them down over his enticing slightly protruding belly. “I know you stare at my ass alllllll the time. I also know you like it when I walk close by you and graze you with my tits. My little skimpy outfits turn you on as well don’t they,huh Joel?” You smirk at him.

You can see how he clenches his jaw…ohhh yes you got him figured out.

He hisses low and menacing at you “You are a little slut ain’t ya, baby. Groping a man over double your age. Teasin me with those sugar tits and that tight lil ass….”

You can see his pupils dilate till his eyes look close to being completely blacked out. You muse “Yeah I’m a whore but you like that don’t you?” With that you cup his hard cock over his shorts he decided to wear today.

He gasps and immediately grips your wrist to yank those devilish hands away from his throbbing length. Especially when he hears your mother’s voice calling out from inside the house.

He backs off and tries to catch his breath as well as calm his raging hard on down to an unnoticeable minimum. Before he leaves to figure out what she called for he turns to you and lifts an accusing finger towards you.

“We ain’t done baby, ya gonna make it up to me for teasin and leavin me all high and dry, mkay?” He tilts his head almost to intimidate you but to no avail you’re just a massive brat “Hmmm sure Joeliii but i think your underwear is anything but dry.” You giggle and continue “Probably full of pre cum am I right,huh?”

Joel can’t believe what he’s gotten himself into and just shakes his head while turning to the house.

Somehow he made it through the barbecue without your mother noticing any tension between Joel and you. Stupid of her but good for you.

In the weeks after that afternoon you and him kept secretly meeting up. Most of the time at his house or he’d pick you up with his truck to drive you somewhere where he could have you without any distractions, of course when your mom wasn’t home. She might be stupid but even to her it would be weird why you suddenly start taking trips with Joel and she should not be suspicious.

Also during the talks with Joel that happened when taking a break between fucking it was once again made clear that he for whatever reason had not an ounce of knowledge about your mom’s crush.

The plan for how the reveal should go was set in motion. Your mom was driving out to one of those weird grocery stores that sold the health powders she drowned herself in, in hopes of making her more pretty from the inside out but to no avail the rot can’t be reversed.

You knew how long that would take her, it gave you enough time to fuck Joel in her favorite spot on the couch. Yeah petty and perhaps childish but you don’t care make her remember how you defiled her lovely couch with the man she was in love with.

Joel showed up 10 minutes after she drove off. You barely got the door closed behind him before he pounced on you. It’s been a few weeks since you fucked him last, you wanted him to be desperate for it so he’ll might be more focused on pounding you then notice that your mother is returning.

He immediately slotted his lips over yours, his hands grabbing at your hips with urgency.

You spin with him attached to your lips so you can guide him where you want him, on the couch. His breathing is already elevated and by the significantly evident bulge he’s massively turned on. Good, the less rational thinking the better.

While you push him towards the couch his lips slip down your jaw and land on your throat kissing and sucking all over. Between those kisses he huffs “Babyyy - I’ve - missed - ya so - much…” you just hum as an answer and when the back of his knees hit the edge of the couch he’s forced to unlatch from you.

He falls back, his head hitting the soft pillows so he’s only slightly elevated. You wink at him “yeah I bet you have and most of all He has missed me huh? Looks almost painful, did you not touch yourself in meantime?”

He sounds a bit whiny in his response “No Baby haven’t touched myself, saved it all for ya greedy little pussy.” Even when you think to have the upper hand he reminds you how different it actually is. “Come on baby, why don’t ya take of that lil skirt an’ take seat on my lap.” While grabbing at his crotch.

Your mouth is watering but there’s no time today to get your mouth on him like you usually love to. At his dirty words you can feel some wetness gush from your pulsing cunt, coating the inside of your thighs. As requested you slip your flowy skirt down your legs.

Joel let's out a gasp „No panties baby? Ya naughty little slut.“ he chuckles and you retort „Don’t need them if I’m with you, so why make it harder than it needs to be?“ at that Joel can only nod.

„Come here Sweet Moon Love.“ he demands.

You get on your hands and knees between his spread legs that lay on the couch. Slowly crawling towards him teasing him with your tits that are almost spilling out of your skimpy tank top.

When you finally sit down on his jeans-covered cock he lets out a sound of relief. Your knees on either side of his hips and his hands immediately find home on your hips and ass, kneading and caressing the skin there.

„Fuck Moon ya turn me on so much take of that goddamn top and show me those sweet sugar tits.“

So you do, slipping it over your head and throwing it somewhere behind you. He’s not surprised by the lack of a bra. He knows you hate wearing them and if he’s honest he loves that a lot, easier access and all.

Joel’s hands go from your hips up to the tits he loves so much. Carefully touching them, his warm hands and the wonderful feeling making it unable not to moan. Swiping his calloused fingers over your nipples, twisting them with determination causing you to keen.

You start arching your back towards his groping hands. His administrations cause the pull in your lower stomach to Continuously get stronger. You are convinced his jeans are covered in your juices and without realizing you’ve started to rub your bare pussy over his bulge with vigor.

„Joel enough I need you inside me, now!“ You don’t even wait for a response, lifting your hips and loosening his belt and unbuttoning the buttons of his jeans. With his help you drag his pants down but only so much that you are able to pull his throbbing cock out of the confines that are his blue boxers and you can see a huge dark spot where pre cum leaked, making you look at Joel chuckling „You really want it huh? Daddy” with a sweet lilt that makes his dick Twitch in your hands.

He just groans “Baby Moon if ya don’t sit down on my cock right now I’ll do it myself and I won’t give ya time to adjust.” He threatens but it really only turns you on more.

You peer up at the clock and see that you only have about 15 minutes left.

You take your original position and when his warm length slips through your moist folds his pre cum mixing with your own juices to create an addicting squelching sound.

At this point the dark hair nestling at the base of his cock and his happy trail are completely soaked.

“Gosh, Sweetheart she’s gushing all over me, put it in. She wants my cock don’t keep her waitin” you love when he talks in this way about your cunt, makes you wetter if that’s even possible.

You lift up a bit again and take hold of his length with one hand, the other on his chest to stabilize yourself. Dragging his leaking head through your glossy folds before lining him up with your gushing opening. You take one deep inhale cuz you know it’ll be a stretch even with how often you've done this.

Before sinking down on him you look at him there’s guilt somewhere deep in your conscience but you shake your head, you ain’t backing out now.

You slowly start to sink down when Joel decides it’s not quick enough so he grips your hips and in one swift fast motion sheets his huge dick inside your tight cunt.

“Ahhh..-ah J-Joel what the fuck” you hiss slapping his chest hard for being so impatient.

He huffs “Sorry Baby but Daddy has waited long enough for Her, just shush.” He actually has the audacity to shush you.

You get used to the feeling of being so filled to the brim and slide back & forth for a moment.

Then you put your feet down flat on the couch and grip the headrest behind him before starting to fuck him in earnest. Up and down at first slowly but steadily you get quicker and harder. Joel can’t even speak unless you count his obnoxiously loud moaning and growling.

“Yeah how you like that old man, hmm Daddy you're all quiet this pussy shut you up good, huh?” You wonder and out of nowhere one of Joel’s big hands grips your throat making you slow your movements to a minimum. He pulls your face toward his and grunts “Baby Moon ya need to be put in your place, ya bratty ass is treading on some mighty thin ice.”

He gives you one hard peck and then shoves your face in his neck. You don’t complain, you love when he’s so rough with you and his musky masculine smell is your favorite.

Joel pulls his legs up and plants his feet on the couch just like you did and then he starts to relentlessly push up into you at an alarming speed so hard that if it weren’t for the arm pinning you to his chest you’d fall off.

“Jo-Joel….Joel it’s so good ah…don’t stop” you babble in his ear and opposite to his harsh pounding he soothes “Shhh Baby I know, I know it’s so much for ya and Her. But listen to how much she’s enjoying it.”

And he’s right besides the obscene “plap, plap, plap” of skin hitting skin you can hear the wet squelching from the place you're both connected. “I’m close baby, where?” He asks while slipping a hand between your bodies to touch your neglected clit and immediately your whiny moans get even louder “I-in…inside Daddy. Pleaseee cum inside me.”

You beg and he loves that “Hmm yeah, ya wanna be filled up Baby?” He questions “God yes Daddy fill me up, please pleasee” you want nothing more than to feel him spill inside of you.

Seems that when Joel told you he was kinda deaf in his right ear it wasn’t a lie or maybe the plan of making him so desperate to fuck you that he won’t hear the door unlocking worked out.

But you can hear the slight clicking and the closing of the door. Unlike what you expect she does not start screaming, no, she’s eerily quiet. Perhaps it’s due to not having realized who exactly you're screwing as if there’s no tomorrow or simple shock.

Joel under you seems to have reached his end and without any preamble he starts shooting his warm cum deep inside your tight hole. The warm sensation combined with his unrelenting rubbing your clit pushes you over the finish line too. With that you pull up from his neck and drag him up as well, crossing your arms around his neck and kissing him.

You know she is right there at the threshold, you don’t care and to rub it in even more you say “Thank you Daddy, I love you.” And as if he knows his role Joel answers “I love you too little Moon.”

And that might have been the final straw, she speaks up and it flips out into incoherent screaming. Joel is immediately startled; he lightly pushes you off, quickly tugging himself back into his jeans and getting up to explain. You however get up slowly and put your top and skirt back on.

With the lack of panties you can feel his spend leaking out of you and you’re sure there’s very evident stains on Joel’s jeans that your mother must see.

The back and forth they must be having doesn’t even register to you. The blissful buzzing from the orgasm and the satisfaction of having succeeded in hurting her are making you all dozzy.

But then she comes charging at you screaming in your face “You’re smiling, you think this is funny??? I knew you were a bitch who only ruins everything, you are a worthless piece of shit a absolute waste of space” she’s so hysterical but you don’t care, it’s good she’s showing her true colors for Joel to see.

She continues “You are disgraceful and shameful for the entire family. I want you out of the house now. You are dead to me.” She probably thinks those words could hurt but it’s nothing compared to all the horrible things she did in the past. You just smirk at her nodding which infuriates her more than any comeback could.

With that you slip past her, Joel looks completely stunned by what just unfolded before his eyes. You don’t acknowledge him much, quickly skipping up the stairs,entering your room, grabbing a suitcase and filling it with the most important items. Then shuffling out of your room locking it behind you. You heave the suitcase down the stairs, no sign of Joel all you can hear is her crying in the living room, it amuses you, not an ounce of sympathy left for her. You don’t bother saying bye just open the front door and out you are.

The surprise is waiting in front of the house, Joel, he didn’t leave but instead waited for you.

He looks at you “Did it mean anything to you at all, or was it just a big joke?” He doesn’t look hurt, just confused. You close the distance between him and you “I wish it wouldn’t but it’s not possible to not feel anything, look at you Joel you’re a so beautiful so caring of course I fell for you.” He nods and takes your suitcase out of your hand. “Wh..what are you doing ?” You question “I’m taking ya home Moon, think I’d let you run around these streets? Get in the car” he urges.

And you do, when he drives off you don’t look back once.

Npt: @joelmillerisapunk @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @joelslegalwhre @thundermartini @studioghibelli @sizzlingcloudmentality @vivian-pascal @strang3lov3 @xdaddysprincessxx @mountainsandmayhem @mrsmando @joelsgreys @janaispunk @sizzlingcloudmentality @the-mandawhor1an @clawdee @penvisions 🩶

Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI, thank you 🙏🏻

[tieronecrush]

secret santa

dbf!joel miller x f!reader

summary: your parents throw a christmas party every year, and this is your first time in the “adult” secret santa exchange. the last few times home, you’ve found joel, your dad’s friend, staring a bit too long, flicking away when he’s caught. for the game, of course, you get joel’s name. and you’re going to make sure it’s the best gift he’s ever received.

rating: E

wc: 5.6k

warnings: daddy kink, age gap (sorry folks but i did want to try my hand at dbf!joel lol i pictured him around 50, reader around mid-late 20s), alcohol consumption, mentions of food, distant relationship with parents, party, christmas, gift giving, secret santa game, bit of deception on reader's part just to get joel alone, lingerie, body worship, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, restraints (using clothes/undergarments), daddy!joel, soft!dom joel, praise, a few instances of degradation, dirty talk (as always)

a/n: (images in moodboard do not convey what reader looks like, only the vibe! no descriptions of reader) my first dbf!joel…milestone moment lol <3 hope y’all enjoy my take on the dbf trope! and tysm to my babies for beta-ing @northernbluess and @kiwisbell love you both 😚

dividers by @saradika

Twenty years. This same godforsaken party has been happening every December for the last twenty years of your life, full of overserved middle aged parents, and never has it been less enjoyable than since you’ve been an “adult”. An adult still treated as a child, chastised, fawned over, always told to follow the golden rule. No, not treat others as they wish to be treated. Your family’s golden rule was speak only when spoken to.

And your father was the enforcer. Always required you home for the party, even away, out of state for college, away for the semester studying abroad halfway across the world. You were flown home and called upon to do the heavy lifting — groceries, liquor runs, cleaning the house, decorating to make it all feel magically festive.

At times, it felt like Cinderella had nothing on you. At least she had a prince.

The only time that this party has ever been remotely improved was when Joel Miller moved into the neighborhood. He’d snuck in under your radar due to the fact that it happened the few months you were living abroad, but coming back for the party and Christmas break, you were quickly introduced to him by your father. His new “best friend”. One among many. Each serving a unique purpose to get your dad ahead.

Upon meeting Joel, you were drawn to him immediately. Skeptical over the fact he found company with your dad, but much to your surprise, he was different. Maybe lonely and looking for a friend; you’d found he was living alone, his adult daughter, Sarah, in her final years at the University of Chicago — a choice that was hers but Joel admittedly feared, you learned. He only encouraged her, regardless of the fact he was anxious about losing his kiddo.

Not the same sentiments your dad had when dropping you off to school in the farthest, cheapest corner of the country you could find. He was nearly jumping up and kicking his feet together in glee to get you out of the house.

Joel, though, Joel was kind hearted and patient. He was curious and caring, asking you about school, work, your life every time he saw you over the years. Warmth radiated from him despite his more shy demeanor. Comfortable. You felt so comfortable with him.

Which is what made the smallest of lingering glances or the slightest of smiles turned smirks that much more exhilarating.

Maybe you were being naive or projecting your burning desire for him onto every interaction, but as you stitched yourself tighter into Joel’s life over the years, you haven’t been able to help but notice him checking you out at times or slipping a subtle flirty comment into conversations between the two of you. You would give it right back, and that would usually pump the breaks, bringing things back to surface level.

There was one time this past summer, after a neighborhood barbecue that your parents left early from, that you and Joel really had a moment. It was loud, music drowning out the back and forth you were having to the point where you couldn’t quite make out every word, and Joel must have felt the same because he made sure you heard his next words clearly — “Do you want to go somewhere quieter?”

Agreeing immediately, he pressed his large hand into the midpoint of your back, guiding you out of the confines of the party and to the open air of the street. He led you to his place and around back, pulling two lounge chairs next to his pool closer to each other.

That night, thanks to the alcohol buzzing in your system, you confessed more about your home life and your feelings around it. Joel was surprised, given the picture-perfect image your father paints for everyone, but he was comforting as always. Even as far as offering you his spare room if you ever needed a break.

That’s when you knew you were done for. Never in your life had you wanted to just kiss someone that badly. Let alone all of the thoughts that came along with it.

Harboring this crush for your dad’s friend, fifty plus and a father himself, you attempted to keep things growing closer when you came back. Friendly, polite, reciprocating any amount of flirty banter he threw your way. Even initiating it yourself.

You were so incredibly into Joel Miller. And returning home this time, you decided it was high time you acted on those feelings.

The noise of the bustling party dies down enough for your dad to introduce the game, as if the attendees haven’t been participating for nearly as long as you’ve been alive. But your dad loves the attention on him, cracking jokes that make you roll your eyes while everyone else gives him a laugh. Always so focused on himself. How everyone else sees him. Image obsessed enough to forget to assign anyone as a Secret Santa to his own daughter but not forgetting to give her someone to gift to.

Granted, you weren’t that upset about who you’d drawn.

Watching from afar, you see Joel survey the empty space under the tree, only the deep cherry red skirt laid out on the hardwood. Nothing for him. Everyone opens their presents, laughter and excitement bubbling across the room as the point of the game begins. Partygoers start to guess their gifters, hoping to nail down their Secret Santa in one go. Conversations are struck up as people meet their pair, ‘thank you’s exchanged along with the gifts. Joel observes from his spot with a few of your neighbors, also friends with your dad, and the sight of him shifting his weight on his feet is enough to draw up the courage to approach him.

Crossing the room, flashes of him checking you out, lingering in conversations with you about work and your new apartment in the city, seeking you out each time you visit home flood your mind, reassuring your choices the closer you get to him. The closer you get to completely jumping into the deep end, the last few steps teetering you at the edge.

Slowing to a stop next to him, a finger of yours gingerly taps his strong shoulder a few times, pulling his attention away completely. Joel turns his body to face you, away from others to solely focus on you in front of him. The subtle sign of his attraction to you has your nerves tingling, clearing your throat when he speaks up in greeting.

“Hey there, sweetheart. Y’alright?” he asks, eyebrow raised. Always so goddamn sweet.

You sigh, a tinge dramatic but attempting to sell the dismay and toying with the flute glass in your hand. “Lame surprise, but I’m your Secret Santa and I stupidly left your gift upstairs. It’s a bit obnoxious to bring down so d’you mind coming up to open it and you can grab it at the end of the night?”

Joel agrees with a jolt of nervous excitement down his spine. Shuddering out the feeling subtly, he clears his throat and nods, awaiting your lead. He thinks he catches the slightest drag of your eyes up and down his body, lingering at the expanse of his shoulders and the sliver of his chest that is exposed from the two undone buttons of his red flannel.

When no one’s paying attention, you bring Joel upstairs into your old room that you’re staying in while you’re back in town for the holidays. He stands around a bit awkwardly, sticking out like a sore thumb with his broad shoulders stretching his red flannel, thick thighs straining deliciously against the perfectly worn material of his Levi’s. Stark against the frilly softness of your room, with its bright white furnishings, and feminine touches. He’s all man. Nothing like the guys your age who think they’re like him.

Joel glances about the room before he asks, “So, what was so difficult to get under the tree, sweetheart? You didn’t have to get me anything so major.”

“I wanted to. I mean, noticed you eyeing what I got you for a while so figured the least I could do was give it to you…” Joel’s face twists up in confusion, perplexed by the riddled clue before you’re standing in front of him, reaching to the side of your plaid skirt and dragging down the zipper. Joel stutters out nonsense at your actions, lifting his hands in surrender.

“Doll, I think—you don’t—” His mumblings die in his throat when you drop the material to your ankles, revealing red satin panties. When you turn around, a bow sits at the top of your ass, tying up the material to stay on your hips while elasticated bands run along the outline of your cheeks to connect to the crotch. Very little of your bum is covered, showing off the supple flesh to Joel. He’s rendered speechless, averting his gaze after a second too long of staring, the mumblings starting up again.

“S’not a good idea, shouldn’t be up here right now…” Joel looks around, looking over his shoulder toward the door. One of your hands reaches up to gingerly cup his chin, turning his flushed face to yours again. His pupils are blown wide, eyes darkened with desire. Your own gaze flicks down between the two of you, smirking at the bulge growing at the crotch of his jeans. So desperately trying to fight against what he really wants. Even when you’re serving it up in a pretty little package.

He makes no movement toward the door, which you take as a sign of letting go of at least some of his apprehension. Fingers grip the hem of your sweater, pulling it up and over your head, discarding it on your carpet along with your skirt.

Matching red satin material, the bra you’re wearing has a similar structure to your panties. Held up with straps and the usual clasps at the back, the front is a large gift bow, pulled tight when you tied it earlier this evening to push up the flesh of your breasts. One tug at the tail end of both the ribbons, the one at your chest and at your ass, would fully expose you to Joel. Something you’re desperate to propose to him.

“Aren’t you gonna unwrap your present, Joel?” Picking up each of his hands in yours, you guide one to your lower back and one to your chest, coaxing his fingers to wrap around the ends of the bows. “Or do you not like your gift? I thought you wanted this…”

“No, no, no. I like it. I really fucking like it, sweetheart, I just…Everybody’s downstairs and—”

“I can be quiet. I’m a good girl, Joel.”

That flips a switch in him, hearing those words from you. His eyes darken further, pink tongue poking out to wet his lips. A burning stare combs over you, head to toe, alighting flames in your gut that lick against your insides. Heat crawls across the back of your neck, pooling in your collarbone, and craving oozes between your ribs and between each of your vertebrae. Joel’s right hand lifts from his side, skating up the length of your left arm and leaving goosebumps rising in its wake. Fingertips ghost over the strap of your bra, down to the center of your collarbone, and sitting there. That lasts only a second before his long, thick fingers wrap around the base of your throat, raising his loose grip to settle underneath your jaw.

The silence is heavy, airy breaths the only sounds passed between the two of you. His hand at your neck coaxes your head to tip back, staring up at him looking down at you. A flicker to your lips. A low, curious hum. Arousal pools in between your thighs as you wait with bated breath for something, anything to happen.

“You’re dangerous, doll.” His whisper is coated in lust, his gaze greedy as it drinks you in once again.

“I’m a gift,” you correct sweetly, feigning innocence as a smirk grows on your face at his dark chuckle.

“A gift that keeps on giving?” he questions. His hand twists to allow his thumb to find your bottom lip, dragging across its glossy, cherry surface.

“I guess you’ll have to find out…” Your mouth stays open after speaking, tongue slipping out to lick the tip of Joel’s thumb. He presses his finger further, pushing between your lips as you welcome it, sucking gently. Joel sighs, shoulders relaxing while his eyes flash with need.

“Christ…” he hisses under his breath, shaking his head subtly before clearing his throat. Speaking sternly, unwavering, he says, “Can I unwrap my present, babydoll?”

His thumb leaves your mouth with a quiet pop, hand finding its place again at the slack of the bow at your chest, other arm wrapping around to find the bow at your ass. A gentle tug moves the satiny smooth material a few centimeters, not enough to pull it fully undone.

“All yours, Joel. Picked out ‘specially for you.” Joel smirks at your candied reply, eager to give him exactly what he’s been wishing for. What you’ve caught him staring at the last few times you’ve come back home. What you have been wanting for just as long, if not longer.

“Such a sweet girl. Beautiful girl.”

The words send a tingle down your spine, stoking the flames inside of you. Your eyes stay trained on Joel’s face while his fingers draw the bow at your chest undone, the lengths of material hanging at your sides and exposing your breasts. He licks his lips at the sight of your pebbled nipples, rolling out a stifled groan from his chest.

“Fuck, baby…S’pretty.”

Joel’s hands fan across your lower back, holding your hips against his, pressing his bulge into your covered mound. His broad frame folds forward, draping you backwards in his arms as his mouth attaches to your chest. Humid, open-mouthed kisses are littered across your skin, nips taken at the tender flesh of your breasts. Closing his lips around one of your nipples, he sucks strongly, pulling a whimper from your throat.

“Thought you could be quiet, doll?” he rasps, raising an eyebrow as he looks up at you from your sternum.

Nodding furiously, you pout your lower lip out, whispering back, “I can be, I will be. I promise.”

“You promise? Don’t make promises you can’t keep, baby.” Joel stands up straight, pulling you with him to press against his torso. Catching your lips in a deep kiss, Joel breathes a sigh into your mouth, melting his tongue against yours and drinking in the taste of you.

Dripping with saccharine sugar. Coated with syrupy goodness, plump and succulent like a maraschino cherry. A toothache, or maybe even a heartache waiting to happen.

He’s fucking screwed, but damn if it doesn’t feel good as he nails himself to his own persecution from whoever may find out about this.

Handfuls of your undulating curves fill his palms as he kisses you, groaning into your mouth as he grabs at the swell of your ass. Silky satin brushes against his hand, reminding him of the other part of his present to unwrap. Pulling away from your mouth with one last lick of your candied taste, he has the mind to imagine what the rest of your flavors all across your body might be.

Joel turns you in his arms, back flush to his chest as he grinds his bulge against the lustrous fabric, smirking to himself as you whimper quietly, so hushed he can barely hear it over his heartbeat thudding in his ears. Lips coast over the shell of your ear, nibbling your lobe before pressing a kiss right below.

“Can I undo your other pretty bow, babygirl? Unwrap the rest of my present?” Joel nips again when you breathe out consent. He walks you closer to the bed, hitting your knees against the frame before he takes one step back, touch still lingering on your skin. From behind you, he sighs appreciatively as he drinks in your form, licking his lips as his eyes devour you.

Pinching the ribbon between his thick fingers, he flicks it against your skin, satisfied with the way you react with goosebumps raised. One gentle tug unravels it all, exposing your cheeks to him fully and with the drop of the material from between his fingertips, your panties fall to the floor. One hand wrapping around your thigh, Joel coaxes you to step out to the side with it, kicking the fabric from your ankle.

He kneels behind you, pressing his lips against the swell of your ass. Flooded with the scent of your skin, vanilla and cinnamon, the smell of Christmas. Nose smashed into the supple flesh, teeth sinking into the curve, a gentle bite stealing another taste of you. A curse is mumbled against you, a sweet kiss pressed on the tiny birthmark on your ass, tongue tracing into the fading bite mark.

“Joel…” you whine above him, hand reaching back and nimble fingers tangling into his messy, gray curls.

“I know, doll. Got lost there for a second. You’re so perfect…”

He sighs again, standing up with a quiet crack in his joints. A blatant reminder of the difference between you two. Young versus old. Sprightly versus verging on doddering. Even if he is eager, there’s no denying the difference.

There’s no doubt in your mind that Joel’s about to be more of a gift to you than you are to him. The way he’s touching you, delicate worship before he’s even gotten to what he truly wants, taking his time despite the pressure of the party downstairs. Serves as a reassurance that he wants this as much as you do, wants to take his sweet time if this is going to be his only chance.

You pray to god it isn’t. Even before you’ve even laid eyes on his cock, you just know. He’s going to fuck you senseless. Ruin every other man for you.

In a blur, he guides you to fall forward onto the mattress, hooking fingers to remove your panties from your other ankle while you scoot toward the center. He finds solace between your legs, propping your hips up into a kneeling position to give him easier leverage. 

“Think this might be my favorite present I’ve been given, doll. So fucking gorgeous. Looking delectable…Can I have a taste, darling? You as sweet as you seem?”

Your head is turned sideways, laying against the plush comforter, opening your mouth to whisper to him in the same moment he swipes his tongue through your folds, groaning into your inner thigh before he dives back in, working to devour you like a man starved, quenching his thirst on your arousal. Flicking his tongue against your pearl, coated in your translucence, suckling at it with pure need. Turning to press the front of your face into your bedding, it muffles your moans and whines, raising in pitch as he fucks your tight cunt with his strong tongue, lapping at you with the same fervor he’d lick the color from a candy cane.

“Fuck, Joel, fuck fuck fuck!” you shout in a scouring voice, scratching your vocal chords together with a strain. Curling your fingers into the softened, washed fabric, you gasp when one of his solid fingers slips into your walls. He groans, holding back his louder reaction to your gripping walls, hypnotized by the way you even stretch around his fingers when he adds another.

Head against your thigh, he studies the way you take his middle and ring fingers, the velvety slick of your pussy, and the spongy spot he finds, curling his digits to press into it and watch you squirm helplessly from the sensitive pleasure.

“Talkin’ all well mannered and pretty. So quiet and polite all the time. With your ‘yes’sir’s and ‘please’s and ‘thank you’s. You think about saying those to me while you’re under me like this?”

“Yes, yes’sir. All the fucking time. Every time I—I looked at you, felt myself…felt myself gettin’ so fucking wet. Was always dripping around you, waiting for something to happen. For you to take me so I can be a good girl for you, sir,” you confess, obedience and need sitting every word so prettily into his ears. “M’so—Fuck m’gonna come, Joel.”

He nods slowly, taking last looks at your cunt before he moves his fingers in and out quicker, dipping his chin down for his mouth to find your clit against, lapping at your dripping wetness and sucking hard. At the next press of his fingers against that spot inside of you, your vision grows blurred, white haze painting everything with a dreamlike filter. You bite into the linen fabric of your comforter, gagging yourself to keep quiet as you come, digging the balls of your feet to the mattress to push yourself away from Joel who continues to work you through it. He grabs at you, tugging you back to get his fill until you sob, overstimulation drawing tears up to the corners of your eyes.

“All kept and composed and ladylike. Been taught to behave, haven’t you? Bet you fucking love to be such a little slut. Anybody ever let you? Such a dirty girl, aren’t you, babydoll?” Joel’s voice sounds distanced at first, senses falling back into place in your body as you come down completely. His work-worn hands coast over your body, roughening against your soft skin like sandpaper moving with the grain. Little resistance but catching in places it favors.

“Just—Just for you, Daddy.” It slips out smoothly from your mouth, the weight of the title heavy against your tongue in the same way you imagine his cock would feel. Filling. Satisfying.

Joel rises slowly from where he’s bent behind you, letting one leg fall behind him as he stands, the other propped on the bed. His eyes narrow in on yours, lips parted and tongue darting out as he replays what you said.

Daddy.

First, you’re already on his mind and years younger, yet he couldn’t stop picturing you in this exact position. Next, you’re the one to make the first move, dragging him away from this Christmas party and presenting him with a Secret Santa gift that feels way out of the budget. You’re priceless. And now, you’re laid out for him, already nearly at the level of fucked out from him only using his mouth and fingers, and you’re fucking calling him Daddy.

Best Christmas of his goddamn life.

“Now, darlin’, were you saving that to be the cherry on top of the cake? ‘Cause that’s just about the sweetest thing. My pretty lil’ babydoll saying she’s Daddy’s dirty girl,” he scoffs in disbelief, shaking his head while his fingers work his button open on his jeans, dragging the zipper down against his throbbing bulge. “Gonna have to be quiet, yeah? Gotta keep your sweet mouth closed while Daddy fucks you, doll.”

“I’ll be quiet, promise. Please, Daddy.” Your pleas widen Joel’s smirk, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips once again. He pushes his denim down with his cotton boxers in their wake, sighing softly when his hard cock is fully freed. His tip is aching and red, leaking precum and leaving a wet spot on his underwear. With one hand, he starts to slowly stroke himself, holding in a moan enough that it leaves his lips as a soft exhale.

“Good girl…” he mumbles, studying your form. “Move back toward me, babygirl. Hands behind your back.”

Complying with his direction, you inch back until Joel places a hand on your lower back. At that, you lay forward again, the side of your face pressing against the duvet as Joel steps back from the bed and searches the floor. A dribble of drool drips from the corner of your lips as you watch him, one large hand around his cock, spreading his precum along his length. Part of you has the mind to beg for him in your mouth, to completely disregard the need pulsating your cunt at the moment, and to feel his warm spend coating your throat as he finishes fucking it.

But you’re fucking selfish. This is also a gift for you, so win-win.

Pressing your wrists together at your lower back, you observe as Joel locates what he is looking for, standing up with a devilish smirk. Your panties.

He towers over you again when he steps back to you, one hand coasting over the curve of your ass, a gentle smack delivered that makes a quiet yelp escape from your lips. The same hand skims back up your skin, easily grabbing both of your wrists in his long fingers and holding them closer while he slips the silky material behind. In a quick motion, he has your arms tied together with a bow, a content smile on his face as he makes eye contact with you.

“Wrapped all up again, babydoll. Such a pretty gift for me.”

“Well you’ve got a pretty package, Daddy,” you reply with a mischievous giggle, earning a breathy chuckle from Joel behind you. He grips the knot of your makeshift restraint, tugging taut to arch your back and pull your hips closer. His other hand wraps around the base of himself, dragging the head of him through your drenched folds, circling your clit, and chuckling again at the jump of your thighs.

“Please, Daddy, I need—” you start pleading, muffled into linen before you’re cut off by the stretch of Joel’s cock filling your tight hole, a gasp escaping your lungs with a punch. Your mouth is stuffed with the duvet from your bite down, nursing your tongue against the material as he slowly presses into you, inch by inch. There’s an ever-so-slight pain candy-coating the pleasure, melting away to get to the gooey, oozing center that spreads over your entire body.

Pausing when he reaches the hilt of himself, Joel sighs, rolling his head back as he internally thanks whatever Christmas magic must be out there for this moment.

“So fucking tight, baby.” 

Your dampened whine shoots a wave of intense need throughout him, growling low as he holds your restraint tighter, dragging his hips back before he starts a punishing pace. Control escapes him, desire taking over his actions as he starts to properly fuck you. His cock teaching you how to take every single inch of it.

Messes of his name and your moans are stifled and stuttered into the comforter gagging you, chest hovering over the mattress as Joel holds tight to the knot in your panties.

“Can’t hold back any longer, baby, jus’—fuck—jus’ gonna take Daddy’s cock like a good girl, aren’t ya?” The only precision remains in the soft cracks of skin on skin, not loud enough to draw any attention from the party downstairs. Poppy carols play faintly in the background, the only other soundtrack being the vulgar mumbles slipping from Joel’s lips.

Drawing you closer and closer, the edge is tasted on your tongue, so close but barely in reach as the man behind you rocks his hips, the tip of his hard cock brushing that same spongy spot inside of you that he managed to reach with his fingers, bruising into your cervix with each snap.

At the next drag-out, Joel pulls away from you completely. When you whine with protest, he’s tugging you to stand up on your knees, whispering in your ear amid his quick movements, “Need to see your face when I make you come all over my cock…”

Before you can be left with any thoughts to a response, he’s flipping you onto your back, hands tied still, and tugging you near again. He steals a pillow from the top of your bed, shoving it under your hips to lift your pelvis, gifting himself the perfect angle to thrust into you again from the height he stands at.

The new angle punches out moans from your chest, Joel’s name littering the empty room as you try so hard to remain quiet.

“Shh, I know, doll, I know. Feels so fucking good, doesn’t it? Y’love bein’ Daddy’s little slut.” Nodding furiously, another louder moan leaves your mouth, brows knit together with worry as you hurtle closer and closer to the edge.

A large palm moves to cover your mouth, shaking his head slowly to remind you of your promise to be his good girl, his quiet girl. 

“Pleasepleaseplease, Daddy…” He feels the vibrations of your voice against his hand, the words muddled into slight nonsense from pleasure clouding your brain. Joel holds onto one of your legs, pulling it up to hook onto his shoulder and press forward to get deeper inside of you. The switch has you screaming into his palm, eyes squeezing shut as you squirm under him.

“Eyes on me, babygirl. Keep your eyes on Daddy.”

Joel’s hips pound into you, chasing his own climax. Your eyes snap open at his instruction, mouthing at his hand and moaning loudly behind it, nodding your head furiously. Your tight walls squeeze around his hard cock, his grunts held back to keep quiet despite the noise of the party downstairs growing in volume.

“Come on, doll. Come on my cock…Fuck, you gonna let Daddy fill up your pretty little cunt?” The quick, speechless nods answers his question, both of you toeing the edge.

There’s a moment when both of you seize up, muscles tense and eyes burning into each other’s. It only lasts a split second before it explodes with a pop, at the same second a champagne bottle pops downstairs. Joel breathes out your name, over and over, mingling with your whimpers of his name and Daddy switching back and forth in your mind. Interchangeable to you.

Pleasure fizzes over your bodies like bubbles in the flutes being filled, the bubbling aerations trickling up up up to your head, making you feel lighter than air as pure bliss overwhelms you. Tingles aftershock across your nerves, a shiver sent down your spine as Joel pulls out.

Quietly, he groans as he watches his excess spend drip out of you, mixing with your come and glistening against your folds. One thick finger swipes at the spot, pushing the swirl of you back inside of your walls.

A soft whimper slips from your lips and Joel’s eyes meet yours in a flash, a gentle smile stretching across your face. He coaxes you to sit up and unties your hands behind your back, slowly massaging your wrists with his thumbs and kissing where the skin rubbed against the fabric. The tender touches accompany the soothing, comfortable silence.

Redressing you, Joel attempts to tie the bows of your bra and panties, huffing softly in frustration. You giggle when he’s working on your bra, taking his chin gingerly between your fingers and turning his head to look at you. Leaning in, his lips catch yours in a sweet, sugary gumdrop kiss. 

It’s another moment before both of you are fully dressed again. You study yourself in the mirror above your dresser, smoothing your hair down. Joel steps up behind you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and kissing your shoulder through the knit sweater. He turns you around to face him again, grinning shyly as his eyes comb over your face.

The two of you share another kiss, his calloused hand cradling your cheek when he pulls away.

“You gonna be under my tree again on Christmas day, doll?”

“Depends…Were you naughty or nice this year?” you counter, earning a quiet laugh from Joel as he shakes his head.

“Think what just happened has put me on the naughty list for a long time, babygirl. And you, too.” He shoots you a cheeky wink and you laugh, shaking your head as you lock your fingers together in front of you.

“I did actually get you something though…” you admit shyly, rocking back and forth on the heels of your feet.

Joel grins, eyes flicking down to your anxious hands. His thumb brushes against the skin of your cheek, eyes meeting yours again as he replies, “You have another gift for me? Didn’t need to do that, doll.”

“I mean…Kinda needed a backup plan if this whole thing didn’t work out.” A chuckle is shared between both of you before you continue, “Sorry for spoiling the whole guessing game of Secret Santa.”

“Darlin’, you could spoil any games for me if it ends up with this kinda surprise.” Joel smirks before stealing another quick kiss, pulling away when you step back to fish out the small, meticulously wrapped giftbox from the top right drawer of your dresser.

Handing over the square package, Joel’s eyes glitter with boyish excitement. The corner of his mouth pulls up to one side while his thick fingers slip under the creases of the paper to rip the tape, undoing the festive wrapping to reveal the lidded giftbox that he opens quickly. Inside, Joel studies the contents. Small triangles with rounded corners made from thin nylon plastic. A deep emerald green, all sitting like precious gemstones. His initials are branded into one side with gold paint, the flip side emblemed with the silhouette of an owl.

“Sweetheart…Thank you. These are real nice…” he speaks softly while he picks one up between his index and thumb, turning it between the tips of his fingers. “They’re perfect. Gonna be sad if I end up losing one of these like all my other picks.”

You smile sweetly, stepping closer again and resting your hands on his biceps, “Guess you’ll have to take good care of ‘em.”

As he looks at you, he mirrors your smile, sharing one more gentle kiss before whispering against your lips, “Can think of another something I have to take good care of.”

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[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

PROVE IT ───

jackson rippner ✧𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “You think you are possessing me / But I've got my teeth in you.” — ‘Unicorn’, Angela Carter

pairing. jackson rippner x reader

summary. after breaking up with your boyfriend. you meet a handsome stranger at a bar. you tell him your cunt’s better than the girl’s your boyfriend cheated on you with; he tells you to prove it.

warnings. swearing, slight breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampie, p in v, semi-public sex, porn with some plot, impact play, degradation/insults, SMUT UNDER THE CUT!

word count. 3.6k

a/n. i seriously doubt i wrote jackson’s character accurately in this so please comment anything i can improve on LOL🙏

It’s not often you spill your entire life story to a stranger at the bar, but this one, this stranger with his watery blue eyes and plush lips, is oddly inviting; charismatic to a fault. It makes you want to give him everything, and absently, in your alcohol riddled mind, you think he’d make a good scammer. 

Or, serial killer, whichever he prefers really.

But it's not entirely his fault; you’re stress drinking, downing too many shots in too little a time frame, and the alcohol’s already hit your system ten-fold. 

You’re there because you’d broken up with your boyfriend the night before. You’d been dating just short of a year. He was required to travel a lot, mostly in Europe, as per his job, and you let him go each time without qualms - love them, let them go, right? 

Wrong. He’d been cheating on you since he went to Copenhagen — four months, now — with a pretty little Dane that wanted to marry. 

You were furious when he told you, of course, it’s fucking insanity for him to marry someone he’s known for four months, but you began seeing all the differences between you and the woman he cheated on you with: she, a perfect homemaker, you, a distressed professional he saw maybe once a month. 

“Hey, hey, don’t beat yourself up,” the stranger across from you said softly, breaking you out of your nostalgic stupor and back into reality. “‘cause he’s a right asshole. For cheating on you like that.”

The man had entered the bar hours after you did, housing a simple drink or two and absently watching the softball game on the bar TV, before you drunkenly inched closer to him, desperate to rant your dilemma to just about anyone who’d listen. He bit, and here you were now.  

You peered up at the man, inspecting him. He’s gorgeous, definitely, but you can’t tell if you actually think that, or your foggy, not-been-fucked-for-months mind just wants him to rail you into next week. 

No matter, you thought, downing another shot. It burned the back of your throat sweetly, fire trailing down your insides. “M’not beating myself up,” you protested weakly, “jus’ — m’just… wondering if her cunt was - so much better than mine,” 

He laughed, boisterously, the kind of laugh you hear rumble out from a close friend while you detail every wrongdoing or shameful memory in your life: he’s comfortable right now, as are you.

“Well,” he inched closer, large hand sitting itself on your thigh and slowly inching upwards, “if it bothers you that much, why not prove it? That your pussy’s as good as you think.” 

This wasn’t the first of his attempts to flirt with you: firstly he’d tucked a stray hair away from your face, later he swiped a drop of drink off your lip, then he’d clutched you by the waist, pulling you close to him when someone squeezed past you in the crowded bar. His brisk touch wasn’t unfamiliar by any means, but it did suggest more than the other ones, especially coupled with the lustful words he was purring in your ear. 

Then, there’s a gap in your memory. One too many shots, a stranger toying with the hem of the skirt you donned for the bar, and his sweet voice in your ear was too much for your dizzy head, and the only thing you remember is this: one moment, he’s getting braver, rough fingers ghosting the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, and the next, you’re pressed against a bathroom stall wall, the handsome stranger’s knee pushing your quivering legs apart. 

You’re trading wet, messy kisses, and his hands are sneakily climbing up your shirt till they reach your chest. There’s a sharp intake of breath from him: “Fuck, sweetheart, no bra? You really were looking for someone to prove you right,” he cooed, touching your breasts needily. 

He’s kneading you artfully, fingers pawing at your flesh like he’s never felt something so soft, so plump. Your back arches as he does this; you’re practically putty in his hands. 

It doesn’t slip past you that you’re being felt up in a bar bathroom by a gorgeous stranger whom you don’t know the name of, but you don’t care. “Please,” you beg, his name coming up completely blank on your tongue, “please.”

“‘Please’ what, honey?” The stranger says huskily, one of his hands moving from your breasts up to your jaw, pushing it to the side to gain access to your neck. “Please kiss me? Finger me? Fuck me?”

You’re too drunk - and fucking horny - to deal with his theatrics, so you whine instead of answering, your weak fingers carding through his brown locks. 

“God,” he says, “How long has it been since you’ve been properly fucked? Just some touching and you’re already too fucking dumb to speak.”

His words make your cheeks burn with shame, but it also makes your core throb. The oh-so sweet stranger who listened to your problems all night telling you you’re just a dumb horny bitch is such a juxtaposition it's got you all hot and bothered. 

“Please,” you beg again, more desperate than before, “I need you.” 

The man let out an incredulous chuckle, head cocking back. “Baby, don’t tell me you like it like that. God, you’re such a fucking whore,” he said, before undoing his belt buckle and fly. 

He had noticed how your legs clenched around his knee, how your breathing got sharper as soon as the words “dumb” and “whore” slipped out of his pretty mouth, how your fingers trailed his back needily, desperate for any kind of touch. 

You bit your lip, watching the stranger through bleary, hooded eyes. He’d pulled his pants down just enough for his boxer shorts to be visible, before he grabbed you by the waist and turned you to press your face against the wall. 

One of his arms then draped across your shoulders, pinning you down and arching your back, hard, making your ass press flush against the large tent in his underwear. You let out a small gasp at the feeling, and you could practically see the smirk curling slyly on his face. 

He can’t be that big, right? It was just your drunk mind, making him feel bigger than you thought through his shorts. Plus, you hadn’t been fucked in over a month — you were probably just not used to it. 

Because, that’d be totally unfair - he’s beautiful, charming, an amazing kisser, and has a huge cock? No fucking way — if he was all that, he’s definitely a secret terrorist, or something. 

However, these days, you’ve learned that you don't have the best intuition. First, with your boyfriend, then again, with the man who just pulled out his thick cock, stroking it gently. 

“Oh, fuck,” you cursed, head straining to look at him behind you. Unconsciously, you shyly closed your legs at the sight of him. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” the man crooned, his other hand sliding between your legs and spreading them apart once more. “No take backs, honey. You did say you wanted me, did you not?”

The two of you were flush against each other, and you could feel his hard length resting between your legs. Just that, just him between you, already had you trembling in anticipation. 

“Then fuck me already,” you bit back, feigning confidence. In actuality, you were thinking: how was all that supposed to fit? And, of all people, you, who hadn’t been stretched out to fit any cock at all, not since last month, when your boyfriend made his routine visit. You were a loyal girl, alright, and your fingers never went as deep as any cock could.

But the moment for you to reveal your worries passed, and he simpered. “So fucking eager.” 

Then, his large hands smoothed down the swell of your ass, following the curve, before he lifted his hand up and came down on your cheek, making a loud noise reverberate throughout the empty bathroom. 

Your breath caught in your throat, a choked gasp mixed with a tense moan coming out instead, and you flushed. Thank god you were pressed against the cold bathroom stall wall, for it provided a miniscule relief to your burning face. 

He’d spanked you, and you fucking moaned. 

“So you do like it dirty.” he cooed, fingers returning and hooking into the waistband of your panties. 

“I bet,” he said, dragging the thin fabric down extremely slow, “that you didn’t come to the bar tonight to just drink,” he pressed closer against you, your folds now sitting right above his thick length, “you came, with no bra and a slutty skirt on, looking to get fucked senseless, didn’t you?”

He slowly slid in and out against your folds, his cock just barely grazing your clit, and you swore you could have screamed. The way he was teasing you was absolutely delectable and, in the same vein, incredibly torturous. 

“Answer me, honey.” he hummed, free hand rubbing circles on the skin of your hip. 

You let out an exasperated groan. “I - I came here tonight, to - ah!” you squeaked when the fat tip of the man’s cock poked your tight hole. 

“You came here tonight to… what?” He said, nonchalant, as if he wasn’t slowly driving his large dick into you. 

“I came here to…” you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to ground your thoughts, and squarely not think about how mouthwateringly good the handsome strangers cock felt, “to get—“

Then, the loudest keen you’d ever heard tore out of you, your eyes rolling into the back of your head, when he suddenly shoved all of his length into your soaking cunt. 

He bottomed out with a breathy laugh, watching your knees buckle and your mouth hang wide open. Then, once more, his calloused hand came down on your ass, a large crack sounding out within the bathroom. 

“Shut the fuck up, whore. Someone’ll hear.” The stranger said, as if he hadn’t just made a loud noise spanking you like that. 

But the way he insulted, complemented, mocked and teased all in a few sentences had you shuddering; never in your life did you think such dirty words could make you so wet. 

You barely kept in another whine, waves of pleasure ebbing throughout your body. The burning pain of the spank in combination to how your walls squeezed around his cock had you barely coherent, your face taut with pleasure. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re dripping all over my cock,” he whispered, leaning down for you to hear. As he did so, however, his dick pressed further into you, and another helpless groan rolled off your tongue. 

“But you’re too goddamn loud.” The stranger growled, and the arm of the hand that was pressing you against the wall shifted, now covering your mouth. 

Before you could protest, he slid out, then snapped into you. Immediately, you saw stars, and a muffled mewl slipped past your lips. 

“Jesus christ,” he murmured, “your little fuckhole’s taking me so well.” He began to slide in and out at a fast, rhythmic pace, so fast you could barely comprehend the ecstacy you were feeling. 

“Oh my god,” you barely stuttered out past his large hand. He was pounding in and out of you relentlessly, selfishly, no regard for your moans or helpless whines, merely focussed on thrusting his fat cock into your sweet cunt. 

Then, the both of you heard the bathroom door open, and you froze. The handsome stranger moved quickly, grabbing you by the waist and planting you on his lap as he sat down on the toilet. His other hand, still trained on your mouth, gripped tighter than ever when he felt the groan bubble up from your throat: this new position of you on his lap had his long length pressed right against your cervix.

“Now you really gotta be quiet, honey,” he whispered, pressing his face into your neck. You shut your eyes helplessly, a dejected whimper exiting your mouth. 

“Just be fucking quiet. You don’t want everyone in this bar to know what a dirty slut you are, spreading your legs for a fucking stranger in the bathroom, right?” He said, words foul and like poison, but actions completely stark to it: he was pressing sweet, chaste kisses on your shoulder, laying his head on your back. 

The man in the other stall was taking so fucking long to finish, and, despite the stranger’s words, he began to slowly rut into you, his large hands coming to rest on your hips and help you slide up and down on his cock.

Your eyes widened. “What are- ah, wh— what are you doing?” you said, a stuttered, hesitant moan leaving  your mouth, but you were completely without the motivation to actually stop him: the pleasure you felt earlier had increased immensely in this slower, riskier pace he took on. 

“Shh,” was all you saw him say, as you strained your neck to look at him. He looked the epitome of smug, lips curled, cheeks flushed attractively, strands of hair falling down onto his forehead.

Without his hand to muffle your groans, you muffled them yourself, biting down on your tongue. One hand of yours gripped onto the stranger's thigh to keep your balance, and your other hand sneakily traveled down to your wet, hot mound, fingers beginning to rub at your clit. 

He noticed this, however, hand gripping at your wrist and pulling you back to pin your arm behind you. “Only I get to touch you,” he snarled, “because this fuckin’ pussy’s all mine. Gonna be all mine.”

You let out a shaky exhale at his words, but you found your cunt more flexible than before, the soft slapping of your skin between each other sounding easier, wetter. Jesus, did you really get more turned on by what he’d said?

Finally, the person who had wandered in and entered the stall beside you exited the bathroom entirely, and you belted out a sharp moan with how the stranger swiftly picked you up and pressed you against the wall once more, this time facing him. 

He plunged his big cock into you like nothing before, animalistically, nails digging so hard into your hips you swore he drew blood. His pace was stuttered, desperate, like nothing could distract him from pounding into you, not even a fucking meteor. 

You, on the other hand, were arching, the pleasure taking your body over completely. Your hands carded through his brown hair, tugging when he hit that particularly spongy spot into you. He groaned, a rough and stuttered thing, feeling himself brush against that spot every time. 

Your tight cunt was stretching and contracting around his dick, like you were made with his fat length in mind, and it drove you up the fucking wall: the pain in your hip, the cold linoleum wall, his cock thrusting in and out — it was all so much, and your orgasm began to spill out from under you. It was slow, like water coming out of an overfilled glass.

“You — god, you’re fucking coming, aren’t you,” the stranger said knowingly. Your cunt had gotten tenser, stickier, trying to grip at him like you were afraid he’d never come back to you. 

You nodded rapidly, opting to do so in fear an unintelligible string of groans would come out instead of your words. 

He grinned, and lifted your legs to wrap around his waist, allowing his cock deeper access into you. Your toes curled, the new angle like being impaled, his dick easily slipping past your slick folds. 

One of his hands lifted off your hip and trailed across your lower stomach, “Can you feel that, honey? Its my fucking cock, so deep m’gonna shoot my come right in your womb,” he purred, pressing the bulge. 

Both of you were affected, a breathy grunt slipping past his lips, and you a feverish mewl. You couldn’t believe how big he was, large enough for him to be fucking visible on you from the outside. 

Suddenly, you remembered the man’s name: he’d said it, offhand, to the bartender before you dragged him to the bathroom. He asked the bartender to put your drinks on his tab, under the name Jackson. 

You face grew taut, your orgasm suddenly switching from a slow, sneaky drip to a hard smack, right across your face. “Jackson! Jackson, please,” you moaned at last, his name sounding right at home on your tongue. 

“Fuck, honey, you remembered? God, that’s so hot,” He whispered sweetly, then dragged you through your orgasm, thick cock pounding in and out of your throbbing core. 

It was like all the pleasure had steadily built up within your insides, all up into a big ball, then had suddenly burst, flowing throughout your entire body like you weren’t already being fucked relentlessly. 

“Such a - fuck - tight and pretty pussy,” he said, leaning into rest his head against your chest. You were weak, sensitively riding out your high, but you knew Jackson wasn’t quite as close. 

His thrusts began getting sloppier, harsher and focussed merely on feeling your walls against every inch of him. Your head rested beside his own, your eyes practically crossing with the overstimulation. 

Despite your orgasm, your cunt was still soaking, definitely dripping and marking a wet patch on both your skirt and his pants. It made you tremble, thinking of you two tiredly exiting the bathroom, disheveled and having to cover the other up. 

At this point, you didn’t know what kind of filthy fucking noises were exiting your mouth, with Jackson’s grunts and groans covering up your whines completely.

“M’gonna come,” he said a few long moments later, almost inaudible. “Say my name, say who owns this tight fucking pussy.”

“You do! Jackson does!” You exclaimed, his cock ripping in and out of you quicker and more jolted. “Jackson owns this pussy!”

Jackson grinned weakly, and with one final, harried thrust, he let go deep within you. He clenched his jaw, piercing blue eyes shutting tight and losing himself within the warm and wet feeling of your cunt squeezing him for every drop. 

You were so fucking full, and even when Jackson pulled his softening cock out of you — which, was still huge despite its idleness — you felt stuffed to the brim. 

His come dripped down your leg, and he promptly pulled your panties up, patting your worn out cunt as he did so. “You’re taking all my fucking come, so good honey.” he said, pressing a hungry kiss to your neck. “You were right: this cunt’s better than whoever your shit ex cheated on you with.”

“Told you so.” You gazed up at him through heavy-lidded, gleeful eyes. He was an absolute darling sweetheart, it seemed, switching from degradingly fucking you to romantically praising you. “Are you… up for round two?” you said, as he slipped his hand within your own, clasping tightly. You didn’t really mean round two - though, you wouldn’t protest it, especially with his delectable way of fucking you - you actually just wanted to go home with him… see where this relationship could lead you.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to ask. You’re comin’ home with me tonight,” he saw through you cheekily, pulling you close to him. 

So, you did go home with him, and in the morning you laid beside him in the ruffled white sheets, counting the freckles on his face.

His eyes fluttered open when you shuffled. “Were you watching me?” he said, voice low and sleepy. 

You nodded silently, your hand coming up to pet his skin comfortingly. After a beat passed, you asked the question that was bothering you all morning. “Jackson, you wanted to fuck me first, right?”

He blinked, tense for a moment, before smoothing out his expression. “What?” he opted on saying instead, sounding every bit clueless and entirely convincing.

Not convincing enough for you, however. “Baby, you think I didn’t notice the shots you were calling over and inching toward me? I was drunk, not stupid.”

“Are you saying I took advantage of you?” He said darkly, a side of him otherwise unknown to you ‘till now. 

You raised a judging brow. “No need to be offended. I wanted to see where it was going to go: ‘did the handsome stranger want to fuck me, or did he want to kill me?’.”

He pulled you close to him, his arm snaking around your hips. “So, what are you saying?” he said, pressing a patronizing kiss to your forehead. 

“Hm. Well, I jus’ wanna know if this is a one nightstand.”

“And you don’t care about the - drinks, the “taking advantage” part?”

You let out a laugh. “I was confident, darling; I keep pepper spray and a pocket knife in my purse. Even if you did - which you didn’t - I’d make it out alive.”

Jackson bit his lip, looking up at you. This had meant to be a one night stand, considering the job he had, but you were looking at him so sweetly, so accepting, like you secretly knew what he did for a living and wanted him despite it. 

“Not a one night stand,” he murmured, leaning into your touch. 

You beamed, and, later, when you did find out what he did for a living, you merely cocked your head. Thought about it… outweighed the pros, the cons, (and the fact you were completely right: he was perfect, but also a fucking sociopath), and merely shrugged. 

“Honey, you’ll never do anything to me. Why should I care what you do for a living? Just don’t,” you warned, staring at him like you could and would fucking kill him, “cheat on me.” 

You didn’t have the best intuition. And, as it turned out, a great moral compass, either. 

[dollfacefantasy]

okayokay so i was hoping you could write something for leon x chubby!reader? i swear there is not enough of that genre out there- i was thinking the reader could be feeling insecure about their weight and leon comes home to them upset on the couch :(( after some comforting and fluffy stuff he CARRIES reader to the bedroom. (as a chubby girl i fold for anyone who can carry me lol) any leon would work for this hes so precious i just wanna keep him safe and sound in my pocket ☹️🫶 anyways i tried to keep this broad enough for you to use your imagination,, i love you writing!! <3

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!chubby!reader

summary: you're feeling down about yourself and leon just can't have that

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), face sitting, features reader's weight insecurities and people being critical of her weight

word count: 3.6k

a/n: thanks for the request! i hope it was what you were looking for :) reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

You didn’t expect today to be a good day, but now, in your position curled up and wallowing on the couch, you wish your intuition had been wrong. You lie on the plush cushions, face pressed against a pillow, limbs retracted and held close to your body. You weren’t crying, but it felt like every couple minutes your eyes began to sting with the threat of tears falling. You tried telling yourself to get a grip, to grow up and just move on. This shouldn’t still hurt you so much.

But, like always, beating yourself up didn’t do anything to improve your emotional state. You continue half-paying attention to the movie you put on. It was your comfort movie, one that you put on whenever you were down. Right now though, it wasn’t helping. Your partially unfocused eyes fixate on the screen and watch the lead actress move about. She looks good constantly, her outfits flatter her figure and flaunt her features. All you’re left thinking is why can’t I look like that?

The story playing out in front of you has a bitter taste this time and only serves to remind you of all the words you heard today. Whenever you were around your family for extended periods of time, the conversation moved in this direction. One moment you’d be laughing over a funny story or reminiscing about the past, and then the next, you were being recommended diets or invited to come to the gym in what was your relatives' version of subtlety. And no matter how many times it happened, it still hurt like it was the first.

Sometimes, Leon could spare you from it. When he came around, all the attention would be on him, a newcomer who they didn’t know so much about. But on days like today, when you had to endure their company on your own, it was bound to happen.

Leon didn’t even know he was protecting you with his mere presence. You’d never told him about the passive aggressive remarks or the whispers across the room. He had enough problems of his own to deal with. You didn’t want to pile on by weeping to him, sounding like some shitty after school special. So instead, you resigned yourself to this, sinking into your self-pity until you were distracted enough to forget about it until next time.

Not much more of your movie plays before you hear the familiar sound of Leon’s keys outside the door. He comes in, offering you a small smile as he takes his jacket off and kicks his boots aside. You straighten up a little bit but not too much. Normally, you’d try to conceal all of this from him, but you were just too worn down today.

He’d been out dealing with some last minute things for work before he got a little time off for a couple weeks. He walks behind the couch to the kitchen, taking a moment to ruffle your hair as he goes by.

“How’s your day going? You had to go to that thing with your family right? Everything went well?” he asks from the kitchen.

“Yeah. It was fine,” you respond simply, “How’s yours? Get everything done?”

“Mhm,” he hums. You couldn’t see him, but he was watching you. He could tell something was up. He takes a few swigs of his drink before heading to the couch and sitting down with you. Glancing over at you a few times, he observes the way you’re watching the movie. The slight frown on your lips, your uninterested eyes.

“Hey, c’mere,” he says gently, “I missed you today.”

With a gentle tug of your wrist, he guides you across the couch. You slide over on the seats so you’re leaned against his side looking up at him. Like always, you put your head on his chest, his fingers find their way to your head and stroke it lovingly. His other hand makes his way to your side, tenderly squeezing your waist, and in-turn, gripping the plump flesh there. You loved the touch, but right now, it further amplifies your self-consciousness. You’re painfully aware of the shape of your body at this moment.

“You feeling ok?” he asks softly.

You simply nod in response, but it’s like he can see the gears turning in your head, cranking out one bad thought after the next.

“C’mon, tell me what’s wrong, pretty girl,” he coos, dragging his thumb over your cheek.

He called you that a fair amount, but in your current state, it just grated on your already frayed nerve endings. You swallow around the lump forming in your throat. “Nothing’s wrong,” you reply.

Your answer doesn’t satisfy him though. He’s not convinced. Any other day you’d talk his ear off about how you couldn’t believe someone did this or how there was no way another said that. You’d be all over him too. It seemed like you could never get enough of kissing his face or nuzzling his neck. But today you were quiet. Quiet and stiff.

“I know it’s something, baby. You can tell me. There’s nothing in this world I’d judge you for,” he murmurs before kissing your forehead.

You really wanna tell him. It shouldn’t be hard. The rational part of your brain knew all he’d do was make you feel better. Give you some smooches, whisper compliments against your skin as his hands rub you all over. The other part of you though, the irrational, scared girl hidden inside, kept you anxious. She kept you believing that this was something you had to bear alone. Even the fact that you were insecure in the first place was embarrassing.

In a move that made you feel overwhelmingly pathetic, you just shake your head. You push your face against his chest and remain silent. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat helps a little to calm you, but you still can’t force the words out.

He only grows more concerned as you shy away. He thought you just didn’t feel good, maybe a little gloomy, maybe had a headache. But this was clearly something deeper. His arms tighten around you, rubbing your back.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” he asks, “Talk to me. Breaks my heart seeing you sad.”

You can’t even stop the hot tears from sliding down your cheeks at this point. Sucking in a harsh breath, you cling to him. He sees you’re crying even though you’re quiet. He whispers a few more reassurances, trying to coax you into sharing what’s the matter.

“It’s just… do you… are you… are you attracted to me?” you choke out. Even the way you phrase it makes you wanna curl up and die.

He’s stunned. Honestly, that’s the last question he expected to hear between your soft gasps.

“What? Of course I am,” he says without a second thought.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to lie to me. I can take it,” you sob, keeping your face shielded against the muscles beneath his shirt.

“Yes I’m sure. Hey, hey,” he says. His tone drips with worry as he guides your face to look up at him, “Where’s this coming from, baby? Did I say something that made you think that?”

“N-no,” you cry, tears wetting his shirt by this point, “I- it’s just… I don’t…”

“Take a deep breath. It’s ok,” he whispers, “I just wanna know why you would be worried about that, babe?”

You follow his advice and get yourself calm enough that you can speak, but again, you can’t actually get the syllables out without losing it.

“Cause just look at me,” you weep and gesture at your figure.

“I am looking at you,” he says, still not understanding the issue.

“You’re telling me this is what you want?” you cry. You say it almost like an accusation. Like the word liar is on the tip of your tongue.

“Yes? I can’t help if you don’t tell me what the problem is, and I’m really not seeing a problem,” he says. He’s such a sweetheart. Doesn’t get defensive with you, doesn’t tell you to cool it. He’s understanding as ever, and it just makes you feel worse about your blow up.

“You really like me even though I’m chubby?” you finally blurt out.

His eyes soften when the words reach his ears. 

“Oh, baby…” he coos and pulls you onto his lap. It makes you uncomfortable at first, being on top of him, but he doesn’t even react to your weight on his thighs. “I love your body, every single part of it. You never need to worry about that.”

After that, everything comes spilling out. Every derogatory comment, every side eye, every single condescending smile. You ramble on about all of it through your tears. He nods along and shakes his head in disapproval when you tell him about your cousin’s birthday party when someone asked if you really needed a slice of cake. Or Christmas when your aunt cornered you to sell you on these diet shots her doctor prescribed her and how she could get you some easily.

“I never want you worrying about that kind of shit,” he tells you once it seems like your rant has come to a conclusion.

You sniffle and nod, burrowing into him further.

“I mean it. Cause for one, you're more than that. You’re sweet, so fucking sweet. You’re smart, funny. You’re you, and that’s what I love. I love talking to you, can’t get enough of your voice,” he murmurs as he kisses your cheeks and temple, “I notice all that before I’d ever notice whatever bullshit they tell you to feel bad about.”

“I know,” you whimper. Before you can say anything else, he keeps going.

“And you asked me if I’m attracted to you? That’s an easy answer, babe,” he says. He lifts you a little, shifting you on his lap so you’re straddling him. His hands squeeze your hips and rub up and down your sides. “You don’t understand how attracted to you I am. I cum harder jerking off while I think of you than I ever did fucking anyone else.”

You gaze down at him. Heat rushes through you at that admission. Your crying has come to a halt now as you hang onto each word of his.

“I mean, really honey? What wouldn’t I like?” he purrs, “You seriously believe I wouldn’t love how soft you are? All the curves I feel press up against me when you give me a hug or you wanna cuddle?”

His hands run along your skin with more teasing now.

“Your tummy? Fucking love it. Love how you get all squirmy when I rub and kiss it how you like,” he breathes as he tugs you forward so your front is against his. He kisses your lips softly. “Love feeling those round cheeks covered in tears and drool when you start losing it for me. And your thighs? I can’t get enough of ‘em clamped around my head when I’m eating your pussy. Fucking things squeeze me till I think I’m dreaming.”

Well, didn’t you feel stupid now. As Leon continues preaching about your body like he’s referencing a divine being, his hands roam your body, sending shivers up your spine. His fingers knead the flesh of your ass before coasting around to your tits and taking handfuls of them.

“I can only say so much, dolly. Think you should just let me show you how much I love it,” he breathes against the shell of your ear.

“Ok,” you agree. So simple it draws a small chuckle from his throat.

Without the slightest hesitation, he stands up, taking you with him. He hoists you up and doesn’t even let the smallest grunt slip from between his lips. You let out a tiny squeak which turns his chuckle to a full laugh.

“Leon…” you start with uncertainty.

“Nope. None of that,” he shushes you.

He boosts you up, getting you comfortable in his arms. Your legs lock around his waist just as he starts to move. Padding away from the couch, he takes you to the bedroom. He’s not straining himself at all. He glides through the doorway with you cradled against his abdomen like this was the most natural thing in the world. In all honesty, you weren’t too much for him in the slightest. All the training he did for his government job had prepared him to carry more weight than you.

He sets you down on the bed, crawling on top of you. His lips meet yours as he leans down and connects the two of you in a series of wet kisses. His hands glide beneath the fabric of your shirt, feeling your skin and the warmth of your body. After making out for a while more, he pulls back. He kneels above you, breathing heavily as he peels off his shirt. His toned abs and chest come into view. You’re still taking in the sight of him as he starts undoing his pants. To match him, you slowly begin to remove your own attire.

Soon enough, the both of you are nude. You expect him to get back on top of you and drill you into the bed until you’re seeing stars. But instead, he flops down next to you on the mattress, looking at you with a lopsided smile.

“You want me on top?” you ask as you begin to move yourself into position.

“I do. But not how you’re thinking.”

You pause, trying to figure out what he meant. It clicks in your mind suddenly as you're looking at his smug expression. He wanted you to sit on his face. He’d asked you to once or twice before, but you usually got out of it by playing up your neediness and acting like you needed his cock that very moment or you would explode.

There was no excuse that would spare you from this now though. You look him in the eyes and shake your head. His only response is to playfully nod at you and give your hips a little tug, urging you up his chest.

“Leon…” you whisper nervously. You wanted to, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“Don’t give me that,” he teases. His tone transitions to a more genuine one as he says “Let me do this for you.”

You hesitate once more, but another light pull of your hips has you tentatively scooting forward on top of him. You brush by his chest and neck until you’re hovering above his head. He lets out a sigh just from feeling the heat of your thighs on either side of him. His elbows bend around your thighs, keeping you in position. He looks up at you and finds your nervous eyes to give you a comforting look.

“I’m gonna crush you,” you say as if to warn him.

“You better,” he responds.

And that’s all the talking he needs to do before pulling your hips down and mashing your cunt against his mouth. You gasp as you feel his tongue licking you up and down already. He groans when he tastes your slick. Diving in further, his mouth opens and closes as he pleasures you. He sucks on your clit and massages your entrance.

Your arm shoots out to hold onto the headboard for balance. Your hips involuntarily rock back and forth, smearing your arousal over his chin and lips. He keeps you in place for the most part, but he doesn’t restrain your movements. If anything, he devours you with increased fervor.

“That’s right, baby. Ride it,” he mumbles against your folds.

He tightens his grip a bit as he licks broad stripes over your pussy. His nose nudges your swollen bundle of nerves, ripping sharp whimpers from you. You roll your hips into the sensation. He nearly whines while feeling the fluid motion. He keeps lapping at you like it was the task he was born to perform.

Then you feel a thrum on your hip, his fingers tapping. You look down, at first worried he needed you to get off. But looking down, you find his hooded eyes gazing back at you and his index finger gesturing behind you.

You turn to look and see his cock, rock hard, flushed red, leaking a few drops of pre cum onto his abdomen.

“You see how attracted to you I am?” he asks.

You moan loud as he returns to eating you out like it’s his final action. Seeing him so worked up from merely pleasuring you drives you wild and has you gushing all over his chin. You whimper and grind down onto his mouth some more. Your head falls back, your chest heaving and bouncing as you accept the euphoric feeling below. You reach down and tug at his hair. He practically growls and continues to work you to the edge. He pays some special attention to your clit and fucks his tongue into you to finally get you there.

“Be a good girl and cum all over my face,” he commands between licks.

You release with a yelp. Your hips buck as your body spasms. Thighs tremble violently before tensing and pressing against his ears. He smirks against the velvety junction and keeps going through the high.

Once you start to come down, he releases you from his grip and gives you a firm smack on the ass. You slump over and crumple up next to him on the bed. His face is shimmering with your release. His fingers swipe across his chin, collecting your slick that had coated the skin there. He sticks the digits in his mouth and hums in satisfaction as he licks them clean.

“Could eat that pussy for hours, it tastes so fucking sweet,” he says as he starts moving towards you again.

Now, it’s actually time for him to crawl on top of you. He rocks his hips against you as he goes in for more kisses. His cock drags against the smooth skin of your thigh, the sticky tip sliding back and forth. His wet fingers hold your jaw and keep your lips puffed out for him to kiss.

While he kisses you more, he spreads your thighs and slots himself between your folds. He moves himself up and down through the wetness that had gathered.

“Pretty, pretty girl,” he murmurs against your lips, “My gorgeous love doll.”

Teasing himself and you by gliding his tip over you a few more times, he then moves it down against your hole and enters you fully. He moans, his breath hitching as he sinks into your warm, wet embrace.

“Good girl. Squeeze around me just like that. So fucking tight,” he grunts.

He takes a moment to just feel you. Feel your walls pulsing around him. Feel your heated, squishy form against his firm one. But then he starts to move. He slowly works his shaft back. A long drawn out “fuck” leaves his mouth before he whispers a crisp “good god” while pressing back in.

He begins to pump into you with an even pace. He strokes nice and deep, keeping his movements consistent for you. You flutter around him and squirm slightly as he prods at your most sensitive spots. He leans back to look down at the spot where the two of you connect.

He watches his cock slide in and out of you, disappearing into your cunt time and time again. He’s obsessed with how your slick coats his shaft, dripping down to the base. His thumb comes to swipe over your clit quickly and give you some extra sparks of euphoria. You whine and arch your back at the touch.

“I know you have the perfect pussy. Made all for me,” he breathes, grinning as you shiver from the pleasure he inflicts upon you, “So responsive and sensitive just for me.”

You whimper and nod. Your hands claw at his back, digging into the muscles across his shoulders. He keeps slamming into you. His eyes roll back as his release builds. He mutters more praises and collapses on top of you again. He grinds and rolls himself into you rhythmically while you start to cling to him. It becomes harder to keep still as pressure mounts inside you, begging to burst.

“Wanna see my beautiful girl cum for me,” he mumbles while pressing sloppy kisses to your neck.

You pant and nod again. It was impending. All you needed was a few more thrusts. He swivels his hips, angling himself and swiping across more spots that drive you wild. It’s just a few moments later when your body seizes again and you let go with a loud cry. He can’t hold it either as he starts to shoot ropes of cum in you. You’re both shuddering, faces tense with absolute pleasure. He’s softly whimpering in your ear while your nails make deeper crescents on his shoulder blades.

He continues bucking into you, fucking his cum deeper. It’s almost like he can’t stop. It just feels too good. He can’t pull himself away even though the high is over and he’s already started to tumble down. You’re so blissed out that you don’t even complain of overstimulation, just let him go the few extra moments till he’s satisfied.

Once he is sated, he doesn’t pull out. He just stops moving his hips. His arms tighten around you, and he nestles his face in the crook of your neck where he can take in your scent with every breath.

“See what you do to me, baby?” he pants, “Wouldn’t change a thing about you. My girl, think you’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

[animelovelover123]

DMC Boys - Devil Trigger Sex

DMC Boys  - Devil Trigger Sex

Parings: Dante (All Main Line Game Versions), Reboot Dante, Vergil (All Main Line Game Versions), Reboot Vergil, Nero (DMC4 & 5 Versions), V, Sparda, Credo, Nelo Angelo x Reader

Synopsis: Monster fucking. Need I say more?

Seriously though, this is a sexy little thought experiment that I had and am doing for fun. What would it be like to have sex with the DMC boys while they are in Devil Trigger? Some notes: 1. Some characters will have multiple entries since Devil Trigger designs change every game and sometimes multiple in the same game (except for Sparda who is always the same). 2. Some characters don’t have a basic ‘body turns into demon’ Devil Trigger so I take the equivalent and work with that.

Disclaimer: Don’t actually fuck a demon, it will probably hurt, lol. But if you're into that then I ain’t gonna stop you from gettin’ that sinner tail. ¬‿¬

Trigger Warnings: aggressive lovemaking, claiming, blood, interspecies sex

DMC1 Dante

Something to note is that at this point Dante is not using his own Devil Trigger, he is harnessing the power and appearance of the demon spirits in his weapons. This results in some interesting qualities.

When Dante DTs he does not need to stay in the demon form and can freely switch back to a human body while still having the improved speed, strength, and elemental power. This means that if taking his demon body gets a bit hard for you partway through, he can switch to his human body to give you a break without pausing the lovemaking.

A negative, however, is that because he is getting his power from the demon spirits in his weapons, he has to be at least touching his weapons to DT for you. Having a big sword strapped to his back makes positioning hard. Wearing Ifrit, though it is less of a gauntlet and more like gloves with large dragon-shaped safeguards surrounding it, makes it hard for him to touch and grab things.

Although, if you are down to do some foreplay with the weapons, whether it be a thrill of perceived danger or some provocative allusion, then their presence might just be a positive.

Another thing to keep in mind is the elemental effects his DTs have. Alastor is lightning and Ifrit is fire. And this is real lightning and fire coming off him. Dante can minimize the elemental effects and focus the power away from you. However, expect to receive little zaps and licks of fire at random when Dante’s focus falters.

As for his body while in DT, he has two forms.

The Alastor DT has wings, but they are thick and small, really only meant to fly himself, so no blanketing or flying with you.

He doesn’t have any claws, just rounded fingers, so no accidental or purposeful scratching.

He has shoulder horns that point forward so if he is getting closer you have to be right in front of him, though they are good for holding onto to brace yourself. Or, if you are on top you can lean down or lay on top of him and slot yourself between them or under them, helping to lock you in place.

His eyes are covered in a helmet-like protection so no gazing into his eyes, though it does give a layer of mystique. His mouth is still free for kisses thankfully.

His hair is gone, now replaced with hedgehog-like spikes that are surprisingly soft, flexible, and pleasant to touch for both of you if you go with the grain. Slotting your fingers through them is hard, especially the closer you get to the base, but because of how solidly and directly connected they are to his head, when you grab them he really feels it and pulling them is more of an order than a suggestion for him to move his head.

The Ifrit DT has no wings and doesn’t move as fast, but he is beefier and more powerful. Pinning you to the wall with his arms hooked under your legs just got a lot easier.

He has curved spikes on his heels which may not seem like they have utility outside of more painful kicks, but when you are ridding him while he lays on the air or over most anything regardless of shape because he has hooked his feet into the ground, then you will realize the possibilities of them.

His thighs are thicker and the inside of his legs are smooth so wrapping his legs around you is just as good, if not better, than usual. Though he now has curved spikes around his waist so you doing the same to him won’t work anymore.

He has curved, ram-like horns on his head which make great handlebars, especially when he is working his mouth on you.

The hedgehog spikes on his head are shorter, harder to grab, and he now has them protruding from his wrist to cover the top of his hands. So, even without claws, you will probably still get poked and scratched. These spikes are just as sensitive so doing things like sliding your hand, palm down, along the back of his hand gives him the most delightful of shivers up his arms and down his back.

So this is the first part I wrote so it will probably be a bit weird as I try to figure out what I want to do for these. Anyway, DMC1 Dante is the first to have multiple DT designs in one game. This one only has two (he technically has one more but it is just Sparda so you will see my thoughts when you get to Sparda), so it isn't too bad. I fear 3 though.

A big issue I had with DMC1 DTs is that there are not that many good, high-quality images and videos of the DT so it is a bit hard to make out the details. And some details aren’t shared between the one official image of each DT and the in-game model. For example, you can’t see the hedgehog spikes around Ifrit’s DT hands in the official art, but you can see it in-game. And in these games, since you only turn into a demon when attacking or flying, you can’t just look at him from all angles while he stands still. SO annoying. I tried though.

Nelo Angelo (Spoilers for DMC1)

To start, you need to understand how large this man is. We are talking around 8 feet tall and 3 feet wide. He will tower over you in every circumstance. Things like being able to wrap your arms around his neck or kiss him will have to happen upon request, especially if he is standing or you are already impaled on him.

It also means that the stretching you will have to go through will be rough. With just a single finger of his being equivalent to the average size, you are in for some serious training if you don’t want to feel the burn. ‘If’ being the operative word.

Stomach bulge inbound.

His strength is also impressive, able to lift even large men like Dante up by the neck singlehandedly, and he will do the same to you if you want it.

What YOU want is the focus as, with how warped his mind is to be subservient, his agency is low and his will to follow your requests and orders is high.

He is covered in thick armour that he cannot fully remove as it is magically fused to his body, but he can remove and shift some choice pieces. For example, he can remove his helmet, revealing his human head, though it is larger than most just like the rest of his body.

Nelo Angelo’s face under the helmet may be that of a human man, but it was cold, stoic, and pale, like a statue. Yet it reacts when you manipulate it, whether through pulling his hair, opening his mouth, or kissing him. He moves with you, molding himself to receive your affection and mirror it, hinting at the heart still hidden away inside of him.

His armour is thick and cold but can become warm over time thanks to your body heat. It also has strips of pulsating, glowing colour which change depending on his status. These strips also create a ‘V’ over his crotch which almost gives an underwear illusion and also offers quick and easy visual feedback when your mouth is on him. So, despite his physical reaction being minimal, the deepening of the coloured strips will be the best tell to know how good he is feeling, along with his wordless noises.

Nelo Angelo cannot speak, that right has been taken from him by his master, but his groans of exertion and pleasure are loud and clear.

Nelo Angelo’s armour is surprisingly smooth, lacking in sharp claws or spikes. Even the horns on his helmet are curved downward so the chances of getting sudden jabs in low. The only points you have to watch out for are his knee guards which are tall and sharp. Although they can be used as spots to place your feet to get a bit of height or as something you can push against to force yourself back into him harder.

Is Nelo Angelo a Devil Trigger? Yes and no. It is technically Vergil’s natural state while under Mundus’ control. However, in DMC3, if Vergil is wearing the ‘Corrupted Vergil’ costume, Nelo Angelo is his Devil Trigger form. Is the appearance in DMC3 cannon? No. Did I do this just because there is something hot about the idea of being with someone/something 2-3 feet bigger than me? Yes.

DMC2 Dante

Dante has the Amulet, a magical item that, when you place devil hearts into it, gives his Devil Trigger different attributes and abilities, meaning you can customize and tailor your sexual experience.

You want him to move fast? Slam into you with more power? Fly? Slow down time? He can do that.

You want some temperature play with fire or ice? Or receive some little shocks? Your desire is his command.

Though he can only have so many demon hearts active at once so if you wanna switch there will be a few-second pause to change his loadout.

Dante here has two DT’s, his base Devil Trigger and his desperation Majin/Sin Devil Trigger.

In his base DT, his face is still mostly human. His skin is rougher and he has some veins that distend, but he has eyes to gaze into, a nose to rub against yours, and lips to kiss.

His wings are longer, though the height and thickness are the same so they can’t offer you the blanket effect but they can wrap around you and hold you close.

He has hair for you to play with! It is not as silky smooth as him in his human form and a bit more solid than normal hair but nowhere near horn level. So, you can run your hands through it, twirl it, and grab it all you want.

He has claws so prepare for some scratches.

He also can produce gun barrels from his hands so if you are into the illusion of danger or force in your play, he has that going for you.

He also has flaps of leather armour that will drape over you like the tails of his leather coat.

Being able to make love while Dante is in his Majin DT is a rarity since he has to be greatly physically weakened. The only times you can get this form is if he is extremely sick and you convince him to do it or when he just finished a battle. While still buzzing with adrenaline and an animalistic/demonic frame of mind he may just jump you of his own volition to let out his energy and claim you as his and him as yours.

Dante grows over a foot when going into Majin DT so he will tower over you more than usual. And with his wider frame and four wings, be prepared to be fully encompassed by him, trapped in a cocoon of heat and passion.

His edges are sharper and his skin is a lot harder. He is also less human-shaped. For example, instead of his waist, hips, and legs all flowing into each other, his hip consists of a thick plate to which half of the top of his legs attach and his torso thins to a V shape that attaches to the plate, leaving a flat surface to his hips that you could place a cup on. It is unnatural and might take some time to get used to. And if you were to wrap your legs around his hips, placing them into the crevices between his torso and hip plate, they with be squeezed and firmly held in place.

He has horns on top of his head, a bit short but still enough to grasp, and horns that start on the side of his head and curve to the front. This means that if you try to deny him kisses by turning your head, you will get poked in the cheek for your trouble.

He has growths under his forearms that are sharp and produce laser blades. They get in the way sometimes when he tries to hold you, but again, if you are into the illusion of danger he can always hold a blade up to your body to get your heart pumping faster.

His face is no longer human. Majin DT is a true demon so when you look into his eyes you will see piercing red lights and when you kiss him you will feel rough, textured lips.

I’m surprised by how many better-quality images of DMC2’s Devil Triggers I found. I assumed, after looking at the DMC1 options, that DMC2 would be the hardest since it is generally the least liked in the series. It also helped that in this game you stay in the demon form so I could see pics/videos of them just standing, turning, and walking.

DMC2 Dante had an interesting dichotomy in that one Devil Trigger is the most human-looking of original cannon DTs (especially in the face) while his other DT is one of the least human-like DTs. It honestly a cool design choice (assuming they did it on purpose) to have Dante’s normal DT be human-like but when he gets desperate he loses his humanity and becomes more demonic.

DMC3 Dante

Though Dante’s Devil Trigger appearance does change depending on the weapon he is wielding, his power is not dependent on them so he can trigger without touching a weapon. So no awkward strapping of weapons to the body to have some fun in demon mode, though the variations may be some trouble.

All of his DTs create a glowing aura with a rippling, sparking energy so there is no way for you to shyly veil your body in the darkness. He will always be able to see your beautiful body, just how he likes it.

All forms have some sort of cranial tusk-like crest. The basic/Rebellion DT has the crest curled open so going in for kisses is possible. On the other end of the spectrum, Nevan DT’s face is almost completely covered by the crests like a helmet, so you are locked out of face touches. However, in all other forms the head guards make it hard to hold his face and kiss him but it also protects you from being bit by his pointy teeth unless you purposely stick something in there like your fingers, toes, tongue, or…

The crest is also solid, so no hair to play with but some of them make good handlebars.

His arms and wings are covered in scales, and with his muscles underneath it gives a similar sensation to touching a snake.

His legs have a smoother texture so feel more slick to the touch when they wrap around you, though some of his DTs have spikes on the back so be careful.

His chest has a rib design and texture so running your hands over it and having it pressed against you gives a unique, uneven feeling.

His eyes are a sharp golden glow that don’t blink, and his lips are always twisted upward into a smile so, if you face each other, there is an odd mix of excited enthusiasm and an intense watching aura present.

Clawed hands again, though with all the sharp points with these DTs, surviving a night without being left with red marks everywhere is but a dream. Also, Beowulf's gauntlets will get in the way, though the greaves can grab things so that can be used for retrieval or interesting positions.

The Rebellion and Nevan have wings that can either fold down, giving the illusion of him wearing his red trench coat, or be open. However, unlike most winged creatures, his wings start at his lower back so instead of them blocking out the world around you as they wrap around your shoulders and head, these wings will wrap around your hips and pull you closer.

Cerberus DT also has wings, though they are more so just protrusions that don’t move, so all they do is get in the way if he tries to lay down or you want to take him from behind.

The combination of the cranial crests, coat illusion, and glove-like hands, it never feels quite like you are touching him directly. There is always a feeling of separation. Although, with how talkative and energetic Dante is, hopped up on a relatively new feeling of power and primal urges, this is compensated for.

This fucker. I was dreading this because of him. Every other character and every other Dante in this series has 1-2 DTs per game, EXCEPT DMC3 Dante. He has five. Fuckin’ FIVE! Like its honestly really cool that his design and abilities change depending on his weapon, but in this specific circumstance it makes things so much more tedious. I could have gone into separate descriptions for each like in the other characters with multiple DTs but there are just too many to do that. I already have 15 to do, I don’t want the extra work.

Also, something I noticed while staring at DMC3 Dante’s DT for so long, in my personal opinion, with no intention of offending anyone… he got a goofy face.

He looks like he is constantly on the brink of doing an evil little gremlin laugh.

DMC3&4 Vergil

Vergil has a base Devil Trigger and then an altered one for the brief time he wielded Beowulf.

His layers of scales, plates, and leathery skin give the illusion of clothing, even more so than Dante’s. Vergil’s layers fold and bend over each other to not only mimic his coat and vest under it but also cufflinks and a high collar. A collar so high that it goes halfway up his cheeks. They flow and bend though so sliding your hands under them is very much possible.

The sheath for his Yamato, or whatever sword he is wielding at the moment, is part of his left arm. And this isn’t simply the metal/wooden sheath fused to him, no. This sheath is made of his own leathery skin and scales. Even if he takes the weapon out of it, it is hard, long, warm, and frankly gets in the way when lovemaking. Although he does have nerves in it, so it is possibly another shaft and hole to stimulate.

Vergil has a cranial crest that sits on the top of his head, meaning it is up and out of the way. Although the shape is not really suited for grabbing, it can be used as a panel to turn his head away or towards you.

In his Beowulf DT, his coat, or the illusion of his coat, is shortened into a crop top length and instead, he has wings that are sadly too thin to actually fly with or even drape over you in a blanketing effect. However, they are flexible and flowing so you can use them a bit like leashes to either yank him away or pull him closer, though more from the core of his body than his neck. That is, if you catch him off guard as his strength is superior and he does not like being at anyone’s mercy.

His crest has sharpened making them more dangerous but better to grab while still having the panel effect to twist his head.

His chest scales have also hardened and become more defined in comparison to his basic DT, giving a rib effect. They don’t distend much but when you press your hand against his chest, or it is pressed up against yours then it becomes more apparent.

He has thick gauntlets now so more delicate caresses are harder but grabbing you is just as easy, if not easier as it is harder for you to escape his hold when you can’t claw at his hands.

In this form Vergil creates a distorting, sparking aura that obscures your view of him and can give you sharp little zaps if you aren’t careful. Although Vergil has had a lot more training in this form and so can control this aura better, giving you both a clearer view of each other. However, it also means that Vergil can consciously give you little shocks when you, in his view, misbehave and don’t listen.

Vergil technically has three DTs in DMC3 but one of them is just Nelo Angelo who has how own section.

As for combining DMC3 and DMC4 Vergil, I don’t know what you want me to do. It’s the same. It’s literally the same. At least between DMC4 and DMC5, Dante’s DT had some differences to point out and there was a whole new DT to talk about. But there is nothing for DMC4. I couldn’t even really explore how differently Vergil can control his DT since it is implied that DMC3 and Vergil’s appearance in Fortuna happened at roughly the same time. So I am sorry for the cop-out but this is what I got.

DMC4 Nero

Nero can’t really control his demonic powers yet, which can be seen in a few ways.

First off, instead of shifting his body the energy manifests as blue phantom flames and glowing red eyes, giving him a feral or rabid look, and a demonic blue astral figure manifests and infects his mind.

This figure is large, demonic, and comes out when he asserts energy. So when he is thrusting into you or does something like grab your hair suddenly, the figure may just appear. If you are an exhibitionist this may be great for you. If you get uncomfortable being watched then Nero will have to do some training before he can take you like this.

It also does not simply hover behind or above Nero. It can also encompass his torso, so in the middle of an intimate moment you may just open your eyes to find that the face above you is different than before.

It does not speak to you, but Nero can hear it and it is determined to gain more power. And one of many ways to gain and assert power is for Nero to dominate you during sex. So, with Nero being more aggressive in DT, be ready for some rougher treatment. He loves you and would never intentionally harm you, but you may have to point out when your legs are about to give out or that the bites he is leaving all over you are bleeding a bit.

Another thing to keep in mind is that Nero does not have full control over when he goes into his DT. If he is high on adrenalin, from joy or anger, or you tease him just a bit too much, he will most likely trigger and pin you to whatever surface is nearby.

It doesn’t matter if you are alone at home, out in the forest, or on some side street, you may just find yourself with your face pressed against a cold surface with his human hand holding your hair while his Devil Bringer is already ripping your clothes to ribbons and his distorted voice growling in your ear about how badly he needs to fill you up and mark you as his.

Another non-traditional DT, wooo~…

The whole part about the astral figure having its own thoughts to some extent may be totally wrong, but I got the impression that the voice that Nero hears demanding “give me more power” is it. My headcannon is that it is his more animalistic demonic nature that has been repressed manifesting as a separate entity as Nero can’t handle it until DMC5. Then again, in one of the pachinko games (weird topic I know) the figure takes on the form of Vergil and seems to teach Nero a move so IDK what the fuck is going on with it.

Credo

Though he would deny it being a ‘Devil’ Trigger, Credo does obtain the ability to harness supernatural power to change his form into something no longer human.

This transformation is a lot softer than others, consisting of smoother lines, rounded points, and lots of feathers.

He has soft white feathers along most of his body, giving you something to really sink your hands and face into. There are exceptionally thick plumes around his thighs, so when you sit on his lap its like sitting on a soft feather comforter.

His tail is also covered with feathers, though has a bare underside showing off the muscles in it. It is more like a cat tail than anything, not having the conscious ability to grab things but unconsciously draping over you when pleased.

Thankfully it doesn’t whip around when excited, so when you take him from behind it will either wrap around your waist or drape over your shoulder.

The feathers of his singular wing are separated into three sections, offering three tactile pleasures to experience. A soft upper part, a muscular lower part, and slick blade-shaped feathers with smooth edges.

Though the feathers do not cover the crotch, they line either side so no sensory slapping sounds of skin hitting skin, but also no painful jabs of hipbones so there are pros and cons.

Speaking of the crotch, he has a chastity belt-looking protective plating that opened up like a little double door.

The plume on his head can get in the way a bit when you go in for kisses, but there is no structure to it so you can just push it aside.

There is, sadly, a rather big elephant in the room that will impede your loving making, at least until you figure out how to work with it or around it. In this form, one of Credo’s arms is attached to a large shield. It is 2/3s his body height, solid as steel, and a constant. His other arm does end in a hand with rounded fingers that can hold and caress you. His other though, will be in the way. Though it does offer good cover if either of you want to sneak in a tantalizing touch in public (not that Credo would ever condone such a thing but he hasn’t pushed you away either) and it offers a surprisingly comforting and secure nesting spot for when you are settling down after. And with how he can fly, even with only one wing, it can be like a little basket to carry you around in.

Atop his head are two sets of horns, one that creates an incomplete loop which makes a great handle and another set that points backwards quite a ways and has a layer of feathers on top. The latter set is long enough that even if you are average human height, compared to Credo who is 6’4”ish and grows a few inches when transforming, you can easily grab one and use it to yank his head up and back while you slam into him from behind.

Another oddity not often seen is how the claws on his toes and heels stick straight up. It may take some ingenuity to use them but there is potential there, especially those who have a particular liking to feet.

Unfortunately, the human-looking face he has is a façade, nothing but a solid mask. Like a sculpture of the gods, it is hard and unmoving. The golden hairs making up his beard are like strands of golden thread, his red eyes do not blink, and his lips stay curved in the slightest of a closed-mouth smile, even when he speaks. It truly gives the feeling of an angle taking on a more conceivable form for you so it may bestow upon you a gift. Though the ‘gift’ in this case is rather sinful.

This is one of those things that is not actually labelled as a Devil Trigger but could be argued as one.

One thing that people may not agree with me on is the idea that Credo’s shield in DT is part of his body and I admit, it is kind of unclear. I argue it is because we never see him not with it (unlike his sword and spear which he can throw and drop) and his in-game module does not have a left hand, his arm just melds into the back of the shield (see pic if it works).

After the fight, Nero gets an item (as he does after every boss fight) that is stated to be Credo’s shield. However, the Aegis Shield (what the item is officially called) does not look like Credo’s shield and when we see Credo later, he still has his shield. And, unlike how in other post-boss battle cutscenes we see Nero holding the ripped off item and it disappears as he absorbs it’s power, Nero grabs Credo’s shield, absorbs power, then throws the shield and Credo aside rather than ripping it off.

DMC4 Dante

Dante has two Devil Triggers, though one can’t be held for more than a minute so it is more for brief moments of passion or something to spice up the already spicy moment.

Dante’s DT here gives the illusion of a more human appearance.

The colouring and positioning of his scales and plates mimicking his red trench coat, gloves, chaps, and boots. He has lips and a nose, and there are white layers on his head and chin that look like his hair at a glance. However, the heat radiating off of him and the reptilian-like textures always remind you of the demonic nature of the thing currently spreading your legs.

His eyes are also a dead giveaway as there is nothing human about them.

The glowing spot on his chest that looks like a hole with cracks spreading out from it is a sensitive spot for him. Run your fingers along it, kiss it, or lick it and you can feel the vibration of his pleased growls and purrs.

He has more faux coattails this time, 4 to be exact, they are a lot more flexible and flowing than those before so moving them to take him from behind is easy.

Though he does get a bit faster, Dante’s DT offers much more strength this time around so be prepared to not walk the next day.

In this DT you don’t just have to watch out for his clawed hands, but also around his chin so the usual playful scratchy sensation of his stubble is now hard, and potentially painful, spikes.

He has spikes that start on his chest and go up past his shoulders. These are okay handlebars, though only work for leading his torso rather than his head. They can also get in the way when trying to go down on you or face sitting, but if you guys take the time to slot your legs between his face and the spikes, then no matter how much you squirm and jerk, you can’t escape his ravenous tongue.

His foot claws are longer now, unlocking the potential of Dante hanging upside-down down for some spider-man kisses or standing 69ing.

Also, first of Dante’s DTs to have a bulge so that means there is something to grind on for a bit for foreplay. And who knows, maybe the sudden appearance of a bulge means he has more packing down there this time.

Dante’s Dreadnaught DT does not last that long, a minute or two max, and he has to build up power and anger to even trigger it.

When he does pull it off though, there is an intense darkness about him in this form. Not just visually as his whole body is veiled in a deep black shadow-like fog with only the ripples of power along his spikes and helmet-like guard offering colour and light. But there is also a foreboding darkness with how his movement is slowed.

When he approaches you, he doesn’t run, he walks as his power is weighing him down. Yet his steps are silent, as if he isn’t touching the ground. When he touches you, it is cold and has an airy feeling, like little puffs of smoke are brushing against your skin. He is invulnerable in this state so he never truly feels anything like this. He can’t feel your touch or your warmth. He has to focus to register your attempt to push and pull him. He can’t even clearly see you, at least not in detail.

This all creates a feeling of separation, detachment you could say. Yet it also has a mystique and dread, as if an omnipotent supernatural being had chosen you to pursue.

I have honestly never heard of Dreadnaught DT before doing research for this. It isn't even listed on the DMC Fandom Wiki Devil Trigger page! I only found out about it because I was watching { DANTE }‘s videos of showing off Dante’s DTs to see their in-game models and movement and it is featured there. There isn't that much info on it online aside from people talking about its lack of use and the fandom wiki has a single tiny paragraph about it on the Royal Guard page.

Reboot Dante

For Dante to go into Devil Trigger he has to have his mother's amulet and be in Limbo, or the worlds have to be merged by now, so there is a dissociative aspect to making love here and like this. The world isn’t quite right here, and neither is Dante when he is triggered.

When he triggers, every living being except for himself is lifted into the air as if gravity had been turned off. You become floaty and dazed, your mind and body slowing down until Dante grabs you and pulls you back to land. The fog in your brain never fully disappears but things become clearer as his mouth aggressively kisses and bites at any open skin he can get to and his hands start clawing at your clothes.

If you touch the ground and focus you can find gravity again. But if Dante keeps you elevated and keeps your mind scrambled with pleasure then you are left in anti-gravity, at the mercy of Dante who can easily flip you around and lift you. It also means that his grip on you is all the stronger as he is responsible for holding you in place.

The colours of the already distorted world distort further, draining into white and black and all the shades in between. Even his dark hair bleaches into white during this time. The only splashes of colour are on Dante himself through his clothes and eyes, making it so you always look at him.

Though his body remains human, his eyes turn from pale blue, to the point they could be called grey, to a striking black and red, which match his more aggressive, demonic nature in this form.

When Devil Triggered, Dante is tapping into his demonic half and the longer he stays in it the more humanity escapes him. If your foreplay takes too long or by the time you reach your peak he may be too far gone to hear or care about your need for a break.

Thankfully Kat has created a spray that can knock Dante out of his DT if you need it.

But if you choose not to use it and let Dante’s DT run its course, Dante’s sense of concern for your exhaustion and boundries slip away as he loses himself to demonic urges of claiming and, if he has even the slightest interest in starting a family while in the right mind, breeding you.

It doesn’t matter if you’re in tears, if you’re twitching from overstimulation, or if you have gone limp in exhaustion, Dante needs to do this. To fill you, to mark you, to get rid of this burning sensation in his body and quench his hunger.

Advance warning (or post warning depending on if I reorganize these); any person without an actual demon form will usually have shorter parts since the majority of the other parts are about explaining how touching them would work when their body is so different. Without a different body shape, I am left to focus on something unique about the DT. In this case, I focused on how blinded Dante gets when in DT. In the game, we see how he is so blinded by betrayal and pain that he almost kills Vergil. So I tried to translate that tunnel vision of intense reaction to emotions into sexual desire. I think it came across well, though I feel that this might just inch into possible non-con with how aggressive and primal they become. I know some people aren't into that so I want to write it in a way that gives you an out if you want while leaving the possibility open if you are into that.

Reboot Vergil

Vergil has been training with his demonic power for a long time and chooses to focus the power outside of himself, so he is not as animalistic when DTing as others.

Even visually he can choose not to change, but if you want the pale skin, glowing eyes, and veiny look he can certainly do that for you.

The only visual change that he might let slip when in the heat of the moment are the flecks of demonic energy that hover around him and fly off in wild directions with more intense movement.

His DT consists of him creating a doppelganger that can work in tandem with him or act on its own. Meaning you have two Vergil’s to work with.

Two voices telling you how good you look and feel, and how he couldn’t focus on work when all he could think about was you.

Two sets of lips and teeth to kiss and mark every part of your body.

Two sets of hands sliding your clothes off and leading you into position.

Two tongues lapping at you and preparing you.

And two dicks searching to slide into you and be wrapped in your warmth.

The doppelganger does pose some differences though. The most obvious being that visually he is not consistently there, like a body you can get glimpses of through a thick mist.

He can also change colour if that does anything for you.

The doppelganger can also choose when it is corporeal and incorporeal, so even if you have clothes on or are wrapped up in a blanket, he can move through it and touch your skin directly anyway.

The doppelganger can also act as a surrogate. So while Vergil is busy with a meeting, his attention may be split as half of his mind is focusing on controlling his double as it takes you in the next room over. Call it prep for when the meeting finishes and Vergil can take over or join the fun.

This was another one where there is no physical change into a different body so I have to work with what I’ve got, which is not much.

DMC5 Nero

Nero has finally unlocked his full DT transformation and he can even control it better than before, meaning your intimacy can be more controlled and sensual. Unless you want him to be a wild beast because he would happily oblige.

His DT is more on the human side, with a navel, abs, pecks, and a mostly human-shaped face with warm lips that actually mold to yours rather than are stiff and just follow along like many other DTs.

His butt in DT is like a human’s rather than covered in scales or plating, meaning it can be grabbed, can jiggle and tense, and can be smacked with that satisfying sharp sound ringing out, though it is usually drowned out by the sounds that slip from his lips when you do land a good hit on his rear end.

His eyes are lizard-like and glow, making them more piercing. The kind that you can see track your movements from across the room like a hunter waiting for its prey.

His hair grows exponentially, going a third down his back. It is silky smooth to the touch, tough enough for you to yank on, and thick enough to block out the light when Nero hovers above you and his hair drapes over you just right.

He does have some spikes and plating, such as his calves which are covered in sharp spikes and his shoulder guards which are made for a particular set of astral hands that are not yours so they are hard to hold. Although if you slot your arms between the shoulder lines just right, they can become wedged and all you can do is grab and claw at Nero’s back while you are held open and helpless for him.

He also has a couple of chin spikes so no chin nuzzling.

The rest of his plating, scales, and skin are smooth so wrapping yourself around him, being wrapped up in him, sitting, straddling, and all the rest can be done comfortably.

The plating around his side leads down his torso, making a sort of happy trail leading your hand to just the right place.

He also has a bulge, though, like a lot of him, it is more human in proportion compared to his dad or uncle. Don’t tell him that though because he will simply have to show you how he is a grower rather than a shower.

His hands are clawed now, claws that are really long but not razor sharp. Perfect for dragging across your skin to give you those pleasant tingles without actually causing harm. Again, unless you want that.

Speaking of claws, he has a second set now… kind of. His wings act more like arms with claws rather than wings. They have the full range of a normal hand, and arguably more, so can grab and lift and pull you around as he desires.

Although these clawed wings are not exclusive to his TD and can come out whenever. They tend to get integrated into all of your intimate moments, whether intentionally or not. And they are even occasionally involved with the lead-up as he keeps his real hands somewhere tame while his Bringer Claws sneak over to and grab something a bit spicier.

He has a pair of horns on his head but they are not really shaped well for holding. They are more like head guards with a feather-like scaling pattern that is quite pleasing to the touch for both of you.

They do make the space a bit tight when you go in for a kiss. Though he likes this as once he has you pinned down and brings his face nice and close, there is no escaping from his lips for you. As for the rest of your body? Trust me, he will find a way to leave his sharp little teeth marks all over you.

His voice becomes distorted when in DT, making it deeper and more gravely to the point of pretty much having reverb.

Holding his DT does take some effort, so he pants and breaths a bit harder and more often. And with how his voice is affected those sighs and sharp intakes ring out through the room.

I’m surprised with how little I had to say for this one, but I guess that is because his DT is rather tame in regard to representing a demon. Also, a lot of little things I have said have already been said for the other guys. And I am losing steam. I’m almost done though, so close…

V

V was a human, he did not have the same demonic energy as his kin, not from his own being at least.

That doesn’t mean you and he can’t have some demonic fun, he just requires some assistance. If you are up for it, of course.

For the most powerful demonic force V has under his control is mindless, lacking a true will of its own, and does not exactly have a solid form. It is flexible, moldable, one could even say like a thick liquid.

Nightmare, under V’s command, can change its body at will.

It could be like a large drop of warm water gliding around your skin, pinpointing your sensitive areas under your clothes as you try to do something else.

It can be like a thin snake, sliding around your body, squeezing you just enough to make your heart pound.

It can lay thin across your skin like clothing or even closer, contouring perfectly to your body, while heating, vibrating and shifting around.

It can surround you in intertwined and knotted tendrils that poke, prod, slide, writhe, and thrust around you.

Or it can fully encompass you, like you are submerged in water with every bit of your skin coated yet everything is dark, warm, and relentlessly stimulating you.

And all the while V is sitting nearby, watching and controlling the moment carefully.

His primary focus is on you, making sure you are safe and satisfied, occasionally slipping in for a moment to surprise you with a sudden texture shift before disappearing again.

But if you were to call out to him, asking him to join, well he could multitask.

So this is the most different of any of these Devil Triggers to the point that I was debating not putting it in. But I decided, why not. We are already going crazy with these things, why not get some slime/tentacle hentai in here. I still chose to keep it really short though since this may be uncomfortable/a step too far for some people.

DMC5 Dante

Again, Dante has two DTs, with his first one being very similar to the one he used during the Fortuna incident. So a lot of the points mentioned there carry over. There are a couple of new things to mention though.

For one, he has more control over his demonic power now, meaning he can control the heat radiating off him better and, more importantly, his eyes are no longer just glowing orbs of power. Though more reptilian than human, you can see Dante’s eyes, gaze into them, and see how they darken with lust and then shine with love as you cuddle after.

His feet have actually shrunk so, no more upside-down fun, but that is made up for by his wings.

What looks like the tails of his coat can lift and open into a pair of wings that he can fly with or wrap around you. With 2 wings, even with each wing having 2 segments, he can’t quite encompass you like in his Majin form but with the glowing, circular pattern on the inside it offers a visual effect that is hypnotizing to watch. This dazzling visual is enhanced when ripples of sensation and energy surge through Dante causing the lights to flicker and waver.

His wings also have hooks on the top which he can use to hold you, in particular your shoulders, in place so you don’t slide away from him as he slams into you.

Now on to his Sin Devil Trigger.

He does have to stab himself to get into this form which could be a turn-off or turn-on for you. It has happened to him so many times that it does not faze him all that much, though he does let out some deep groans and growls as he feels the rush of power take him over.

This is the farthest from human-like he has looked since his brief time being able to hold Majin form. No nose, eyes back to being simple glowing slits of energy, and not even lips to kiss.

His skin is like rock and if he doesn’t focus, he could burn you with how hot his body becomes.

And there are spikes everywhere. Head, shoulders, arms, chest, legs, nowhere is truly safe. Even his waist, though having a similar thinness and flatness to his Majin DT, has spikes pointed at it so it is a risky idea to slot your legs around them.

But if you can brave the danger and you both are able to keep safety in mind, or not if you like some pain, this will be the most intense night you will ever have. Each thrust takes your breath away and the weight of his body almost makes you feel trapped, a true feeling of being taken by a wild beast.

Add in the fact that the hooks on his wings, of which he has four now, have become more like appendages so they can bend and twist at will, which means he can scoop up and manipulate your body, counting his arms too, in six ways now, making you feel surrounded and at the mercy of this titan.

Also, Sin DT has a bigger bulge, so we all know what that means…

The bulge is even shaped a bit like it and it has a cracked, lit slit separating the protecting scales as if it is so big that it is almost forcing its way out.

Also, his ass is surprisingly round and big, covered in small scales which means you can feel the muscles move under them. But there is a spine-like structure between his cheeks so no hotdogging but gripping and caressing are still on the table.

Some sensitive places are along the glowing spots of his inner forearm and on the glowing inside of his horns. Not the long ones on top of his head, but the ones wrapping around the sides of his head. Because of how rough and hard his skin is, just touching them isn't enough. You have to claw and dig into them. When you do though you get this interesting sound. This crackling, sizzling sound along with his warped, deep growl and snap of his jaw.

It’s the most sensation he can feel in this form while making love, aside from finishing of course. Dante feels so powerful, so invulnerable in this state that when you do it suddenly it's like his brain shuts down for a minute. He twitches and may even crumble down onto you for a second before bouncing back. And though it may be stifled by the distortion, you can also hear him whimper. Quite the contrast from his intimidating form, but this is a power only you are privy to and can exploit out of him.

Unlike most people who joked about/did not consider the Devil Triggers being sexy until the first clear shot of Dante’s Sin DT was of his beautifully sculpted booty, I have always been curious about the weirder, more creative side of fantasy sex, and so have occasionally imagined scenarios like these. I used to shy away from writing/sharing fanfiction ideas about crazier things as I feared the possible onslaught of hate. Now though, I wonder how different the reception for these will be since the immaculate rear ends of DMC5’s DTs are a meme and normalized?

DMC5 Vergil

Vergil’s Devil Trigger has lost practically all of its clothing illusions and is overall less human-like.

He is a lot more ridged and sharp now, with pointed protective scales and plating along his chest, limbs, and head. There is a soft spot, however, right over his stomach. The scales are smaller and thinner to the point where you can feel his ab muscles flex and contract due to choice or as a reaction to stimulation. Everywhere else though you must take caution.

This caution should also extend to his bulge of all things. The shape is a bit odd as it both curves up and down. The up curve is relatively smooth and if he leans back enough, you could even sit on it while he is standing. The downward curve is where the danger lies.

The protective plating and scales form a dragon head with glowing eyes and everything. Does it move? Probably not, but the little fangs and curved snout of the crotch dragon may just rip into your clothing.

His arm sheathes make a return and is both less and more obstructive. On the positive, they are shorter now and open, acting more as pipes that exude demonic energy that form into blades than a place to store a physical sword. On the other hand, he has them on both forearms now.

Speaking of pipes, his cranial crests have opened and become exhaust pipes for demonic energy that burst forth like blue flames. Vergil does have enough control over his demonic blood to choose when and if he creates these flames and how hot they are. He can actually make them cool to the touch, allowing you to run your hands through them without risk of injury. Even if you are not that interested in them, he likes to have at least a small flame going as the way the light reflects in your eyes makes you even more dazzling than usual.

He has horns and spikes that protect his face but there is enough room for you to slot your head in there for kisses, though he has no lips to kiss with.

He does, however, have a lightly barbed tongue that, with careful control of his demonic energy, he can also choose to make hot or cold as it explores your mouth or drags across your skin.

He has wings that he uses this time, able to fly you around so he may abscond with you to a more private area when the need arises. They have a glowing ripple pattern on the inside that, along with the energy flames of his head and arms, can create quite a flashy light show. Now whether he uses that to entertain or distract you is something for him to decide.

He also has a tail, and quite a long and strong one at that. Unlike most tails, his attaches to his upper back, making it start closer to your head level. This makes capturing you by the shoulders or wrists and lifting you off the ground, suspending you and leaving you helpless in front of him while both his hands are free, easy.

The main length of the tail has large, flat scales that come to softer points, so even if it slithers over you against the grain, it won’t hurt as long as it is going slow.

The end of the tail is barbed, but the actual tip is thin, smooth, and around a foot long. This means it can act as a good replacement, or additional, rod to play with.

And with the fact that Vergil can create a doppelganger in the image of his demon form while in his human form, well you can have the best of both worlds at the same time.

Now, some people may think that me not expanding on Vergil’s doppelganger ability is a waste, but all of that detail had to be used for Reboot Vergil because that is all Vergil’s DT is in that game. I guess I could copy and paste a handful of points to this section but that would be a waste and cheap. Besides, this might encourage those who skip parts to go back and actually read Reboot Vergil’s part, lol.

Sparda

Sparda is very comfortable in his demon form, more so than his human form, so he knows exactly how to use it.

He has a lot of protruding bits that mimic armour. For example, he has plating that acts as shoulder guards and scaling on his legs that go up to his hips. It gives ‘a man in uniform’ type of vibe but it can get in the way.

The biggest hinderance is the protective ring around his chest that comes to a point in the front. Chest to chest contact just won’t happen. It isn’t even big enough for you to sit in for easier eating out. The only possible positive is its ability to capture liquids, so if you are into puddles of various things you have that going for you.

At least his knee guard-like protrusions, the ones on his legs, and the ones on his shoulders can help you hang on. Whether it be planting your feet on his knee guards to get a bit higher, using his leg guards for hooking your legs around his surprisingly thin waist, or having your legs sit between his shoulder guards and head for the aforementioned easier sitting for licking.

Speaking of his legs though, they, and his arms, have this interesting ripple texture that is flat enough to his body that they don’t cause discomfort but make a pleasing ticking sound when you drag your nails across them.

He has spikes on the tops (closest to the elbow) of his forearms, so fisting can only go so far.

His horns go out to the side and curve downward so they stay out of the way for kisses and, though thick at the base, thin out at the tips so you can grasp them. One function that Sparda had never considered before though is how, when facing away from you, you can hook your arms under his horns and rear his head up.

His fingers are clawed but surprisingly not his toes. Instead, his feet are hoofed with the split like a goat. Not much utility during sex but the sound they make when he walks around is a surprisingly soft yet satisfying ‘clop’.

His lips are upturned, unlike humans, so he does not quite smile and looks as if he is frowning, or scowling with how his head armour shapes his eyes. It may take some time for you to get the more subtle signs signalling his true feelings. Or, if you train him right, you can weaponize your concern of not being able to read his face into making him be more vocal during lovemaking.

His wings are bug-like, having a harder protective shell and 4 sheer wings that shimmer in the light. When he flaps them they beat quickly, creating a decent amount of wind which can be used to either manipulate temperature, for comfort or excitement, and to make the parts of you already wet tingle as the chilly breeze hits them.

So a couple of interesting notes about this one. First off, would you count this as a Devil Trigger? It’s not really clear if Sparda’s demon form is his natural state and he just chooses to have a human form to fit in better with humans or if his human looking form is equally his natural state and he just switches form depending on the situation. The only beings we have seen that take on a drastically different look when DTing are demon/human crossbreeds, which Sparda is not, and Lucia who (spoilers) is an artificial demon created by Arius made to look human so she, and others like her, can act as his bodyguards in the human world without drawing suspicion. (spoiler end). So jury is out on that one.

Second point which causes some problems when making this is the fact that the details for Sparda’s demon form are vague. We knew the general idea but because most of our looks at Sparda are through different characters channeling his power, the DT changes to fit that character. For example, when Vergil DTs into Sparda’s form he still has the skin sheath thing on his arm, which Sparda definitely didn’t have. The only time, as far as I know, that we have seen Sparda’s demon form in a main game, the REAL Sparda, is in the opening of DMC1 but that is obscured. I did the best I could, but it may not be accurate.

[prettyboykatsuki]

literally BEGGING you to elaborate on oliver and his doggirl... trying to be nonchalant and aloof but your tail won't stop fucking wagging and him mocking you for it... HIM GRIPPING IT AND TUGGING A LITTLE IN PRONE BONE...

✮ tags ; hybrid stuff, self indulgent nonsense, hybrid heat, petnames (pup, mutt, girl etc.), petting and praise etc, reader has a sad backstory lol and this became??? crazy soft?? free me from this, mentions of dog fighting and hybrid mills. its v brief

✮ a/n ; this is a little pathetic for me but whatever. also

You're not a stray.

Not exactly.

Oliver isn't exactly looking for a hybrid when he comes to the pound. He's trying to pick up the girl who works there, more specifically. Really you're getting in the way of that - which is why he even meets you in the first place. His failed attempts at picking her up have him following her all around the facility.

You're a recent find - an abandoned and highly intelligent hybrid. You're capable of non-verbal communication and generally speaking independent. But it's rare that people come to look after you since you're well past being cute and cuddly on first glance. You've got visible scars and everything.

You're more mangy, more mutt than puppy and you've got a nasty glare until she comes to greet you. Oliver isn't exactly trying to adopt a hybrid when he meets you, but you lock eyes and he gets the strangest feeling.

You're definitely uncute.

Oliver tries to stay away from all the hybrid stuff. He doesn't even really like pets. But he knows enough about them to know that most people look to take a hybrid home want them to be cute, obedient, and clueless.

From the scars on your face and the general disdain you show him, a warning growl in the low of your throat - he can tell you're none of these things. Fuck you too, really. If Oliver brought a doggirl home, it wouldn't be you anyway.

The girl he's trying to sleep with has nothing but adoring things to say about you. At one point, she's petting you and you're licking against her hand with something he's damn sure is smugness. It's personal after that - driven by petty annoyance Oliver agrees to bring you home.

You definitely understand given the way you protest. You're cagey when he tries to get near you - bitey and difficult. Mean.

The weight of his choice doesn't really hit him until he's home with a doggirl and none of the things necessary to care for you.

Though Oliver is a lot of things, he's not a complete piece of shit. It was mostly a choice made on a whim, but it'd be a lie to say he wasn't drawn to you in some unknowable and nonsensical away from before.

So, Oliver becomes a hybrid owner to a very mean doggirl in the span of a few days.

For the first few months you live together, you do nothing by fight with him. You tear up his furniture, ruin his clothes, growl loudly when he tries to bring girls over and suck up to long-time hook-ups so he can't get rid of you. You spend a lot of time making his life difficult and his life alone. When he's busy from work, all the sitters only have nice things to say about you. Well-behaved, quiet, easy to handle.

It's just him you seem to drive crazy.

You understand every word out of his mouth but pretend otherwise. He spends a lot of time threatening to toss you out onto the street. Worse though, you get a real kick out of pissing him off.

He ends up calling the shelter again after a while goes by with no improvement. He calls with full resolve to send you back to that damn place, but the cute girl picks up the phone.

He doesn't even ask to hear about you. She just starts talking as soon as she hears him.

They ran background through some tags and found you prior in the system. It's a chilling feeling hearing where you used to come from - a fucking hybrid mill to a rich family with no morals - something to do with dog fights. Oliver watches you sleep in the corner of the living room, curled up on the dog bed he bought you that you've always been territorial over.

You've never been able to sleep without fits, but he didn't put together that their may be any reason for it.

He hangs up the phone in the dark that night, too prideful to say sorry - but decides to try and get along with you the best he can afterwards.

There's a weird period of adjustment where Oliver gives up on trying to get you to behave around him. He deals with your messes and growling in nonplussed silence and sometimes amusement, and occasionally feels so guilty about all of it he pets your head when you're asleep. All soft fur and pointed ears and fitful rests.

He feels kind of ridiculous about all of it - but the change in behavior on your end is incredibly noticeable. Eventually you also seem to give up on trying to fight him.

It's tense and not much more than camaraderie at first.

Once you get comfortable, you act like a lot more like a dog than he was expecting. You move your things to sleep by the foot of the bed and greet him when he comes home despite not having any prior interest. You don't get on the couch unless he invites you up, and you wake him up properly to take you on walks and run together. You're an athletic breed and keep-up with him fine.

It's weird, but Oliver finds you to be pleasant company when you're not trying to piss him off. You're intelligent, clever and curious. He starts to find you cute when he starts petting you as soon as he's home from practice. Try as you might to keep up the nonchalant act, you perk up adorably every time. Your tail wags and you you get just a little impatient and Oliver can't help but find it sweet after all you've been through.

He teases you about it every time, and you growl and hiss but still preen under the praise anyways. Times like that you feel more puppy than mutt.

He doesn't know when exactly the lines blur, or when he it becomes so normal to make you curl into bed next to him. When the affection makes him bleed to into a proud enough puppy owner to praise and sometimes spoil you between teases.

He's grown quite fond of you over the last few months.

So, when you spend all night in distress, he find himself honestly worried.

You spend an entire night whimpering before he decides to call in sick for practice and stay with you. But you're avoiding him like the plague, in an entirely different way than you were before. It's a hassle to get you to let him onto the bed without growling. He spent all morning googling symptoms before a forum from years back asks the exact same questions as him.

dude she's probably just in heat. chill out.

The realization dawns on him a little too later as he manages to pull you away from the pillows you're buried in as he sits next to you.

Your face is flush when he finally gets a good look at you. It's clear all at once that you are going through heat. Your gaze is lust addled and embarrassed - when he lays you flat on your stomach, you rut against the air in ashamed groan. You've always been so smart for a hybrid, maybe smart enough to know shame and humiliation better than most.

Most hybrid owners have this taken care of already. Sometimes bringing another hybrid home to take care of it. Oliver though, feels responsible for you - so he decides to be the kind of owner to take care of it himself.

You must know that, just like you know that it'll be painful unless you get some relief.

You look so embarrassed when Oliver glances at you. He doesn't know what it is exactly. "Were you planning on whining like that for your entire heat?"

You make a soft noise in the back of your throat and try to roll away from him in bed. Oliver is quick to catch you though as he lays down beside you. His hands planes around your stomach, laughing against the back your neck as your tail brushes against his shirt. You're squirming. He's never heard you hiccup so much.

"Did you suddenly get shy about needing my help?" He asks, affirmed by the desperate shake in your throat when you whimper. "Take what you need puppy. Go on."

Your eyes go wide. You understand him clear as day. He thinks normally you would nip at him for the smugness in his voice, but you don't. You're docile and uncertain, and your hands shake so terribly that you can barely turn around.

But Oliver is a responsible hybrid owner, no matter how petty. Turns to help you face him while he drags his thumb across your lip - your canines nearly cutting his thumb as he pulls your lips back to the examine them. He takes a long look at you - the ears on your head twitching and your tail wagging with such desperation he can't help but laugh.

"'s good I know something about this, huh girl? C'mere."

He thought he'd feel more put off by all of it - but he doesn't. The difference in how you act is stark and Oliver can't help but find it endearing. You whine and whimper when he kisses you and puts a hand in your shorts. You don't really know how to kiss proper, but Oliver doesn't mind.

You kiss like a puppy, he figures. You lap at the scruff of his cheek and nudge him, your hands settled on his shoulders gripping at him when he plays with your tender clit. You bury your face in his neck and inhale slow.

"You're latched onto me," He hums. You growl without any real threat. "D'ya always get this sweet when you're all wet or is it just the heat talking?"

A soft sound emits when he rubs you nice and slow. There's desperation to your voice, huffing and panting as whine again. "You want my dick, pup? Is that why you keeping whimpering?"

When you pull away to look at Oliver, your eyes are shiny. It's not a face he's seen you make. Your pupils are dilated, drool at the corners of your taut lips - sliding down your feisty canines. He can't help but be surprised. He watches you as you wiggle out of your shorts before turning towards him again, inviting him towards with pure lust and need.

He feels his throat dry up at the gesture. He kind of feels like a freak but it's outweighed by his desire. His voice is weak. "It might hurt if we're not careful."

You huff against his neck and it sounds like saying please. He's more quick to cave to you than he thought.

"Alright, alright - stop growling at me, jeez," He reprimands, though he isn't mad at you. He pulls your leg up, eyes settling between your bodies admiring your cunt in the soft lights. All the hairs shiny and slick from arousal.

He's careful as he's pushing into you. You're right that it was fine - there's less resistance than he's used to. Must be something to do with heats. You mewl against his neck and chest as the tip stretches you, gripping his shoulder as you huff him with need. You like licking him - though you rarely do outside of this. He can't hold back his amusement when your tongue laves over his jaw and all the pointed scruff. Your cheek presses to his as he starts to bottom out.

He pulls back to kiss you as he buries the length of his cock into your tight, wet pussy. You can't help but slobber into his mouth, all messy and dirty. It's so fucking cute. Makes him so hard he's almost ashamed. Almost.

Clinging aside, there's real desperation in the way you seem to need him. When he thinks of how deep you ask for him, he pulls out again much to your dismay - before turning you onto your stomach so you can bury yourself comfortable in the scent of his sheets.

He slips his cock into you against just like that, all the down to the base of his shaft and groans as you clench around him. He can see the drool dampen his pillowcases. The right choice.

He doesn't have much control of his hips after that. Can barely contain himself as your pussy grips onto him for dear life. He's not trying to be mean, really - but for all the shit you like to give him, you're so pliable with his cock in you. Your tail wags and shakes each time he slams his hips and he can't help but tug it. Just to hear you whine some more like a sweet little doggirl ought to.

"Should've done this from the start, huh girl?" He hums it as he bends over you, face close to your pointed ears. "Needy fucking puppycunt needed some attention from it's owner, I get it now. Let's stay on good terms, okay?"

[vanishingstarrs]

midnight rain

katsuki bakugo x reader, slow burn, hurt x comfort, anxiety, fluff, sfw

part 1, part 2, part 3

( as an insomniac, this was a bit self indulgent, also for the sake of this story the timeline is irrelevant, i kinda went all over the place so let’s all just pretend it all lines up <3 also also feel free to imagine whatever quirk you’d like i never really had one in mind except for the side effect is you being v v cold bc it worked for the plot lol sorry it took so long to get this out, just wanted it to be perfect !! hope y'all enjoy <3 )

It was raining. Hard.

You were a nervous wreck.

It had been agreed that your classmates and you would be permitted to retrieve Midoriya from his self isolation. The heroes were out in the streets, instructed to call as soon as he was sighted since your class had full permission to spring into action and try to convince him to come back. The heroes told to stay back and allow you guys to take the lead on the mission.

Part of the reason you couldn’t sleep as of late was your classmate out in danger. You and Midoriya had never been best friends by any means, but you’d been close enough and you’d worked alongside him a few times. He was a nice person and always trying to help those around him, he’d come to you multiple times with theories on how to better improve your quirk so you wouldn’t overwork and accidentally freeze yourself to death. Even if he hadn’t done any of that, you likely still would’ve felt guilt over being safe while he wasn’t. He was good, and he deserved to come home.

All of this in turn meant more baking and less sleeping. You’d been out of bed for thirty minutes now, having brought your journal with you in order to go through your recipes.

You’d been in your room before, tinkering with your costume and doing little workouts while waiting for everyone to head to bed, not wanting to bother anyone.

The day had been spent training and putting more work into improving your individual powers, leveling up so that when the time came… you and your classmates could join up in the war. It was a frightening thought, and you weren’t sure you were quite ready for that again.

Speaking with Katsuki had been some help though, the way he spoke of heroes and nobility made you want to be brave like him.

And so, to thank him for the late nights, you were now up again, only this time you baked with purpose. For him. You weren’t sure how you were going to approach him to give him the baked goods, and part of you hoped he might be awake and come out on his own to save you the trouble of an awkward conversation.

You sighed as you double checked your recipe, making sure of your next step before incorporating dry ingredients with the wet ones.

It wasn't that you wished another sleepless night on Bakugo... but it was definitely easier to go to bed after having had him around. Maybe it was the fact that he didn't bullshit you, or the way he let you talk about nothing in particular until you were ready to open up about what had actually been weighing on your chest. Things you had yet to even bring up to your best friend.

You went through the motions almost at a sloth’s place, overthinking to yourself as you made sure everything was perfect for the muffins you were baking.

When all that was left to do was wait for the room to start smelling of cinnamon, you sat yourself at the island, headphones blasting as you grabbed you pen and journal again. You turned the page from your experimental recipes and found your sketches for the new costume you were working on, you'd asked Hatsume for some suggestions, but she'd dismissed you; she was too busy right now. She said she'd help you create the final design, but she didn't have the brain capacity to make something from scratch for you.

A groan left your lips as you stared at the page, just about ready to tear it and your hair out when your headphones were yanked down to your neck and the chair next to you scraped the floor as someone sat down,"Don't you ever sleep?"

"Don't you?" You scoffed, the response coming naturally,"Thought you were Mr. go to bed at seven every night, what happened?"

"That was before." He rolled his eyes,"Whatcha working on?"

You stared at Bakugo, unsure if he was actually there. Had you conjured him up somehow? Were you hallucinating? And was he actually making small talk with you right now?

"Muffins... for you, actually."

"Hah?!" His eyes bulged as he turned to the oven, like he just noticed it was on,"What are you making shit for me for? And I meant the sketches, idiot."

"Oh." You frowned.

"I'll eat them." He declared, realizing that it sounded as though he didn't care for them.

"No, it's okay." You looked away, trying to hide your smile and the fact that you were teasing,"I'll offer them up to the others. Who doesn't like apple cinnamon muffins with a nice crumble on top? No, don't worry, my efforts won't be in vein, maybe Momo will make a nice tea for us all."

"Tea? I can make tea, I'll make you the best damn tea you've ever had, and we're eating these damn muffins if it's the last thing we do." He grumbled as he stood up and found his same mug, as well as somehow finding yours amidst the array of everyone's cups.

His was orange with his first initial on it, and yours was purple with the multiple facial expressions of Kuromi all around, she was your favorite Sanrio character. You had no idea how he'd known that it was yours, but didn't dwell on it as you turned your frown back to your notebook and the aforementioned sketches.

"Been tryna come up with a new costume design, I'm not very great at it... Midoriya kinda helped me with my last one." You mentioned as he began boiling water for your tea.

You heard him scoff.

"What?" You asked immediately, self conscious now.

You had thought he'd done a pretty good job, and most of it was your idea anyway; he'd really only brought your vision to life since he was a lot better at that kinda stuff than you were.

"Nothin'. Didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to, is my costume ugly? I'm not really a big fan of the flashy stuff, I just want something simple that won't make me stand out..."

He walked back over, leaning against the island counter as he raised his eyebrows at you,"You do know the whole point of being a hero is standing out, right?"

"No..." You denied,"Not all of it. What if I just wanna help people and not be seen?"

"What about recognition?" He countered,"I see you standing back all the time, especially when you make shit like this and just leave a note, you don't always sign your name, don't you want people to know what you've done? What you've accomplished?"

"I'd hardly call baking a few cookies an accomplishment." You scoffed.

"When I got kidnapped." He brought up,"You were there."

It wasn't a question. He was stating it like it was something he knew for a fact and you didn't know how that came to be.

You'd never spoken about it, you'd gone along as a favor to your friends, they thought your power might be useful just in case the situation escalated. You'd agreed and at the end of it all, after getting him back, you'd gotten separated in the crowd. You didn't bother meeting back up, feeling you'd done all you that could and gone home. It was a long time ago, you felt.

"Who told you that? Kirishima?"

"Deku did." He corrected with a roll of his eyes,"He wanted to make sure I thanked you properly."

"You never did."

"I should've."

The oven timer dinged and you used it as your excuse to remove yourself from the conversation. You cleared your throat as you stood up and grabbed your oven mitts, your face felt warm and it wasn't just because you were removing baked goods from the oven.

"We'll have to wait for them to cool." You said aloud.

"Still gotta brew the tea, so... it's fine."

You felt incredibly awkward and he must've sensed it too, because he changed the subject back to the original.

"Y'know I can help you with this." Bakugo was holding your journal when you finally mustered up the courage to face him again,"My parents are fashion designers, I did my own costume. Won't make it too flashy if you don't want, or you could just wait for Deku if that's what ya want, he'll be back soon anyway."

"No." You said, maybe a little too eagerly.

He stared back in surprise.

"You help me." You made your way across the room again,"Please."

“Alright, alright, no begging it makes you look pathetic.” He said, though it had no fire behind it,“I guess I owe ya anyway.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the tiny smile as he tugged you closer and took charge of the project. He made a few comparisons from your last costume to the lame prototype you’d been working on and then asked you for your favorite aspects of both before starting up from scratch on a different page, his writing was surprisingly neat as he listed a few support items he thought you should look into for the upcoming battles.

“It has to be purple.” You stated your only condition as you took the pen from him and started to shade a few spots, you had to lean close into him to be able to reach the journal and you heard him inhale sharply before moving it closer to you.

When you reached something actually resembling a good costume, you grinned and turned to him,“It’s great, Katsuki, thank you so much.”

“No problem.” He seemed to whisper, he was staring at you in a weird way that made you look back down at the costume you’d drawn up together,“Let’s, uh, eat those muffins now.”

“Wait! We have to sign our names at the bottom.” You held his arm before he could move away,“C’mon, we’re the designers.” You quickly scribbled your signature before handing the pen back to him with a grin.

He rolled his eyes, but snatched the pen from you nonetheless and quickly wrote his name next to yours. It felt… binding, weirdly enough.

You let him go and he brought over the tea he’d brewed, which had cooled a little but not enough to be cold. The muffins were perfect and you watched for a reaction that he never gave, so you went poking for compliments.

“You can say they’re good.” You teased as he took several bites in one breath.

“I was getting there.” He grumbled, after swallowing hard. He looked at the tray of muffins and then back at you,“You really made these for me?”

You shrugged,“You said they’re your favorite.”

He took another huge bite and around it he managed to get out something sounding close to a thanks.

You laughed,“You’re welcome, Katsuki.”

When he finished off two muffins, he wordlessly began helping you clean up your mess. It didn't take too long, as much as you wished that it would so you could talk to him more. When you handed him a tupperware for the muffin's he seemed to get an idea as he walked away and came back with a piece of tape and a sharpie.

He started writing "DO NOT TOUCH" on the tape.

You couldn't help snort,"Had a feeling you weren't the sharing type."

"They were made for me, weren't they?"

"Mhm." You hoped you weren't blushing as you agreed.

He stuck the tape onto the top before showing it to you,"I can share, but only with you."

You were definitely blushing now as you read "Y/N and Katsuki's muffin's" underneath the initial message for no one to touch them. You smiled,"You're sweet."

He scoffed,"Am not."

"You totally are." You teased as he rolled his eyes at you for the hundredth time while also turning you around and pushing you toward the stairs, he was holding your headphones and journal in hand and when you reached your door, you held out your hand expectantly.

He held them back,"One condition."

Feeling emboldened, you went up on tiptoes to whisper into his ear,"My door will be open, don't worry."

With your heart beating wildly in your chest, you quickly brushed your lips somewhere along his cheek while grabbing your things from his hold,"Night, Kats."

You weren't sure if you heard him say it back, but you thought he did as you escaped into the darkness of you room, blushing.

That night, you had one of your better sleeps.

The next day, however, came early. And before you knew it you, along with your classmates, were suiting up and leaving U.A. to chase a possible Midoriya lead. The state he was in when you guys finally found him broke your heart in a way you didn't know was possible, the boy was working hard to get Japan back to how it'd been before and the citizens seeking safety in U.A. didn't understand that. Tears were brought to your eyes after a touching speech from Ochaco, and when the day finally came to its end your bones too were crying from all the extra exertion.

When everyone got back, you'd set to work making a simple batch of chocolate chip cookies since the last one hadn't lasted longer than the morning on which they were discovered. The bath had been miraculous for your muscles, and you'd almost fallen asleep while sipping on the tea Momo had brewed for everyone.

The day had been quite momentous, and through it all, you couldn't help want to seek out only one person...

You sighed as you turned over in bed.

You had your phone turned on in your hand, your text messages with Mina blinking up at you as you typed and deleted the same text many times.

You deleted it one last time and reread her text.

mina ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ: soooo you and bakugo ?? 👀👀 noticed he was prettttty worried abt u getting hurt / just u in gen during mission bring deku home, didn’t know y’all were so close hm 🤔🤔🤨

You debated letting your best friend know you’d somehow become sort of friends with Katsuki, having spent a few nights in each other's company. But how did you explain to her that somehow, through three simple nights, that you might be having other feelings for him. And that you'd kissed him. Well, his cheek, but still. That move was quite bold for you and then, like a coward, you ran away. You'd always dismissed things like crushes and boys, but Katsuki... he was loud, to put it simply, and therefore was much harder to ignore.

You hadn't thought he'd paid you any extra mind in comparison to everyone else during the fight, but having been focused on Midoriya... maybe you'd missed it?

You pulled out your phone again, sending your friend one last reply.

y/n (ෆ•∘̬• ͒)◞: lolll as if girl yk he doesn’t do friends, think he’s probs just on edge bc of midoriya

She texted back immediately, but rather than opening the text you opened up your music app and pressed play on a soothing playlist. You listened to it, along with the rain that had yet to stop, and felt your body start to relax into your pillows.

You weren't lying to your friend. Bakugo had made it clear he was at U.A. because he wanted to be number one. He didn't have time for "extras", as he so often put it, what exactly made you so different? Nothing. Exactly, you told yourself, nothing at all.

Sure, he was calmer around you on those measly nights on which you found one another. But that was just because everyone else was asleep and maybe he was being considerate. Sure, he listened to you talk on and on and watched your silly romance drama with you... but that had to be because he had nothing better to do, having already been awake... right?

You groaned, the longer you thought about it the more the frustration with yourself grew. How could you be so clueless?!

When it all became too much, you pushed your covers off and ripped your headphones off, your feet found your slippers immediately as you picked up your glasses from your nightstand and slid them on. You marched toward your door with purpose, ripping it open only to freeze at what awaited on the other side.

He had his fist up, ready to knock. There he was.

Katsuki Bakugo, right outside your door.

“Bakugo… hi.” You breathed out, you felt your heartbeat start to pick up a bit.

“What happened to Katsuki?” You faintly heard him say, but your attention was elsewhere, eyes taking him in completely.

He was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants you’d never seen before and a fitted black t shirt. His hair, you noticed, was pushed back by a black headband. You never wanted to be a headband more. Was this his usual sleep attire? Last time you could’ve sworn he was wearing a muscle tee and a pair of shorts. Focus, Y/N, focus! You yelled at yourself internally. You snapped out of it in time to hear him say your name.

Aaand shit. So preoccupied with him, you had momentarily forgotten your own attire: Kuromi pyjama bottoms and a sports bra... and your glasses— shit, shit, shit.

Embarrassed, you pulled your hair forward to try and cover yourself just a tiny bit,“Oh, my god, sorry, hold on, let me grab a shirt.”

You turned, but didn’t make it more than two steps when you felt his hand wrap around your wrist, he pulled you back and firmly asked,“Were you coming to look for me?”

You gulped, forcing yourself to meet his eyes,"Yes."

His eyes widened slightly, like he couldn't believe how easily you admitted to it.

"You too, by the looks of it." You pointed out, and he nodded.

He looked away, gaze zeroed in on the ground as he released a deep breath, and with it, how he truly felt,"All I seem to think about these days is impending doom. Well, that, and also you.” His lips pressed together and you noticed his hands clenching down at his sides, you wanted to unfold his fingers and tuck your own around them.

“Whenever I talk to you, or I’m near you… it helps. I don’t know what it is, but being with you makes me not have a fire lit up under my ass or something.” He confessed.

A weight was instantly lifted off your shoulders. You allowed yourself to smile,"That's super poetic, Katsuki, and sweet."

He rolled his eyes, and you could swear his ears were turning red too,"I'll take it back."

You gasped,"You wouldn't dare."

He shook his head, releasing a small sigh,"I'm no good with words, but am I..."

You took a step forward, listening to your heart and taking his hand into your own. He seemed to want to pull back, but you didn't let him as you wound your hands together.

"They're sweaty." He argued.

"Don't give a shit." You grabbed his other hand too,"You're not alone, you know. I feel the same way you do, not about the impending doom part, but the rest of it. Ever since that first night when you were there... I just feel at ease with you. You may say you're not good with words, but you're pretty good at listening, and I think you've done great at comforting me in your own way. I didn't really see it today, but you were there, watching me, making sure I was good, I was so scared—”

“I was terrified.” He said at the same time.

You smiled even bigger now,“Good thing it all worked out in the end, huh? You got your friend back.”

He scoffed,“He’s not my friend.”

“Am I your friend?” You asked, still grinning.

He shook his head and the smile instantly left your face as you started to pull your hands away,"Oh—"

You didn’t get a chance to fully let go as he pulled you forward with one hand and grabbed your waist by the other, and before you realized what was happening, his lips had met yours for the shortest kiss. So light it could barely qualify as one, but it was enough to freeze you in place as you once more repeated:

“Oh...”

He leaned his forehead against yours and you inhaled, consumed by him and his scent.

"Hold on, can I...?"

You didn't wait for a response as you stood up on your toes, placing a hand on his cheek and kissing him again. This one lasted longer and you thought you might've tasted chocolate from the cookies you'd made earlier on his tongue, you hadn't seen him around when you were passing them around and you were happy he'd gotten to enjoy some after all. When you pulled away, you were smiling again.

"I'm not good at this." He repeated once more.

You shook your head,"You're doing perfectly."

He kissed you a third time, another short and sweet peck that led to one more on your cheek and then the other cheek and then your forehead and lastly, your nose.

You blushed as he buried his face in your neck and hair and inhaled deeply,"You smell so good, like cookies and warmth."

"Katsuki?"

"Mm?"

He tried to move, but you kept him there by running your fingers through his hair and making him relax further into your hold. You couldn't look at him for what you were about to ask. You felt your face heat up,"I know that was our first kiss and you said we're not really friends, which I think means something and if it does mean that thing, well, our timing isn't great and we can't really go on a date or anything to even start the thing, and if Aizawa were to find out, surely we'd be dead, but could you, maybe, think about possibly staying with me tonight?"

Katsuki pulled away, hands in your hair as he agreed right away,"Thought you'd never ask."

He pulled you back into his arms, shutting the door behind himself as he walked right into your room like he owned it. "Those glasses drive me crazy." He said as he instantly made himself comfortable under the purple comforter of your bed.

"Really?" You scrunched up your nose before taking them off and putting them back on your nightstand,"I hate them."

He shook his head,"You should wear 'em more."

"When classes start back up, maybe, I'll think about it." You hesitated as you laid down next to him.

It lasted maybe one minute before he was pulling you closer, your head on his chest. You could hear the pounding in his chest as he said,"It's new for both of us, but I think we can figure this out."

His warmth and his arms around you were already making you sleepy, you agreed with him,"Mmm, tomorrow?"

He gave a grunt of acknowledgement and you could tell the lack of sleep lately was catching up with him too as he shifted his body even closer, head burying into your neck again,"Night, Y/N."

You smiled, content,"Goodnight, Katsuki."