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gojoux · 3 months

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『 𝐍𝐎 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐄 』

· Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x Reader

· Summary: Life has decided to lead you to him or lead him to you, knowing that you two are destined together despite your differences. This told story is just a glimpse of a few memories between you and him, one that he remembers dearly.

· CW: 8.6k // Mostly fluff. True Form!Sukuna. Heian Era. Overprotective + Possessive Sukuna. Very subtle sex scenes. Slight violence.

Late post because the app screwed me over a divider. As you see... it’s thicker like him than usual.

The infamous King of Curses had only one weakness—you.

Ryomen Sukuna, the most fearsome sorcerer (or used to be one) alive, would melt in your presence. His usual cold and cruel demeanor vanished when he was with you, replaced by a gentle sweetness he showed to no other.

From the very first moment your paths crossed, he was utterly enthralled, something he would never expect to feel in his life. You’re someone he doesn’t even know or heard of and he doesn’t find the appeal from you, but there’s just something about you that makes him enchanted at first sight.

Your luminous soul called to him like a song. He knew you were destined to be his. And so he courted you as tenderly as his blackened heart would allow, coaxing you to return his affections.

Slowly, gently, he broke down your defenses. His smoldering gazes made your heart flutter. His feather-light touches from his big, strong hands and fingers sent shivers down your spine. Before long, you realized you were falling for this demon who looked at you with such longing in his crimson eyes.

He could shower you with all the passion and devotion he had been holding back. He cherishes you, catering to your every desire. Just being near you was euphoric for him.

When apart, he counted the seconds until he could see you again. And when reunited, he was unable to keep his hands off you, showering you with passionate kisses and whispers of sweet words.

“You are mine. Remember that,” he would murmur against your skin as he held you close. “Always.”

You had tamed the beast. Or so you thought.

While Sukuna was nearly defenseless against your love, it also ignited something far more sinister—his jealousy.

The mere idea of losing you made his blood burn with rage. Other men were not even permitted to look at you, lest they get torn limb from limb.

Though deeply in love, Sukuna’s possessive nature remained. And woe befall any who dared threaten what was his.

The first time it happened was weeks after you’d become his. A young lord from a clan sent you gifts and flowers, seeking your affection. When Sukuna discovered this, the fury in his eyes turned them molten gold.

“He dares think he can steal you away from me?” Sukuna seethed. In an instant, he vanished to hunt down the offending lord.

He returned hours later drenched in blood that was not his own. You shuddered to imagine what cruel fate had befallen the misguided young man. Sukuna said nothing of it, simply pulled you into a bruising kiss and swore you’d never leave his side again.

After that, the corpses started piling up.

A guard who eyed you lasciviously, eviscerated.

A peasant whose longing stare lingered too long, executed.

Anyone who so much as looked at you with desire was signing their own death warrant.

You begged Sukuna to show mercy, but your pleas fell on deaf ears. “They try to take what is mine,” he would snarl. “They deserve no less than agony and death.”

His demonic nature had fully resurfaced, and you realized just what you had unleashed. Sukuna would slaughter legions and burn the world to ashes if it meant keeping you.

You were terrified of what he had become. Yet some traitorous part of you thrilled at being so coveted, so passionately loved, even if it came at a bloody cost.

He was an obsession incarnate, and you, his obsession.

No matter where you turned, his shadow loomed.

There would be no escaping the King of Curses’ dark desires.

You were his.

How did it all start? It’s been too long since it went past your head already.

But you do remember vividly when you were walking that one night when your gut told you not to, you did.

You should have listened to your instincts. But there was something about the forest at night that called to you, beckoning you to explore its moon-bathed paths and whispering trees.

Curiosity won out over caution, and you decided one quick walk couldn’t hurt.

You set out just after sunset, relishing the kiss of cool night air on your skin. The woods were serene and lovely in the deep blue hush just before true darkness fell. Night blooms perfumed the air as you wandered along aimlessly, simply savoring this secret world.

Until you realized you had lost your way. Suddenly the trees seemed more ominous, the shadows deeper. You paused, peering anxiously through the gloom.

How long have you been walking?

Which way was home?

As you turned around in circles trying to get your bearings, a blow of wind appeared behind you. You froze, heartbeat thudding in your ears.

“Well, what do we have here?”

You whipped around with a gasp. Emerging from the trees was a tall, powerfully built man. But what drew your wide-eyed stare were the four arms crossed onto his bare, toned chest.

You stumbled back in terror, but he moved unnaturally fast, appearing before you in an instant. Up close, details that had escaped you at a distance were now frighteningly clear. Tattoos are carved on his face and body. His eyes burned crimson.

You were face to face with the King of Curses himself.

“Please…” you whimpered, trembling. “I mean no trespass...”

Sukuna tilted his head, considering you with evident amusement. He reached out an arm towards you, his fingers gliding along your jaw, tipping your chin up. You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for death.

But instead of tearing you apart, he simply chuckled. “Open your eyes. I will not harm you.”

You cracked them open hesitantly. Sukuna was observing you closely now, intrigued.

“Fear not. I merely wondered who was wandering my woods at this late hour,” he purred. “But I see now… you are no threat at all.”

His touch was surprisingly gentle as he traced the line of your throat. You shivered but did not dare pull away. The heat of his skin felt feverish against yours.

“What brings you here to me, I wonder?” he murmured, his piercing gaze seeming to lay your soul bare.

He tutted, circling you slowly. “These woods are dangerous at night, especially for tempting morsels like yourself. Do you have any idea what lurks in the shadows?” He paused expectantly, but you were too petrified to respond.

You licked your dry lips nervously. “I… I was simply exploring. I did not mean to disturb—”

“Quiet.” A finger pressed lightly over your mouth. “How shall I punish this trespass? I do hate uninvited guests.”

You finally found your voice, though it trembled pitifully. “P-please, I meant no intrusion. If you let me go, I swear I will never—”

“Let you go?” Sukuna tilted his head, looking almost offended. “Now, why would I do that? No, you will not be leaving.”

Your heart hammered at those enigmatic words. Just what did this dangerous being want with you? Surely not anything good.

As if reading your mind, Sukuna laughed once more. “Worry not, little one. I only wish for some company.” In the blink of an eye, he closed the distance between you, caging you with his body. This close, the heat pouring off him was incredible, the coils of his tattoos seeming to slither and shift before your eyes with your heart hammering wildly.

A violent shudder went through you, though not entirely from fear now. Being clasped in his strong embrace had stirred something unexpected within you. A strange exhilaration at having caught the eye of this exotic and terrible being.

He leaned down, inhaling deeply near the crook of your neck. “Mm, such fear. I can taste it rolling off your skin… intoxicating.” His lips grazed your fluttering pulse, making you shudder. “You are afraid, yet also thrilled to see me, aren’t you?”

Heat rushed to your cheeks. Was it that obvious, the traitorous excitement you felt being so close to this dangerous demon? You just couldn’t tear your eyes away from his unusual beauty.

“I thought so,” he purred, looking utterly satisfied. He brushed a finger lightly down your cheek. “It seems fate has brought you to me for a reason.”

Sukuna sensed your reaction and made a small pleased noise. In one smooth motion, he swept you up into his arms and started carrying you deeper into the woods.

You gasped, hands braced against the solid muscles of his shoulder. “Where are you taking me? Please, I never meant to intrude! I am sorry! just—”

“Shut it.” His grip tightened. “Do not fight me. Submit, and it will go easier for you.”

Tears of panic spilled down your cheeks. But despite your fear, you felt your body responding to his proximity, pulsing with alarming warmth. Your thoughts scattered as Sukuna claimed your mouth in a searing kiss, tasting your helpless whimper.

“What are you…” you gasped, too speechless to find a word to fight back.

As if reading your mind again, Sukuna adjusts the way he’s carrying you to brush his lips against your own in a feather-light caress. “I hope you are not too afraid, little one. I have been alone for so long, you will keep me company. And I have no intention of letting you go.”

Some part of you recognized the truth in his words. No matter how your mind recoiled, your body was betraying you, longing for more of his addictive caresses. He sensed your crumbling resistance, his smile triumphant.

“You are mine now. Do not fight it.”

You stared around in awe at the sprawling shinden-zukuri as Sukuna placed you down and led you inside. Paper screens glowed warmly with lantern light, illuminating opulent tatami rooms decorated with priceless scrolls and vases, and through meticulously tended gardens dotted with tranquil ponds. Everything about this place spoke of immense power and wealth.

It was a far cry from your own humble village dwelling. You could scarcely fathom how a demon lord had come to possess such a magnificent noble estate out here in the remote forest.

As Sukuna guided you deeper into the manse, you passed several elegantly dressed women in simple yet elegant kimonos, all keeping their gazes demurely lowered.

‘Servants,’ you realized. But where had they come from? Were they taken like how you are now? Were you about to become another of his servants?

When you reached the main manor, Sukuna slid open the screen to reveal a grand receiving chamber. Priceless ink scrolls and painted silk screens adorned the walls. The opulence was staggering.

“Do you like it?” he asked, noting your awe. “I claimed this estate long ago from its previous owners.”

You shivered at the implication behind those words but said nothing as he guided you deeper inside.

Your bemused wondering was interrupted when Sukuna slid open a screen door, ushering you into a lavish bed chamber. A large futon covered in silks took up most of the space.

“You must be weary, little one,” he stroked your hair. “Rest now. I will have my servants draw you a bath.”

He pressed his lips to your forehead before gliding from the room. Still stunned by your opulent surroundings, you wandered over to the open window. Beyond the manicured gardens and koi ponds you could see nothing but dense forest stretching endlessly. Just how far had Sukuna brought you?

You had little time to ponder before two servant women appeared, bowing deeply. They poured hot water into a carved wooden tub and then added cherry blossom-scented oils.

You let them help you disrobe and sink into the fragrant bath, the tension in your muscles unwinding. The demon’s domain was still terrifying and foreign, but you couldn’t deny the comforts he lavished upon you. His possession had a gentleness to it that left you conflicted.

This place treated you better in less than two hours than your whole life in the village.

After your bath, the servants dressed you in silken robes layered in rich hues of wisteria and spring leaves. Darkened your lips with crushed berries. They arranged your hair with jade combs and dabbed perfume at your wrists in a courtly fashion.

Examining their work in a bronze mirror, you barely recognized yourself. The simple village girl staring back from the bronze mirror was gone, replaced by someone who looked like a noblewoman.

Sukuna was waiting when you emerged, hungry eyes sweeping over you appreciatively. “Beautiful,” he pulls you close to him. His lips grazed your wrist, inhaling the perfume there. “You will come to appreciate the comforts of being mine.” His words sent an illicit tingle through you.

“Thank you,” was all you could say as you felt your body sway toward him, eyelashes fluttering downward demurely. His attentions were clouding your caution, making you forget the circumstances that had brought you here.

Sukuna seemed pleased by your response. He took your hand and led you to a candlelit room where a feast awaited. You kneeled on plush cushions across from him. There, your eyes widen at the sight—dishes you could only dream of tasting.

“Uraume is my best cook. They know how to make delicious food,” he brags, pointing at the person with white bob hair with his eyes. Uraume bowed respectfully before excusing themselves.

As the night deepened, Sukuna kept your cup full, his burning gaze holding yours in the romantic glow. Here in this place of luxury, it was easy to forget he was someone who had stolen you away.

“Come.” He held out one of his hands. “It is time you rested.”

Back in the bed chamber, he guided you down onto silken sheets while your pulse quickened. His eyes roamed your body hungrily before he leaned down to claim your lips in a deep kiss. You knew you should resist, but his touch ignited a dangerous fire inside.

His fingers trailed delicately along your skin as he peeled away each layer of your robes until you were laid bare before him. “You are so lovely, little one,” he rasped. He pressed you down into the silken futon, his eyes focused on you. “I will teach you pleasures fit for an empress,” he growled.

“And you will learn to crave my body above all else.”

His words sent a spike of fear through you, even as your traitorous body responded hungrily to his. His burning caress left no doubt of his intentions. You trembled, but didn’t refuse him.

Here in this beautiful prison, you were his to do with as he pleased. And some traitorous part of you craved to experience the passions he promised.

As Sukuna’s body covered yours, you surrendered completely to him. Within these walls, you now belonged utterly to him.

You had been living as Sukuna’s pampered pet in his lavish manor for several days now. He gifted you an ornate silk kimono, adorned your hair with jeweled combs, and ensured you lacked nothing. At night, he would lay you across silken futons and set your body aflame with new realms of pleasure.

But each morning after, as he caressed your skin and murmured endearments, doubts crept in. Were there others that he touched this way? The thought filled you with unease.

You wanted his passion reserved only for you.

When Sukuna appeared in your room this evening, he found you quiet and distant, your smile restrained. Brow furrowing, he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze.

“What troubles you, little one? Have I not provided for you well?”

You gathered your courage. “I… I have a request, My Lord…”

He raised one brow, “Oh? Speak.”

“If we are to share such intimacy, I wish it to be only between us. No other lover, in any way.” You held his gaze evenly. “Will you vow this, please?”

For a moment Sukuna only stared, stunned by your bold demand. Then a sly smile curved his lips.

“My little one wishes to tame me, is that it?” He trailed a finger lightly down your cheek. “You seek to bind me to yourself alone?”

Heart pounding, you gave one short nod.

Sukuna threw back his head with a delighted laugh. “You fascinate me endlessly. No mortal has ever dared make demands of me.” His expression softened by looking at your innocent face. “But for you, I will agree.”

He leans down, face to face with you, “From now on, I am yours alone.”

Relief washed through you at his oath. As Sukuna drew you into a passionate kiss, you yielded completely for the first time, holding nothing back.

“My sweet, little love…” He lifted you in his arms. “I will make you forget any existed before this night.”

And he did. Laying you down, hands and lips he worshiped you, wringing gasps and cries from your lips as you arched desperately, mindless and pleading beneath him.

At the height of ecstasy, his burning gaze held yours. His heated gaze seared into yours at the pinnacle, fierce and possessive. “No other shall ever know you as I do.”

The feeling when your body joined, the sensation was beyond words, it felt like coming home. Like a missing piece of your soul had been restored. Wave after wave of bliss crested over you both, leaving you entwined in breathless ecstasy.

As lantern light faded to silvery moonbeams, Sukuna held you close, your heartbeats synchronizing. You now belonged only to each other in body, heart, and soul.

“Mine,” Sukuna rasped against your skin, his canine digging into your neck, marking you as his. “Just as I am yours. This, I vow to you, little one, from now until the end of days.”

His words echoed long in your mind, even as spent passion gave way to sleep in his enveloping embrace. The King of Curses himself was now bound to you irrevocably. And you to him.

The vow had been spoken, the ritual complete.

The days had settled into a predictable routine in Sukuna’s residence. He would vanish for hours or even full days to attend to mysterious “business”, leaving you to wander the chambers and gardens alone. You never ask where he went or what occupied him. Some fears were best left unspoken.

But your heart would lift eagerly whenever Sukuna returned, no matter how late the hour. Just knowing he had come back to you was enough. You took to waiting anxiously by the engawa, ready to greet him.

At first, he returned spotless and composed. But soon the blood became noticeable.

It would decorate his arms, spatter his chest and face in drying rust-colored patterns. The life essence of whatever poor souls had crossed him in the nearby villages. You didn’t need to ask how it got there.

The first time, you gasped and shrank back in horror. But Sukuna just smiled and opened his arms to you. “Come, let us get cleansed of the day’s exertions.”

You forced yourself to look past the gore, seeing only your demonic lord who needed tending. Taking his hand, you led him to the bath chamber.

There you gently sponged away the carnage, breathing relief when his skin emerged clean again. Sukuna watched you intently, eyes glowing with unspoken emotions. You didn’t dare examine it too closely.

When you were done, he would pull you into his lap, nuzzling against your throat almost tenderly. As if your ministries had tamed the beast lurking within.

“My little one,” he would rumble. And your heart would swell under his praises.

Before long, you began living for his returns. The hours apart stretched endlessly, your thoughts consumed with concern for his well-being. Your chest would tighten with loneliness in his absence. Maybe you craved him because you have no one to come home to, that’s why you are willing to be with him.

Surely he must share your needs, right?

The moment his shadow appeared down the corridor, you flew to him, embracing him heedless of any lingering blood. Sukuna laughed indulgently, hands gentling your desperation.

“Such passion, little one. Did you miss me so terribly?”

You nodded, not caring how you exposed your dependence on him. He tipped your chin up, his sharp eyes looking at you softly. “As I missed you. The time apart is agony.”

His admission made you smile in relief. After bathing him, you would prepare tea and draw him into quiet conversation, savoring this domestic intimacy. Here with you, he almost seemed content.

At late night, his lovemaking took on new urgency, as if reaffirming your bond. You matched his intensity, wanting to erase any distance the day had built between you.

“You are all I need,” he whispered afterward, cradling you close. And you knew then you were hopelessly lost to this dangerous creature. He had become your entire world.

When Sukuna departed each morning, part of you went with him. Until he returned to make you whole once more. There was no denying the truth—you were his, mind, body, and soul.

You see, life with Sukuna provided came at a terrible price—the waiting.

And so you hatched a plan.

You requested the finest silks from the seamstress and described the revealing garment you wished to craft. An elegant yet alluring yukata, hinting at the beauty beneath.

On the night of his homecoming, you adorned yourself carefully, arranging your hair over your bare shoulders, sketching your lips crimson. The ensemble left you feeling exposed, but also powerful.

When Sukuna entered the bed chamber, the sight of you made him halt in his tracks. Eyes widened as they traced over you hungrily, taking in every contour the diaphanous fabric outlined.

“Little one,” he rasped. “You look like divinity itself. What is all this for?”

You steeled your nerves and went to him, guiding his fingers to untie your sash with hands that trembled.

“I wish to ease your burdens tonight, My Lord. Will you permit me?”

A growl escapes his throat as your robes slip to the floor. The intensity of his gaze seared into your skin everywhere it touched. Strong arms pulled you fiercely against him.

“You test my restraint, beloved. Are you certain?”

At your whispered yes, his control shattered. With infinite care he bore you down onto silken sheets, praising every inch of newly bared flesh until you were dizzy and pleading.

Even at its peak, he kept the pace languid—long, delirious strokes of passion. The pleasure was sweet agony. You arched and moved as one, minds entwining as deeply as your bodies.

When it ended, you were changed. Sukuna held you tenderly as languor claimed you both, as if you were the most precious treasure in the world.

Perhaps you should have been afraid of this obsessive devotion. But you could not imagine life without him now.

As nice as it is living comfortably with everything provided for you, sometimes his residence becomes a gilded cage. You yearned to walk beyond the gardens, to visit the nearby villages you glimpsed from afar.

After much pleading, Sukuna finally relented. “If it will make you happy, we shall go. But you must stay close to me.” His eyes held an unspoken warning.

The day came at last. Taking his arm, you ventured out onto the winding forest paths, buzzing with excitement. Sukuna watched you closely, as if to imprint each delighted reaction.

When the first simple thatched dwellings came into view, you gasped. “Oh, look! Real village life, just as I remembered.”

“Then let us explore it,” he said indulgently, strolling by your side.

You moved through stalls selling woven reed baskets, hand-dyed yukata, and carved jade amulets. The smells of grilling fish and blossom-scented steam from tea houses mingled in the air. Your smile was radiant.

Most villagers averted their eyes and scrambled away at the sight of his presence. But their fearful deference only seemed to amuse Sukuna as he guided you along.

Pausing by a fountain, you turned joyfully to him. “Thank you for this, My Lord. I haven’t felt this happy in…” Your voice trailed off as you noticed a young man staring from across the village square. His gaze was fixed on you, his handsome face breaking into a flirtatious grin, looking at you with his eyes signaling interest.

Before you could react, Sukuna had crossed the distance between them in two swift strides. You watched in horror as he seized the insolent youth by the throat and slammed him against a wall, baring razor fangs.

“You dare look at her that way?” he thundered. The young man choked out pleas for mercy as Sukuna’s grip tightened relentlessly.

“My Lord! Stop!” You rushed over, clutching his arm. “I beg you, let him go!”

With obvious reluctance, Sukuna released his hold and stepped back. The terrified man crumpled to the ground, wheezing with his face pale. You tugged Sukuna (he didn’t resist) away quickly as onlookers gaped.

Once you were back within the secluded forest path, he rounded on you. “Why did you stop me?” he demanded, eyes still burning with fury. “That whelp was openly desiring what is mine.”

You trembled. “He meant no true offense, My Lord.”

Sukuna exhaled harshly, drawing you against him. “You are too forgiving, little one. Next time I may not be so lenient.” The promise in his voice chilled you.

Nonetheless, in the days that followed, you persuaded him to let you visit the village markets again. Sukuna acquiesced, but his mood turned brooding whenever you went out together.

It was not long before a repeat incident occurred. A passing noble’s gaze lingered on you a moment too long. Sukuna's reaction was swift and merciless. Before you could intervene, the shrieking lord was engulfed in infernal flames, his ashes scattering to the wind.

This time, Sukuna was deaf to your pleas for restraint. “They continue testing me, presuming they can admire my possession with impunity,” he snarled. “I will suffer this insult no more.”

Numb with horror, you could say nothing as he took your arm and led you from that place of death.

Sukuna would never change his nature. His jealousy and possessiveness were as innate as the demonic power coursing through his veins. And you were helpless to curb them.

Trying to tame such a savage spirit had been foolish. Where his claim over you was concerned, no mercy would ever sway him.

The journey back to the estate was made in tense silence. You could feel the rage rolling off Sukuna in scorching waves as he strode ahead. His jaw was granite, fists clenched and shaking.

Only once you were behind the privacy of the chamber walls did he finally unleash it.

“How can you defend him?” he roared, making you flinch. “Those pathetic mortals who dared to covet what is not theirs. It is unacceptable!”

You stood your ground. “I make no defense, only ask that you temper reactions. This endless jealousy causes nothing but suffering.”

Sukuna’s eyes blazed, his voice dropping to a dangerous hiss. “You ask me to watch passively as they dishonor my claim on you? To permit their vulgar ogling?” He swept a hand savagely across a lacquered table, sending the vase crashing.

You jumped at the destruction but forced yourself to meet his volcanic glare. “I am not possession or prize to be claimed, My Lord. You cannot punish all for one foolish man’s gaze. I have told you this before, but I am not harmed.”

“Not harmed?” Sukuna bellowed, slamming his fists into the bloodwood pillar with a crack. “Not yet! But their desire will grow brazen if I do not act decisively now.”

He stormed toward you, making you back away instinctively. “You are mine. No other shall covet or touch what belongs to me. I would see this whole wretched village burn first.”

As his tirade raged on, you felt tears rising, spilling silently down your cheeks. The possessive diatribes, the limitless fury—you were exposing the folly of trying to gentle the devil’s heart.

Sukuna abruptly halted his pacing at the sight, chest heaving. His blazing eyes took in your hunched, trembling form. For an instant, something like shock flickered across his face. He blinked rapidly, swaying slightly.

“No… My little love…” All at once, the frenzied anger seemed to drain from him. He reached for you hesitantly, as if expecting you to recoil. When you stayed rooted, he enfolded you in his shaking arms.

“Forgive me,” Sukuna whispered. “I should not have raised my voice. But the thought of losing you…” One hand stroked your hair, then gently tipped your chin up. His thumb brushed away the tear tracks on your skin.

“You are everything to me in this wretched world,” he murmured. “I could not bear it if harm befell you.” His eyes were molten and his voice raw. “Tell me you know I would never let anything hurt you, not even myself in the madness of my rage.”

You searched his face and saw the sincerity burning there. With a fragile nod, you laid your head against his chest. His exhale was ragged with relief.

“I will try to be more merciful. For you, at least,” he sighs. “But you must understand it rages in my blood when I see them desire my most precious treasure.”

You stayed silent in his embrace. Perhaps this was the most he could concede—ferocity tempered with remorse. You could not change his possessive heart, only help him master what flowed within it.

And for now, it would have to be enough. His jealousy was a storm that would never fully be calmed. But like the storm’s eye, at the center there was still tenderness he reserved only for you.

Once more, the days dragged endlessly when Sukuna was away. You had explored every corner of the estate a dozen times over. The loneliness gnawed at you.

So when he left at dawn one morning, you made an impulsive decision. Donning a cloak, you slipped outside the manor walls while the servants slept. Your steps quickened as you neared the hill path leading down to the village.

You had only meant to take a brief, harmless walk to lift your spirits. But the smells of grilled squid and sweet adzuki buns drew you like a magnet. Your stomach rumbled, reminding you it had been ages since you tasted simple street food.

Checking over your shoulder, you darted to the nearest food stall when no one was looking. The elderly vendor smiled in delight as you pointed to the snacks that tempted you most. It felt deliciously naughty, this minor rebellion.

You were waiting for the bamboo skewer of piping hot squid when someone jostled you from behind. Whirling around angrily, you found yourself staring up at a rugged, unkempt man looming over you. His bloodshot eyes raked down your body in a way that made your skin crawl.

“Well now, what do we have here?” His words slurred drunkenly. “You’re that demon’s little toy, ain’t ya? His pretty pet.”

When you shrank away, the brute caught your wrist in a painful grip. Revulsion rose in you. “Let go of me!”

The man just sneered. “Where is your master now, hmm? Bet he doesn’t like you sneakin’ off alone.” He swayed closer, sour breath hot on your face. “Maybe I oughta teach you some manners, whore.”

Outraged tears stung your eyes. You opened your mouth to scream for help when suddenly the man’s hand was wrenched away from you with a sickening crack. His shriek split the air.

Whirling around, you saw Sukuna standing there, eyes blazing infernos. The man who had seized you was now suspended off the ground, clutching his mangled, dangling arm.

“Please, mercy!” he whimpered piteously. But Sukuna’s face was a merciless stone.

With a snarl, he slammed the offender down, pinning him by the throat. “You dare speak to her that way?” His voice was deathly quiet. “Dare lay your filthy hands upon her?”

The man gurgled pleas, legs kicking uselessly. Sukuna tightened his grip. “No. There will be no mercy for you.”

And before your eyes, he ripped the man’s head from his body in one savage motion. Blood sprayed hot across your face and cloak. The headless corpse slumped with a wet thud that echoed horribly in your ears.

You stood there, frozen. You’re sick to the stomach—it’s nauseating—looking at the brutal sight that your lover could do.

Rooted in shock, you barely registered Sukuna turning to you. He grasped your shoulders firmly. “Did he hurt you?” At your numb shake of the head, fiery rage flooded back into his eyes.

“Good. Because I would have drawn out his torment for years if he had.” With that, Sukuna flung the lifeless body contemptuously through the door of a nearby hut.

Screams arose from within as you stared at the gore coating Sukuna’s hands. The brutality finally jolted you from horrified paralysis. Voice trembling, you begged him to take you home.

The journey back was made in silence. Once behind the walls, Sukuna rounded on you like the last time.

“How could you go without my permission?” He paced like a caged beast. “See what nearly befell you? The filth who could do anything to you?”

You flinched beneath the verbal onslaught, too numb to defend yourself as he kept raging.

“You are forbidden from leaving again! Do you understand?” He seized your shoulders roughly. “It is too dangerous for you.”

You nodded, mute and hollow. With a harsh exhale, Sukuna pulls you against him as four of his arms envelop you in a warm embrace, some of the frantic anger leaving him.

“Forgive my harsh words, my little love. But I do not like you being treated like that.” His voice broke on the last word. He clutched you tighter, as if to reassure himself you were real.

After that day, whispers followed you through the residence like ghosts, for no clear reason. Servants offering polite smiles that never reached their eyes, only to resume their hushed gossip once you’d passed.

At first, you tried ignoring the sidelong glances and murmurs. But still, the cruel words leaked through.

“She is just a plaything to him.”

“Once the master is bored, she will be discarded.”

“He is only using her on the bed.”

“Once he tires of those pleasures, her time here will end.”

Their cruel words haunted you, sinking claws into vulnerabilities you’d buried deep. Did they speak the truth? Was your whole purpose here just to entertain Sukuna’s baser appetites? The thought you might be expendable shook you to your core.

You managed to conceal your anguish and distress at first. But the doubts festered, stealing your appetite and sleep. When Sukuna finally noticed the toll on your health, alarm flared in his eyes.

Gently taking your hands, he scoops you onto his lap, facing him. “What is bothering your pretty little head, hm? You know you can tell me anything.”

You shook your head, “It is nothing, My Lord. Not a big problem.”

“I do not like you lying to me, little one,” he shakes his head, not buying your secrecy.

“I am okay. Please, no need to be concerned about me.”

“How can I not? What is it? Tell me,” he holds your chin still to make you look at him.

Both of your stubborn banter goes back and forth until you’re both getting impatient.

You wavered, then spilled out the vile gossip you’d endured in silence. Sukuna listened gravely, thumb idly stroking your wrist. When you finished, he let out a long breath, gazing at you earnestly

“You believe their hateful lies? That you are some plaything to me? You know in your heart these claims are untrue.” He grasped your shoulders, staring intently into your eyes. “You are everything. Your faith in me is worth more than a million mortal lifetimes.”

He brought your hand to his chest, holding it over his steadily beating heart. “Do not let petty jealousies make you doubt what we share.”

Overwhelmed, you buried your face against him. “Forgive my doubts, My Lord,” you whispered.

“There is nothing to forgive. The fault is theirs, not yours.” Stroking your hair, he pressed a fierce kiss to your head. Then his tone turned cold. “As for these spiteful women, I will make them regret ever speaking such lies.”

You quickly squeezed his hands. “Please, do not harm them. I only wished to explain my melancholy, not see others punished.”

Sukuna frowned. “You ask me to ignore those who hurt you so? Who makes you doubt my devotion?” His grip on you tightened. “I cannot be so forgiving.”

“I know it comes from care,” you soothed. “But replying to anger with more anger will only breed misery.”

He paused, then exhaled harshly, pulling you close. Resting his forehead to yours, he went on. “I swear to you, my feelings run deeper than they comprehend.”

“Leave this to me now, little one. Just rest easy.”

True to his word, the gossip ceased quickly. You didn’t ask what Sukuna said or did to silence loose tongues. But the servants now bent over backward to please you, their once spiteful eyes now carefully respectful.

Their newfound reverence somehow bothered you more. But Sukuna seemed satisfied. “Let the wretches make amends for causing you pain,” he said nonchalantly.

Some part of you recoiled at his methods. Yet it warmed your heart to know he would avenge any slight against you without hesitation. Perhaps it was wrong to take comfort from his possessiveness.

But you needed to feel cherished after so much doubt. And Sukuna left no room for uncertainty in how deeply he treasured you. Each tender glance and touch slowly healed the wounds until you were whole again.

When he came to you beneath the silken sheets now, the passion held new meaning. A reaffirming of what you were to each other.

You were his sanctuary. Just as he was yours.

The gossip no longer stung when you knew his heart with such certainty.

Sukuna had told you he was taking a few days off to spend with you. With him home beside you for a blessed few days, the gloom cast over the estate seemed to lift. His four muscular arms caged you securely against his broad chest as you sank comfortably into his embrace.

He was attentive in ways you’d never seen before, constantly drawing you into his arms, asking questions about your childhood, your dreams, anything to get to know you better.

At first, you were shy, unused to being the object of such focused interest. But Sukuna’s patient gentleness soon had the words spilling freely from your lips.

You happily opened up to him in turn, chatting lightly about your days spent tending the garden, studying scripture with the monks, or watching the koi fish circle lazily in their pond. No detail was too small or mundane—he drank in every insight into your character with eyes that never once glazed in boredom.

He listened intently, his crimson eyes focused solely on you. As frightening as he could be, you knew this powerful being cherished you in his own way. You were likely the only person in the world he cared for.

When you finally worked up the courage to ask about his early life in turn, his gaze darkened briefly. “There is little of worth to tell,” he muttered.

He went on tonelessly to describe his parents casting him out as an infant, cursing his existence. Forced to eke out a living on the streets, he learned quickly that mercy was for the weak.

“I was not always like this,” he rumbled. “Once I was a human, born to parents who did not want me.” His fingers tensed where they rested on your back. “As an infant, they discarded me on the streets to die. But I survived, growing up feral and alone.”

You looked up at him sadly, heart aching at the thought of him helpless and abandoned with no one to care for him. You raised a hand to gently stroke his cheek.

Sukuna closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. “I do not tell you this for pity,” he said firmly. “My past made me strong.”

His eyes opened again. “When my cursed technique manifested, I used them without mercy, cutting down any who dared stand in my way. I reveled in my growing strength, the thrill of battle and blood... they satisfied me. I honed my skills until I became unmatched.”

You nodded solemnly. His description matched the legends told of the terrifying Ryomen Sukuna.

Now you know why he lacked mercy.

You take his hands in yours, kissing his palms. “The past is behind you now,” you told him. “What matters is who you choose to be from this day forth. My love for you is unconditional.” You smiled up at him warmly. “But I promise to teach you the ways of empathy and love, even if you protest.”

Sukuna huffed in amusement, the corners of his mouth quirking up. “Little one, you may try, but do not expect miracles. I am what I am.” But his embrace around you was gentle, belying his words.

You poked his chest teasingly. “I will make it my mission to show you how wonderful love can be, the joys it brings to our lives.” Laughing, you added, “Just you wait, I will have you reciting poetry and picking wildflowers before long!”

“Hmph, do not get carried away,” he grumbled, but you could tell he was secretly pleased by your playful vow.

You cuddled against his chest, determined to shower this damaged soul with all the love and tenderness he had missed in his tragic early years.

The next morning, as soft sunlight filtered into the bedroom, you lay wrapped in Sukuna’s strong embrace. Your head rested on his muscular chest, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat. His breathing was slow and even, still asleep.

You traced idle patterns on his bare skin, your fingertips grazing over the tattoos adorning his body. Your mind drifted back to the conversation from the night before when Sukuna had told you a bit of his past.

Abandoned and unloved, forced to survive on his own from infancy. Your heart ached for the small, helpless babe he had been. The thought of him growing up without affection or care weighed heavily on you.

You understood now why love and empathy were so foreign to him. But you were determined to show Sukuna what he had missed, to fill his long existence with the warmth and joy he deserved.

Your short mortal life worried you, however. Sukuna had lived for centuries, he would go on existing long after you passed on. Would he find someone new to love? How would losing you affect him? Immortal beings were not meant to give their hearts to fleeting humans.

You must have tensed in concern, because Sukuna began stirring, his four arms instinctively tightening around you. “What troubles you so early, little one?” his deep voice rasped, still groggy with sleep.

You tilted your head up to peer at him. “I was thinking about what you told me last night, about your past. My heart breaks imagining you alone as a child.”

He regarded you seriously. “It was long ago. Dwelling on what cannot be changed is pointless.”

“I know,” you murmured. “I only wish I could have cared for you then. But now I worry… what will happen when I am gone? My life is so short compared to yours. Will you find someone new to love?” Your voice caught on the last word as you averted your gaze. You weren’t sure you even wanted to hear the answer.

He was silent. When you worked up the courage to look at him again, his crimson eyes were looking at you intensely. With a swift, motion he flipped you beneath him, bracing his weight above you and capturing your face between his big hands.

“You think I could simply replace you when death takes you from me?” His thumb brushed your cheek tenderly. “No other has touched my soul as you have. Long was my existence before you, yet I was empty.” Leaning down, he touched his forehead to yours.

“Your fragile mortality may one day steal you from my side, but what we have cannot be replicated or replaced.” He lifted his head to gaze deeply into your eyes.

“When you are gone, I will be lost again. I accept that your life must end as mine continues.” His jaw clenched. “But I will find no peace with another. What we have is beyond replacement.”

Tears blurred your vision at his heartfelt words. You had not realized the depth of his attachment, that the absence of your love would leave him emotionally desolate.

You threw your arms around his broad shoulders. “Then we must make the most of the time we have,” you declared. “Fill our days with so much joy that you will carry the warmth of our love for eternity.”

Sukuna wrapped you tightly in his embrace. “Yes,” he agreed, nuzzling your neck. “I will cherish every precious moment with you, little one.”

His words made your heart clench, but you understood, he would never love another as he had you. Your lives were tragically misaligned, yet the love you shared transcended such limits.

You spent the day wrapped up in Sukuna, exchanging tender caresses, murmuring sweet nothings, strolling the grounds hand-in-hand. Every shared laugh, every affectionate glance was savored, imprinting your bond ever deeper.

As the sun sets in glorious color, you lay entwined together beneath the cover of a wisteria tree. Your head rested over Sukuna’s heart as he gently stroked your hair. His steady heartbeat and the rhythmic rise of his chest were deeply comforting.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” you whispered.

“As do I, little one,” he replied, his voice tinged with melancholy. “But we cannot halt the merciless passage of time.”

You leaned up to press a soft kiss to his jaw. “No matter how short my life, I am grateful every moment of it is spent with you.”

Sukuna cradled you close, distress evident in his eyes. “When I am alone again, I will find comfort in the memories we have.”

His grip on you tightened, as if he could hold you to this world through will alone. You tilted your head back to peer up at him. “And when I am gone, will you be okay?”

“I will endure it. As I have endured all hardship in my long life.” He traced his thumb lightly down your cheek. “It will not feel the same, my little love. But do not worry about me, I will be fine.”

Your heart clenched at the raw honesty in his normally stoic demeanor. On impulse, you stretched up to press a soft kiss to his lips. Sukuna went still for a heartbeat before responding in kind, lips moving gently against yours.

“Then do not dwell on the inevitable end,” you cup his face in your hands. “Think only of how much we mean to each other now. If my love can sustain you even a little while after I am gone, that will be enough.”

Sukuna pressed his forehead to yours. “I will brace it when the time comes. But for now, my world is only you.”

You kissed him tenderly, then settled against his chest once more. Bittersweet joy swelled your heart, knowing you had brought some warmth into Sukuna’s grim existence. Though fleeting and painfully finite, your mortal love was a balm to his ancient, scarred soul.

The years passed swiftly. Sukuna remained your steadfast companion as you grew from a young woman into old age. He was always there to hold you close, whisper endearments, make you laugh with his wit.

In the blink of an eye, your hair became streaked with silver. Your smooth skin wrinkled and your energy waned. But your love never faded.

Sukuna stayed by your side as you grew frail, cradling you tenderly through restless nights, patiently spoon-feeding you broth when eating became difficult. His eyes reflected centuries of sadness knowing your time grew short.

Finally, you lay weakly upon your futon as he stayed close by your side. Your breathing turned ragged and a violent cough wracked your body. He gathered you gently into his arms.

“The end is near, my little one,” he murmured, smoothing back your thin hair.

You gave him a quivering smile. “I am ready. Just stay with me, please.”

He pressed his lips to your wrinkled forehead. “Always.”

You spent your final moments gazing up at his face, etched into your mind after so many years together. His image would be the last you saw in this life. With a contented sigh, you closed your eyes for the final time.

Sukuna let out a broken noise, pulling you tightly to his chest as your body went limp. Rocking your still form, he wept for the first time in his long existence. Anguished sobs wracked his powerful frame.

He had known this moment would come, yet nothing could have prepared him for the sheer devastation of losing you. It felt as though part of his soul had been ripped away.

Sukuna had guarded your mortal form night and day in those final years. Now you slipped away before his eyes, leaving him utterly alone. The crushing pain made him understand the human concept of a “broken heart”.

But he took comfort knowing you had passed peacefully in his embrace. The only mercy was that you were spared a drawn-out decline. He had filled your short life with as much love as one man could give. He has known you for a short time compared to how you’ve known him for most of your life.

Wiping his eyes, Sukuna pressed final kisses to your cooled skin. He would honor you with a funeral befitting royalty. Then he must decide where to wander next. This place held too many haunting memories now.

Sukuna laid you gently on the futon and stood. He cast one last anguished look at your still face.

“My beloved…” he whispered. “No other shall ever take your place.”

Then he turned and strode from the room, jaw clenched against a fresh onslaught of grief. His steps were heavy with the unbearable burden of immortality and loss.

No, he doesn’t cremate you despite having the ability to do so. He doesn’t even want to think of burning you to ashes, or he might as well lose it and burn the world with it for taking you away too soon.

He buried you beneath the cherry tree where you’d spent so many blissful hours in his arms. He marked the site with a stone monument etched with his promise:

“In this life or the next, you are mine. None will ever love you as I have, little one.”

His task complete, Sukuna wandered for many years after. Though the sharp pain dulled to a persistent ache, the emptiness inside him never abated. He fulfilled his promise and took no other lovers, knowing they could only ever be hollow substitutes.

He will wait until his time comes no matter how long it takes to see you again in the afterlife.

He will wait long enough to see you reborn and claim you one more as his.

But the thing he knows for sure, you will always belong to no one but him.

I got emotional and carried away, I’m sorry 😭😭

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zombolouge · 2 years

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The Sound of the Cosmos Chapter 10

art by @peachcott

Chapter 10: Past, Present, and Future is now live!

I feel like this chapter will resonate with everyone that keysmashed, threatened my life, and needed therapy after Chapter 19 of For Her Grave a Galaxy.

Sometimes I make up for my crimes. Sometimes.

#zombolouge writes #The Sound of the Cosmos #mass effect #shakarian #making up for that infamous shower scene a little bit #hehe that was one of my best crimes tho

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iovesia · 1 year

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✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆ 𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐁 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑.

𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔. you've been warned of the infamous baba yaga, and his sadistic ways. and now, with him exacting revenge on the people who've wronged him, there's no one left to stop him from collecting his prize— you.

—⠀੭୧⠀warnings⠀· ˚ ༘⠀f!reader. dark!john wick. extremely dubious consent. large age gap. allusion to kidnapping. canon typical violence. size kink. man handling. p in v. creampie.

josie’s note .⁺ ˖ ⌒ the new and improved fic is finally here. i had to shape up and add a few scenes for my own sanity but it's finally here. please read the warnings, this is a dark fic. john is, like, slightly ooc here but it's fineee. and sidenote, this is my longest fic yet so.. — hope you enjoy ♡ !!

#. keanu reeves masterlist. | main masterlist. | request rules.

"IOSEF'S DEAD."

You look up in shock, eyes widening with disbelief. “What?” you murmured in a soft voice, barely audible in the almost otherwise silent room.

“John killed him,” your bodyguard, Andrei, said bluntly. You swallow the lump in your throat as you rest your head in your hands.

“I.. I guess he got what he wanted then,” Your voice was hoarse as thousands of thoughts clouded your mind. John Wick was on the warpath. With your boyfriend dead, along with half the mob, it was only a matter of time before Viggo was buried in the ground, too.

Nobody screws over John Wick, and lives.

Almost.

YOU WERE HASTILY ESCORTED back to the Continental at the hands of the remaining living bodyguards. Locked in your room, like a dog in a cage, you stared at the dark blue ceiling and let out a shaky sigh. Iosef was dead— not that it was particularly detrimental to you.

Many would have referred to you as eye candy on his arm, rather than a girlfriend. Showering you in lavish gifts, and showing you off to the other mobsters as his prized possession; and then tossing you back in a box when he was bored of playing with you.

The minutes felt like hours, and hours felt like days. John Wick was coming, that you knew. But for what was still the mystery. Under Viggo’s strict orders, he ordered a guard to stand posted at your door. While his son was an ignorant brat who hardly bothered to connect with you beyond mediocre sex, his father almost thought of you as a daughter. Daughter he wished he had.

Bored with counting the number of windows in the apartment across from your hotel room, you decided to take a shower to calm your nerves. The sound of the water pounding against the tiles drowned out the noise of the outside world. You closed your eyes and let the warmth envelop you.

“Iosef, maybe if you just apologised—”

“Are you crazy? Apologise? That is your big solution?!” The blonde haired prick snapped at you, eyes crazed with fear as he hurriedly searched for his gun. “Glupaya suka.. Try to apologise to John fucking Wick, you might as well just throw yourself to slaughter.”

“Fucking asshole,” you muttered to yourself, sharply exhaling.

YOU'VE ONLY HAD the pleasure of seeing the infamous Baba Yaga a handful of times, and meeting him only once.

Four years ago. At one of Viggo’s extravaganza’s, a place filled with all the blood thirstiest associates of New York city, you managed to snag yourself an invite to the event. Being Iosef’s newest ‘conquest’, freshly nineteen and completely new to the underworld syndicate; you were the pure soul among a sea of the damned.

“Who is that?” you whisper into Iosef’s ear, gesturing to Viggo and the circle of men around him. Iosef turns to look where you’re staring, and rolls his eyes at the sight.

“John Wick,” he answers with an unimpressed scoff. You don’t miss the way he holds your hand tighter when the infamous assassin turns his glance towards you two. His darkened stare pierced into yours, and you quickly look away. A feeling of warmth washed over your cheeks as Iosef began to walk towards the group, pulling your arm to follow him.

“Iosef! There you are!” Viggo exclaimed, gesturing towards his son and you. Although you were focused on the older man’s words, you couldn’t help but feel a gaze fixated on you. “My dear, I don’t believe you two have met,” Viggo’s words snap you out of the trance, and you turn your head to the side, taking in the notorious assassin up close. His tall frame clad in a sleek, dark suit that seemed to swallow up the light around him.

“This is-”

“Wick,” his low, gruff voice speaks as he reaches for your free hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to the back of your hand. “John Wick.”

You try to contain the grin growing on your face by pulling your lower lip in between your teeth. You couldn’t ignore the sudden spark that sent a jolt of electricity through your body. You were enamoured by the mysterious man, and he’s said all of three words to you.

As the evening progressed, you constantly felt the older man’s eyes following you. Occasionally you turned your head to the side and would catch him facing directly at you, only intriguing you more. You and Iosef were just about to leave when you excused yourself to the restroom.

Being the unattentive, doe eyed little thing that you were, you gasped when your face bumped against a hard chest, making you jump back a little. Apologies spew from your lips as you glanced upwards to match the face to the toned figure— immediately shutting you up.

John towered over you, a few strands of his black locks hung in front of his face as he craned his neck down at you. In the narrow hallway to the restroom, you realised there wasn’t enough space to slide past him. Before you could say anything, a pair of hands hug your waist, and John gently turns you to the side, allowing himself to pass by you. Only for a brief moment did his skin meet yours— and how you wished he didn’t let go.

THE SOOTHING WARM WATER was now scorching your skin, as you switched the valve off. Wrapping the soft towel around your wet body, you exited the bathroom.

Standing in front of your dresser, you scavenged to find anything relatively nice looking. Maybe you weren’t allowed to leave the Continental, but surely you could at least mingle at the bar. With furrowed brows, you held two different tops to your chest, focused on your reflection.

Until your eyes met another pair in the mirror.

“What the—” your head whipped behind you, simultaneously dropping the pieces of clothes to the floor as you bumped back against the mirror. You were a deer frozen in headlights. Goosebumps flourishing on your still damp skin, the draft from the window sending chills down your spine.

You watched carefully, the pair of eyes revealing its owner as he arose from the shadows of your room, making your heart drop.

“Wick,” was nothing but a whisper when it fell from your mouth.

“H-How did you get in here?” your breath shallow and your palms began to sweat as you carefully moved to stand in front of your dresser, hands desperately reaching behind your back for anything that could be used as a weapon. John ignores your question, only to slowly creep closer to you.

“Andrei, help!” You cry out, the shrill in your voice echoing off the walls. John purses his lips, taking another menacing step towards you. “Andrei—”

“He’s not gonna help you, little lamb.”

“Andrei!” You continue screaming, praying at any moment he will barge through the doors to rescue you. Your gaze switching between the exit and the assassin in front of you, you contemplate making a run for it.

Stupidly enough, your feet pound against the wooden floor, and with frightened determination, you rush towards the door. Dodging the small nightstand, you nearly trip over your feet before a sudden tug on your towel whirls you back. With a loud yelp, your back collides with the floor and a pain shoots through your side— you can already picture the bruise forming.

“Tsk, you’re gonna have to be quicker than that,” he tuts, before grabbing a hold of both your forearms and lifting you up with ease, like a ragdoll. Your hands immediately reached for your slipping towel, which nearly exposed your breasts. Pulling them up, you silently prayed for anyone in the Continental to have heard the ruckus.

“Where’s Andrei?..” Your words come out in a hushed tone, almost as if you're speaking to yourself rather than to anyone else. “What did you do to him?”

“Not important,” he replies curtly.

“I-It’s against the rules, you couldn’t have killed him—”

“It’s also against the rules to steal another man’s car, and kill his fucking dog,” he sneers in your face, his warm breath hitting your face as you squeeze your eyes shut. The terror paralyzed you and your lips quivered, the sting in your eyes ever growing.

“Let me go! Please, I haven’t done anything,” you beg pathetically. John releases you from his grasp, pushing you towards the satin covered bed. You stumble, holding tightly onto your dirty towel for a source of comfort, cowering under his intense glare as he circled you. Like a predator about to devour his prey.

Like a lamb to the slaughter.

“Neither did Daisy,” he cocks a brow, pain seeping into his voice at the mention of his beloved pet. “Neither did Helen. Innocents get screwed over all the time, what’s one more?”

“Look, John. I’m really sorry for what happened—”

“You will be.”

Your eyes widened, and your throat went dry as you allowed the tears to brim your waterline. You gripped tightly at the top of your towel, holding it closer to you while you tried to maintain some dignity.

John approaches you, standing a mere few inches from your shuddering figure. Your breath hitched as his calloused hand reached for your face, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The assassin was towering over you, his cold eyes scanning over every inch of your body— making you all the more humiliated.

“It’s true what they say..” he mutters, his husky voice hitting your ears. “You really are the prettiest thing in New York.” His hand trailed down from your face, dragging along your shoulder blades, getting lower.. and lower… and low-

“What are you doing?” the words come out like a broken record player. If he planned to strangle you as a means to kill you— you prayed it would be quick. Your skin erupts in goosebumps, like a thousand tiny needles pricking at you, when John’s other hand connects with your side, steadily tugging the towel down.

“Looking at you. Touching you.” An eerie silence casted upon the room when the realisation dawned in. “You looked so beautiful that night. In that dress. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.. Thinking about you.”

His words make you shiver, and your legs clench.

“Wait!” you yelp when you feel him starting to pull the top of your towel down. John inhales sharply, his patience wearing thin. There you were, under his vice grip, pleading for his mercy with those big, bambi eyes of yours. With blood rushing to his cock, and your alluring body just begging for his touch— he could hardly wait any longer.

“Do as I say.”

And you did.

Slowly moving your arm down to your side, the other arm mimicking, the towel unravelled from your body, the quiet thud of it hitting the floor made you wince. You were now completely unravelled before him. Your nipples hardened at the cool wind, and the deep breaths you were taking only accentuated your collarbones. John could tear his gaze away even if he tried, wanting to drink in every inch of your angelic form.

Suddenly, an arm swings behind your knees, causing you to swoon backwards. The soft mattress of the bed hits your back, as John holds your knees up to your chest, putting your glistening cunt on display.

“Oh, you’re enjoying this,” John huffs, a sadistic gleam in his eyes, and you nearly gasp when he slides his index and middle finger in between your slit. Letting out an inaudible whimper as he plunges his fingers deep into your hole, you pull your lower lip in between your pearly teeth.

“J-John.. fuck.”

John, once again, ignores your mewls as he removes his fingers and grabs each knee with one hand to slowly push them apart. Heat blooming in your face, you were burning with humiliation. So vulnerable, so weak… and so wet.

Your heart beats pounding loudly in your chest, you don’t even hear his belt unbuckling or his pants hitting the floor. Through blurred vision, you gazed up into his dark irises, begging for him. To stop, or to keep going, you couldn’t tell anymore.

John leans down, his hand gliding up your torso before taking a handful of your breast as the pads of his fingers tug at your sensitive nipples. His lips collided with yours unexpectedly, his tongue darting between your lips.

“Wait. John, I can’t- you’re too big-”

“For four years… I’ve waited to finally touch you again,” he mutters against your lips, rubbing his cock up and down the entrance of your pussy, teasing you with his tip. “Ever since you showed up on his arm.” Jealous leaked into his gruff voice.

“It’s not gonna fit!” You protest. The sight of his cock between his legs sent chills down your spine.

“Beg me to be gentle.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, the familiar sensation of embarrassment burning in your veins. John was determined to make every moment of this as humiliating as possible, as he drank in every little expression on your pretty face.

“Please… please be gentle with me,” you managed to stammer out.

You let out a loud mewl as John thrusts gently into you, his cock stretching out your little cunt so deliciously. Your nails were desperately clinging to John’s forearms, leaving red crescent shapes. Your breasts bounced with each hard thrust, his cock penetrating deep, his tip kissing your cervix.

“Maybe you were right.” Your neck cranes up and you catch a glimpse of his cock entering in and out of you, the small bulge in your lower stomach. Before you could speak, another high pitched moan escapes your lips when John’s fingers meet your clit, rubbing firm circles. “Think he could fuck you like this?”

You vehemently shake your head, a choked sob caught in your throat when he slams hard into you. “N-No.. mmm, fuckkk!”

“What was that? Use your words, honey” John coos, his lips to your ear as his baritone voice sends chills down your spine. The combination of his digits rubbing against your bundle of nerves along with his deep, passionate thrusts had clouded your thoughts, your mouth hung open with only sinful moans coming out. “Who do you belong to?” he purrs.

“I asked you a question, sweet girl,” he suddenly stops his movements. Your back arches, craving more of his touch and begging for release.

“You! John! You!” You whine frantically, legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. “Please don’t stop.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” John whispers, his large cock entering your gaping hole as your fluttering walls clench around him. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, as you felt your core tighten. John’s groans quietly in your ear as he continues pounding into you, his balls slapping against the swell of your ass. “My good girl. Cum for me, I want the whole hotel to hear you.”

With him still torturing your clit, you jolt at the sudden slap. “Oh— Oh my god, you, John. Y-You, only you—” your mindless babbling only made the assassin smirks deviously at your state. So dumb and cockdrunk off his dick— and only him.

The overwhelming wave of pleasure floods your body as you cream on his cock. John reaches his peak, and fills your pretty cunt with his cum and he removes his hand from your clit before gripping harshly at your hip.

You pant loudly, mind running in circles as you try to catch your breath. John’s cock stayed firmly inside you, his large hand caressing your cheek and trying to get your attention back on him.

“You did so well, little lamb,” was the last thing you heard before your eyes fluttered closed, too overwhelmed to keep your tired body awake. Not that John minded— with you fast asleep, it would make bringing you home a lot easier.

໒꒰ྀིྀི ੭ ˃̵ᴗ˂̵ ꒱ྀི੭ — taglist : @desoolate @hamburgerslippers @alwaysinblck @emosludge @nwheregirl @beansricejc @sughcashsaiki @namjoons-crabssss @scream-queen-25 @slutforsoldierboy @hamburgerslippers @redhotelroom.

let me know if anyone wishes to be added/removed. ∗ ୧ ‧ ₊ ˚

#dark.josie #nsfw.josie #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #john wick imagine #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick

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sunny1616 · 2 months

Text

Pressure

Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: During the weigh-in conference rafe's opponent, jj maybank, makes a comment that get rafe riled up.

Warnings: some fighting, cussing, mentions of pregnancy

"Standing at 6'2" and 180lbs, Rrrrrafe CamerON!!" You are seated against the wall of the press area with Rafe's team clapping as you watch your boyfriend being weighed in. You usually don't come to the weigh-ins or other press conferences, knowing how tense they can be. And you would've skipped it since you were 7 months pregnant, but you wanted to be supportive of your partner. After all, this was no regular fight because you were in South Carolina for the biggest event of Rafe's boxing career so far against the infamous JJ Maybank. JJ is no joke, with 19 wins, 0 losses, and 6KOs.

The coverage and attention that this fight is getting isn't something that you're used to seeing and it sometimes makes you nervous. Regardless, you decided to be brave and support your man since it's his first time with so many eyes on him. Though he hasn't admitted it to you yet, you can tell that the pressure is weighing on him. You are concerned but not worried, Rafe is tough because of the pain hes been through in his past with his family. He's the strongest and most resilient man you've ever known.

After Rafe's time on the machine, JJ stepped up and flexed. The MC announced his measurements, and the cameras went off. The conference went on as expected, with small insults and verbal jabs thrown between Rafe and JJ. Nothing serious. But then, just as face-off photo op was about to complete, JJ says something to Rafe that makes him rage and right-hook JJs jaw. The stage turns into a moshpit, and cameras go wild. Rafe's bodyguards try to remove him from the stage, but all Rafe wants to do is get to JJ .

Meanwhile, you stand eyes wide and hands protectively on your bump. Rafe's assistant and one of his bodyguards inch closer to you while watching the scene unfold. Eventually, Rafe is taken off the stage, and the announcer tells the crowd the date of the fight, concluding the event. You are then escorted to Rafe's room. Once inside, you take a look around, trying to spot him amongst all the bodyguards and other team members. You then spot him in the corner, sitting on a cubby bench, talking to his manager and trainer. Both trying to calm him down, which marginally seems to be working because though he is seated with elblows on his knees and listening attentively to the two men, he still has a terrifying amount of fire in his eyes.

As you walk up to him he immediately makes eye contact with you. He then looks to the two people talking to him and signals them to give you two some space. While hes still sitting he pulls you and hugs you around the hips. You immediately bring you arms around his shoulder and scratch the back of his head while giving the top of his head a kiss. After some deep breaths he looks up at you and you down at him.

"Lets go back to the hotel. We dont need to be here for another second."

"Okay, but are you alright? What happened up there?"

Rafe exhales, "i dont want to talk about that right now. That mother fucker should sooner be 8 feet under then in our thoughts." Okayyy so not the time to talk about it then, you say to yourself.

"Alright lets go." You both get into a black escalade and drive 20mins to your hotel. Once alone in your room you take a shower while Rafe orders food and makes some calls. Rafe then goes to shower and u lay on the bed with your robe on too exhausted and filled with thoughts about the event. Just as your deep in thought rafe comes out with his robe on and stares at you.

"Can we talk now?" You say.

Rafe looks at you and sighs and lays down on the bed. He turns to face you and says, "He threatened to take you from me. He said that it wouldn't be hard and that the baby wouldn't want a loser of a father anyway after the fight."

You blank.

"Rafe, that isn't true. You know it isn't. The loser part or it being that easy for me to leave you. This probably isn't the right thing to say, but im surprised that got to you. Tell me why it did."

Another breath, "No opponent has ever said anything about you before. That's always been my boundary. I've also never had to worry about it because all my previous opponents were professional, never made it personal. Ever. And I've been so... mentally off for this whole thing because i was partly raised here. My mom left me when i was here. And with the swarming media and dwindling privacy lately and the underdog card, i just feel so... off. There's so much pressure with this one. And i dont want to lose for the team, and especially for you and our girl."

"I love you, rafe, and no matter the outcome, that will never change. Im not going anywhere, and she won't either. She will be proud and in awe of how strong and amazing you are, just as i always am. And as for the past, that's all it is. It's over. You moved on. Nothing can hurt you here. We and the team support you bc this is your fight. We're here to support you bc we all know that you are better than him. You can prove it to yourself, too, by fighting. For. Yourself." With a soft smile, you reach out and cup his cheek, rubbing your thumb over his cheekbone.

Rafe just stares at you in awe. He savors moments like this. He's never felt so lucky. He can never get enough, so he closes the small distance between and meets your lips with his. The kiss emulates love and gratitude. He then pulls you in closer. "I love you, baby. Thank you."

You chuckle and shake your head, "i love you too, bubs. Now come on, the new love is blind episodes come out today we have to see whos gonna get ditched and hitched!" You then kiss his nose and sit up to find the remote. And in lighter air you both happily watch cheesy tv.

Authors note: okayy so this is my first post. Please go easy on me 😅💗

*edited some of it*

#boxer!rafe #rafe x reader #rafe cameron #pregnant reader

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t-lostinworlds · 1 year

Text

Itty Bitty Pretty | Steve Harrington

》 PAIRING: steve harrington x female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: established relationship; mild angst; fluff; smut (18+)

》 SUMMARY: You overheard Steve’s and Robin’s debate about boobies being slightly overrated. It would've been amusing until Steve listed certain traits of boobs he found attractive. Being a member of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee, you started feeling insecure with yours.

》 WARNINGS: not set in a particular timeline (but steve & robin still work at family video), boobs/boobies & tits/titties, steve's poor wording, steve loves (your) boobies, small misunderstanding, mentions of toxic parents (both steve & reader), past bullying, pet names (babe, baby, sweetheart, pretty girl, angel...it’s a lot), inexperienced!shy!reader, best!boyfriend!steve, dorky!steve, insecurities, fluffy reassurances, domestic bliss (!!!), showering together, steve babying/doting over r, first i love you’s, sweet & slow to intense smut (a gear shift, if u will), 18+ Content [MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!] ~ extended warnings below the cut!

》 WORD COUNT: 19.7k+ (she big like steve’s co—)

A/N: first time i saw the infamous boobies scene, this idea immediately popped into my head. i, myself, have small tits. like leaning down/arms pushing up to show cleavage? i don’t know her LMAO. so this is dedicated to all you lovelies out there who sometimes feel insecure with their breast size <3 all boobies are pretty no matter what!

++ also, basically, it’s become a thing that i only post smut once a year a.k.a. i unleash the harlot in me with no restraints any time of the year lmao. so this the 2022 Edition. so with that said, don’t expect anything groundbreaking 😭 bc again, i rarely write smut. also wrote this in 6/7 days so might be rush & i also proofread this once and kinda gave up halfway thru. but i hope you enjoy!! <3

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ STEVE HARRINGTON MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

⚠️SMUT WARNINGS: mentions of virgin!reader (steve's her first), dom/sub dynamic, thigh riding & cowgirl (r’s first time at both), dry humping, so much nipple play, steve sucks loves on the titties a lot, fingering, multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, slight crybaby!reader (she’s a bit sensitive & emotional), soft!dom!steve & slightly mean!dom!steve (condescending/mocking), heavy praise kink, dirty talk (steve marathons his filthy ass mouth. i’m not even joking), vocal!steve, one (1) degradation (little cockslut), innocence kink (kinda? reader is slightly clueless in some things about sex ngl), unprotected p in v sex (don't try this at home), breeding kink (r is on the pill tho!), steve's Massive Meat Sceptre™️, hickies (and i mean lots of them. steve turns into an Artist™️ lmao), aftercare, morning wood, taking top-naked polaroid photos (it's more sweet than sexual tbh) ~ lemme know if i missed anything! <3

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

Itty Bitty Pretty

You sighed in relief as you crossed the street, somewhat finding a sense of comfort after such a shitty day once you saw the familiar green and orange sign of Family Video—more so, the people you were about to see once you got inside.

Balancing the two boxes of baked goods in one hand, you pulled the door open, quickly noticing the silence of the still broken bell. You rolled your eyes. It had been like that for almost a month now, obvious proof of Keith being too cheap to get something so little fixed.

Entering the premises, you heard Steve first before you even saw him.

"I love boobies—hell, everyone loves boobies more, Robin, it's just facts."

You felt your cheeks warm at your boyfriend's words.

In the six months you've been with Steve—and a few months more of knowing him—he had never been shy when it came to anything remotely sexual. It was expected, you supposed, for someone formerly called King Steve, known to have gone around, leaving girls satisfied enough to share stories and to deem him worthy for them to sing his praises.

Said stories that had been proven true to you by His Majesty himself quite recently.

But still, it never failed to surprise you how loud and open Steve can be when talking about anything sex-related.

Because you, on the other hand, couldn't be more opposite of him.

You wouldn't exactly class yourself as a prude, you were just shy. You simply had a hard time speaking about sexual things out in the open, let alone, loudly in public.

Perhaps it came with the fact that you were inexperienced, that you weren't familiar enough with sex yet to be able to talk about it with confidence and prowess. Maybe, the more you got into it, you'd eventually come out of your shell.

Or perhaps it would simply be a shyness you wouldn't be able to shake off. Maybe you just weren't the kiss-and-tell type of person.

Sure, you talk to Steve about it, but that should be expected and important, him being your partner and all. But the furthest you'd gone to sharing your sexual encounters—which frankly, wasn't a lot and was always disclosed in so little details—was to Robin.

That's it.

Craning your neck, you finally saw that familiar mass of hair sticking out of one of the shelves. But as you were about to walk over to them, Steve's next words froze you on your spot.

"Especially when they're big, round, voluptuous breasts o—"

Oh.

Thwack.

"Ew! Don't be a pig!" Robin interrupted.

"How am I being a pig?!" Steve shrieked. "Right, curse a guy for liking boobs."

"I was just saying they're a bit overrated."

"Overrated?" he scoffed, sounding slightly offended. "You see it in magazines, in movies, on TV—you see boobies everywhere!"

"That's exactly why they're overrated!"

"No, no, it just means statistically, people like boobies more. The demand affects the supply."

"Statistically bullshit, that's what it is."

"Don't tell me you don't like seeing boobs now?"

"I still do!" Robin sighed. "But God forbid a girl wants to see a bit of ass here and there, right?"

"Hmm, I don't know," Steve hummed, and you could almost hear his smirk when he added, "Because there's only one ass I can get behind on."

"Gross!" Robin gagged, another thwack ringing in the air. "That's my best friend!"

"Yeah, and that's my girlfriend!" Steve countered, snorting. "Am I not allowed to appreciate my girl now?"

"Not when you're disclosing details of your sex life, which frankly, I've already heard enough of, sometimes literally," Robin shuddered, your whole face heating up at her words. You and Steve might or might not have gotten slightly busy in the backroom once twice. "Seriously, dude, you're corrupting her."

"I'm not!" Steve laughed, the lightness seeping into his tone. "Besides, I can't deny her if she wants a taste of the Harrington Special Sausa—Ow! Stop hitting me with that magazine!"

"Then stop being gross!"

"There's this thing called a joke, you should try it."

There was a beat of silence.

"Where did you even learn the word voluptuous, anyway?"

"Shut up, I know my big words," Steve scoffed, before grumbling, "I read a thesaurus the other day."

Robin burst out laughing.

"It was a slow day! Henderson left it on the counter and I got bored!"

If it was any other time, you would've found the interaction greatly amusing.

But once your brain picked up on those three words, the rest of their conversation had turned slightly muffled. Those three words simply sat at the forefront of your mind, and they hadn't stopped repeating themselves.

Big. Round. Voluptuous.

You didn't know if Steve meant that was what most people liked generally, or if it was a personal preference. But you did know one thing though:

Those words didn't apply to yours.

"Hey!"

You jumped, eyes wide when you met Steve's gaze, too distracted by your thoughts to even notice him walking up to you.

"You okay?" he asked, brows furrowed in concern, his hands coming up to rub your arms in comfort. "How long have you been standing there?"

"O-Oh, I just got here," you lied with a small smile. "And I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Mm-hmm." You nodded, lifting the boxes with a smile. "I brought you guys your favorites."

"You are a gift!" Robin appeared out of nowhere, taking the boxes from your hands with a loud, smacking kiss on your cheek. You giggled. She turned to Steve, sticking her tongue out before disappearing into the breakroom.

"Real mature!" Steve called out, playfully rolling his eyes. Turning back to you, he wrapped his arms around your waist, a smile on his lips, but the concern was still evident in his eyes. "Now, what's wrong?"

"Nothing is," you said, leaning in to give him a peck on the lips. Before Steve could even deepen the kiss—and judging by his tightening hold and his low groan, he was just about to—you placed a careful hand on his chest, pulling away. "Can I use the bathroom real quick?"

"Yeah, sur—"

You were gone before Steve could even finish his sentence.

The second the bathroom door closed, you peeked at your chest through the collar of your shirt, frowning when you found what you'd already known and been seeing for years.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, head tilted, lips pursed. It was a moment of weakness, grabbing your shirt from behind, pulling the fabric tight to your body only to feel even worse by what you saw.

It wasn't like they'd grown a few inches bigger in the last couple of seconds.

Running a frustrated hand over your face, you sighed, shoulders slumping, frown deepening as your heart ached.

You would think you'd grown a thick skin when it came to things about your breast size. After all, it felt like you'd already heard everything about it in school—from strangers to bullies and even sometimes, friends alike. Mean words in the guise of jokes ranging from, 'where are they?' to calling your chest a chopping board, saying how it's similar to hugging a wall, and so on.

It was ridiculous, truly, people needing to point it out as if you weren't already aware of it yourself, as if you didn't see it every single day, as if you weren't the one they're attached to.

Over time, you'd grown to live with it, reminding yourself that it was more a reflection of their character than it was of yours. Small boobs didn't make you less beautiful. If a person thought otherwise, then you honestly had no time for such shallow minds.

Besides, when someone had something to say about your breast size, insensitive words that would only make you feel insecure about yourself, and even sometimes, have the audacity to compare it to others, then it was more than enough of a reason to chuck them back into the trash. It was a good red-flag-detector if being honest.

Yet now, here you were again.

In your defense, Steve's words simply caught you at the wrong time. You weren't in the greatest mood before you even got here, energy already depleted from work, and a little cloud of sadness had already hung over you since this morning.

Then again, this was Steve.

His opinion mattered so much more to you than some bullies in school who had nothing good going on in their lives.

Granted, Steve had seen you fully naked before, but only once. And that was when you lost your virginity to him. Still, he never showed signs of not liking them, nor had he ever said anything mean about them, not even in a remotely joking way. If your memory serves you right, his eyes practically lit up when he saw them for the first time.

But also, Steve was a good guy. Maybe he did have a preference, he simply didn't outwardly say it to avoid making the wrong impression. Maybe, as bad as it sounds, he was simply settling for what he could get. But you were a people-pleaser—only with people who you cared most about, but still—you didn't want Steve to settle for less of what he preferred. You wanted to give him more of what he deserved.

So what then if you weren't able to give that to him? What then if what you have to offer would start not being enough?

Or perhaps Steve meant absolutely nothing of it, that he truly didn't care about the size of your boobs. He might've grown up to be quite a shallow person—rich parents, campus heartthrob, star athlete, the King of all jocks, what'd you expect?—but that part of him was long gone now. The Steve you're with now was compassionate, selfless, kind, sweet, had the biggest heart, the most caring boyfriend you could ever ask for, a new and improved great man.

But that didn't stop your brain from thinking the worst.

After all, it was easier to latch onto the negative voices in our heads, no matter if it was true or not.

The next thing you knew, you'd already dug yourself into a hole, filling it up with your insecurities until you were drowning.

It got to a point where you'd been changing the way you were acting around Steve.

You did your best to be subtle, small changes to not make a big deal out of it, to avoid what could be quite an embarrassing conversation if it all comes out into the open.

Not that Steve would ever make you feel bad about your insecurities. He'd been the best at making you feel comfortable and safe about it so far. And there's been quite a considerable amount you'd shared with him. It was mostly involving stuff in the bedroom due to the difference between your skill levels, but still.

It was more, your own fear of being proven right. You were scared to find out that he, in fact, had a preference, and they were far from what you have.

And as the days went by, it was working—well, you thought it was. You simply forgot to put into account one thing:

Your boyfriend was the most attentive person in the world, and then some.

•••

Steve noticed how you'd been acting weird lately.

The first odd thing he encountered was a change in your hugs.

They weren't as tight nor did they last as long anymore. You probably thought he couldn't tell but this was your hugs we were talking about. Of course he could tell. It was as if you were keeping him an inch away now, so little to others but too goddamn far in Steve's opinion.

The second thing was your cuddles, which were mostly the same when it came to your hugs, an inch or two too far.

But whenever he would try to lay on top of you—which you disclosed you always loved, him being your very own warm, weighted blanket—you would always shift away, gently pushing him onto his back so you would be the one who'd lay on his chest. But even then, not quite. Because now, you only went as far as resting your head on his shoulder, arm loosely draped over his stomach with a literal space between you. If Steve could insert a piece of paper between you, then you were too goddamn far.

Something was wrong and it was making Steve worry.

The most he noticed the change, though, was when you two would have sex.

Of course, Steve had been making sure that you were going at your own pace. He had been the one who insisted on taking things slow because you were more inexperienced compared to him. There was no way in hell he'd make you feel pressured, would not even risk nudging you close to your boundaries.

He cared about you too much.

But it wasn't that.

You still had that eagerness in you, the same one that's always been present even before you finally did the deed, the same one that got dialed up after you got your taste. Steve could confidently say that you were just as needy, if not, needier for him than ever before.

The way you'd give him that look every chance you got, your fingers skating across his thigh whenever you'd go for a drive, the way you'd nose his jaw, kiss the back of his ear, your little tells he'd grown to memorize—it was more than enough proof you still wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

It was when his hands would so much as graze the hem of your shirt that he'd notice something. It would be a split second where you'd flinch, and then the second after that, you'd take his hands and interlace your fingers together.

At first, he thought you simply wanted to hold his hand during it, a gesture so intimate, so adorable, so sweet, something that was just so you. It made Steve's heart grow softer, his dick swelling a little bit harder.

But then it kept happening, again, and again, and again and only when his hands would come anywhere near the area around your chest.

Maybe you'd grown not to like being touched there anymore, which was perfectly and utterly fine with him.

Your comfort and safety were always a top priority before his own pleasure.

But his gut was telling him something was up, and so far, it never once had wronged him.

Other than that, and God he really didn't want to sound like such a guy, more or less, a whiny baby but—

Steve missed your boobs.

Sure, he'd only seen them once—and by 'seen them' he meant, in all their bare and gorgeous glory—but once was more than enough to have him already obsessed.

Besides, Steve liked to think he had a photographic memory—well, when it came to you, anyway.

But recently, you'd been adamant about keeping your shirt on whenever you two got on with it.

Okay, there were other factors as to why that could be.

His parents were home for the week, and Steve had been avoiding the place like the plague. Waking up early to coming home late to avoid crossing paths with either of them. He could sneak you in, but Steve would rather not deal with the scrutiny of his asshole father and risk having you get caught in the crossfire. Besides, your schedule at the bakery and his hours at Family Video did not coincide. It would end with Steve leaving you in his room early in the morning and he would never let you face his parents alone.

Your own house was a no-go with how nosily toxic your mother was when it came to your privacy. A closed door warranted entering without as much as a knock, what more, a locked one? With what you'd told Steve about her so far, he wouldn't be surprised if she kept a spare key to your room in her pocket at all times.

It was why you'd been taking extra shifts to save enough money so you could finally move out of the place. And secretly, Steve had been doing the same in the hopes that you two could move in together—if you wanted to, of course.

Premature? Probably. After all, you'd only been together for half a year. But Steve would do anything to make you happy and keep you safe. And if that meant helping you out of that house quicker? Then moving too fast be damned. Hell, if it was up to him, he'd already be paying half the rent of an apartment even if he was giving you the whole place to yourself.

Head over heels? Abso-fucking-lutely.

Besides, if you know, you know.

But the point was—and Steve's a bit embarrassed to admit this purely because you deserved so much better—you mostly had only done quickies in the backseat of his car. So there hadn't been enough time for the both of you to get fully naked.

Steve hadn't had the chance again to take all the time and properly shower you with affection, praise, and—he had yet to say this out loud but it always burned in his heart every time he looked at you—the love that you rightfully deserved.

But still, there was a nagging voice in the back of his head saying that something was stopping you from baring yourself to him again.

Obviously, not seeing your boobs for a while wasn't the end of the world—it was in Steve's, to be completely honest—but it was worrying him that he might've done something that made you feel uncomfortable and he didn't catch it during the moment. Even worse if he'd let it simmer for days without doing anything to reassure it.

But Steve was sure he hadn't done anything out of the ordinary, hadn't changed anything at all, much less tried something you two hadn't done before. You didn't have any trouble letting him know about things you didn't like, either. Even then, you were such an open book, expressive. Whatever you were feeling, Steve could usually tell right away with one look at your face—a purse of your lips, a scrunch of your nose, a crinkle between your brows, a twinkle in your eyes.

He was also confident enough in the fact that you were comfortable around him already. He'd not been short at reassuring you that you could tell him anything.

So maybe it wasn't a big deal.

Until it happened again.

•••

It's been absolute bliss.

The house was left to Steve once again, and obviously, he'd taken advantage of the empty space right away.

It's even more bliss that this wonderful Sunday was both your days off.

You slept over last night, and Steve had woken up to the sight of your beautiful face in the morning. It was made even better when you two got to sleep in, staying in bed for longer with no rush getting up. You made out for what felt like hours, lips numb but hearts warmer. The only reason you stopped was because you got hungry to the point where Steve managed to hear your stomach grumbling.

It was almost domestic bliss when the two of you tried to cook brunch together. Huge emphasis on tried. Because when Steve ended up eating something on the kitchen counter that wasn't particularly food—it was the best dessert, though—you two decided to order pizza instead.

Now, you'd both agreed on a lazy afternoon, huddled up in Steve's bed, warm blankets, warmer bodies, planning on burning through whatever VHS tape he had at your disposal.

The movie was barely even out of its sleeve and it was already long forgotten.

Because it was absolutely fucking bliss having you sat prettily on his lap, whining and moaning as you rubbed your barely clothed cunt over his hard cock that was hidden underneath his boxers.

"Fuck, that's it," he groaned, throwing his head back against the headboard when you started to add a little bounce to your movement.

Steve was letting you have your fun, to see what it was like being on top since it was one of the many things you hadn't done before.

Most people call it teaching, Some call it training, others call it corrupting.

You called it practice.

Steve liked that better.

And as always, it was at your own pace, slow and careful, sometimes nervous, but definitely absolute fucking torture.

It was like you were teasing him, bringing him oh so close only for your hips to stutter and unfortunately, stop for a few seconds, wiggle on your seat with a whine for a couple more, before starting up again.

You were honestly edging him to the brink of insanity.

The catch? You weren't doing it on purpose.

You were practicing, after all, testing out the angles, which direction to circle your hips, if grinding or bouncing was better, and how hard it was you needed to press yourself on him. You were trying to work out what feels good for you and—like the angel that you are—what feels good for him too.

But fuck, and not to toot his own horn, but Steve genuinely admired his patience. Because the number of times he had to stop himself from flipping you over and fucking you into next week was far too many to even count.

Steve didn't know how long you'd been humping him, using him for your own (and his) pleasure like he was your personal toy. But judging by how fucking wet you were, so much to the point that you'd already soaked through your panties and his boxers—it was long enough.

He grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you away from where you'd been hiding your face on his shoulder and bringing you in for a bruising kiss.

Licking into your mouth, he started rutting his hips up to meet yours, his grip on your ass tightening when he felt the vibrations of your moan against his lips. One particularly hard thrust had you pulling away with a gasp.

He didn't let you get too far as his firm hand gripped your jaw. Tilting your head to the side, his mouth was quick to attach to your warm skin, kissing, nibbling, sucking, trailing further down, in need to taste more.

Steve groaned in frustration when his lips met the collar of the oversized shirt you wore.

"Need this off, baby," he whispered, fingers carefully tugging at the hem.

And just like before, you froze.

He didn't even need to ask where your hands were going when you removed them from his shoulders. Because in the next second, your fingers were already intertwined with his.

"Can I keep it on?" you asked, tone shy, smile soft, but your eyes—there were hints of worry in them, maybe even fear.

Steve sighed, bringing your hands up to his lips, kissing each knuckle to the insides of your wrists. He placed each of your palms flat against his cheeks as his fingers curled around your hips. He looked at you knowingly, his smile all the more reassuring as his thumb rubbed comforting circles over your clothed waist.

"Wanna tell me what's up?"

The way you averted your eyes was enough to confirm that something was definitely going on.

"What do you mean?"

"Baby, I know we've only had sex a handful of times," he said, tilting his head. "But that doesn't mean I don't notice that something's changed."

You frowned at that, hands falling to rest on your lap before you started picking at your nails. Steve was quick to cover them with his own, stopping your nervous fiddling with a reassuring squeeze.

"It's just—" You scrunched up your face, shaking your head before you hung it low, grumbling, "It's nothing."

Steve frowned. "Doesn't seem like it's nothing."

"It's stupid," you breathed out.

"Hey, it's definitely not if it's bothering you," he reassured, dipping his head to try and catch your gaze. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

There was a moment of silence, but Steve could see that you were thinking about it. So he waited, hands squeezing yours from time to time, making you aware that he was here, and you could talk to him, but also, there was no rush.

"I—" A deep breath, before you continued, "I overheard you and Robin talking about a week and a half ago about, uhm..." you paused, eyes everywhere else but on him. "Boobies."

Steve blushed.

"God, did I really sound like such a pig?" he asked with an embarrassed smile. Though, if you were acting this way because of what you heard, then maybe he did sound like such a pig and it made you feel uncomfortable enough to change your habits. "Sweetheart, I swear, it's nothing like that, I was just—"

You shook your head fervently. "No, no, It's not that—well, not really."

Confusion filled him up then.

"Then, what's wrong?"

"You said you love boobs—"

"I mean, yeah." He smiled at you sheepishly, and there was no doubt his cheeks were as red as they were going to get.

"But you love…" your voice dropped to a whisper, "Certain types of boobs."

Steve's brows furrowed. "I don't think I understand."

Okay, he might seem a tad bit slow here. But in his defense, he couldn't find fault in loving boobies. It was normal, right? He was a man, after all. Even then, everyone loves them.

So, what was wrong with it?

As if you read his mind, you spoke up, "There's nothing wrong with liking boobs, obviously. But mine aren't like, you know," you sighed, waving your hands. "They don't look like the ones in the movies or-or, magazines and stuff."

"Yeah...they don't," Steve slowly agreed. It was something he already knew, obviously. He'd seen your boobs and he'd also seen the ones on screen. There was a difference. But still, what was wrong with that? "I still don't see what the problem is here, sweetheart."

"Mine's—" you groaned, eyes screwed shut, your frustration obvious. Then, your whole body deflated, voice defeated as you gestured at your chest,

"There's not much there."

It took Steve a moment.

Mainly because he thought, in pure honesty, your boobs were perfect.

It took him a moment to grasp the fact that they were perfect only to him, and that you didn't share the same thought. You didn't view them as such.

It also took him a moment trying to remember what his exact words were, mind a bit fuzzy about the things he'd said that you might've taken the wrong way.

Then it hit him.

"Especially when they're big, round, voluptuous breasts o—"

Oh.

"You think I won't like your boobs because they're on…the smaller side?"

You nodded, pouting as you let out a shaky breath, body slumping as you pressed your face into the crook of his neck.

"Hey, nuh uh, look at me," he said softly, gently pulling you away from your hiding spot. He held your face in his hands, heart aching when he saw your glossed-up eyes, tears threatening to spill as you bit your bottom lip to stop them from trembling. Steve asked worriedly, "Did I make you feel that way?"

He silently cursed Robin for interrupting him that day. Because if she hadn't, then Steve would've been able to list other traits of boobs he liked which would've been the opposite of what he had said. He would've been able to continue the or part.

But most importantly, he would've been able to rave about how yours were his favorite of them all.

"N-No, uhm, not really. But when I heard you say what you said I just thought, you know, you'd like them better if they looked like…uhm, the way you described or similar to the movies or just—" you paused, taking a deep, shaky breath before finally saying, "Typically, guys just like it when they're…bigger."

Steve frowned.

That couldn't have been farther from the truth—to him, at least.

You misunderstood what he had said. Then again, he hadn't been great at wording it, either, nor did he get to say his whole piece.

Because Steve did love boobies, but not bigger boobies, not smaller boobies, just...boobies. He honestly couldn't care less what shape or size they were, as long as he gets to see boobies, then he's a happy guy.

The happiest when it's yours, though.

"First off, and I don't want to sound cliché here, but I'm not like your typical guy," he said, his smile teasing yet soft as he took your hands in his. "Second, when I said, I love boobies, I meant, all boobies, doesn't matter to me what size they are. Robin just didn't let me finish my sentence. If she had, I would've ranted about how much I fucking love your boobies and I would've gotten smacked with a magazine more."

You cracked a smile, though Steve felt his heart pang when it was gone only a second later.

It was obvious you didn't believe him.

"I mean it," he added. "I'm not just saying this just because."

"No, I know, it's just," you sighed, frown deep, eyes trained on your intertwined hands. "You said it yourself, Steve, how most people like what they see on screen, you included. And mine are just—they look nothing like them."

"Okay, yeah, the ones they show in the movies or on TV or magazines, a lot of them look bigger and rounder, whatever. That doesn't automatically mean they're better or prettier, definitely not compared to yours. Boobies are boobies, they all come in different shapes and sizes and they're all pretty. Any guy should feel lucky to even just get the chance to just see them," he sincerely said, hands cupping your face, thumb caressing your cheeks to urge you to look at him. He smiled brightly when you did. "And yours? Yours just happen to be the prettiest in my eyes."

Your bottom lip went, voice soft and a little shaky, "You're just saying that."

Steve shook his head, kissing your pout away before giving you a genuine smile. "I honestly think you have no idea how obsessed I am with your boobs."

"You're not," you insisted, head dipping to try and hide again. But Steve gently kept you in place, the tip of his nose brushing against yours.

"Oh, but I am, you want to know why?" It was rhetoric, you knew it was. But still, you nodded shyly, and Steve immediately delivered, "One, because they're genuinely so pretty to me. And two, they're yours. They're attached to the person who I'm honestly so head over heels for. You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, and that doesn't change when it comes to your boobs."

You looked at him for a moment, a small smile tugging at your lips as you sniffled, and then, a soft giggle, "That's weirdly romantic."

"Look who you're talking to, babe, weirdly romantic is my thing," he scoffed, teasingly rolling his eyes, his heart melting when you giggled again, much louder this time. But still, he could see that the apprehension didn't leave your eyes. "I wished you believed me though."

You sighed, your smile turning small, apologetic.

"Hey, it's okay. We all have insecurities, and they don't just go away overnight," he quickly reassured you before you could even think to say sorry. "But, for what it's worth, I'm going to keep telling you how pretty they are until it sticks."

You nodded, leaning closer to kiss him warmly, sweetly, before whispering against his lips, "It's worth a lot."

Steve hummed, thumb caressing your jaw as he tilted his head, kissing you a little deeper.

"I'm sorry I made you think that way, sweetheart," he said once he pulled away.

"It's okay," you hummed, brushing your lips against his with a small, reassuring smile. "You didn't mean to."

"How about I show you how much I'm obsessed with them?" he suggested, kissing the tip of your nose, once more on your forehead, and lastly, adoringly, on your lips, hands rubbing your arms affectionately. "If you'll let me."

Steve would've happily obliged if you had refused. And he thought you were just about to when you leaned back, putting some space between you both.

But then, you started playing with the hem of your shirt, pulling it up an inch or two before stopping.

"Baby, there's no pressure," he said, squeezing your thighs. "You can keep it on, I won't mind."

But you shook your head, silently saying it wasn't that. And then, you asked,

"Can you close your eyes first, please?"

Steve did so without question.

He felt you shift slightly on his lap, his thumbs caressing soft circles on your bare thighs. There was a pause, then a nervous breath. Steve ran his palms up and down your skin to reassure you. A second later, he heard the rustling of your shirt, shortly after, the sound of the fabric landing on the floor.

His grip tightened.

Still, he kept his eyes shut, waiting with bated breath.

Steve heard you sigh, and then ever so gently, you took his hands, warm palms close together, his thumbs instinctively drawing circles on your skin. Squeezing, you said,

"You can open your eyes now."

With a deep breath, he did, following your instruction carefully as he kept his gaze on your face.

You said he could open his eyes, you didn't say he could look yet.

Besides, the nerves were evident on your features—teeth gnawing at your bottom lip, eyes on his only fleetingly before looking away—that he didn't want to push you too far, too fast.

Steve was going to do his absolute best to make you feel as safe and comfortable as possible in his presence. And small, careful steps were usually the best way to go about it.

"Whenever you're ready," he whispered, squeezing your hand.

Only when you gave him a small nod of consent did he look down and—

Steve involuntarily moaned at the sight of them, his cock twitching in his boxers, a fresh bead of precum pooling at the tip.

Fuck.

Even he didn't know that he missed them this badly.

"Kinda hate you for denying me of this pretty sight for too fucking long now," he grumbled, no heat in his tone, even when he shot you a teasing glare. His heart quickened as he let his eyes drink up more of the absolute beauty that sat before him. "I mean, look at them."

"Sorry," you murmured, smiling shyly, body slowly relaxing under his gaze. Your fingers loosened around his before you took his hands and placed them on your bare waist, skin to skin. And fuck, you were so warm to the touch it was making his chest burn.

Steve smiled affectionately when you wrapped your nimble fingers around his wrists, slowly pushing his hands up and up, stopping just on your ribs. With a smile, you let him go, as if you were handing him all your trust from now on.

The thought made his heart skip.

"S'okay, baby," he breathed out, thumbs skimming just underneath the swell of your breasts, so close, but not touching. Not yet. "You're letting me see now. That's more than making it up for it."

"Do you really like them?" you asked timidly, a little worried.

"Like them?" Steve scoffed, slightly offended. "I'm fucking in love with them."

You grew even shier at that but didn't do anything to cover up. If anything, he saw your shoulders fully relax, back arching towards him slightly, a little more confident.

Steve took that as a good sign.

"Can I touch?"

"Yeah," you sighed, biting at your bottom lip, nodding, whispering out a soft, "Want you to feel them."

Fuck.

You were going to be the death of him.

Which would probably happen any second now judging by how much you were already killing him when you've done absolutely nothing.

So Steve didn't waste any more time.

He lightly ran his fingers over them, carefully at first. He couldn't help but revel in the way you shivered, adding a little pressure when you started leaning closer to him, needing more.

"Beautiful," he gushed, running his thumb over your nipples, groaning when they started to harden under his touch. "Gorgeous." He covered them with his palms, his breath hitching when they felt perfect in his hold just like he remembered they would, his fingers squeezing, kneading them delicately. "So fucking pretty."

"Steve," you sighed, your eyes fluttering shut, head lolling to the side. You absentmindedly arched your back, pressing onto him more, your hands on his shoulders to help steady yourself.

"Can't believe you dared to talk badly about my babies."

You snorted, eyebrow raised when you looked at him again. "Your babies?"

"Yeah, well, since you don't like them and aren't showing them the love they deserve, I'm going to do it myself. So, they're mine now," he teased, leaning forward. But before he could let his lips touch your skin, he stopped. "Wait, hold on."

He reached over his bedside table, rummaging around his drawer until his fingers felt the familiar, thin, metal frames. He put them on, quickly turning back to you.

"Okay, how the fuck," Steve gasped, hands going back to where they were before, where he was sure they belonged, holding your beautiful boobs. He looked up to meet your confused gaze, his mouth open, eyes widening a tad bit more for extra dramatics as he gushed, "They got even prettier!"

You threw your head back, laughing that lovely laugh of yours, and his heart might as well have jumped out of his chest and landed on the palm of your hand.

Steve was sure it did.

"You're too much," you said, giggling, pushing back the hairs that landed on his forehead before adjusting his glasses back on the bridge of his nose.

"You're too much," he grumbled, slowly leaning closer. "Can't fucking handle how gorgeous you are."

You shook your head, laughing when he all but smushed his face on your chest.

"God I missed you," he whispered against your boob, earning another giggle from you, the sound replaced with a gasp when he started mouthing around it, suckling gently on the warm flesh. His kisses moved across the valley to show the other one affection as well. "And you, obviously."

"Think they missed you too," you hummed, breath hitching when he swirled his tongue over your nipple, fingers playing with your other boob. He made sure to be overly generous with his kisses, light and affectionate to fervently hungry, leaving marks on his wake, groaning in response to your sweet moan.

"And of course—" He pulled away after a moment, cupping the back of your neck, smiling brightly as he met your eyes. "I missed you."

You shook your head, leaning forward to kiss him, only to stop when you nudged his glasses, making them sit wonkily on his face. He groaned, taking them off and placing them back on his bedside table.

"But I like them on you," you complained, pouting.

"I don't know if that's a new kink I've unlocked," he teased, bringing you back into him, grinning once his lips touched yours. "But I'd rather not poke your eye out."

You giggled against the kiss, shaking your head, "You said you missed me?"

"So fucking bad," he sighed, licking into your mouth only for you to pull away slightly.

"But we've been together the whole day," you hummed, eyes twinkling, your breath fanning over his lips.

"And?" he grumbled, holding your face still with his fingers, gently pressing your cheeks together until your lips were forming a small O. "Now will you please let me fucking kiss you properly?"

You nodded, eyes crinkling as you laughed.

Steve lurched forward, tongue immediately slipping into your mouth, chuckling when you squeaked.

It didn't take long for your lips to fall into a rhythm, his tongue dancing with yours, coaxing sighs and pretty little whines. His fingers wandered up your waist until he was cupping a boob in each hand. You sighed into the kiss, moaning when he started circling your nipples with his thumbs. You pulled away with a gasp when he pinched them lightly.

Steve kissed your jaw then, trailing down your neck, nipping at the spots that had you whimpering against him. His hands continued their ministrations, featherlight, teasing touches to one with a firmer grip, a different one for each boob as his lips reached your collarbone.

Looking at you through his lashes, he took your tit in his mouth, covering as much as he could. Then, he started sucking.

Your hand flew onto the back of his head, mewling loudly as you tangled your fingers into his hair. His eyes fluttered close, groaning when you pulled at his strands, getting a moan in response when you felt the vibrations of his sounds. One hand on your ass, the free one groped your other boob, rolling your nipple between his fingers, making sure it was getting the love it deserved, too.

Your hips bucked against his when he started swirling his tongue around your nipple, flicking the hard nub before pulling away with a pop. Steve teasingly blew cold air on your wet skin, chuckling when you shivered before he switched sides.

His free hand found your hip, encouraging you to move, growling into your skin when you started grinding on him at a steady pace.

It was overwhelming.

The sensation of having your clothed cunt rubbing over his hard cock paired with the feeling of your warm tit in his mouth, it was quickly rushing to his head.

Carefully, gently, he rolled your nipple between his lips, lightly tugging it with his teeth.

Your body lurched forward with a squeak, stuttering his name out when he soothed it with his tongue. Arms tightly wounding around his shoulders, you rested your chin on top of his head, unknowingly smothering him closer to your chest.

And Steve was in fucking heaven.

He didn't know how long he was making out with your tits, fingers playing with the other that wasn't in his mouth.

But fuck, he didn't want to stop.

Not when you were making the prettiest sounds for him, your whole chest vibrating with each loud moan, each whimper and whine, spluttering his name over and over, the only broken record he'd beg to listen to.

Not when you'd press harder against his cock, nails digging into his shoulders in a deliciously painful way, fingers tugging at his hair, writhing on his lap as he mouthed and groped and sucked, licking and pinching—switch and repeat.

He was humming in satisfaction like he was licking up ice cream on a hot summer's day. He was muttering against your skin like he was praying in a church, whispering all the sweet praises of how beautiful they were. Or you could say he was confessing all his sins as he groaned absolute obscenities of the things he wanted to do to them—like using them as a canvas for something that wasn't paint.

Steve didn't know how long he spent pressed against your chest. But honestly, he didn't fucking care.

And he would've gone on for even longer if you hadn't gently tapped his cheek, three times, signaling him to stop.

He let go with a soft pop, a string of his spit connecting your nipple and his lips, your skin glistening from the wetness.

Steve's dick twitched at the sight.

Blinking away the haze, he looked at you with dark eyes, his chest heaving, voice hoarse, "What's wrong?"

You didn't say anything. Instead, you took his hand and guided it between your legs.

Steve chuckled darkly, gently tugging his wrist off your hold, placing his palm flat on your thigh, squeezing in warning, "Sweetheart, we've talked about this."

"Hurts," you whined, forehead landing on his shoulder as your hips jerked forward.

"Aww no, your pussy hurts?" he cooed, cupping your face and urging you to look at him. And as he expected, your pout was already in full play when he met your wide, doe eyes. He mocked the gesture, jutting his lip out. "It's not getting enough attention?"

"No," you breathed out, shaking your head, blinking at him innocently.

"Then ask."

Your shoulders slumped slightly, pout turning more prominent. But then, you leaned closer, brushing the tip of your nose with his adorably, your eyes darkening as you so sweetly asked,

"Need your fingers please, Stevie."

How could he say no to that?

"See, that wasn't so hard," he hummed appreciatively, one hand on your cheek, tilting your head for a kiss as the other moved to cup your heat.

Steve moaned.

Because holy fucking shit you were throbbing. He could actually feel your clit pulsating against his palm.

"You enjoyed that so much, huh?" he hummed against your lips, swallowing your lewd moan as he pressed his thumb on your swollen bud. "Like it when I suck on your tits, don't you, baby?"

You nodded in haste, eyes shut tight, panting against his lips as you moved against his finger yourself. You were unconsciously doing the work as he kept his hand still, too impatient to realize, so desperately needy to care.

It was adorable.

"Oh yeah you do," Steve chuckled, moving to flatten his palm against your heat, squeezing. Your hips stuttered to a stop with a choked moan. He pushed your soaked underwear to the side, teasing his finger into your hole only to throw his head back with a groan, "Jesus Christ, you're fucking dripping."

"S-Steve," you mewled, looking like you were so close to tears if he didn't do anything soon.

He was almost tempted to.

"I know, pretty girl, I know," he hummed, turning his head to kiss your temple before inserting two fingers into your weeping hole, sliding in so easily. "Shit, there you go."

He couldn't stop his chuckle when you didn't even wait for him to move his hand. Despite it being slightly unsure—this was your first time taking his fingers this way, after all—the neediness was evident as you rocked your hips against his digits.

"So desperate," he hummed, free hands cupping your tit, rolling his palm over your nipple which had you keening against him. "I mean, look at you, so needy, so pretty fucking yourself on my fingers."

"Steve," you moaned, eyes screwed shut as your forehead landed on his. "O-One more."

He felt his head spin.

You'd only ever done two before.

"Yeah?" He curled his fingers, grinning when he earned a whine. "Sure you can take it?"

"Y-Yeah," you whimpered, nodding repeatedly. "I can take it, p-please, Stevie, n-need more, please."

He could never say no when you beg him like that.

"Okay, okay, now stay still."

Steve gave you what you wanted, your grip on his shoulders vice-like, moans short and breathy as he slowly eased another finger into you. He grabbed your ass with his free hand, squeezing, urging you to move.

You managed to grind on it once, twice, five times. But when Steve curled his fingers, you clenched around it hard, your hips suddenly stuttering, legs twitching, head thrown back as loud, broken moans spilled out of your lips.

Steve's eyes widened in surprise as he watched you fall apart before him, a wave of arousal gushing out of you, coating his fingers and dripping onto his palm.

You came out of nowhere and it caught you both off guard.

"Shit—fuck," you choked out a sob, forehead on his, eyes teary. "S-Steve, Steve."

"It's okay, you're okay, just ride it out," he cooed, aiding you through your orgasm with gentle strokes, whispering over and over, "That's it, I got you, did so, so good."

He stopped when you shook your head, thighs tightening around his hand, whimpering when he slowly pulled his fingers out. He brought them into his mouth, sucking them clean with a content hum, your half-lidded, curious eyes blinking at him.

"Maybe what you eat does affect it," he hummed, smacking his lips. "Tastes like watermelon."

He chuckled when you whined, hiding your face against the crook of his neck as your arms snaked around his shoulders.

He turned his head slightly, rubbing his cheek on your temple as he murmured, "You good, sweetheart?"

"Didn't mean to," you whispered, your frown evident as you hugged him tighter.

"I know," he said, chuckling softly, hand rubbing gentle circles on your back. "It's okay. It happens, especially when it's just so good."

You nodded in agreement, giggling. You emerged out of your hiding spot, giving him chaste kisses on the lips as your hand traveled down. "Your turn?"

"Babe, wait—fuck," he groaned, hips involuntarily jutting up into your palm. He hastily pulled your hand away, shaking his head. He was going to bust too soon if you keep going. "I need to be inside you or I'm going to fucking lose it."

You nodded eagerly.

His grip on your waist tightened when you started lifting yourself off of him. He shook his head, smiling at you knowingly.

"Want you to ride me, baby," he hummed, hands gripping your waist, slowly pulling you closer and then pressing you down on his cock. He groaned, "Fuck, want to see all of you properly."

Your eyes widened. "But I don't know how—"

"I'm going to teach you. I always do." He moved closer, brushing his lips against yours with a reassuring smile, hand cupping your cheek, thumb caressing the warm skin affectionately. "And you've been practicing. It's not much different with my fingers."

"But it is because you're going to feel it too," you said, always taking him into account. Such a sweet girl. "What if I'm going to be bad at it?"

"You won't be," he reassured, kissing your jaw before pulling away to get a good look at you. "Because so far? You've been a goddamn natural."

You started nibbling on your bottom lip, so obviously thinking. And when your apprehension didn't lessen, he quickly added with a warm smile, "Hey, no pressure. You don't have to if—"

"No!" you protested a little too loudly. Steve bit his cheek to stop a smirk, his heart melting when your voice started to grow shy again, "I-I want to. It's just—"

You were nervous.

Steve could tell purely because you always got like this whenever you'd try something new. It wasn't so much that you didn't want to do it that was making you nervous, it was the fact that you did want to do it, but you want to do it well.

It was the people pleaser in you, or in this case, boyfriend pleaser. Or maybe it was the perfectionist. Either way, you always ended up being too hard on yourself.

Being inexperienced, you told him you didn't want to disappoint him, that you wanted to be able to please him just as, if not better compared to the ones before you. You wanted to be good enough for him, even though he'd already assured you countless times that nobody else could even come close to how you make him feel.

Nobody could ever hold a candle to you.

Besides, no one turned into an immediate sex god after the first time doing it. Much like everything else, it came with the eagerness to actually learn and enhance your skills or, in your words, practice.

And yes, he was speaking from experience.

With that said, though, he also couldn't stop you if you so badly wanted to be good for him.

To be his good girl.

Steve's dick twitched at the thought.

If only you knew just how much you make him feel so good by doing so little.

Like now.

Squirming on his lap, thighs rubbing together, pouting all cute but your eyes darkened with lust, it was more than enough to make him feel a little dizzy.

It also gave him an idea.

"Want to practice some more by riding my thigh?"

The way your eyes widened yet twinkled, lips parting as you slowly blinked at him, sweet innocence laced with fervent hunger—Steve knew that look all too well.

"Yeah, you want that? Of course, you do. Don't think I haven't noticed the way you look at me when I wear my good old, school gym shorts, baby," he chuckled darkly, hands trailing up your thighs, squeezing the supple flesh before he hooked his fingers on the hem of your underwear. "Off."

You didn't need to be told twice.

The ruined fabric was thrown with the other clothes that littered across his bedroom floor. Spreading his legs slightly, he grabbed your hips, guiding you to straddle one thigh.

Your breath hitched as you sat on the muscle, Steve groaning at the mere feeling of your cunt, so warm and so fucking wet on his skin.

He leaned back against the headboard to get a good view. Taking your hands, he kissed the insides of your wrists before placing your palms flat on his chest, keeping you sitting upright, no more hiding.

And fuck, what a sight.

"So pretty," he gushed, running his hands up and down your forearms. You shook your head, eyelids screwing shut, face scrunched up. He tutted, "Hey, none of that. Let me see you, come on."

You opened your eyes with a pout, whimpering slightly when he flexed his thigh under you.

"You can move, baby," he hummed, nodding encouragingly.

The moan you let out at the first rock of your hips went straight to his dick.

"Fuck," he groaned, his grip around your wrists tightening slightly, absolutely taken by the way you were grinding on his thigh, his skin glistening more and more with each back and forth. "That's it, pretty girl—fuck, love it when you make a mess."

You moaned, hips moving even faster, head thrown back in pleasure.

Steve's eyes fell on your chest, a deep groan vibrating in the back of his throat as he watched your tits move in sync with each snap of your hips.

He shook his head in awe, pushing himself off the headboard to wrap his arms around your torso, his mouth immediately attaching to your boob.

You lost your rhythm, hips faltering for a moment when he started suckling on your tit, fingers rolling the other.

He gripped your waist with one hand, guiding you back and forth, urging you to keep going. And you did, hands on his shoulders for support as you slowly gained back your momentum.

Steve switched sides, flicking his tongue on the hardened nub, wrapping his lips around it, sucking, moaning, and then going back to flicking. One hand groped your chest, and the other found your ass, digging his fingers into the flesh to aid your movements, flexing his thigh to meet your thrust.

You keened, gripping his shoulders so tight, surely leaving your own marks.

"Holy fuck," he groaned, forehead pressing against your chest as his gaze fell onto your cunt, loudly squelching and tightly squeezing on his thigh. "Can feel you fucking clenching, sweetheart."

"S-So good, feel so good, Stevie," you moaned, fingers tangling in his hair, guiding his face back onto your chest. "Please don't stop, want your mouth, please."

Steve growled and didn't even waste a second to do as you asked.

And he was all over you.

Open mouth kisses to ones with tongue and teeth, his lips moving around the whole expanse of your chest, leaving calculated marks, making sure there was no space left untouched.

Both his hands were wandering your body, fingers scratching down your back, palms pawing at your ass, squeezing your thighs, hands running up your stomach to then grope at your breasts, just needing to feel every. single. inch. of your warm skin he could reach.

Steve was everywhere, but nowhere at the same time. He was so close to you, but not close enough.

Because he fucking needed to be inside you.

And the way you were pulsing against his thigh, clenching around nothing, coating his skin with your slick, it only made him even more desperate to feel that fucking cunt around his cock.

But you beat him to it before he could even ask.

"Stevie?" you whimpered, hips stuttering, slowing.

"Hmm?" He lifted his head from your chest, hand finding your jaw, stopping your head from lolling back so you could keep your gaze on him. It took you a moment to blink away the haze clouding your eyes, still gasping, still fucking his thigh. He hummed again, gripping your jaw tighter to get you to focus. "What'd you want?"

"N-Need more," you panted, eyes fluttering close. "Please."

"More what?" he returned, lightly tapping your ass.

Your hand immediately cupped his dick, squeezing, telling him exactly what you wanted.

Steve hissed, shaking his head, spanking you a little harder, making you whine. He warned, "Words, sweetheart, come on."

There was no hesitation this time.

"Want your cock now."

"Jesus fucking Christ," he groaned, nodding before he tapped your thigh, urging you to lift yourself up so he could pull his boxers off, throwing them haphazardly on the floor.

Steve will never get tired of the look on your face every time you see his cock, hard and leaking just for you.

"Come here," he hummed, snapping you out of your trance, offering both his hands to you. He sat you down on his stomach, knees on either side of him. "It's going to feel a little different than when you're lying down. So it's okay if you can't take it all the way right now. We stop if it gets too much."

You shook your head, brows furrowed, eager and determined. "I can take it."

"I'm sure you can, baby," he hummed, not doubting your drive to actually do it. But, he wasn't exactly the easiest size to take, especially not when it's your first time being on top. "But we need to go slow, okay?"

You nodded. He shot you a look.

"Okay."

"Good girl," he praised, pulling you in for a sweet, adoring kiss, a stark contrast to the sharp moan you let out at the pet name. He chuckled, tapping your thigh. "Now up."

You did as told, shuffling on your knees before sitting back, your ass resting on his thighs. You watched him patiently, wide doe-eyes twinkling with your hands on your lap, fiddling with your fingers as you waited for further instructions.

So fucking cute.

You innocently moved as he beckoned closer, signaling you to stop once you were hovering just over his throbbing length.

Then, he offered you his open palm, chuckling when you tilted your head, confused.

"Wet my hand for me?" he asked.

Your eyes widened in realization, nodding as you gently curled your fingers around his wrist.

Steve fully expected you to spit on it, maybe even lick it, just like the times he'd taught you before.

But then, catching him completely off guard. you guided it towards your pussy instead.

Steve moaned as you scooped up your slick for him, his hand now wet and glistening. He hissed as he wrapped it around his girth, moaning and shuddering as he moved fingers, giving himself relief after what felt like hours of being too fucking hard for comfort.

"You're adorable but fuck me you're a little devil too, huh?" he gasped, reveling in the way you were practically drooling as you watched him stroke himself, his hand gliding over his length so easily due to your cum. "It fucking drives me insane."

"Steve," you whined, teeth nibbling at your lip, thighs rubbing together.

He chuckled darkly, one hand finding your hip and urging you closer, holding his cock upright for you with the other.

"All yours, sweetheart."

You both moaned in each other's mouths the second his tip touched your entrance.

Perhaps it was a rookie mistake and you just didn't know any better. Or perhaps you were simply too eager and too drunk from lust that his fair warnings were all fogged up in your head. But all of a sudden, you pushed yourself down, way too fast.

You winced.

"Hey, easy," he reprimanded, gripping your hips to bring you to a stop, pulling you forward to sit you back on his stomach. "What did I just tell you?"

"S-Sorry, I just—want it so bad," you whimpered, absentmindedly dragging your cunt over his happy trail, soaking up the hairs with your slick.

Steve tried not to moan at the sight.

Another time.

"I know you do," he said, cupping your face, brushing his thumb under your eye. Your waterline was starting to fill up, a sign of your frustration Steve knew too well. "And you and I both know you're gonna get it no matter because you're my fucking spoiled girl, aren't you?"

You nodded, sniffling with a pout, "Yeah."

"So don't be greedy. You're gonna hurt yourself if you're impatient," he said firmly, tapping your thigh encouragingly, wrapping his fingers around his cock with a hiss as he held it up for you. "Now, go again, slowly."

You eagerly positioned yourself over his tip once more, hands gripping his shoulders for support. And then, you sunk on him, carefully this time, gentle, so fucking tight.

It was so hard for Steve to keep his eyes open, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he watched your cunt slowly but oh so sweetly wrap around his length.

"That's it, easy, sweetheart, t-that's it," he panted, muscles tensing as he forced his hips to stay planted on the mattress. "Taking me so so well, that's a good girl—fuck!"

You clenched around his tip with a choked moan, and goddammit you already felt like heaven and he wasn't even fully in yet.

"Okay?" Steve breathed out, chest heaving as he drew reassuring circles on your hips.

"More."

He shook his head in disbelief, chuckling, "Then take more, sweetheart."

Steve swore sharply when you did, cunt fluttering as you sunk down on him further, your breathy moans fanning against his face as you rested your forehead against his.

Then you stopped, fingers digging into his shoulders, eyes screwing shut as you whimpered, "Steve, n-need—"

"I got you, baby, I got you," he hummed, licking his thumb before finding the swollen bud between your legs, rubbing gentle circles that had you keening.

A chorus of expletives spilled out of Steve's mouth as you opened up for him more, pretty pussy slowly taking him in inch by delicious inch, dripping so much that he could feel your warm slick coat him down to the base of his cock.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, you're so fucking tight," he moaned, eyes screwing shut, grunting when you clenched around him with a needy whimper.

He forced his eyes open, gaze dropping only to see that you'd taken more than half of his cock already. His grip on your waist tightened when he saw just how much of your cum was practically leaking on him, covering the tops of his curly hairs.

"Holy shit, baby, look how much you're soaking me," he gasped, rubbing your clit faster that made you gush over his dick some more. "Christ, you're so fucking wet."

"A-All for you, Stevie," you mewled, nosing his cheek. You tried to kiss him, only to end up yelping in his mouth when his hips involuntarily jerked at your words, sheathing more of himself into you.

His apology died in his throat, a guttural growl rumbling out of his lips instead when you sunk even further, burying his cock all the way inside until he was fully wrapped by your tight, heavenly walls.

Steve was sure he was seeing stars.

"Good?" he asked after taking a second to catch his breath, trying so hard not to move as he let you adjust. Arms wrapping around your form, he trailed soft kisses on your shoulder, moving to the side of your neck, up your cheek before kissing you. You sighed, lips languidly moving with his. Steve hummed, "How does it feel?"

"Bigger," you breathed against his mouth.

"That so?" he chuckled, hands rubbing up and down your naked back. It wasn't exactly what he was asking, but he didn't mind an ego stroke here and there. "How about you, baby? How are you feeling?"

"So so good," you whispered, shifting slightly but the movement was enough to make you let out a strained moan. "F-Full."

"Oh yeah?" He grinned smugly, playfully nibbling at your bottom lip before he asked, "You like it better like this?"

You shook your head, forehead resting against his as you pouted. "Please don't make me choose."

"I'm not," he chuckled, shifting his legs slightly before they fall asleep. You whined needily from the slight stimulation. He grinned. "Was just asking, sweetheart."

"C-Can't choose."

"Yeah? As long as my cock's inside this pretty pussy, doesn't matter how I give it to you, right?" he drawled, chuckling when your eyes widened, surprised by his words as if he wasn't balls deep inside of you. Then, you nodded shyly, adorably agreeing. He hummed, "Yeah, that's right, such a cockslut for me, my pretty little cockslut."

That made you shakily gasp.

But judging by the way your cunt practically gripped him like a vice, Steve knew you liked it.

"You can move whenever you're ready, sweetheart," he rasped when you started wriggling in your seat.

Like clockwork, your eyes turned big and round, all glossed up as you looked through his, your swollen bottom lip jutted out.

"Why are you pouting? You're the one who wanted my cock," he tutted, shaking his head. squeezing your waist. "So take it."

And take him you fucking did.

Steve practically felt the air leave his lungs when you moved.

"Just like you practiced, back and f-forth, fuck yes," he gasped, head thumping against the headboard as you built up a steady rhythm, panting, whining, moaning on top of him with each gyration of your hips. "Fuck, baby, that's it, so fucking good."

"S-So deep," you choked out, followed by a loud mewl when you experimentally started moving in slow circles.

"Fuck, I know," he groaned, hands on your hips, aiding your movement but not by any means controlling it. This was all about you, after all. "And you're taking it so well, aren't you?"

You nodded fervently.

"And why is that?"

"C-Cause I'm—" you paused with a long moan, eyes screwing you for a moment before they looked deep into his. "I'm your good girl."

"Fuck yeah, you are," Steve growled, hips jerking off the mattress, earning a high-pitched moan from you when he hit that sweet spot.

"Steve, please," you cried needily, begging for him to do it again.

"Why don't you try bouncing on my cock, sweetheart?" he suggested, hands splayed underneath your ass, squeezing.

You paused with a whimper, grabbing his shoulders before you started going up and down.

Steve almost choked on his own spit. "Jesus, just like that—holy fuck, baby."

It wasn't fast, nor was it too hard, actions still laced with hesitancy but my God, getting to watch you be so desperate to hit that spot inside you, moans broken up with each bounce was enough to have his mind reeling.

But before Steve could encourage you to go faster, you accidentally rose too far up, his cock slipping out.

You froze in panic.

What followed was immediate, the embarrassment, frustration and worry coating your entire being as your head dipped, your body slowly deflating. You leaned forward to hide, probably thinking that you'd ruined everything.

Steve knew your signs all too well.

It also helped that this had happened before, that every time you try something new and the littlest mishap would happen, you immediately would think that you'd done something wrong, that you'd disappointed him.

Like Steve had said, you were such a pleaser.

"Hey, hey, hey, it's okay," he rushed, quickly holding your face in his hands before you could have the chance to curl into him. Kissing away the tears that touched your cheek, he cooed, "Ssh, it's okay, you're okay, it happens."

"Sorr—"

"Don't, sweetheart," he cut you off, smiling, kissing the tip of your nose, your cheeks, a few more on your lips before he looked at you properly. "It's totally normal for it to slip out, especially when it's your first time—hell, even sometimes when you'd done it before. It happens."

"Really?" you sniffled, doe-eyes looking at him expectantly, pout in full play.

Fuck.

He honestly didn't know that someone being adorable was enough to actually make his dick twitch.

Only you, he was sure of it.

"Really, really. You'll get the hang of it, don't worry," he reassured, kissing your frown away. Lightly tapping your ass, he teasingly added, "You should get back on your seat, babe, it's gonna get cold."

That managed to coax a giggle out of you, and Steve couldn't stop his proud smile. One that was quick to be wiped off by a sharp hiss when you wrapped your fingers around his length, guiding him back into your warm folds.

And it didn't take long for you to get the hang of it at all.

Because for the few months you'd been together, Steve was assured about one thing:

You were one hell of a fast learner.

"That's it, fuck yourself on my cock," he grunted, hands digging into your hips as you gradually bounced faster. "Fuck that pretty, wet cunt on my cock, baby—shit!"

Steve's eyes rolled back with a deep moan, when gripped him like a vice.

And Christ, the feeling of your ass slapping against his thighs, your cunt sinking and pulling at his cock as you bounced—

It was fucking heavenly.

He blinked away the haze, just so he could have a good look at you, and fuck yes what a gorgeous view.

Your skin was glistening with sweat, so hot to the touch but God, he couldn't get enough of the burn as he let his hands fondle every flesh he could reach. You look ethereal, and he swore on his life you were glowing.

Your brows were pinched together, eyes screwed shut as your bitten lips formed an O, shape pleasingly familiar, blessing him the prettiest sounds, moans filthy and needy yet so fucking lovely. And your tits, fuck, the way they moved with each snap of your hips was mesmerizing, his eyes unable to stop drinking up the enchanting poison, his mouth open with a little bit of drool.

Steve was in awe, dumbstruck, lovesick.

You looked like his fucking wet dream personified.

Better yet, you looked like the most sinful angel that's ever blessed this earth, let alone his world.

"You're so fucking gorgeous bouncing on my cock like t-this," he panted out, a low groan bubbling in his throat when he felt your walls squeeze him. "Looking like a goddamn angel I swear."

It was utter euphoria.

The pungent smell of sex in the air, the sound of your coupling echoing around his room, skin slapping against skin, the quiet creak of his bed with each fervent thrust, the lewdness of your squelching pussy around his cock.

All of it was married deliciously with the moans you were breathing down his neck, needy uh uh uh's, working in tandem with each whiny Steve, Steve, Steve.

He was letting out his own grunts and curses in response, throwing in sweet praises, mixing them with his filthy words that he knew made you squirm.

He gushed about how he fucking enjoyed opening you up with his huge cock, molding your tight cunt to fit him perfectly so that it would only ever feel full with his dick and his dick only.

That threw you off your rhythm.

"N-No," you sobbed, annoyed, your movements slowing as your legs quivered slightly.

Steve already knew what you wanted the second he felt your pout against his skin. Yet still, he asked, "What's the matter?"

"My legs are tired," you whispered shyly, sniffling.

"Aww no, your legs are tired?" he cooed, gripping your jaw to get you to look at him, copying your pout condescendingly. "Want me to take control?"

You nodded fervently, whining as you shifted. "Please."

Steve lifted his hips with no warning, your body lurching forward with a yelp as he planted his feet flat on the bed. Both your hands flew to grip the headboard behind him, caging his head between your biceps.

You moaned when he coaxed you to lean forward even more, his tip brushing against that sweet spot inside you.

He buried his face into your chest then, wrapping his arms securely around your waist to firmly hold you in place before he started to fuck into you upwards.

Moments like this were mere reminders of your boyfriend's strength, years of being a star athlete definitely paying off.

Because Steve was relentless.

Each thrust of his hips was hard and fast and so fucking deep it was almost as if his goal was to bruise your lungs front the inside. Your moans didn't even have the chance to finish spilling out of your mouth when you were immediately choking them back in, each stroke somewhat stretching you a little bit more.

And you? Oh, you were floating.

Your mind was fuzzy, no other thought except Steve and the front of his thick thighs slapping against your ass.

It was filthy yet exhilarating, the sticky feeling of your skin against his, a culmination of sweat and your mess from when you rode the muscle earlier. It was made obvious since one thigh was definitely much wetter than the other.

Your brain was starting to get muddled, head fucked empty except for Steve and his huge cock driving up into your cunt.

It was mind-numbing, how much you could feel every inch and every thick vein dragging up and down your walls, mushroom tip nudging that spongy spot that had your eyes rolling with a drawn-out moan.

If he thought you were an angel, then you thought Steve Harrington was a god.

Because it was the only explanation as to how he was able to keep up his pace, how his fervent thrusts never faltered, how each draw of his cock was a perfect stroke to your velvety canvas, all while his hands and mouth were busy at the same time.

He'd never given your boobs this much attention before, tongue laving at your hot skin before his lips curled around a nipple, making sure the other didn't feel neglected as he toyed it with his fingers.

But then again, you never truly gave him the chance to.

Your insecurities weren't going to be magically gone in a span of, well, however long you two had been going at it. But they surely were nonexistent in your head at the moment m—nothing existed in your head right now.

Only Steve who'd been insatiably sucking on your tits with all his heart's desire, groaning against your hot and wet skin as if it was the best treat he'd ever had in a while. His large, rough hands were gripping at every crevice of your body he could reach, wandering and needy and praising and hungry, no skin left untouched. Then combining everything with the way his massive cock was pounding up into you, reaching the spots inside of you only he could reach, opening you up, stretching you, so filthy, so delicious—

Steve Harrington was fucking you into your next life.

So you couldn't blame yourself for thinking he was god-like when it came to his skills in the bedroom. He'd proven it to you over and over again and somehow, outdoing himself every single time.

Although, the second he'd open his mouth?

Oh, you were speaking to the Devil himself.

"Such a tight fucking pussy," he grunted, his warm breath feathering across your wet tits, the contrast in temperature making you clench. "Shit–fuck baby, it's like she wants to marry my cock. She won't fucking let go."

You mewled, nails dragging down the thick, straggles of hair on his chest.

"Yeah?" he rasped, nodding as if he was agreeing to something you said when you didn't even say a single word. It was mean and patronizing, but oh does it make your head spin. "Your cunt does want to marry my cock, doesn't she, baby?"

"S-Steve, please," you pleaded, but having no clue what for, too fucked dumb to even try and figure it out.

"If she lets me fill her up so, so good then I might just say yes," he grunted, growling when you squeezed him with a whine. "Yeah? Want it, pretty girl?"

"P-Please, please, please." You nodded, gasping, whining, needing that fire inside you to be put out by that only thing you knew would be able to.

"Course you do," he panted, sucking harshly on one tit before pulling away with a pop. "You know, sometimes I imagine you're not on the pill."

You blinked rapidly, trying so hard to focus on his eyes, brown hues now close to black as you gasped against his mouth, "Y-You do?"

"Mm-hmm, know what that means, sweetheart?"

"I-I get p-pregnant?" you spluttered dumbly, nose nudging with his unintentionally, only due to the way you were bouncing with each snap of his hips. "You w-want me to get pregnant, Stevie?"

The growl he let out went straight to your core, pussy immediately responding by squeezing around his cock.

"Fuck yes," Steve moaned, holding you still by the back of your neck, trying to connect your lips together, unsuccessfully so when you merely exchanged salacious sounds into each other's mouths. It was getting harder to discern which moans and whines were whose. The rumbling growl was Steve's, though, "Gonna fill you up until you're nice and round for me."

You clenched around him, hard.

"Oh?" He grinned smugly, licking into your mouth, pulling away with a groan, "Want to carry my babies for me, sweetheart?"

You whimpered, eyes closing, response a little shy but still, you nodded.

It made Steve go absolutely feral.

You didn't know if it was even possible for him to go any faster than the pace he'd set.

But oh he did.

You shrieked at the brutal shift, one hand clawing at his shoulder as your palm slammed against the headboard, stopping yourself from lurching forward and banging your head on the wood. You pressed your forehead against his, mewling brokenly as you felt the knot in your stomach twist at a rapid pace.

"S-Steve, Stev–fuck, I-I'm cl—Steve."

"You're what, baby?" he panted, growling as he started dragging your hips down to meet his. "Go on, finish your sentence."

You shook your head, overwhelmed-tears pooling in your eyes. "Want–shit, I n-need to c—"

"Aww no, am I interrupting you?" he cooed in fake sympathy, pouting at you. "Want me to slow down so you can talk?"

"N-No!" you choked out a sob, whimpering, nails digging into his shoulder blades, moaning filthily before you finally breathed out, "Close."

"I know, I know," he hummed, his head thumping against the headboard with a sharp hiss, watching where your cunt was swallowing him in and spitting him out, over and over and wetter with hooded eyes. "Cunt's squeezing me so fucking tight, baby. Taking me so fucking well like the good pussy that she is."

"S-Stevie, please."

He nodded slowly, eyes flitting up to meet yours.

"Touch yourself for me."

You didn't hesitate.

Your hand left the headboard, trembling fingers immediately finding your clit, gasping at how wet it already was.

Steve instinctively held you up with his arms when you let go of your support, mouth widening with a moan as his eyes watched your fingers carefully stroke the swollen bud, his cock keeping the same steady yet unforgiving pace.

"That's it, fuck, such a needy, pretty girl playing with herself," he praised, eyes snapping up to meet your barely open ones when you pleadingly moaned out his name, choking and blubbering out desperate please, please, please. He nodded, commanding, "Go on, cum."

Your mouth opened in a silent scream, your whole body tensing up as the coil in your stomach snapped. Your legs quivered, toes curling reflexively, your gushing cunt clamping down on Steve's cock.

"Shit, shit, shit," he groaned loudly, followed by a whine as his hips stuttered. "That's it–fuck! That's a good fucking girl, milking my cock so fucking well."

Steve didn't help you ride out your orgasm because he didn't stop.

If anything, he picked up the pace.

"S-Steve," you choked out, shaking your head, too sensitive, too overwhelmed, a sob escaping your mouth and into his, body twitching from the overstimulation.

"Sssh, I know, I know," he whispered, grunting, whining, holding you steady with both arms around you as he chased his own high. "Few more, baby, just a few more."

Your head moved. You were trying to nod yes, but you didn't know what exactly you were doing, too fucked out of your mind, literally almost. And it seemed it wasn't clear for Steve, either.

"Can you do that, sweetheart?" he asked, choking out a moan when you nodded eagerly this time, whining out an audible enough yes, always willing to please him. "Yeah–fuck almost there. You're so so good to me, baby, such a good girl—my good girl."

You moaned, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, forehead pressed against his as you tried your best to keep your eyes open, watching your beautiful man chase his pleasure. You held onto him tighter, and then, with the strength you had left, you started bouncing to meet his thrusts.

"Y/N—fuck!" Steve cried out with a high-pitched whine, whimpering and moaning against your mouth as his hips stuttered. "K-Killing me, baby, you're killing me—shit! M'gonna fucking come."

You never understood why Steve insisted on hearing you during sex at first, scolding you whenever you'd hold back, always encouraging you to be as loud as you pleased.

Not until the first time you heard him let go, mouth flowing with his filthy, crude words, mixing with the sounds of his whines and whimpers, his high-pitched moans to his deep guttural growls—it was an otherworldly experience.

You'll never get tired of hearing it.

"Gonna fill you up, baby, a-and you're gonna take it l-like a good girl—shit, m'gonna come, gonna come, gonna come," he whined over and over and needier and louder, hips thrusting up into you, one, two, five more times before Steve finally came with a growling shout, "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

You responded with a loud moan of your own as you felt him paint your walls, forcing your eyes open to take in his head lolling back, the deep pinch on his brows, the veins thickening on the side of his neck and his plump, red lips wide open with breathy moan and needy whines.

You'll never get tired of watching him come, either.

He grabbed you by the back of your head, bringing you close to kiss you messily, lips barely connecting, teeth clashing as he slowly rode out his high.

The second Steve stopped, you let yourself go.

Steve hurriedly wrapped his arm around you when your body slumped, one hand on the back of your head as he cradled you into his chest. Pushing himself off the headboard, he gently laid you on your back, earning a soft whimper from you when his cock slipped out.

"Ssh, you're okay, I'm sorry, I know," he whispered as he situated himself beside you, hands flat against the mattress as he littered your skin with comforting kisses and praises. "Did so so good for me, sweetheart."

He kept doing it, whispering sweet nothings on your lips, on your cheeks, trailing across your face before moving down your body. His mouth followed the trail of his hands, placing gentle kisses on the skin after he'd rubbed soothing circles on your sore muscles with no ill intent. He only stopped when he felt your arms wrap around his neck, tugging at him to come up.

Steve lifted his head up to meet your tired but twinkling eyes, now cleared of haze.

"There's my beautiful girl," he gushed, gently prying your legs apart so his body could slot in between. Supporting himself on his forearms, he hovered above you, his lips quirking up to match your blissful smile. "Feeling okay?"

You nodded, sighing, "Feel amazing."

"Good," he chuckled, kissing your lips a couple more times before burying his face into your chest. "That's good."

"Steve!" you giggled, trying to pry his head away when his mouth found your boob again. You gasped when he lightly kissed your nipple, your hands covering your face as you laughed, "They're starting to get sore!"

"Oh, are they?" he murmured, voice muffled since his lips never left your skin, moving across your sternum to get to the other boob, giving it its deserved attention too. "I'm not quite done with them, though."

"Okay!" you squeaked when he started nibbling around your mounds, making nom nom nom sounds. You squirmed under him as heaps of squealing giggles escaped your lips. "You've made your point!"

He chuckled, giving them a few more kisses each before he pressed his cheek on your stomach, eyes meeting yours. "Just making sure it sticks in that pretty head of yours."

"I feel sticky."

Steve laughed, trailing back up to press his lips on yours. You hummed, legs on his waist, arms wrapping around his neck, your smile evident against the kiss.

"I could do a hot shower, too," he hummed, giving you a few sweet pecks before detaching himself from your body. He walked over to his ensuite bathroom, found a towel, damping it and wiped himself clean. He rinsed it up to do the same to you.

You were grinning to yourself when he got back.

"What're you smiling at?" he asked, picking up his sweatpants on the floor and slipping them on before walking over to you with the cloth.

"I think Robin has a point about the ass thing," you hummed, instinctively making access for him between your legs so he could clean you up like the many times he'd done before. "Because I really like your butt. It's cute and it's hot."

The heat traveled from Steve's face to the whole expanse of his neck.

"Stop looking at my ass, you perv."

"It looked at me first!" you laughed. "All round and jiggling and everything."

"Stop it!" he reprimanded, but he couldn't help but laugh with you, even though he was so sure his chest had gone red too. Only you could have him flustered over the littlest of things. But hey, it worked both ways. "We should eat dinner first then shower since I'm sure you're going to get hungry. I'll heat up the pizza from earlier."

"No," you whined, one arm lightly slamming on the bed as you covered your face with the other. "Snack, hot shower, and nap."

"You're out cold till next morning the second you get comfortable, babe. Don't talk to me about naps."

"Then change it to sleep."

Steve shook his head, rolling his eyes as he went back to the bathroom to take care of the towel.

You were still in the exact position when he got back.

He stood in front of you, hands on his hips as he nudged your foot with his knee. "Dinner, shower, sleep, come on."

"But then I have to wait for the food to digest before going to sleep," you protested, full on spreadeagle on the bed, pouting at him.

"Jesus Christ," he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before shaking his head at you with a fond smile. He offered you both his hands with a chuckle, "Then get your ass in the shower. I'm going to get you water and a snack which is…"

"Do we still have that watermelon in the fridge?" You smiled, excited, taking his hand to let him help you sit up.

"Yes," he said, shooting you a knowing look before picking up your clothes off the floor. "But you are not eating watermelon on the bed."

You slumped back on the mattress with a groan, "But Steve."

"No," he said firmly, handing you a shirt and the shorts you discarded hours ago. "You want watermelon? Downstairs."

"I'm not even a messy eater," you grumbled, sitting back up and putting the clothes on.

Your legs were wobbling the second you stood up.

Steve was immediately at your side, keeping you upright with an arm around your waist. He was grinning smugly, biting his cheek to stop it from growing too much.

Still, you saw—well, not that he was trying that hard to stop it, either.

"Leave me alone!" you whined, hiding your face in his chest, which in turn, made him burst out laughing. "This is your fault!"

"I know," he said unashamedly, guiding you behind him for a piggyback ride. "Come on."

He carried you downstairs, his chest warming when you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, littering it with soft kisses during your journey to the kitchen.

Steve sat you on top of the counter, his heart doubling in size as you absentmindedly swung your legs, watching him with a lovely smile as he moved around the kitchen. You gave him a grateful kiss once he handed you a bowl of a few slices of cold watermelon.

Heating up some pizza for himself, he decided to put four in the microwave. He could usually do with just two, but he had a hunch.

It still didn't fail him.

Because the second he took it out and the smell of it covered the kitchen, you pouted, eyes pleading as you looked at the plate, and then back at him.

Steve deadpanned, nudging your legs apart and situating himself in between, holding the plate of hot pizza in the middle of you both.

You ate like that in comfortable silence, only breaking it with laughs and giggles when you'd inevitably find yourselves in a kiss. Then there was a knowing yet fond sigh, Steve grabbing some paper towels when the watermelon started dripping down your chin. Your pout was in full play when he held your face, wiping it clean for you. He kissed it away, of course.

A full glass of water later, you were on his back again, latched like a koala, yawning like a sloth. He carried you straight into his bathroom, setting you down on the toilet to pee as he got the shower ready.

You were already half asleep the minute you two got under the running water.

Apart from your yawns and the way you were practically leaning on him with your cheek pressed to his chest, you'd been rubbing lazy circles of his body wash on the same spot for the last minute or two, over and over and over.

"That part of my back is going to be shining after this."

"I'm trying!" you whined, switching to up and down movements this time.

God you're so fucking cute.

Steve gently pulled you off of him despite not wanting to, trailing his hands with gentle circles over your chest—both palms squeezing playfully at your boobies which earned him an annoyed groan and a smack on the arm—and then moving to your stomach, earning another smack when he tickled your sides. Crouching down, he soaped up your legs, back to front before standing to his full height.

He chuckled when you immediately clung to him like a magnet, arms wrapping around his neck swiftly. He gave your shoulders massages then, rubbing down your back, teasingly squeezing your ass before moving back up again.

"Hey," Steve called out softly when you slowly got heavier in his arms. "Don't fall asleep on me."

"Feel'so–ugh, s'nice," you mumbled, face pressing against his neck with another you yawned, "So tired."

"I know," he chuckled, pulling the shower off the hook and handing it to you. "Here, rinse up so I can properly clean myself since you did a bad job."

You pouted, glaring at him with no ounce of fire but took the shower and did as told, anyway.

Steve was sure you were running on faulty autopilot by the time you were brushing your teeth. Your figure was wrapped only in a towel, eyes fully closed, brows deeply furrowed as you made languid circles in your mouth, staying on one spot for a little longer before moving to the next, the foam dribbling down your chin and splattering on the sink.

Steve chuckled at your state, thankful that he got to brush his teeth before you so he was able to watch such an endearing sight. He laughed even harder when you flipped him off, placing an adoring kiss on your forehead before he went downstairs.

He was met by your very naked and very lovely ass when he entered his room, your face pressed into the duvet, limbs apart like he had his very own giant starfish on his bed. Shaking his head with a chuckle, he placed the full glass of water on your bedside table.

He gave your cute butt a tap to check if you were still awake.

You groaned in response.

"Naked, shirt, or panties?" he asked, opening the drawer he'd cleared out to make room for your clothes a few weeks ago.

Your voice was muffled by the sheets but still loud enough for him to hear, "Panties, please."

Humming with a proud smile, he pulled out some cotton ones, white and polka-dotted pink with a cute bow at the front. Walking over to you, he tapped your ass again. You groaned softly before you rolled over onto your back. He slipped your panties on for you, guiding you to lie down properly, flicking his lamp on before turning the main light off.

The second he slipped beside you under the covers, you immediately curled into his side, cheek pressed against his chest, arm around his stomach with your leg swung over him.

"G'Night, Steve," you murmured, so sweet and soft that if you weren't practically on top of him, he wouldn't have heard it.

He pressed his lips against your forehead, arms squeezing your form closer as he whispered back,

"Goodnight, my love."

He gave it a few seconds, waiting, a fond chuckle escaping him when his only response was your soft snores.

Steve's so goddamn in love with you and didn't have a clue.

•••

Sometime in the night you two must've switched places, because when Steve stirred awake in the morning, he could hear your heartbeat, loud in his ears.

Slowly coming to, he realized that he'd been roused from his slumber not by the sunlight that leaked through his window. It was by the feeling of your soft fingers running through his hair and the comforting patterns you were drawing on his back—connecting his freckles and moles, probably, a habit of yours he absolutely adored.

"Steve?"

He hummed in response, nuzzling his face against your chest, grin widening when his nose nudged your still naked boob. He gave it a kiss, two more as he affectionately rubbed his cheek on the other, much like a cat.

"I need to get ready," you giggled, nails scratching his scalp, trailing to the back of his ear, making him shudder. "Up, sleepyhead."

How could you ask him that and do that at the same time?

"No," he whined, voice a little croaky, arms tightening around you, cursing whoever gave you an early shift. "Don't leave yet."

"Steve—"

"Five more minutes."

"Which will turn into ten, and then fifteen, and the next thing you know, you've kept me in bed for an hour and I'm already way past late."

Okay, that did happen once...or twice.

"But you haven't even told me good morning yet."

Your chest vibrated as you let out a hearty laugh, the feeling against his cheek making him smile. You cupped his face with both hands, urging him to come up.

Steve obliged, his heart growing twice its size at the sight of your beautiful face.

He loved having you be the first person he sees when he wakes up.

"Good morning, handsome," you hummed, smile glowing, eyes twinkling, the morning sunlight making you look like an—

"Good morning, angel."

"Right, confirmed that the pet name's staying," you giggled, bringing him in for a kiss.

"It's fitting," he hummed against your lips, shifting in his place until he was hovering over you, forearms caging your head. He kissed you for a few seconds more, only pulling away so he could properly look at you smiling back at him, glowing so beautifully. "You look like one."

You giggled shyly, scrunching up your face before you pressed it against his bicep, a poor attempt at hiding.

Steve didn't know if there was something in the air, or if it was the simple act of watching you like this, so relaxed, so comfortable, so secure and so happy—with him.

All he knew was that he simply couldn't keep it in any longer.

"I need to tell you something," he said, a little nervous as he stroked your temple with his thumb.

You tilted your head at him curiously, "What's up?"

"I wanted to say it last night but I didn't want you to think it's 'in the heat of the moment' kind of thing," he admitted. "Need you to know I mean it the first time you hear it."

"Hear what?" you asked, voice sprinkled with concern as you cupped his cheek.

Steve gave your lips a soft peck, head turning to kiss your palm before he leaned against your touch. And with his eyes reflecting that powerful emotion that was burning in his chest, bubbling and begging to spill out, he said,

"I love you."

There was a soft gasp, your eyes widening slightly, your lips parting. You kept your eyes locked with his, but you stayed quiet. It was probably only a split second long but it was enough for Steve's heart to pick up a nervous pace.

"You don't have to say it back, I just—" He dropped his head, your foreheads pressed together, his nose nudging yours as he gave you a shy smile. "I needed you to know."

Steve felt a sense of relief when he saw your smile grow, letting out that oh so sweet giggle as you tilted your head to give him a quick kiss.

But then you smirked.

"Really pulling all the stops to keep me in bed, huh?"

Steve groaned in annoyance, pushing himself up and plopping onto his back beside you, forearm covering his eyes to hide his embarrassment.

"You are cruel."

You laughed, so lovely, so angelic.

His heart leaped at the sound, another organ jumping when you suddenly straddled his hips.

You leaned down, your bare chest pressing against his hairy one as you kissed his jaw, pulling his arm away so you could look into his eyes. And with your enchanting eyes glowing, captivating smile just as bright, you said,

"I love you too."

Steve sighed with a lovestruck grin as his fingers curled around your waist. "Say it again."

You shook your head, giggling as you pressed your lips against his, whispering into the kiss,

"I love you."

Steve groaned, hand holding the back of your head as he deepened the kiss, the other gripping at your hip to bring you a little closer.

"Oh my—Steve!" You pulled away with a gasp, eyes wide with realization before you buried your face into his neck with a hearty laugh.

He grinned knowingly, feigning innocence when he asked, "What'd I do?"

"Did you just get hard from me saying I love you?"

Yes.

Yes, he did.

"Uh, yeah? Do you know how fucking sexy that is?" he said like it was obvious. Well, he was already sporting a semi when he woke up, dick stirring when you pressed your boobs on him, your words simply made it fuller—just like his heart. "I mean, fuck, you love me."

"God, it's already starting to get into your head," you joked.

"Both heads," he corrected. "Stimulated the brain and sperm cells."

That made you groan, outwardly cringing as you got off of him. "I can't deal with you."

"It's true!" he laughed, making grabby hands as you walked towards the bathroom. "Baby, no, come back! I thought you loved me!"

"Not after that horrible joke!" you called out, the sound of running water following suit.

He shook his head, lovesick smile never leaving his face, not even for a second, sighing contently as he settled back in bed. He had nothing to do this morning but drive you to work, his shift wasn't until after lunch.

Laying on his stomach, he grabbed your pillow and tucked it under his arm, pressing his cheek against the remnants of your warmth and the sweet smell of your hair. It was barely even a substitute for the real thing, but it'll have to do for now until you'd get out of the bathroom so he can lovingly annoy you some more,

It didn't take long for that to happen.

But not in the way he expected.

"Steve fucking Harrington!"

Your glare was burning when you appeared back in the bedroom. But he wasn't focused on that—oh absolutely not

How could he when you were only wearing your panties, top half still completely naked?

And not only were you topless, but you were also marked.

Steve smiled smugly, burrowing his cheek against the pillow as his eyes trailed over the love bites that adorned your torso.

He might have gone overboard with the hickeys—okay, not might. He did.

For starters, there were quite a few—okay, maybe more than just a few—on the sweet spots all over your neck, then one or plenty more as you go further down your collarbone. There weren't too many. After all, he didn't want to overshadow the main piece.

A whole lot more were all over your boobies of course.

But not scatteredly placed.

Nope.

Steve had a better idea than that.

Two hearts on each side of your chest, a bit lopsided but you could still make out the shape as each circled one of your pretty boobs. And then just a little below your sternum, an S H placed right in the middle.

He had to sign his work of art, obviously, especially when it was quite an amazing feat. To be honest, he didn't know how he managed to pull it off with it actually turning just perfect. But then again, you were too distracted to even realize what he was doing.

Steve felt so proud of himself.

Extremely proud.

It was another way of saying just how much he loves them—creatively, might he add.

"What a sight," he gushed, blowing out his cheeks. "You look gorgeous."

You grabbed the first thing you could reach—which was your bra hanging on his desk chair—balled it up and threw it at him. He fell back on the bed when it hit him square on the face, bursting out laughing.

"I'm leaving."

Steve got out of bed at record speed, his back landing against the door with a thud as he blocked your way.

You glared at him, arms crossed, so clearly frustrated and annoyed. And while he usually found you cute when you were angry, with you being close to naked, tits on full display and covered in his marks? Oh you looked so fucking hot.

It made him want to pull by the throat, press you against the door and kiss you senseless.

"Steve, I swear if you don't stop staring—"

"What? I'm appreciating the art!" he defended, gesturing at your chest with a wide smirk. "Boobs included."

"You're impossible!" you squeaked, hitting his arm before turning on your heels, standing in front of the foot of his bed, hands on your hips.

His eyes wandered down your bare chest again.

"Steven!"

"Okay! Okay," he conceded, meeting your eyes with the most charming smile he could muster, hands up as he slowly walked over to you. "I think I have a turtleneck somewhere, you can borrow it."

"I can't wear a turtleneck underneath my uniform! I think you've forgotten I work in a bakery," you stated as if it was obvious. When he only looked at you with a confused face, you growled, "There are ovens, Steve, hot ovens!"

Fuck.

You really needed to stop making those noises while your boobs were staring right back at him, eye to nipple.

"Well, then you'll just have to show off my masterpiece," he said, shrugging.

"Steve," you whined, head thrown back, hands rubbing at your eyes.

"What'd you want me to do!" he laughed, taking the last remaining steps before circling his arms around your waist, tucking his face into your neck. "Hmm, want me to kiss them away?"

"No!" you squeaked, the sound swiftly replaced by your laugh when he blew a raspberry on your ticklish spot. "Off me, Harrington!"

"Okay, okay," he chuckled, fingers splaying on the sides of your neck as he ran his thumbs across your jaw. "What can I do to help?"

You pursed your lip, thinking. Steve couldn't help but lean down and kiss it, only for you to gasp in his mouth a few seconds later.

"Can you get me a bowl of ice and a metal spoon please?"

It was a trick Vickie told Robin, who then told Steve, who then tried it on you. Because obviously, this wasn't the first time he got too excited about leaving marks on your skin.

This was his best work so far though, and he didn't want it to be gone too soon.

"But, angel, you can't get rid of them." He put on his best pout and puppy eyes. "It's too pretty to get rid of."

"I can't go to work like this!" you groaned, shaking your head, covering your eyes with your palms. "You know that."

The owner of the bakery you worked at was a nice, old lady, quite motherly and cared about her employees, sometimes a little too much. But boy was she a prude. The first time you showed up to work with one—the first time he'd given you one, to be exact—she had pulled you aside. She gave you a whole lecture about sex before marriage, and how sex was the Devil's game until it's been blessed by God in the church, and you shouldn't give into the temptation or else you'll suffer the consequences.

"Well, if sex is the devil's game, then please," Steve had drawled seductively after you retold the story, voice dropping as he leaned across the center console, hand on your headrest, your faces a few inches close. "Call me Satan."

You had buried your face in your hands with a groan, shaking your head. In disbelief? In embarrassment? In utter disappointment? He didn't know. Could've been all of the above, to be honest.

While Steve might've laughed and teased you when you told him the story, he also couldn't exactly blame you if you didn't want it to happen again.

"Okay, I'll get you the ice and spoon in a second."

"But?"

"Can I look at them for a little bit longer?" he asked, fluttering his eyelashes, pleading with a pout, "I haven't had the chance to appreciate it."

"I mean, you can always take a picture."

Steve blinked.

This was his girl, his sweet, innocent, shy girl. This was the same one who would hide over the simplest compliment, the very same one who took a while getting comfortable in front of the Polaroid camera which you had gifted him on his birthday. You said it was for taking pictures of the simple yet beautiful things he found in his life, to immortalize them so they wouldn't be forgotten, especially when Steve's memory had been starting to grow faulty, lately.

Obviously, a lot of the photos he'd take ended up being of you. He had only been able to take one with your full beauty on display when you weren't aware, not until after you'd heard the click. Because you'd be hiding behind your fingers if he'd told you beforehand.

And now, you were the one suggesting that he'd take pictures, and not even candid, innocent ones, nude photos, showing the dark markings all over your chest.

He died last night, didn't he? Because he was sure he was in heaven.

Then again, here you were, still half-naked in front of him.

Last night really must've done something to your confidence.

Steve loved it.

"You serious?" he asked.

"Yes, Steve, I'm serious," you confirmed, shrugging with your signature shy smile. "And you always keep saying how you want to take one when we do it."

"Are you a hundred percent—"

"Yes!" you laughed, pushing at him gently. "Now quickly because I'm going to be late!"

"Okay! Okay! I'm getting to it!"

Once the Polaroid camera was hanging around his neck, he immediately took your hands, guiding you to sit in the middle of the bed.

You laughed when he moved you around a couple of times, settling for a few seconds, before tugging you to change position again. His brows were furrowed in deep concentration as he tried to see which angle and lighting from the sun would look best.

Finally, deciding on one, he took a step back.

Steve's breath got knocked out of his lungs once his eyes landed on you.

You were sitting on your knees, your hands, palms flat against your thighs as you looked at him with that gorgeous yet shy smile. The morning sunlight was hitting you perfectly, your skin glowing, showcasing your tits beautifully, the marks made even more prominent by the golden rays.

Steve didn't know if there was a mirror somewhere and it was a trick of the light, or if you truly had a real halo above your head. Because you definitely looked like the most beautiful, most breathtakingly stunning angel he'd ever laid his eyes on.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

How did he get so lucky?

Steve didn't want to get too ahead of himself but he swore he wanted to marry you right then and there.

"Stop gawking, you perv."

He blinked, shaking his head as he grumbled, "Right, right, sorry—pfft, you're fucking distracting, that's not my fault."

You shook your head and rolled your eyes. But he still saw your smile brighten.

"Wait, wait, let me just—" Steve took long strides closer to you, dipping his head and circling his lips on the marks that were fading a little. You gasped when he started suckling, deepening their color again. He grinned against your warm skin when you all but melted into his touch. "Hmm, just needed to touch up some."

"Steve," you whined. "You're not playing fair."

"Okay, okay, I'm done," he chuckled, giving you a kiss on the lips before resuming his previous position, eyes moving behind the viewfinder. "Now sit still and smile—"

You scrunched up your face and stuck out your tongue.

Click.

"You're usually good at following instructions, what happened?" he tutted, shaking his head, pinching the printed photo between his fingers. "Since you're fucking adorable, I'll let it slide." Smirking, he added, "For now."

You grew shy at that, eyes glossing with that familiar haze before you shook your head, smile widening as you pressed your cheek on your shoulder.

Click.

"Gorgeous," he gushed out, eyes still trained on you as he took the second photo out of the exit slot. "You honestly deserve to be in a museum."

You shook your head, giggling shyly, "Stevie, can you get me that ice now?"

"Few more, please?"

"But Steve," you whined, now moving to cover your face with your hands. "I think we've done enough. I look like shit in the morning."

"Hey! Don't you dare! You look fucking beautiful," he reprimanded, bringing up the camera and taking another photo anyway, despite not being able to capture your face. The more the merrier, he thought. Once it made its signature whirring sound, he looked at you with a smile. "Come on, let me see you, pretty girl."

You shook your head, hands falling back on your thighs as you giggled.

Click.

"God you're so pretty it hurts," Steve groaned, shaking his head in disbelief, fingers now getting full of photos but he was sure it would never be enough. "Like you're definitely not helping with my boner here, babe, it's fucking aching."

"Steve!" you burst out laughing.

Click.

You gasped, "I wasn't ready!"

"Pfft, I bet you still look stunning," he scoffed, rolling his eyes at you teasingly before he carefully placed the photos face down on his bedside table. "Okay, I'm done."

"Us two?" you asked.

Now, he'd be a fool to say no.

With a grin, Steve quickly settled beside you, taking the strap off his neck so he could hold the camera farther to fit you both in the frame.

He turned to you and asked, "How do you want?"

You shrugged, smiling at him as you cupped his face with both hands, fingers splaying on his jaw, pulling him in for a kiss.

Steve grinned even wider.

Click.

Humming between the kiss, he teased his tongue against your parted lips, slipping it into your mouth not long after, earning a soft moan from you.

Click.

And it went on like that for a few minutes, just the two of you kissing as Steve kept taking picture after picture, the films falling all over the bed and some on the floor. He'd take care of them later. And sure, making out with you with a hand in the air was a task and a half, his bicep gradually aching as the seconds ticked by. But he knew that the photos he'd get will make everything worth it.

Even more as he moved down your throat, your head tilting with a gasp as you gave him easier access, your fingers tangling in his hair.

Click.

He went further down, placing open-mouth kisses on your collarbone before moving to your boobs, lips teasingly wrapping around your nipple.

Click.

"Steve—okay, that's enough," you gasped, followed by a squeal when he playfully nibbled, pushing his head away from your chest with soft laughs. "You need to stop before you get carried away."

"Me?!" He glared at you teasingly.

"You're the one who's addicted to sucking my boobs!

"Well, it's not my fault they're super suckable!"

"Oh God," you groaned, face in your hands. "Can I have that ice now?"

Steve didn't stall anymore this time.

When he got back from the kitchen, he found you sitting on the bed in your jeans and bra, sifting through the Polaroid photos with a warm, proud smile.

"How'd they turn out?" he asked, placing the bowl of ice cubes with two—he was going to help, obviously—metal spoons on the now cleared bedside table.

Steve moved to sit behind you, arm around your waist to pull you closer, chin on your shoulder so he could peer at the photos and—oh my fucking God.

Stunning was a massive understatement.

"Holy shit, look at you!" Steve gasped, taking a few in his hands and fuck you looked beautiful in every single one.

"They do look pretty," you murmured, fanning a couple more in your fingers to show each photo.

"You look pretty," he gushed, turning to meet your eyes. "I don't call you my pretty girl for nothing."

Every single time you hear it, your eyes light up. And every single time he sees that, Steve's heart skips a beat.

It was why he never tired of telling you just how beautiful you were to him.

Kissing your lips quickly yet sweetly, he turned back to look at the pictures, eyes twinkling with admiration.

All of them were gorgeous, don't get him wrong. But one, in particular, caught Steve's eye.

It was the one with you laughing, the joyful and natural glow on your features a stark contrast to how your tits were in full display, bruised up and covered in all his love.

"Now, this," he hummed, taking it in his fingers and showing it to you. "This is going in my wallet."

Your head snapped to look at him, eyes wide. "You can't keep that in your wallet!"

Steve pouted, "Why not?"

"What if someone sees?" you said, voice dropping as if you were disclosing a secret.

"Then they'll get to see how fucking beautiful my girlfriend is," he stated, as a matter of fact, shrugging. A sweet yet apprehensive smile tugged at your lips. Steve kissed it gently, "But, if you don't want me to, just say the words and I won't."

You didn't say a single word.

Instead, you hid your face against his neck, your skin warm against his, so obviously flustered. Yet still, you gave his skin gentle, appreciative and loving kisses.

Steve grinned.

Because as shy as you may be, he knows you love it when he shows you off.

Steve always did whenever he got the chance.

And later that day as he went and paid for his and Robin's ice cream, he earned a sudden smack on the back of his head. It was from a plastic spoon this time, so it didn't really hurt much.

But still.

"What the fuck was that for?!"

"Your wallet, dingus!"

Steve blushed, but his smirk was smug and wide, earning a punch on the arm this time when he wiggled his eyebrows.

It was the same photo he claimed earlier but with a slightly new addition.

A scribble of his handwriting on the white space below that said:

My pretty girl(s)

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

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#ibp #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic

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mellowwillowy · 1 year

Text

Yan Gamer with (both F/M) Game-character Reader

{A wide variation of shameless, calm but not stoic and the shy one~}

Also there's a special snip where it shows your POV~~

So you see, this person right here is a WHALE when it comes to you. (Yan? Tendencies below)

Summer costume dlc where you wear bikini or shorts, revealing all your skins for player to see? Take their card. They'll enter their pin the moment the dlc is released.

Dlc for extra route that involves you? Come at them. They don't mind whose route it for as long as it involves you, even if you just show up for a few moments. If the OG game doesn't really give you that much of a screen time, they'll spam the creator to y'know, at least make an exclusive dlc or pack that stars you.

Depending on the game, I'll be taking Dead or Alive as an example. So it is a 3D fighting game that is infamous for its chicks and dlcs yeah, and what if you are there. For fem, they'll just flash their camera to your chest or butt (doesn't matter if you are flat in and out coughs) everytime they win the game before continuing, observing you closely like look at you, so adorable in that outfit. For male, they'll prolly just shoot at your whole muscles (whether you have it or not but he'll just stare at it anyway) or your ass.

If they are a ryona fans then good luck dear reader because you'll be forced to be other character's punch bag.

Or maybe they just enjoy punishing people so you'll just whoop people's ass mercilessly.

How about fanservice beach game? (Coughs DOAXtreme3). I bet they will just go nuts when they know you are also in the game and will start grinding like crazy to earn anything that is involving you. A puzzles to obtain a set of swimwear (bikini or shorts, your call)? They'll have it obtained real fast. A limited edition dlc that can only be obtained with real money? Kaching, purchased just like that. Oh? A limited edition reward where only few people can get it? They'll compete with the others like crazy to obtain it and they WILL. See, you look so good wearing that while playing volleyball with the others~

A *coughs* sensual scene where you are playing with the volleyball alone? Their camera is all set and (please look away minors) their hand just knows what to do. Another scene where you are doing a pole dance? God they sure knows what to do with the camera angle, it helps him with his relief so much. Oh, that noise you made is also really cute~

Lying on the bed all by yourself while waiting for them to log in? Cmon, you make them feel bad having to leave their PC for their work. Don't worry though, they'll make it up to you soon~

If uncomfortable with Yan, look away

But it's really sad how they know none of this will ever exist in real life. You are just a character from a game and it will always be like that. Even if they can invest a whooping millions just to create a VR game or that hologram capsule where they get to communicate and interact with you, they will never be able to feel the warmth of your skin. Oh how they will do anything to be in the same space with you...

Oh what's this? A message...?

It's really different from what you are programmed to say. Depending on what kind of personality you have, if feisty or sadistic (hello Cat) you'll leave some kind of mean words to them that they never know you are capable of, or if you are sweet (hello Fox) you'll leave some kind of sweet message that encourage them to work diligently~ No matter how hard they try to search it up, no one has ever encountered this before! Is this some kind of bug or unused files?

It happens again the next day

They log in and see you standing instead of lying on the bed like usual, with a message that asks them to hurry and finish their work so that they can play with you and shower you with his love. Another bug?

It's getting out of hand now

Their PC suddenly turns on by itself, blasting the mp3 like crazy to wake them up. They wake up and see the notepad next to the mp3 player, something written on it.

"You won't forget playing with me for today too right? I really miss you. It feels lonely without you. You need to play with me unless you want me to delete your whole files ♡"

Not like they are complaining or anything. Delete it all you want, if anything, they are glad you'll punish them for their mistake in abandoning you. A bad lover has to receive their partner's chiding and punishment every now and then right? There's no way out anymore and they don't mind it at all. At least the obsession is mutual. Oh how happy you are whenever they spend fortune just for you ♡ It feels nice to be loved and adored to this extent, you've always yearned for someone's love after all.

You'll leave them lots of messages every day and they will also leave lots of files in their directory for you to peek. They'll also comission few artworks of you and them, setting it as a wallpaper where you can see everyday. It feels like a wedding portrait now, right?

They'll hate it whenever other people talk about you, especially if you come from a fanservice kind of game. They just realllllly want to destroy their PC every time they talk about you ( How? Each varies, prolly in a shady way)

There'll also be some kind of anniversary date between you two where you'll just do something special that only they are allowed to know. If coughs fanservice game then perhaps the pole dance might become a show of.... you know. If it's just a wholesome dating game the you might prepare a whole new date scenario of you and them. Incoming immoral activities! Handholding and hugging!

They've fallen into the rabbit hole way too deep and there's no way out now. Perhaps, this has always been their wish? It's only a matter of time for them to find another way to connect with you directly ♡

No proofread, I wrote this blurb before bedtime

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slut4msby · 4 months

Text

Happy New Year? Miya Atsumu x Fem!Reader

+ tags & warnings; suggestive content, heavily implied smut, atsumu and reader did the deed :0??, borderline fuckboy!atsumu [i have a soft spot for fuckboy!atsumu], not proofread, implied ex bf but no one is specified other than being a vb player so use ur imagination qts :3

+ a/n; hey guys! i'm lea :3. this is my first fic on tumblr in YEARS i used to have an account long long long ago that like NO ONE would know so this is my welcome back ig ;p have some fuckboy!atsumu tehheeheh [i want fuckboy!atsumu so bad or maybe i just have issues teheheh]. also its dec 31 when i post this so HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! stay safe and take care x

Waking up on your own has become a tradition on New Year's Day. For the past three years, a very lonely past three years. Ever since your partner had broken up with you.

This year was no different, waking up in an empty bed - but not your bed? The realisation left you in confusion. Your eyes darted around the room, cologne, dirty clothes, sports trophies and empty water bottles filled the room. How classy. You sat up against the headboard, head pounding from the alcohol that had consumed your body the night before. Despite its uncleanliness it was a nice room at its core. The problem is, you don't know when you got here or how you got here. Matter of fact if you were even still in the country.

“Hey Doll.” A shirtless figure called from the doorway, a towel wrapped around his waist, his V-line on full display. He was fit, no one could deny that. His blonde hair messy from his shower, his body littered with hickies and scratches - your hickies and scratches. “You really did a number on me huh?” He let out a soft chuckle.

You tried to respond but your body was still in a state of shock from the man you had managed to catch.

“You alright princess? You seemed to be a lot louder and confident last night.” He teased, walking towards you taking a seat on his bed. “You know, you look good in my shirt.” He adds on in reference to the oversized t-shirt which accompanied your body. He shuffled closer to you, he planted another kiss on your neck over one of the many purple marks he had given you last night, “could get used to having you around.”

“Me?” You question, he only nods in response.

He grabs your face in his hand. You couldn’t deny his hands were nice, they were big and he obviously knew how to use them. He moved you to look at him, forcing tension. You couldn’t lie from what you could remember is that he was good. He pulled you closer and closer, looking at your lips and then your eyes. “Can I?” He asks.

“Can you?” You respond giving him your infamous ‘fuck-me eyes’.

“Oh doll, we both know we can.” He mutters against your lips, before pulling you in for a kiss which you very happily accept.

That’s when the memories come back, you could never forget a kiss like that. You remember Kuroo forcing you to a party and meeting him, Atsumu Miya.

“C’moonnnnnnnn n/n-chan it will be fun.” Kuroo begged.

“Tetsu, I don’t know I am happy alone.”

“You’re so boring now n/n-chan.” He pouts. He knows that sentence will rile you up. “You used to be the life of the party y/n.”

“Used to? Oh baby I still am.”

“Then come to the party n/n.”

“Fine.”

You remember walking in and being greeted by Bokuto who you hadn't seen in years. Completely ditching the volleyball scene after your ex-boyfriend. Bokuto was still as huge and friendly as always. You greeted all the familiar faces and were even introduced to some new ones. It was nice. As the hours went on the alcohol overtook your body.

You had found yourself on a couch on top of him - Atsumu Miya.

“Woahh pretty girl slow down.” He pulls away from the kiss a string of saliva breaking you apart as he does so. “What's yer name, pretty girl?” He asks before leaving light kisses on your neck forcing a gasp out of you.

“L/n.” You say quickly, “y/n l/n.”

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.” He says continuing kissing down your neck. He would have gone further right then and there however your rendezvous was cut short by Bokuto and Kuroo calling your name. And you thought that was gonna be the last encounter with the mystery man.

“Ohhhh~ n/n-chan getting it on with tsum-tsum.” Bokuto teases.

“N/n is lonelyyyyyy.” Kuroo slurs.

The teasing continued all night, however at 11:58pm everyone started gathering around for the countdown, you were convinced this is the fourth year you would be lonely. Before you felt an arm snag your waist.

“Hey pretty girl.” He purrs into your ear.

“Oh it’s you.”

“I have a name y’know princess?”

Silence.

“Do yer seriously not know who I am.”

“Egotistical by the sound of it, pretty boy.” You respond.

“Atsumu Miya. Y’know? MSBY’s setter?”

“Right. I like pretty boy more.” You giggle.

“Yer won't be moaning that tonight trust me doll.”

Atsumu pulls you in for a kiss, “So you wanna take me up on that offer princess?”

You can’t help but nod eagerly.

Happy New year to you indeed.

©slut4msby.

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deliciousangelfestival · 5 months

Text

Cozy Secrets || Chp 2

Character: Spy!Bucky x Roommate!Reader

Summary: Y/N found herself at her high school reunion, accompanied by her unexpected fake boyfriend, who also happened to be a spy.

Chp 1 , Chp 2 , Chp 3 , -

Main Masterlist || buy me Ko-fi 🥹💓

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

Bucky, raised by spy parents, embraced espionage early in life. Constantly moving, he found comfort in blending into diverse surroundings.

His nomadic existence shifted when a mission led him to an apartment owned by Y/N, a hardworking individual who works as an interior designer.

Amidst a stakeout from his ideally located residence, Bucky grew attached, especially during rainy days. He revealed his spy identity to Y/N and confessed he didn't want to move out.

Offering to be her fake boyfriend, he declared, "With my skills, I could impress everyone."

And so, Y/N found herself at her high school reunion, accompanied by her unexpected fake boyfriend, who also happened to be a spy.

*********************

The day of the reunion arrived, and Y/N felt a familiar knot of anxiety tightening in her stomach. Even though she had a secret weapon in the form of Bucky, the thought of facing her high school bullies again sent shivers down her spine.

Bucky, on the other hand, seemed unfazed. He had donned a sleek suit, his hair styled to perfection, and he exuded an aura of confidence that Y/N couldn't help but admire.

As they walked into the venue, it was like entering a different world. The once awkward teenagers were now transformed into polished adults, some more successful than others.

Bucky's charm worked its magic as soon as they entered. He effortlessly navigated the social scene, engaging in conversations with old classmates and making new acquaintances. Y/N, initially hesitant, found herself drawn out of her shell by his infectious energy.

As expected, they soon ran into the infamous mean girls. The leader, Tiffany, still sported the same arrogant smirk Y/N remembered. This time, however, Y/N was prepared. With Bucky by her side, she felt a newfound sense of confidence.

"Hey Tiffany," Y/N greeted, her voice surprisingly steady. "This is Bucky, my… boyfriend."

Tiffany's eyes widened in surprise. "Boyfriend? Since when?" she asked, her tone laced with disbelief.

Y/N, summoning all her courage, met Tiffany's gaze directly. "Let's just say we reconnected recently," she replied, a subtle smile on her lips.

Bucky, sensing the tension, stepped forward and extended his hand towards Tiffany. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he said, his voice charming and smooth.

Tiffany, unable to resist his charm, shook his hand. "The pleasure is mine, Bucky," she replied, her cheeks flushed.

Y/N watched in amusement as Bucky seamlessly played the role of the loving boyfriend. He engaged Tiffany in conversation, asking about her life and career with genuine interest. Y/N couldn't help but be impressed by his acting skills.

As the night progressed, Bucky continued to weave his web of lies, telling elaborate stories about his "exciting" life as a high-profile businessman. (Easy for him to lie).

The other girls, impressed by his fabricated persona, showered him with attention, leaving Y/N to observe in amusement. She couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction seeing the tables turned on her former tormentor.

However, the act started to wear thin as the night progressed. Bucky, unused to such social interactions, began to lose his composure. He stumbled over his words, and his carefully crafted facade started to crumble.

Fearing things might escalate, Y/N decided it was time to cut their losses. She grabbed Bucky's arm and led him towards the exit.

"Let's go," she whispered. "I think we've had our fun."

Bucky, visibly flustered, agreed. They slipped out of the venue unnoticed, leaving behind the fading sounds of the reunion.

Once outside, they both burst into laughter, the tension of the night finally releasing.

"Wow, that was… intense," Bucky chuckled. "I almost blew my cover a few times there."

Y/N smiled. "You did great, Bucky. Even if it wasn't exactly the truth."

Bucky shrugged. "Well, you never told me you wanted a knight in shining armor, just a date to the reunion."

Y/N couldn't deny that Bucky's presence had boosted her confidence and allowed her to face her past without fear.

**************

Because of his help, Y/N told him that he could stay. As long he never ruined the apartment again. Bucky, relieved to have kept his apartment, was up bright and early the next morning.

The following day, Y/N found Bucky ready to leave. "Don't wait, and try not to miss me too much," he said with a wink. Y/N understand he's going on a mission.

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn't deny the emptiness after he left. The apartment, once lively with his presence, now felt oddly quiet. As much as she craved peace, she couldn't help but miss the chaos Bucky brought into her life.

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Chp 1 , Chp 2 , Chp 3 ,-

Main Masterlist || buy me Ko-fi 🥹💓

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

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reaveries · 6 months

Text

▬ risk

"I will save your life. I'll try for you."

pairings: re2 officer!leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: while trying to escape the police station in the midst of the infamous raccoon city disaster, rookie police officer leon s. kennedy finds a young woman in need of his help.

content warning: descriptions of violence and gore

word count: 4.4k (estimated 21 minutes reading time)

a/n: this .... has been in my drafts ......... since april. you're finally free........

masterlist archive of our own

Revised for clarity 12/30/2023.

Leon’s gun had always been a mere extension of his arm, a tool to be honed and wielded with precision. The academy, with its spiral target walls and foam-filled mannequins, had served as his training ground, preparing him for the hopefully unnecessary evil of one day having to take a life. This unspoken burden came with the territory—an occupational hazard in the line of duty. But no amount of half-hearted demonstrations and target practices could’ve equipped him for a night like this.

Until tonight, he’d never seen a body fall lifeless due to his own hand. But if he had, he wouldn’t have expected it to stumble from its spot of decay, staggering towards him with a newfound vigor that defied everything he thought he knew about morality and his fragile existence.

Tonight has been a night of unholy firsts, and the air about him suggests it has only just begun.

The pungent metallic scent of arterial spray assaults his senses as he steps out of the shower room. His heart sinks in his chest as he takes in the sight of carnage in the westmost corridor of the police station. Uniformed men and women lie in crumpled heaps against the walls. Their bodies are mangled and torn, some so abhorrently disfigured that they’re scarcely recognizable as humans. The presence of the dead was something he was uncomfortably growing comfortable with, and yet to imagine the animosity it must’ve required to create this scene…

Well, it unsettled him, to say the least. He could’ve known them if things had gone differently.

He steps over their quiet corpses with his pistol in one hand and a flashlight raised in the other. He nudges one with the toe of his boot, aiming for their skull if they so much as twitch. But their bodies remain convincingly still, slain beyond any chance of revitalization. His grip tightens on his gun as he presses forward down the narrow corridor. If this is the result of those infected creatures he’s become acquainted with, they could be lurking ahead, waiting for him.

The rain outside stings as it pelts his cheek, dampening his uniform that’s already slick with sweat. He ignores it.

Ahead should be the S.T.A.R.S. office if the map he found is correct. Hopefully, he can find relevant information about Claire’s brother in there, something to help her find him if he should ever see her again. With a deep breath, he reaches out to turn the knob when a groan suddenly creeps from down the hall. But there’s something different about it.

It sounds alive, pained, and distinctly human.

“Is someone there?” He calls out, his voice echoing down the long hallway. The sound reverberates off the walls and fills the silence, and for a moment, there is nothing but his own breathing.

Then a low growl echoes back at him.

With an annoyed huff, he raises his gun and aims for the corner he anticipates the creature to hobble from behind. But before he can catch a glimpse of it, something moves in the darkness. It's too fast for him to comprehend, a blurring figure scurrying towards him like a feral animal. He watches in horror as it crawls along the ceiling, its movements disturbingly fluid.

As it draws closer, the moonlight catches on to the glistening texture of its skin. A grotesque tentacle-like tongue unfurls from its mouth, swinging through the air like a scythe.

“What… what the fuck?”

He fires two rounds into the fleshy matter of the creature’s head, but it makes no difference. Doesn’t even flinch. The rookie officer prepares to fire another round when the monster flings itself off the ceiling and lunges its body through the air directly toward him.

In a split-second decision, Leon throws himself into the office, his body slamming against the door before he scrambles to his feet and secures it behind him. Outside, the creature is relentless. Its wet, clobbering movements spasm through the walls. With his back pressed against the door, he braces himself as the monster rams into it with a sickening force that rattles the hinges.

It takes all his strength to keep it from buckling under the creature’s assault. The force of each blow makes his arms tremble, and he can feel his grip slipping. A bead of sweat trickles down his temple, and his heart thunders in his chest as he fights to hold the door in place.

But then, just as suddenly as it began, the onslaught ceased. Leon takes a deep breath, his heart still pounding, and listens for any sign of movement outside.

He waits a second, then slowly pulls himself away from the door.

With his chest heaving, a word comes to mind.

Licker.

He remembers the warning about these beasts scrawled on a note left by a likely deceased officer. His naive self didn’t expect to encounter one so soon.

He takes a moment to survey the room, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. The abandoned desks and personal items left behind tell him that S.T.A.R.S. personnel were just as underprepared for a viral outbreak as the rest of the city. The first thing that catches his eye is a trauma kit on the wall. He crosses the room and flips it open, finding it fully stocked. Dressings, hemostatic agents, antiseptic. A sense of relief washes over him. He reaches into his pocket to make room for the essentials, but to his dismay, finds them full of various necessities. There’s no space to carry anything in this damn uniform. With a sigh, the lid is closed and left as it was found.

“Hey!”

He nearly jumps out of his skin at the sudden noise.

“Please tell me you didn’t die,” a disembodied voice says. The end of their sentence tapers off with a shallow breath. With a sharp turn of his head, he tries to place the direction it's coming from. There’s no familiarity in their voice, which is no surprise considering he’d only become acquainted with a few officers during his orientation.

“Where are you?” He calls out, raising his flashlight in search of an answer, hoping for a door or some kind of opening.

“Linen closet. Down the hall.”

Their muffled words become clear as he approaches a far corner of the office, likely sharing a wall with the room they’re in. “Did it get you?” they ask, quieter this time.

Leon takes a deep breath to steady himself before responding. “Almost, but I’m alright,” he assures them. With a glance back to the door, he continues, “Listen, I know how to get past that thing now. Just… stay put. I’ll come to you.”

“Please be careful,” the stranger pleads. Something in their voice rings as desperation, lending to the pit forming in his stomach. It’s more than likely that whoever this is is a victim of the outbreak, clinging to their last shred of humanity before the virus consumes them. The thought of putting down another person, to see the life fade from their eyes—he’d like to avoid it if possible.

With the barrel of his pistol, he cracks open the door and peers into the corridor. It’s just as he left it, but there’s no sign of the monster anywhere. He holds back a sigh of relief as he opens the door further and steps into the hall. The ceiling, where his eyes are permanently trained, is empty. The revolting shape of the licker is nowhere to be found.

He pushes forward, boots ghosting across the floorboards and pistol drawn. His breathing is slow, his muscles tensed. He’s convinced the creature can hear the blood rushing through his veins. When he reaches the end of the corridor, he halts and peeks behind the turn of the hall where the linen closet should sit.

His heart drops.

It’s there.

Of course it’s there. Why should anything be easy for him?

Perched in the corner, its sinewy body is raised on its haunches and pressed wetly against the wall. Rows of jagged teeth have overgrown the confines of its decaying jaw, and long bone-like talons sprout from fleshy hands.

He can't afford to freeze up. One misstep is all it takes, and he’ll be gutted like the rest of them. He reaches for a hook on the holster hanging at his hips, fingers trembling as he fumbles for the cold, smooth canister he's grown familiar with. This might be his only chance.

With one finger, he hooks the pin and yanks it. The sound of it clattering against the tile echoes throughout the hallway just as a cloud of white explodes, engulfing the creature as it lunges toward him. It falls to the floor in an instant, writhing in agony as the grenade pierces the air with a sharp ringing noise.

No time to think. Leon sprints to the door, feeling the hot stench of decay brush past him as he avoids the stunned beast. The door flies open against his weight, and he forces it shut behind him.

He leans against the door, panting heavily as he tries to steady himself.

As he catches his breath, a voice whispers in the darkness.

“You made it.”

His eyes dart to the corner, where a young woman sits leaning against a washing machine. Her uniform is in bad shape, torn at her midsection and stained to the hem. It looks like blood is seeping through, smearing her fingers red as she tries to stanch the bleeding. The sight of the mess has him quickly closing the space between them.

She looks him up and down as he kneels beside her.

“You’re an officer?” She asks with knitted brows. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“Leon Kennedy. I just started today,” he answers quickly, the adrenaline causing a noticeable waver in his voice.

She laughs but winces and screws her eyes shut. “And I thought my first day sucked,” she says through her teeth.

“Did that thing do this to you?” He asks, his tone gentle yet urgent, getting straight to the nagging thought in his mind.

She shakes her head, looking down at the wound with a suppressed grimace. “I thought the hallway was clear. And then, out of nowhere, it just…” Her mind seems to wander at the thought. “It came through the window. There was glass flying everywhere. It scratched me pretty good.”

Leon tilts his head to the side, trying to get a good look at the wound. Her uniform makes it difficult to see the full extent of the injury. However, the amount of blood is enough to give him an idea of the severity.

“‘Scratched’ is an understatement,” he says, looking back at her.

A dazed sort of smile finds its way to her face. “I like to be optimistic.”

Despite the gravity of the situation, or maybe precisely because of it, his smile mirrors hers. She’s not infected. Thank God.

“So do I,” he says. “Let’s get you cleaned up, alright? Then we can think about getting out of here.”

She nods and attempts to sit up straighter.

“Can you, um,” he starts to say, gesturing to the hem of her uniform.

“Yeah, I can take it off. I’m not shy.”

A blush creeps up his neck as she nimbly moves to undo the buttons of her uniform. Leon averts his gaze, suddenly transfixed by the desolate corner of the linen room. His fingers pluck idly at the skin around his nails. But from the corner of his eye, he catches her struggle to shrug off the top. It gets caught on her shoulders and refuses to slide down.

“Here, let me,” he offers reluctantly.

The room falls silent, the only sound being the soft rustle of fabric as he coaxes the shirt down her arms. She draws a sharp breath as it grazes over tender bruises and scrapes, and a strange sense of intimacy seeps in, making him feel guilty for having to undress her. As the shirt falls to the ground, revealing her white undershirt, his eyes are drawn to the dark magenta stain blossoming across the fabric.

There, at the center of it all, is a shard of glass, roughly the size of the palm of his hand. Its edges are sharp and erratic, protruding from her lower stomach.

It’s critical, he realizes.

“Sorry if it’s not the prettiest thing to look at,” she says, eyes fixated on the ceiling.

He shakes his head. “It’s not that bad,” he lies, hoping it sounds convincing.

Apparently, it doesn’t, because she looks down for the first time and sees it.

“Jesus Christ!” She exclaims breathlessly. Her hands fly to hover above the shard, afraid to touch it. “You have to take it out,” she says with certainty, clearly unable to bring herself to do it.

His medical training at the academy left much to be desired, but even he was aware of the cardinal rule when it came to injuries such as these. Under the best of circumstances, the object should never be removed, lest the victim hemorrhage and bleed to death. However, he’d wager that they were far from the best of circumstances, and the alternative wasn’t enticing. Leon takes a deep breath, then places one hand on her shoulder and the other on the shard of glass. Their eyes lock, a silent agreement passing between them.

“Stay still,” he instructs, his voice wavering slightly. He hesitates for a moment before pulling it out in one swift motion. He can feel her muscles tense beneath his hand as she reacts to the jagged edges scraping against her insides. A torrent of hushed expletives tumbled from her lips, the pain etched deeply in her features.

“There,” he says softly, immediately deciding not to let her see the piece of glass once he realizes its morbid grandeur.

He can see the relief wash over her face, but it's short-lived as her condition quickly deteriorates. The sudden change startles him. Her eyes have started to glaze over, and her head falls limply to the side. Her words are barely audible, lost in labored breaths.

“Hey,” he says urgently, reaching to cup her cheek. She responds with a groan and closes her eyes. He taps her cheek more desperately. “Hey, stay with me!”

With his other hand, he brings two fingers to the tender spot between her jaw and her neck. Her pulse is rapid but faint. Below, the stain spreads further along the cloth of her undershirt. He quickly lifts the hem, his fingers trembling as they brush against the cold skin of her stomach. Blood gushes from the wound at a frightening rate, dripping onto the floor and pooling.

His heart races as he frantically searches for something to stem the bleeding. It ends up being the closest thing: her discarded uniform. The fabric immediately darkens as he applies pressure.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

The blood seeps through, coating his fingers.

"Come on, stay with me," he pleads.

The blood flow slows a little, but only after having wholly soaked through her uniform. He undoes his vest and shrugs out of his shirt, leaving him in just the long sleeve he wore beneath. He brings the shirt to her waist and ties it tightly to keep the fabric firmly in place. As he secures it, her hand finds his arm. He looks down at her, meeting her gaze. Her eyes are glassy, and her breathing shallow.

"Don't worry, I've got you," he says, trying to sound confident.

Her fingers tighten around his arm, and she mumbles something. He leans closer, straining to hear her words.

“Don’t let me die here,” she repeats, her voice barely audible. “Please.”

He feels a lump form in his throat. "I won't... I promise."

He leans back against the wall, his eyes never leaving the woman’s face. Breathing heavily, he runs a hand through his hair. Only then does he notice her blood staining his uniform, his hands, and the floor around him. He wipes his hands on his pants, but even in the dim, cold light of the linen room, it’s clear it isn’t going anywhere.

This isn’t going to be enough to stabilize her; even someone with as little medical knowledge as him can see that it would be a miracle if it did.

But despite that, amidst the chaos and the overwhelming odds, he still clung to the tenuous belief that he could save her life. He can do what he couldn’t for the others, who’d been only slightly out of his reach and beyond saving. Saving just one person would mean this all meant something, and that he, though just one person unsure of what he’s up against, could be the catalyst for a transformative ripple, a flicker of defiance in the face of the unknown evils inside this building.

It would mean everything.

He glances at the door, feeling his stomach drop with the knowledge of what he must do. The hemostatic agents, the antiseptic—those are her lifelines. If he doesn’t act now, she will die in this small corner of the police station, and she’ll have him to thank. Acknowledging this fact sets him in motion.

In a swift movement, he picks her up in his arms, careful not to exacerbate her injuries. She stirs uncomfortably for a moment, then settles against him. Blood drips from his shirt at her waist and trickles down his arm before pittering on the tile. It’s neverending.

“Don’t make any noise,” he whispers down at her. Her eyes are screwed shut, but she nods in understanding.

Here goes nothing. He nudges the door open.

Once again, he is greeted with a quiet stillness. The corpses are still lost in a dreamless sleep, and light rain rhythmically blows in through the empty window frames. It could be somewhat comforting if he were ignorant of the foreboding presence lurking in the nearby shadows. With each soft step, he gets further from the haven of the linen room. He passes the expired stun grenade and is approaching the turn of the hall once again when she shifts in his arms. She presses her forehead against his chest, brows furrowed in an effort to stifle her pain. He can’t imagine how it must feel.

He pulls her closer, hoping to offer a modicum of reassurance. We’re almost there.

It can be said with absolute certainty that he has never moved as slowly as he did turning that godforsaken corner. And for that, he’s been blessed with a clear pathway. Somehow, the creature has not made its presence known. A thought nags at him, daring him to consider that he may have underestimated its intelligence. That it will rear its grotesque head any minute, and its mouth will pull in a sadistic grin, enravished with the idea that he could’ve fooled it once again.

But this is not the case. There, in the imperceptible darkness, inches above his head, there is a shift. It’s slight enough that he almost misses it. He doesn’t need to look up to know what it is—to know that it’s there, to know that he’s directly below it.

Somehow, he missed it.

His muscles tense, but there’s nothing left to do but continue forward.

Just a few more steps.

He places one foot cautiously before the other, careful to avoid shattered glass. The air feels thick with apprehension; every breath a calculated risk.

Then there’s a tug on his pants.

A deep, gurgling groan erupts from one of the corpses by his feet, and it pulls itself toward him. On instinct, he brings his boot down to silence it, crushing its skull beneath his heel before it can sink its teeth in. The woman gasps instantly, startled by the sudden jerking movement. Fuck.

Run.

The walls blur, and time seems to slow as he sprints down the hallway. The woman’s cries intermingle with the sound of talons scraping against the floor, padding down the corridor with a ferocity he doesn’t need to see to know.

Before it can reach him, he forces the office door open and kicks it shut behind him. He ignores the sounds of it screeching and thrashing about and hurries over to one of the desks, swiping the clutter to the floor before setting her down on the cool wooden surface. He wastes no time in retrieving the trauma kit and rummaging through it, letting items fall haphazardly to the floor.

The seconds are slipping through his fingers.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he says between breaths.

She watches him through furrowed brows, blinking slowly as he quickly removes the blood-soaked uniform from her waist. She says nothing, whether due to sheer incapability or hopeless acceptance.

He doesn’t notice either way.

His hands move quickly. He’s too lost in his efforts to see her watching him. Before the darkness creeps in, her lips form a short, one-word apology that gets lost on its way out, unheard by even her. The whisper of remorse dissipates in the air and fades. Then the world follows suit.

An uncertain amount of time has passed when she begins to stir. The room is blurred beneath the heaviness of her eyelids, but its meager contents slowly reveal themselves: plain wooden desks, some chairs, and personal belongings that confirm she’s in the room she suspects. She’d only been in this office once before when working on an intense, high-profile assignment. Even then, her visit was brief. There’s no reason she should be in here.

She pushes through the clouded haze and props her elbow on the desk to raise herself. Immediately, she’s struck with a burning fire in her abdomen, crumpling her back onto the cold surface. It felt like an electrical fire. Spreading quickly with a force that raised the hair on her skin.

Looking down, she saw the crimson stain on her undershirt, and the memory of the attack came back to her with a visceral shudder. The horrifying creature, the unrelenting pain, and the man who saved her. His name eludes her, the residual memories feeling like a half-forgotten dream. His face, too. Until slowly, the memory begins to sharpen, and she can see his face with full clarity. The young officer had been handsome, with an angular jaw and straight nose that lent him a serious, almost stoic look. Yet there was an undeniable boyishness to him, from the tousled hair falling into his eyes to the way he moved with an easy grace that belied the sharpness of his features. Yes, the stranger had certainly been an easy sight for her weary eyes.

“You’re awake.”

She nearly jumped out of her skin when the memory began to speak. She realized just then that it wasn’t a memory at all and that he’d emerged from a corner of the room upon hearing her awaken.

“How are you feeling?” He asks when she doesn’t respond. He’s tense, but his nervous expression seems sincere, and a strange sense of trust begins to settle over her.

“Hurts,” she grumbles. Her throat ached too. Everything ached.

His mouth flattened into a thin line, and his brows furrowed in sympathy. “I know, I’m sorry,” he says.

She notices his hands tremble slightly as they reach out to touch her, brushing warily against the exposed skin at her hip. He doesn’t seem to mind the blood staining his fingers or the hair falling into his eyes as he checks the dressing. Once it’s clear it meets his standard of approval, he looks up, and his light eyes finding hers expectantly, searching for signs of discomfort.

Then it comes back to her.

“Leon,” she murmurs absently, testing how it sounds out loud.

A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "That's me," he says softly.

She studies his face once again, taking in the way his features soften as he smiles, the gentle curve of his lips, and the way his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“How long have I been out?” she asks hoarsely.

He pulls the hem of her shirt back down, covering the tender skin once again. “Not long, a few hours maybe.”

She tries to sit up once again, but her body protests with a sharp pain at her side. He places a hand on her upper arm, steadying her.

“Take it easy,” he urges her in a whisper.

With a wave of her hand, she dismisses his concerns and her pain. She pulls herself off the desk and straightens her shirt. “I’m fine,” she assures him. “I feel like shit, but I’m fine.”

“You look better,” he says, observing her closely. “You have more color in your face.”

A faint smile graces her lips. “I think I have you to thank for that. If you hadn’t found me, I would’ve been done for,” she confesses. “I’d already made peace with it by the time you got there.”

He offers a modest shrug. “I’m not sure about that. You seem like you’re made of tougher stuff, deputy.”

His words prompt her to tilt her head, inspecting his face and searching for any remnants of recognition beyond their recent encounter. But apart from that, there's nothing.

“Oh. I ran your badge while you were out,” he admits, his gaze momentarily directed toward the floor.

“Is that so…” She crosses her arms with a touch of amusement in her voice. Her inner resolve slowly finds her once again. “So was all this done to impress your boss on the first day?”

He chuckles quietly, now somewhat sheepish in the presence of his superior, in a world where such distinctions no longer hold much meaning. Oddly enough, his laughter somehow finds its place seamlessly amidst the heavy air surrounding them.

Despite the lurking horrors outside the sanctuary of this room and the even grimmer uncertainties ahead, for a brief moment, none of it matters. She stands there as a testament to his actions, breathing proof that he made a difference. Placing himself in the epicenter of this diseased storm no longer feels like ill-fated martyrdom. Within these walls and in the face of the darkness that looms beyond, they are not simply spectators to a morbid narrative; they are, instead, influential participants. All hope isn't lost.

With a smug smile, he finally lifts his gaze to meet hers.

“Did it work?”

#resident evil #resident evil 2 #resident evil 2 remake #re2 #re2 remake #re4 remake #resident evil 4 #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy x you #deftones #deftones inspo

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kurogane2512 · 3 months

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Evening, so about coquelic uhh I'd thought of a scenario when she doesn't like to believe that chief(fem) was actually treating her sinners with care including garofano and sumire as she thought that the chief of bureau only captured sinners to use as tools though that change when she witness it herself and got the same treatment as well when she got captured by chief which days went by she begun to feel comfortable and always tease chief whenever she likes which her liking for the chief deepen more resulting her desire for the chief only grew wider. So I guess this might be nsfw when her desire grew because she's having wild thoughts about chief whenever she focuses her gaze on chief working on her office desk and coquelic was scanning every part like her hands, face and stuffs. So yeah that's the scenario I had in mind I hope it's not confusing and I tried my best to explain it🥲

A very cute scenario anon, I actually wanted to write something like this for Coquelic ever since her event <3

18+ CONTENT

Game: Path to Nowhere

Characters: Coquelic x fem!reader (Chief)

Type: Smut and fluff (kissing, fingering, bath sex)

A/n: Let me see how many of you recognize this scene ;)

The Garden may not exist anymore, but its flowers were alive and blooming. Coquelic knew her lovely flowers had found their new home, but could she really rest easy that they had been left in the right hands? She remained suspicious and uncertain ever since Sumire left, but when she saw Sumire go to the ends of the world for you, she knew you were special. And then there was Garofano, almost transforming into a monster and sacrificing herself for you. Both of them did everything to find you, to protect you and to care for you.

The Mentor wasn't easily convinced you deserved such importance from her flowers, just what was so special about you that they couldn't stay away? Coquelic had to find the answer; fortunately, it did not take long for her to find it and she was still alive to experience some of it herself. A considerable amount of time had passed ever since her arrest, her days in the MBCC were boring for the most part, but she was glad to see her flowers were living well here. She was proved wrong about you, now the Mentor wanted what you gave to her students.....

You just finished dealing with the exhausting chores today and were planning to catch up on the pending paperwork left behind since you went to the Rust, but it seems a certain someone had other plans for you. A knock was heard on your office door but before you could reply, the door already swung open and an unexpected guest walked in.

"Oh, you are still working so late at night?~" it was Coquelic, the infamous Mentor of the Garden.

"Well, anyways. The bath bombs you bought last time were good so I bought some more myself. I'm about to take a bath, come and help me prepare it."

"Uh.... help you prepare your bath? Are you sure you want me to do that?"

"Why not? In this place, you are the only one who understands my preferences. Now, make haste."

"W-Wait, I have work to do. There's all these bills from the logistics department, field mission reports, analysis from the hypnotherapists, test results from the researchers an—"

Coquelic sighed in exasperation, "You can't do all of that in one night anyway. Come now, don't waste my time."

You knew it was pointless to argue further, you nodded with a sigh and followed Coquelic towards her personal bathroom and started preparing.

"You know what I want, right? I'm looking forward to see how you perform so don't disappoint me~"

Coquelic smirked and stood at the door quietly, adamant to see you do it all by yourself. You looked around and thought for a moment before starting, "Chilled milk with ice cubes.... water temperature at 45 degrees.... sprinkled with white rose petals..... Then, bath towerls, shower cap and robe.... oh, and the scented shampoo with conditioner...."

Coquelic watched you meticulously prepare the bath, each and every step was done perfectly as she wanted despite her telling you her preferences only once. She was taken aback but had come to realize this was your nature, she couldn't help but feel warmth in her chest as her heart started beating loudly.

"....There are many members of my Garden here in the bureau, right?" Coquelic spoke softly.

"Hm? Yes, there are." you replied without looking at her, still preparing the bath.

"Is everything here arranged by you? The schedules, treatment etc?"

"Uh, for the most part, yeah. I personally approve every document and requirement pertaining to each Sinner, that includes their diagnosis, treatment methods, diet, among other things."

Coquelic nodded then silently walked closer to your figure, her footsteps as silent as the moon, she stopped when she was inches away from you then slowly wrapped her arms around your torso and embraced you from behind. You were caught by surprise feeling her arms sling around you and her body press into you, "C-Coquelic? Is everything okay?"

"....You, perhaps you can really make a difference and change this wretched world."

Your eyes widened at her words then she continued, her voice as soft as silk, "Thank you for taking care of my flowers."

Silence engulfed you both for a while until you spoke, "I.... I just treat every Sinner equally, I want everyone to be well. Your Garden is beautiful.... and so are you."

Coquelic's heart skipped a beat at your words then she chuckled, "Heh~ Never expected to hear such words at my age but I understand, I know my beauty is eternal~"

You chuckled as well then she let go of you and you turned around to face her, but before you could say anything she pulled you down by your chest harness and connected her lips with yours for a quick kiss.

"Let's relax together, Chief. You are tired from working all day, aren't you?~"

Coquelic stepped back with a gentle smile, then her hands moved to the string on her gown to untie it. The pure white satern fabric slid down her body, revealing her perky breasts with light pink nipples. She tied her flowing silver hair in a messy bun then walked towards you and kept her palms on your chest, flirtasiously rubbing them up and down.

"You are staring so much, Chief. Hehe~ I know I'm pretty, that's why you can't keep your eyes off of me. But are you really satisfied with just looking?~"

Coquelic walked towards the bathtub and climbed inside then beckoned her finger at you. You were still quite shocked by the turn of events but more than that, you were definitely turned on from her body. You quickly discarded your own clothes then climbed in the bathtub as well and sat on the opposite edge, directly in front of Coquelic.

"Hmm, you are quite shy, Chief. I thought you were more assertive or.... dominating from the way Sumire and Garofano described you~"

"W-What?! What did they say about me?!"

Coquelic laughed lightly, "Oh, nothing much. Both of them are too infatuated with you to care, they'd accept any form of pleasure you give them~"

Your face flushed at her words and you shyly looked down when you suddenly felt the water move and looked up to see Coquelic crawling towards you.

"But I'm not them...." she straddled your lap with her arms wrapped around your neck, "....I want to see what's special about you, and I'm not easy to satisfy~"

Coquelic's smaller frame looked delicate, you were almost afraid to be rough with her. You gently kept your hands on her hips and pulled her close to initiate a soft yet passionate kiss, her tongue licked your lips and entered your mouth, and you were quick to return the action by swirling your tongue with hers in a heated manner. Soft moans and whines left her lips, sounding too sweet and addicting to you.

Your hands roamed down her thighs and rubbed her skin, making her release the kiss with a soft gasp. You then leaned forward and snuggled into her neck to lick, softly biting and sucking on her fresh. She squirmed, her fingers intertwining in your hair and grasping the strands as she threw her head back, letting you kiss further up to her jaw.

"O-Oh.... Eager to mark me, are you? Mhm.... give me more then, let us stain each other~"

Coquelic hugged you and bit your shoulder, a muffled hiss leaving your mouth and she grinned against your skin then licked the mark. She felt your hands caress her inner thighs followed by your fingers rubbing her outer folds.

"Ngh.... is that all you got? I don't believe Sumire and Garofano were satisfied with just this~"

You licked her ear lobe then began pushing your finger inside her, gently parting her folds with 2 fingers and sliding deep inside. She moaned out as your finger prodded her sensitive spot, her head shooting back in ecstasy and her grip tightening around you. She moaned out near your ear as you thrusted your fingers in and out of her, scissoring and curling to scrape her insides.

"Aaaahn~ Yes.... more.... more.... r-right there!~"

Coquelic's eyes rolled to the back of her head as she approached her release, her nails clawing down your back making marks. She finally came with a soft scream, her juices drenching your fingers as she laid panting in your embrace.

"Hmm.... n-not bad.... mhmm~"

She kissed your cheek in satisfaction and the two of you bathed together afterwards. You were seated in the bath in each other's embrace when she suddenly spoke out

"Both of you, are you done spying?"

You were confused but soon realized there were 2 presences around you, sensed by your shackles. The door of the bathroom opened and Sumire and Garofano walked in, their faces flushed red.

"A-Apologies, Mentor. We weren't spying, we were just—" Sumire tried to interject but was stopped by Coquelic.

"Yes yes, save your excuses. Come inside already, Chief is ready for you both~"

You looked at Coquelic wide-eyed then at Sumire and Garofano who were already in the process of removing their clothes..... Well, you wouldn't complain relaxing with such lovely beautiful flowers, would you?~

#path to nowhere #ptn x reader #coquelic x reader #ptn coquelic #ptn #ptn smut #coquelic

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spacephobos · 1 year

Text

I've got so much I want to say about Polite Society. But I refuse to post anything too spoilery yet.

So one thing I will say is the way Lena's depression and mental health is written is incredible. So often when men write women with mental health issues they write this sort of "prettily struggling" womsn in a spiral.

(this infamous queens gambit scene comes to mind)

They're never allowed to actually be ugly or gross or even not have their hair and makeup be perfect.

Like beth here is in a pretty frilly top shes reclining in an uncomfortable fashion. Her makeup looks perfect and he cardigan is prettily draped over her shoulders. She's meant to be attractive. Her sadness is almost fetishised.

but then Lena looks like this

Whereas Lena's a WRECK. It's considered an achievement she showered. AND shes proud of herself for that small acomplishment. Shes angry. She destroys her work. She's dressed in sweats and pyjamas with either no makeup (if i remember correctly) or makeup that looks like it's been on for days. There's a scene where shes wandering aimlessly and just buys a duck to eat. And she does not eat it daintily or prettily (and no its not a chicken ppl seem to be confused).

I love that she spends all the first act in hoodies and pajamas looking like shes not washed in 3 days. It's just so good to see a woman direct another woman with depression. There's so much to be said about the male gaze and how it even impacts the portrayal of women going through crisis. The removal of that lens has created what I will argue is the most authentic experience of depression in a woman I've maybe ever seen. I literally cannot think of another time I've seen that.

Anyways Nida Manzoor I love you.

#Theres sooo much in general I want to say about this movie #This is just one of many things I love #womems emotions on screen rarely feel authentic #polite society #media commentary #nida manzoor #writing this bc im currently in a depressive episode and look like lena rn lmao #thinking of like 9 more points to say but cant be bothered to write them #might add more later

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blossomwritesthings · 7 months

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭

pairing: jisung x fem!reader x male oc (afab)

genre: producer!jisung/hairstylist!reader. badboy!jisung. enemies to lovers. twin dynamic. cheating/infidelity au. some angst. smut - MDNI, 18+ only. reader pov.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. thematic elements. just a tad bit of angst in this, but mainly, it's just degenerate shit. cheating is a big part of this. smut warnings below cut!!

word count: 4.1k

summary: the han twins are infamous in south korea for being the #1 duo in the country, with han jisoon gifted in rapping and han jisung in producing. jisoon is the best man a girl could ever ask for- and a wonderful boyfriend. it's just too bad that jisung is the one you truly want out of the two brothers.

18+ warnings: unprotected sex (keep it safe, my friends). kindaa jealousy sex. harddom!jisung. cheating sex. sub!reader. fingering. dom/sub undertones. degradation (slut, whore, etc.). manhandling kink. size kink. humiliation. dumbification. ownership/possession. jisung edges reader a bunch. overstimulation galore. lots of dirty talk. breeding kink!!. subspace. orgasm denial.

a/n: OKAY- SO !!!! 😖 I first got inspired to write this months ago just from watching this edit over and over again. 😩 originally, this was gonna be a chan fic, but I decided to change it to hanji at the last minute, so here we are lol! 😂 honestly, this is kind of an interesting premise for a longer series, so idk... if I'm feeling inspired to, I might expand on this oneshot and make another part to it... lmk if that's smth you guys would be interested in!! 🤎

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). do not copy, spin-off, or write inspired work based off of this fanfic without full permission to do so. ©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

"W-We shouldn't be doing this," you gasped out, feeling the rise of your arousal flooding every part of your mind. It overtook all of your senses - forcing you to see stars, making the blood in your veins boil deliciously, casting visions of rainbows across your mind, flashes of effervescent violet and topaz coating your eyelids. "It's... it's not right."

The man between your legs was incessant in his movements, pressing your spine a little harder into the shower's cool tiled wall. One hand clamped down onto your hip, nails digging into sensitive flesh there, as he held you up, continuing to hoist your legs around his waist tightly. His other hand was busy at work between your colliding bodies, thumb drawing messy circles around your clit. It was so fucking puffy and felt like it was engulfed in a vat of flames.

"Why? Because you wanna deny that you're mine? That only I can make you feel this way, only I can fit this pussy so well?" His messy raven locks curled underneath the shower's hot steam, his entire naked form covered in a glistening sheen of suds and sweat and water. "You stay with him- with that prick, but you and I both know that he doesn't bring you to your knees like this- doesn't fuck you as well as I do."

And the worst part about it- was that you knew he was right.

Deep down, in the depths of your heart, mind, and spirit, you knew he only spoke the truth.

That's the thing that killed you the most.

The Han twins were infamous in the music industry - raising their empire of success from the ground up in the basement of their parent's house when they were just young boys in middle school. As they grew older, they only became better at their crafts - Han Jisoon with his rapping, and Han Jisung with his producing.

Soon after their 18th birthday, they made their official debut in the Seoul music scene. Instantly, their first track was a complete hit - sweeping the nation with its catchy rhythm and unique rap lines. It was unlike anything anyone had ever heard, and by the time the twins turned twenty-one, they were on track to be the biggest stars of their generation - overtaking all other duos in the industry and winning all the year-end awards.

You met Jisoon, the singer out of the duo, when you were training to become a hair colorist and he was in his late twenties. One day, a mysterious man came into your salon in Hongdae. Soon after you heard your teacher talk about who he was to some of the other stylists there - you realized that the man you would be working with was none other than the biggest star in the country at the moment.

Instantly, there was a connection between the two of you. His smiles were so warm, the way he spoke to you so soft and delicate, his laugh contagious. His happiness was infectious, and like a drug, you began to think of nothing but him. After work that day, you came home to watch all of his performances and interviews, completely captivated by his persona.

As it turns out, he decided to use your salon for his monthly appointments - and soon, after you graduated with your specialty license in hair color, you became his personal hair colorist.

It didn't take long after that until you two grew a deep connection, and then he was asking for your number before he took you out on your first date together, and the rest... was history.

Honestly, he was the best boyfriend you could ever ask for. He was so fucking kind and sweet and considerate. He wasn't selfish in the least bit and always wanted the best for you. And when you told him you wanted to keep things on the down-low in regards to your relationship, he heeded your wishes. Over the three years that you two had been dating, not a single word had gotten out to the press about your relationship. Sure, his fans speculated about his relationship status, but no one ever came out with any hard evidence of his true girlfriend.

He had even met your parents during Chuseok soon after your first anniversary, much to their delight. He brought over gifts for your mother and spent time out on your father's boat fishing in the early morning even though he hated fishing and always got seasick. Your mother fell in love with him during your trip, and wouldn't stop talking about the expensive rice cakes he had brought her for that holiday season. Your father also took a keen liking to him, saying he enjoyed having a fishing partner, which was your father's way of saying that he approved of your choice of a man.

All of your friends loved Han Jisoon too. Your best friend, Ryujin, was obsessed with your relationship - and was always checking up on the two of you. She was just chomping at the bit for him to propose, and every Christmas that passed, she claimed that 'next year, he'll do it on New Year- I swear to you that he will.'

Jisoon liked to hang out with you and your friends when his schedule allowed him to, and you did the same with his large group of friends. Granted, most of his connections were either famous producers or other popular singers, but still - you liked the fact that he wasn't afraid to introduce you to the important people in his life. Because all of it made you feel important to him.

Not to mention all of the gifts he got you - sending you huge bouquets of your favorite flowers when he was away on tour, and sending you little gifts here and there 'just because.' Like the box of chocolates during a particularly shitty day of your period, or the small teddy bear that was programmed with his voice and said 'I love you,' that he bought for you during one of his promotional business trips to Taiwan.

Overall, he was the best person you had ever met. He was funny and quirky and so fucking entertaining to be around. Not to mention talented- he could write thirty lines of rap within an hour, something you never could get over even after years of knowing him. He was perpetually changing his hair color too, thanks to your help - and for the past year, he had been rocking a dusty blonde look. He also loved to dress in bright colors and wasn't one to shy away from all the new fashion trends.

So... everything must've been amazing, right?

You had a beautiful, unique boyfriend who fucking adored you and practically worshipped the ground you walked on.

So then, what was the problem?

Well, for one thing, the root of the entire bane of your existence was his twin brother, Han Jisung.

With his perpetually messy black hair, onyx eyes, and scowl he always seemed to wear no matter what. You had never seen him dressed in anything other than dark clothes - grays and blacks only.

His temperament matched his outward appearance, with his downright rude personality at times and his snide comments that were always directed towards you. He was an absolute thorn in your ass and he loved being one.

He and your boyfriend couldn't be more different from each other, and you were almost surprised when you first met him after you and Jisoon first started dating. Because... they were such stark opposites of each other it was almost comical.

But Jisoon loved his brother, despite his flaws and all, and since they had an entire career together, you were forced to share space with your boyfriend's other half. When Jisoon would invite you over to the studio late at night to listen to some of the new lyrics he had written, there Jisung was. Sitting at the desk in the recording studio, directing everything and making changes to the track... just brooding for a fight.

When he worked, Jisung was even more serious than his normal day-to-day persona; changing into this silent, man with a menacing kind of aura surrounding him as he sat behind a huge desk in their shadowy recording studio.

You'd be turned on by the sight of it all if you were dating Jisoon - his twin brother.

But as it turns out, life has a funny way of playing tricks on you...

On your mind and heart and everything you had grown accustomed to.

And before you even realized it was happening, your dynamics were changing. No longer was it you and Jisoon against Jisung. Slowly but surely, throughout your relationship, you somehow grew closer to your boyfriend's twin brother.

It started with him being a little nicer to you randomly during your visits to the recording studio, or during the luncheons you'd sometimes attend with your boyfriend and his entire crew.

Han Jisung turned out to be kind of... nice.

Despite all of his flaws and rude mannerisms.

But even so, he was still an asshole, he was still annoying most of the time and a total prick. He liked to get under your skin, and wiggle around in there - teasing you just enough to the point where you were close to blowing up at him. But he always pulled back eventually.

Almost like, he enjoyed the thought of edging you irrevocably, for years on end.

Things came to a screeching halt though, when the twins were on tour and Jisoon invited you to tag along with him to their dates in Japan. Not wanting to deny the offer since you had always wanted to visit the country, you joined him during the four days that he and Jisung would be in Tokyo.

At first, everything was going smoothly.

Their rehearsal the night before their first show went well, and you enjoyed sightseeing with your boyfriend after he was finished with preparations. After the two of you got back to your hotel, Jisoon quickly fell asleep in your shared queen-sized bed, completely exhausted from his busy schedule.

And then somehow, you had found yourself roaming the halls of the luxurious hotel, stumbling upon a small alcove in the back of the spacious place, fit with a self-serve mini bar and a few velvet-lined seats overlooking the glittering night's cityscape.

But the person who was sitting in one of those seats was the thing that surprised you the most, with his black tresses and even darker stare. He regarded you with a tilt of his head, swishing around the ice in his crystal glass that was filled with dark bourbon.

Pathetically, it only took you three drinks in.

Perhaps the red wine they served at the hotel's mini bar was more potent than the stuff you were used to in South Korea.

Or, perhaps you were just as exhausted as your boyfriend Jisoon from spending the day traveling across the city and sightseeing.

But before you knew it, you had somehow migrated onto Jisung's lap, allowing him to place his palms on your ass that was just barely covered by the mini skirt you had changed into to tour the city with Jisoon earlier that night.

"I have a boyfriend, Jisung," you had said, as the man before you leaned in a little closer to your form. Nose coming close to your exposed neck, he had breathed in a deep sigh. Your spine shuttered from how near he was to you. Nearer than the two of you had ever been before. "Jisoon- he- he loves me."

After that, Jisung looked up at you with a raised eyebrow, a dark, familiar look twirling right there in his eyes. He stared on at you in silence, before he let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "Oh please- you couldn't give a flying fuck about my brother. Especially not when you're with me..."

The moment his lips had come in contact with your skin, you melted instantly - like a bar of milk chocolate being held over the high flames of a fire. The fire ended up being him, his heat engulfing you as his mouth came around the spot between your clavicle and neck, teeth biting down there slowly, tongue darting out and licking ever so slightly.

"I've seen the way you stare- you're practically begging me to fuck you at any chance that we're together," Jisung had grunted out, his mutterings fanning against your skin and making the butterflies erupt even faster in the pit of your stomach. "Such a little whore- why have one brother when you can have two, right?"

After that, you were trying to push him away. Palms on his muscular chest, you tried to move off of his lap. But his digits just dug in harder to the supple flesh of your asscheeks, and when you moved slightly, you could feel the hardness of his middle gently hitting up into your warm center.

In the end, you couldn't deny the wetness that was slowly growing in your panties. But you could sure try your damndest to forget about it all. "I'm dating someone else, we... can't..." Your voice trailed off after that, as his mouth traced up the column of your neck, pressing light, heart-fluttering kisses against your jawline and the corner of your mouth.

"Too bad you're such a horrible fucking liar then," Jisung said in a low voice, staring into your eyes and giving you that look - the one he always leveled your way when he was officially done with your bullshit. "Too bad I can no longer ignore the wetness that's growing between your legs- ignore the way you press these cute little pussy lips together each time I make you squirm with my taunting."

In the next instant, he was pressing his mouth against yours, swallowing up your groan of surprise, quieting the moans that threatened to slip free from deep inside of you when his tongue danced against yours.

Turns out, he was right.

Without even really realizing it, you had been taunting him.

For fucking years.

With your combativeness, and playful banter. Not to mention, the long stares and shifting in your seat every time he made you feel... bothered.

He was like a powerful magnet, something you couldn't deny the pull of any longer.

Your kiss there on the chair in the hotel alcove turned into something heated and disastrous, and soon, you found yourself locked up in Han Jisung's hotel room - hands pinned against the soft downy mattress as his thick cock ripped you right open. He drew the filthiest of sounds out from the depths of your soul as he pounded into you completely raw, fucking you well into the night. He edged you for hours - just like he did in your regular lives - before bringing you over the brink of five different orgasms.

The sex with your boyfriend Jisoon was good,

but nothing could compare to the way that Jisung made you feel that night.

How filled up you had felt - completely whole in every way possible.

Usually, the sex with your boyfriend was fairly quick, very vanilla, and in the same three positions.

Meanwhile, Jisung had you in all kinds of ways that night - knees, back, stomach. You name it, he somehow coaxed you into it.

And afterward, after he finished coating every crevice and surface of your insides and outsides in his seed and sweat and saliva, Han Jisung helped to clean you up. The two of you lay side by side in his bed for a little bit, soon after he had wiped your skin clean.

No words had been spoken between the two of you then, but you just felt, that nothing had to be said. The deed had been done. You had gotten over the hardest part.

And now... there was no going back.

When you had crept back to the room you were sharing with your boyfriend and laid down beside him just as the clock was about to strike five in the morning, you realized that things were completely ruined.

Nothing would ever be the same again - because no one would ever compare...

To the way Jisung made you feel that night, and how he had made you feel over the past few years, without you even fucking realizing it.

Slowly, as you lay there underneath the covers, hair disheveled and the marks of Jisung's lips littered across your body - your legs and arms and pussy sore from his arduous, heated attention - the tears slipped out of the corners of your eyes unchecked. You stared at the back of Jisoon, your boyfriend, and cried yourself into a listless kind of sleep, void of any dreams or thoughts.

"I'm sorry, babe," you had whispered to his sloped shoulders, just before your eyes had slipped shut in finality in the early morning rays of sunlight for that day. "I'm so fucking sorry..."

Three weeks after they were finished with their Japanese leg of the tour, and back home in Seoul resting before they finished up with their encore concert in America, Jisung paid a visit to the apartment you shared with Jisoon in the heart of Gangnam. Your boyfriend was out for the day, visiting his parents for the rare break that they had in their schedules.

The moment you opened your door and saw him standing there on the step, your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach. But the two of you didn't have to say anything, because you already knew.

Things had been ruined the moment you stumbled upon him late at night in that hotel, all those weeks ago.

That day, you christened every surface of your apartment with your mixed essence. Every place you could imagine, Jisung fucked you on: the kitchen counter, the living room couch, the dining room table, against the front door, in the shower, on the study room's floor, and perhaps worst of all... in your very own bed. The one you had shared with your boyfriend, who was also Jisung's twin brother, for years.

The sex that day was mind-blowing and cataclysmic, as Jisung led you over the brink of so many orgasms, you lost count after the third one. By the time the two of you were finished and the sun was beginning to set, you were so deep into an odd limbo state of mind that you couldn't even form a coherent thought or sentence.

And like a thief leaving in the middle of the night, like a ghost visiting you for only a time, Jisung just kissed you goodbye, promising he'd come back soon, and left you in your apartment right before your boyfriend came back.

He left you as a pile of messy hair, weak limbs, and a murky mind, sprawled out across your bed, completely naked and littered with bite marks and violet hickies. You managed to throw a nightgown on before your boyfriend came home and saw you that night.

You were so fucking ashamed, but no matter how bad you felt about it all, you couldn't stop yourself. And apparently, Jisung couldn't either. You two were drawn to each other, for whatever reason. And no external factor - even the idea of a long-term boyfriend - was going to stop the trainwreck that you were slowly causing with your secret meetings.

Over time, the periods spent with your boyfriend's twin brother bled together into a fever dream of passion and the greatest sex you had ever experienced in your life. Any chance you could get alone with each other, with your boyfriend nowhere in sight, the two of you were fucking...

In the recording studio, during the rehearsal for a TV appearance, at the hair salon you worked at, in the bathroom during a late-night dinner with their company. And soon, you found yourself falling into a weird kind of rhythm with Han Jisung. Half of the time, you spent it with your boyfriend, Jisoon. And the other half, you spent it with Jisung... fucking and delving into each other in all different ways.

Your time spent with the other brother became so intense and all-consuming that you lost track of how long it had been since everything had started. And that's how you found yourself that specific Friday night, with your boyfriend spending the night at the studio working on a recording. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to him, his twin brother was between your legs.

Jisung had already taken you wholly atop the dining room table earlier that night after you had finished eating the takeout he had brought over. Once you were done chewing your orange chicken and fried rice, the dark-haired man was upon you with a vengeance - ripping off your panties and pushing you atop the wooden table. His fingers had this magic touch to them, and within just a few minutes, with a couple of practiced strokes, he always brought you over the edge in a blinding light of arousal.

After he was finished with you on the table, you two took a shower together and somehow... he ended up inside of you, once again, for the millionth time in a row.

"W-What about Jisoon..." You whined out, head bumping against the tile wall at your back with every hard thrust of Jisung up into you. His cock stretched you out so deliciously, and you ground your hips against his, loving the feel of his hand clamped down on your clit, rubbing at it with a rabid kind of heat. "He... He'll die if he finds out, Ji..."

He flashed you a swarthy, devilish kind of smirk, before he leaned into you, pressing his teeth against your shoulder and biting down on your clavicle. Tongue coming out to press against the purple spot left there, he chuckled lowly. "Oh, just shut up already- I think we're past the point of you giving a fuck about him."

And then you were clutching onto his wet locks even harder, as he drilled his cock so far deep into you, entire galaxies and other worlds flashed across your vision. Gasping out in pure bliss, you moaned out his name breathlessness, your whines getting swallowed up by the sound of the running showerhead above you.

"Yeah, that's right... moan my name, bitch," Jisung coaxed in a deep voice, his thumb drawing figure eights around your puffy clit as his cock fucked the squelching juices back into you. "We both know this - us - is never ending... either you leave that fucker, or he finds me fucking you one of these days and everything turns to shit. Your choice."

You were so fucked out, mind fuzzy with arousal and the pit of your stomach on fire from all of the feeling coursing through your system that you could barely form a coherent sentence. Even still, you managed to crack your eyes open just a tad bit to level Jisung with a serious frown. "N-No... never- don't want to ruin this..." The breath caught in the middle of your throat as the tip of his rigid cock hit that soft spot deep inside of you, making your legs shake around his waist, cunt clenching around his length.

"Then take everything, you slut- be a good little whore and take daddy's cock," Jisung commanded out in a stern tone, pounding into you incessantly and making your ass bounce back and forth against the shower wall. "Open wider for me, baby doll- wanna see this pretty pussy of yours bulging with my cock."

As always, you did what he commanded of you. Spreading your legs wider and hugging them a little closer around his hips, your head shot back against the tile of the shower wall when you felt Jisung's cock prodding into you.

He pushed down on your lower belly, feeling the way his thick cock rubbed up into you so far, he bulged out against the seams and the outline of him displayed deep inside of you. "Oh fuck- such a cute pussy... fits me so fucking well..." Jisung said in a low voice, as he rubbed a little harder against your clit with his thumb. Meanwhile, his dick was reaching all new lengths inside of you, drawing out a flurry of moans from between your lips. "J-Just a little longer... just hold on a little more, 'kay kitten?"

And in the end, you heeded his commands. All of them. You did everything he wanted, because truthfully- you couldn't help yourself. Couldn't deny him, no matter what.

Fin.

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zapreportsblog · 8 months

Note

Hello, I have a request. Can you write about Shanks meeting his soulmate while walking on an island? He is very popular and many women are in love with him, but this time he encounters a woman who is almost not for him. She is very beautiful and a good fighter. I honestly wonder how Shanks will impress her, maybe he will offer to sail together🙃

❝fire for you❞

✭ pairing : shanks x reader

✭ fandom : one piece

✭ summary : soulmates come in many shapes in forms, the thought of having one intrigues everyone even those who don’t believe in them. shanks is no different, he knows that he is a well desired man, he has the looks, the power and the name after all. But despite all that he is leaving his heart open for only one woman.

✭ authors note : I’ve gotten inspiration from two songs when I wrote this

✭ one piece masterlist

The Red Hair Pirates were renowned throughout the Grand Line, led by none other than their charismatic and popular captain, Shanks. It wasn't just his reputation as a fearsome pirate that drew attention; it was his charm, his red hair, and the twinkle in his eye that captured the hearts of women far and wide. But Shanks, despite his charismatic demeanor, had a principle he never wavered from—he was waiting for his soulmate.

One night, as the crew celebrated on their ship, anchored near a lively coastal town, Shanks found himself in the midst of a sea of admirers. Women from the town had come aboard, eager for a chance to be near the infamous captain. Among them, a local woman sat on his lap, her eyes filled with desire and her voice laden with seduction.

"Why won't you go to bed with me, Shanks?" she pouted, leaning in close to him. Her scent was alluring, her beauty undeniable, but Shanks had his heart set on a different path.

Shanks chuckled, his deep laugh filling the air as he gently removed her from his lap. "Because," he replied, his red hair gleaming in the lantern light, "I know I have a soulmate out there."

The woman, however, misunderstood his words. She thought he was referring to a partner already in his life, not realizing that Shanks was waiting for the one destined to be his soulmate. Frustrated and feeling rejected, she slapped him across the face, her anger evident in her eyes.

“You dog!”

With a good-natured smile, Shanks didn't retaliate. Instead, he watched her storm off, knowing that such encounters were all too common in his life. Many women couldn't accept that his heart was set on someone they couldn't replace.

Returning to the festivities, Shanks continued to enjoy the party with his crew, the memory of the encounter fading amidst laughter, music, and the clinking of tankards. It was just another night in the life of the Red Hair Pirates' captain, who remained steadfast in his search for the one person who held the key to his heart—his soulmate.

As the Red Hair Pirates docked on another island to replenish their wine supply, they were met with a familiar scene. Shanks had a reputation that seemed to precede him, and women on every island they visited couldn't resist the magnetic pull of his charisma. They clamored for his attention, showering him with adoration.

Shanks, ever the friendly captain, entertained their advances with a grin and a friendly word or two. He had always been sociable and approachable, enjoying the company of those who crossed his path.

However, this island was different. It was as if the women were under a spell, drawn to Shanks like moths to a flame. They swarmed around him, their infatuation evident in their eyes and actions.

But just as Shanks found himself immersed in this sea of admirers, a voice rose above the clamor. A woman, who had approached the group of admirers, seemed to possess a presence that commanded attention.

"Back off, you buffoons! One pirate comes to this island, and suddenly you forget you have husbands and partners!" she declared, her voice carrying authority and irritation.

In an instant, the crowd of women parted like the sea, making way for this enigmatic newcomer. Shanks, though accustomed to female attention, was taken aback by her presence. He couldn't see her at first, hidden behind the swarm of women, but her voice had cut through the noise.

And then, he saw her.

Her captivating eyes drew him in, like a sailor bewitched by a siren's song. Her luscious, inviting hair begged to be touched, and Shanks clenched his chest, feeling his heart race at the sight of her. Her skin had a lovely, alluring shade that only added to her allure, and she was dressed in a dark purple kimono with a lavender rope cinched at her waist. A sword at her hip hinted at a fierce determination within her.

Amidst the women who bowed or averted their eyes, asking for forgiveness, this woman stood tall and unyielding. Her presence exuded authority, as if she were the ruler of this island.

Shanks couldn't help but be captivated by her beauty and strength. He took a step forward, his curiosity piqued as he asked, "Who are you?"

Still clenching his shirt where his heart was pounding, he felt compelled to learn more about this intriguing woman. She met his gaze with a confidence that left him utterly spellbound.

"My name is (Y/n) (L/n)," she declared proudly, her eyes never leaving his. "I am the future leader of this here Death Island. Now why have you come to my island.”

Shanks did his best to snap out of the mesmerized state he found himself in. He straightened up, letting his tall and well-built physique speak for him. This was no time to appear vulnerable, especially in front of his crew.

He introduced himself with a firm tone, "My name is Shanks, Captain of the Red Hair Pirates. I've come to restore my wine supply, if you have any on your island that is."

(Y/n) nodded thoughtfully and called over a woman from the crowd. The woman was married to the island's bartender, and she was the one who might have information about the wine supply. She listened as (Y/n) explained the situation, and the woman frowned, shaking her head.

"The supply ship hasn't come in yet," she replied, her voice tinged with disappointment. The prospect of restocking their wine was slim at the moment.

Shanks, ever adaptable, swiftly responded, "Would it be alright for my men and me to rest here until the supply ship comes?"

(Y/n) considered his request for a moment before agreeing, "As long as you cause no trouble to my people, then I mean you no harm."

With that, (Y/n) turned and walked away, leaving Shanks in a state of awe. His thoughts were consumed by the mysterious woman who had captured his attention. She was different, not like the others who had flocked to him in the past. Something about her felt unique, and he couldn't shake the feeling that she might be the one he had been waiting for—the soulmate he had always believed in.

As the Red Hair Pirates docked on the island, Shanks had a determined look in his eyes. He instructed his crew to prepare for a temporary stay, even though one of his crewmates had a different suggestion.

"You know we could just go to another island for wine, right?" the crewmate suggested, clearly perplexed by Shanks' stubbornness.

Shanks, however, was already far too infatuated with the island's leader, (Y/n). He couldn't bear the thought of leaving this island, not when she was here. He looked toward the shore, where (Y/n) was now weaving fisher baskets with her people, including the woman who had married the island's fishermen.

With a smile, Shanks responded to his crewmate, "We could buy them, yes. But she wouldn't be there."

Benn Beckman, one of Shanks' closest friends and crewmates, couldn't help but comment on Shanks' behavior. He chuckled and said, "You're whipped for a lass who barely paid you the time of day."

The rest of the crew joined in the laughter, but Shanks didn't mind. He shook his head with a smile, his gaze still fixed on (Y/n) as she worked on the shores of her island.

"That's my soulmate, I swear by it," Shanks declared, his unwavering belief in their connection shining through his words. He couldn't explain it, but there was something about (Y/n) that had captured his heart, and he was willing to stay on this island as long as it took to win her over.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, orange glow across the island, the people of Death Island had prepared a grand welcome party for Shanks and his crew. The festivities were in full swing, with the aroma of delicious food and the sounds of laughter filling the air.

Tables were laden with a variety of dishes, showcasing the island's culinary delights. Fresh seafood, exotic fruits, and flavorful spices combined to create a feast fit for a pirate crew. The crew members, many of whom had never experienced such a welcoming reception, were delighted by the abundance of food and drink.

While some of the island's inhabitants had gathered to entertain the crew with lively music and dancing, others were busy preparing drinks. The island's specialty was a variety of fruity juices, crafted from the bountiful fruits of the surrounding forest trees. These concoctions were refreshing and sweet, perfect for the tropical atmosphere.

Shanks and his crew mingled with the locals, enjoying the warm hospitality of Death Island. It was a night filled with laughter, camaraderie, and the joy of new friendships. The crew felt a deep appreciation for the island's people, who had welcomed them with open arms despite their initial intentions.

As the night continued, Shanks couldn't help but steal glances at (Y/n), who moved gracefully through the crowd, she was making sure everything was in order before sitting down at another table. Her presence added an air of enchantment to the already magical evening, and Shanks couldn't wait to learn more about the woman who had captured his heart.

Shanks couldn't help but wander his eyes back over to (y/n) taking note that she wasn’t too far from his table, her presence as enchanting as ever. She had changed into a new kimono, this one dark blue with intricate star patterns adorning it. The sight of her in that kimono, surrounded by a group of imposing and formidable men, piqued Shanks' curiosity.

He turned to one of the village women, who had been keeping Shanks' crew company along with her friends. With a friendly smile, he asked, "Who are those men surrounding (Y/n)?"

The woman's expression became more serious as she began to explain. "Those are the Death family," she said. "Their great leader is Abaddon (L/n), and the three formidable men you see are his sons: Hades, Cain, and Anubis."

Shanks raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the names. "And who is (Y/n) to them?" he inquired.

The woman's explanation delved deeper into the mysteries of the (L/n) family. "She is their daughter and the youngest of the family," she revealed. "While her father and brothers' names all carry the meaning of death, (Y/n)'s name is Nerium Oleander, named after a type of flower. It's a beautiful flower, but it's known to be poisonous. In many ways, her name is a reflection of her uniqueness—both enchanting and dangerous."

Shanks couldn't help but be captivated by this new layer of mystery surrounding (Y/n). He had been drawn to her from the moment he saw her, but now he realized there was much more to her story than he had initially thought. As he watched her from a distance, he couldn't help but wonder what other secrets lay hidden behind her enchanting facade.

All of a sudden Cain (L/n) stood tall, his presence commanding the attention of the entire crowd. The musicians halted their tunes, and the dancers froze in place as everyone turned their gaze toward him. With a voice that carried authority, he addressed the gathering.

"Tonight is an important night," Cain declared, his words resonating through the silence. "Not only do we have the honor of hosting visitors, but it is also the night of our blood moon ceremony. However, tonight holds an even more significant purpose. It is the night when my beloved sister, (Y/n), will find her future husband."

The crowd erupted into cheers, excitement and anticipation filling the air. Shanks, seated nearby, leaned over to the woman beside him and whispered, "What does he mean by 'blood moon ceremony'?"

The woman, with a knowing look, responded in a hushed tone, "The blood moon is a secret ceremony celebrated on this island. It marks the coming of age for young men and women of the village. However, for the Death family, it holds a unique tradition. They choose this night to arrange marriages for their young, and it's a tradition that has continued for generations."

But Shanks only caught the first part of her explanation, and without hesitation, he impulsively offered himself up as a potential candidate. His words came out before he fully comprehended the situation. "I'll do it. I'll be (Y/n)'s husband."

The woman's eyes widened, and she hurriedly tried to finish her sentence, but her words fell on deaf ears as Shanks had already made his declaration. She completed her sentence, which was crucial, "...but you must fight her for her hand."

Shanks turned his head back to the woman with a puzzled expression. He had unwittingly committed to a challenge he hadn't fully understood, and the consequences were about to become clear.

Laughter filled the air as the villagers found Shanks' spontaneous declaration amusing. His crew, loyal and protective, quickly came to his defense, shouting, "Don't laugh at our captain!"

Cain (L/n), who had been laughing heartily, suddenly raised a hand, commanding silence among the villagers. He looked at Shanks with a mix of amusement and curiosity. "I am not laughing at the man," Cain explained, "but at his bravery. Tell me, pirate, do you understand what you've just committed yourself to?"

Shanks scratched his head, still somewhat bewildered by the situation. "Marrying your sister?"

This response triggered another round of laughter from the villagers, even (Y/n) couldn't help but giggle behind her hand. Hades, with his tall, lean frame, stood up, his menacing grin stretching from ear to ear. He draped an arm over Cain's shoulder and spoke in a sinister tone, "You've just signed your own death wish."

Abaddon (L/n), the imposing figure among them all, silenced his sons with a stern glance. He walked up to Shanks, his towering eight-foot-tall stature casting a daunting shadow over the pirate captain. Abaddon's voice was deep and commanding as he said, "If that's truly what you desire, then so be it. Prepare him."

Shanks felt a chill run down his spine as he realized the gravity of the challenge he had just accepted. He had unwittingly committed himself to a test of strength and bravery, and there was no turning back now. With determination in his eyes, he nodded and prepared himself for what lay ahead, hoping to prove himself worthy of (Y/n)'s hand in marriage.

Shanks found himself surrounded by the villagers, who were in the process of dressing him in white clothing that symbolized the significance of the upcoming challenge. As they adjusted his attire, the village men offered him words of encouragement and admiration.

"You're a brave one, Captain," one of them said, patting him on the shoulder.

Another chimed in, "I could never challenge the Death family for (Y/n), no matter how beautiful she is."

Shanks, feeling a mix of anticipation and nerves, couldn't help but inquire, "I'm getting married, alright. Don't I have to do some sort of challenge or something?"

The men shared hearty laughter at his question. "You'll see in a few," one of them replied cryptically, clapping Shanks on the back. They wished him luck as he was prepared for the challenge that awaited him.

Shanks' crew was led to a grand arena on Death Island, where the preparations for the challenge were underway. As they entered the area, they were met with a surreal sight. Children from the village were running about, their faces concealed by skull masks made from real human and animal skulls. Their gleeful laughter filled the air as they chanted in unison, "The bloodshed begins! The bloodshed begins!"

The eerie atmosphere was unsettling, and the crew exchanged uncertain glances. It was clear that this was no ordinary ceremony, and the crew couldn't help but wonder what kind of challenge awaited their captain in this macabre setting.

Shanks stood at the center of a vast, volcanic fighting pit, the dark ash staining his face with a symbolic marking that indicated his role as the challenger. The anticipation in the air was palpable as the villagers and Shanks' crew gathered to witness the event. The eerie ambiance from earlier had intensified, making the atmosphere even more ominous.

Shanks glanced around, taking in the surroundings of the desolate arena, before he couldn't help but inquire, "So, who am I challenging for her hand?"

Just as he spoke, a figure emerged from the opposite side of the arena. It was (Y/n), dressed in a striking black kimono, her sword at her side. By her side stood a man who had accompanied her. He respectfully said to her, "Thank you, Princess. I'm glad I could be of service."

In a gruesome turn of events, (Y/n) thanked the man by her side and swiftly slit his throat, causing blood to gush from the wound. The same maid who had assisted Shanks in his marking held a bowl beneath the man's neck, collecting the hot blood as it flowed. The lifeless body was promptly taken away by the guards, leaving an unsettling silence in its wake.

The maid spread the warm blood across (Y/n)'s face, marking her as a participant in the challenge. The crowd watched in anticipation, knowing that this was a critical moment in the ritual.

Once again, Cain (L/n) stepped forward, silencing the cheering villagers. He addressed the crowd with an air of authority, introducing the two participants. He teased Shanks as he spoke, making the audience laugh, but his tone soon turned serious.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls," Cain began, his voice carrying through the arena. "On the left-hand side, we have Shanks, a brave yet foolish man. But as I've said, he is indeed brave. On the other side, we have my darling sister, (Y/n). Here, we gather for either the death or union of this pair."

Shanks was taken aback and asked in disbelief, "Wait, what?"

Cain chuckled, teasingly continuing, "You've accepted the challenge for my sister's hand in marriage, my soon-to-be brother-in-law. That was indeed a brave decision. But you were foolish to think it would be that simple. You failed to account for what would come next."

(Y/n) responded with an eerie calmness, her voice devoid of emotion, "When you accepted the challenge, you agreed to challenge me for my hand in marriage. That is how it works here, within the Death Family. You now have a 0.05 percent chance of survival. I only give you that percentage because you are a captain of a crew. If you were a regular village boy, your chances would have been a mere 0.01 percent."

Instantly the villagers begin chanting;

Purify mind and body, hold hands tightly

淨化心身緊握手心

The vitality returns to its original position and enlightenment returns to the body

元氣歸位捷悟返身

Purify mind and body, hold hands tightly

淨化心身緊握手心

The vitality returns to its original position and enlightenment returns to the body

元氣歸位捷悟返身

Purify mind and body, hold hands tightly

淨化心身緊握手心

The vitality returns to its original position and enlightenment returns to the body

元氣歸位捷悟返身

Purify mind and body, hold hands tightly

淨化心身緊握手心

The vitality returns to its original position and enlightenment returns to the body

元氣歸位捷悟返身

Purify mind and body

淨化心身

“Now then let the blood moon ceremony begin!”

With startling speed, (Y/n) charged towards Shanks, catching him off guard. He barely had time to react before the clash began. His instincts kicked in, and he tried to block her initial strike with his arms, but the force behind her blows was astonishing.

The crowd cheered wildly, their bloodlust awakened by the sight of the fierce battle unfolding before them. A child in a skull mask enthusiastically chanted, "Let there be blood!"

(Y/n) was relentless, her movements fluid and precise. She expertly evaded Shanks' attempts to counter her attacks. Her sword danced through the air, creating a deadly dance of steel and precision. She struck with ferocity, each blow aimed to disarm or incapacitate her opponent rather than to kill.

Shanks struggled to keep up with her speed and agility. He parried her strikes as best he could, but her skill was undeniable. The fight continued, a thrilling spectacle for the onlookers, as (Y/n) maintained her dominance over the Red-Haired Pirate Captain.

(Y/n) continued her relentless assault on Shanks, her blows precise and powerful. She seemed impervious to his attempts to strike back, effortlessly dodging or blocking every hit he aimed at her. The once-confident pirate captain was now sporting bruises and cuts, his face showing the effects of her relentless barrage.

The crowd watched in awe as she dominated the battle, clearly displaying her superior skill and strength. The villagers whispered among themselves, impressed by her abilities. Even Shanks' crew, who had witnessed their captain's prowess in countless battles, couldn't believe what they were seeing.

Cain, who was overseeing the fight, spoke with a knowing tone. "He has no chance against her, after all, we've trained her to be the best."

Hades, standing beside his brother, was more cautious in his assessment. "You never know, brother," he replied, his eyes never leaving the intense battle unfolding before them.

As (y/n) stood over Shanks, her sword pointed at his neck, she prepared to deal the final blow. Shanks lay defeated on the floor, his once vibrant and powerful presence now reduced to blackened bruises and a broken spirit. But just as (y/n) was about to strike, he uttered something under his breath, causing her to pause.

"What did you say?" she asked, her voice filled with curiosity and a hint of hesitation.

Shanks repeated himself, his words barely audible. (Y/n) turned her gaze towards her father, seeking guidance in this unexpected turn of events. Their eyes locked, and in that silent exchange, a wealth of understanding passed between them. Her father's eyes widened, a mix of surprise and realization dawning upon his face.

Unable to contain his curiosity any longer, her father jumped down into the arena, his eyes fixed on Shanks. "Show me the mark," he demanded, his voice filled with a mix of urgency and hope.

Weakly, Shanks pulled his white shirt to the side, revealing a stunning mark on his chest. The mark was a flower, elegantly designed, with the letters LD intricately woven into its petals. A sense of awe washed over the crowd as they beheld the mark, realizing its significance.

A wide grin spread across her father's face as he stopped the ongoing fight. "My subjects," he began, his voice carrying a tone of importance, "this is a moment of great significance. Shanks, the captain of the Red Hair Pirates, bears the mark of Lady Death. He is marked as her soulmate and thus worthy of being my daughter's husband."

The crowd erupted in a chorus of "awws" and gasps, their surprise mingled with a sense of awe. The revelation of the mark had brought a profound change to the atmosphere, transforming the battle arena into a place of unexpected love and destiny.

(Y/n) lowered her sword, her heart racing with a mix of emotions. She looked into Shanks' eyes, seeing the truth reflected in their depths. The path before her suddenly shifted, and with it, a newfound understanding of her own destiny.

And so, in that arena, amidst the cheers and gasps of the crowd, a new chapter in their lives began. The mark had brought them together, and together they would face the challenges and adventures that awaited them, bound by a love that was written in the stars.

353 notes · View notes