ebxx

19 || she/her ||

[heldbybarnes]

I don’t think people realize how much Bucky holds himself back in fights now? Like, actively trying not to be the Winter Soldier. But then someone takes his girl. His soft, civilian, never-thrown-a-punch-in-her-life girl. And he wades through men like wheat to get her back. And when he finds her and sees her bloodied and bruised? The men who did it die begging. And she isn’t scared of him for a heartbeat. Just relieved that he’s here, that he came for her.

i think about this every moment of every day

------------

He’s gentle now. That’s what people miss.

When they talk about James Buchanan Barnes—the ex–Winter Soldier—they say lethal, trained, dangerous. They talk about his arm, his past, his programming. But they never talk about how hard he works to stop.

How he counts his breaths when someone shoves him too hard at the market. How he unclenches his fists when a man yells too close to your face. How he reminds himself, You’re not him anymore.

He hasn’t thrown a punch in months. Not because he can’t. Because he chooses not to.

When the call comes—your name whispered through static, the broken sound of your phone being dropped—something inside him stops choosing.

“Buck,” Sam says carefully, watching him stand from the couch, voice tight. “Let’s take a second before—”

But Bucky’s already gone.

They take his girl. His soft, sunshine, laugh-like-bells girl.

The one who hums in the kitchen while she makes coffee, who writes reminders on his palm in ink, who’s never so much as raised her voice.

They take her.

And Bucky goes still in that terrifying, absolute way that only he can.

It’s not rage, not yet. Rage is human. This is the cold focus of a weapon remembering its purpose.

He tracks them easily. They’re amateurs.

The first man doesn’t even see him. One crack of bone, a hand over his mouth, and the body slumps silently.

Two more in the hallway. Bucky doesn’t bother with stealth now. He moves through them like a storm, metal and muscle and fury, the sound of breaking things echoing down concrete walls.

When one of them fires, Bucky doesn’t duck—just raises his arm, the bullet ricocheting uselessly. The man’s gun jams when he tries again. Bucky’s smile is thin and joyless as he crushes the barrel flat.

“You shouldn’t have touched her.”

The man doesn’t get a chance to answer.

By the time he finds the door, he’s breathing hard, his knuckles painted in other people’s blood. There’s a hum in his skull—mission parameters, eliminate threat—and he lets it hum.

He breaks the lock with a twist.

And there you are.

You’re on the floor. Wrists bound, lip split, one eye swelling shut. When you hear him enter, you flinch—not from fear, but from pain. Then your gaze finds him.

“Bucky.”

Your voice cracks on his name, and he thinks it might break him more than anything the Hydra chair ever did.

He’s on his knees before he even knows he’s moved. His metal hand hovers midair, shaking. He doesn’t want to touch you until he’s sure he won’t hurt.

“Hey, doll,” he whispers, voice wrecked. “You okay? Talk to me.”

You blink back tears. “You came.”

That’s when the last thread snaps. The part of him that still thinks he’s undeserving, unworthy, unwanted. Because of course he came. He’d tear down cities for you.

One of the men behind him groans. Bucky rises, slow and quiet, and for the first time in years, he doesn’t stop himself.

He’s not fast about it. The Winter Soldier never is. Efficiency would be mercy, and there’s no mercy left in him for these men.

He doesn’t use a gun. He doesn’t need to. The sound that fills the room isn’t just violence—it’s justice wrapped in grief.

They die begging, voices breaking on pleas that fall on deaf ears.

When it’s done, he wipes his metal hand on his thigh and turns back to you.

And for all the blood that paints the walls, for all the ruin he’s left behind, you aren’t scared. Not for a heartbeat.

You reach for him the second he crouches beside you again. He flinches when your fingers brush his jaw, not because of what you touch—but because he doesn’t think he deserves to be touched after what he’s done.

“Hey,” you breathe, gentle even now. “You’re shaking.”

“I—” His throat closes. “I didn’t mean for you to see that.”

You shake your head. “I wanted you to come for me.”

Something raw flashes in his eyes. “I always will.”

He cuts the zip ties from your wrists, wraps his jacket around your shoulders. You lean into him, trembling, but it’s not from fear. It’s the crash of adrenaline, the sudden safety.

Your cheek presses to the cool metal of his arm, and you whisper, “You didn’t have to hold back for them.”

Bucky swallows hard. “You saw me.”

“I saw you,” you correct softly. “Not him.”

That’s the part that undoes him—the way you say it like there’s a difference. Like you can tell. Like you’ve always known.

He buries his face in your hair, breathes you in, holds you tighter than he probably should. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“For what?”

“For what I did.”

“For saving me?”

He huffs something between a laugh and a sob. “For what I became to do it.”

You tilt his chin up so he has to look at you. There’s blood on your face and dirt in your hair and still—still—you look at him like he hung the stars.

“You became mine,” you say quietly. “And that’s enough for me.”

Later, when backup arrives, they find the place silent. Bodies cooling, air heavy with cordite and copper. You’re curled in Bucky’s lap on the steps outside, his metal arm around you, his human hand tracing lazy circles on your knee.

He’s watching the horizon like it might judge him.

Sam crouches beside him, eyes flicking between the massacre and the way you’re tucked against Bucky’s chest. “You good, man?”

Bucky’s jaw flexes. “She’s safe.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Bucky looks down at you—the way your fingers have wound tight in the fabric of his shirt, as if even asleep you can’t stand to let go. The tension in his shoulders eases just enough to breathe.

“Yeah,” he says finally. “I will be.”

Later, back home, you clean the dried blood from his knuckles. He watches your careful hands, the way you touch him without hesitation.

“You should be scared of me,” he murmurs.

You smile faintly. “Then you don’t know how safe I feel right now.”

He doesn’t have an answer for that. Just leans forward, forehead to yours, eyes closed.

“Next time,” you whisper, “just get there faster.”

He huffs a quiet laugh against your lips. “Next time, doll, they won’t even make it out the door.”

You believe him. And you don’t mind.

Because there’s a difference between the Winter Soldier and Bucky Barnes. The world might never see it.

But you always will.

[wingedstatesmanlandturtle]

synopsis: you get hit with an aphrodisiac. deku is forced to cross a line to help you pairing: dekuxreader, bakugoxreaderxkirishima, (Eventual dekubakukirixreader) warnings: nsfw, sub!reader, black!reader, fem!reader, poly!relationship, praise, cheating (technically), roof sex, minor conflict, oral, no penetration, reader has a water quirk in this fic, reader's hero name and is Mizuka (water in Japanese), written in 3rd person,. a/n: this fic is heavily inspired by this fic I read a few weeks ago on ao3 just my own version. this will be split into a few different parts. A lot of people may now like this pairing or relationship so please ignore it if its not something you like or support <3 wc: 4,428 Name has been changed to Y/n after someone brought it to my attention<3 pt1. Read pt 2 , pt3, pt4 and pt5 here

The heat didn't crest. It settled. A low, relentless burn deep in y/n’s gut that pulsed in time with her frantic heartbeat. Her combat suit, designed for flexibility and protection, became a prison of synthetic fabric. Every seam chafed. The high collar felt like a vise around her throat. She took a step back, her boot scraping against the rooftop gravel, and the sound was impossibly loud.

Across the roof, Deku’s posture shifted from victory to high alert in a millisecond. His eyes, wide and green and terrifyingly perceptive, cataloged her: the slight tremble in her hands, the shallow rise and fall of her chest, the sheen of sweat already glistening at her temples. "Mizuka?" His voice cut through the night air, clean and sharp. "Report."

She opened her mouth. A weak puff of air escaped. Her own voice felt foreign, thick. "I… it’s…" The explanation died. How could she articulate this? It wasn’t pain. It was a need, formless and hungry, coiling tight inside her. Unconsciously, her fingers twitched at her sides, and a dozen tiny water droplets spun into existence around them, orbiting her knuckles in frantic, glittering loops.

He was moving before she finished failing to speak. A green flicker outlined his form as he crossed the distance, not with a superhuman leap, but with swift, grounded strides. He didn’t touch her. He stopped just inside her personal space, his gaze scanning her face, then darting to the unconscious villain who had expelled the shimmering gas. "Respiratory contaminant. Possible neuro-toxin or metabolic accelerator. We need to evacuate you for analysis." His words were clinical, rapid-fire, but his eyes weren’t. They were dark with a concern that went beyond protocol.

"Not… a toxin," y/n managed to gasp. Her body betrayed her, leaning forward a fraction into the space he occupied. He smelled like ozone and clean cotton. The scent was an anchor, and it made the heat worse. "It’s… different."

Deku’s analytical mutter started, a low stream of consciousness. "Different presentation. No convulsions, no paralysis. Pupils are dilated. Skin is flushed. Increased perspiration. Heightened sensitivity to…" His voice trailed off. He was watching the water droplets dance around her fingers. He’d seen her nervous habit before, in briefings, but this was different. This wasn’t a shy flutter. This was a distress signal.

His right hand clenched, then unclenched. A tell. "Your quirk is manifesting involuntarily. Your autonomic nervous system is compromised." He reached for his comms unit. "This is Deku. Requesting immediate medical extraction at my location. Partner is compromised by an unknown quirk effect. Symptoms are… atypical."

A crackle of static. Then a dispatcher's calm voice. "Acknowledged, Deku. ETA seven minutes. Hold position."

Seven minutes. The number echoed in the hollow, fevered space of y/n’s mind. Seven minutes was an eternity. A low moan escaped her lips before she could bite it back. The sound was utterly unprofessional, soaked in a kind of ache that had no place on a mission. Her knees buckled.

He caught her. His hands were on her biceps, firm and steady. The contact was a lightning strike. The fabric of her suit might as well have not existed. She felt the heat of his palms, the strength in his grip, the faint tremor he was trying to suppress. Her head lolled forward, her curls brushing against the armored plating of his chest.

"Mizuka. y/n!" He used her first name, his voice dropping, softening around the edges of its command. "Look at me. You have to fight it. Whatever it is, you have to compartmentalize."

She forced her head up. His face was so close. She saw the faint scar under his eye, the freckles across his nose, the tight line of his mouth. His analytical gaze was gone, replaced by something raw and fiercely protective. It was the look he got when civilians were in the line of fire. She wasn't a civilian. She was his partner. Or she was supposed to be.

"I can't," she whispered, the truth ripped from her. Her hands came up, not to push him away, but to fist weakly in the front of his costume. The water droplets splashed against the dark green material, leaving tiny dark stains. "Deku, it… it feels like I'm burning up from the inside."

His jaw tightened. He was processing, analyzing at a speed she couldn't follow. His eyes flicked from her fever-bright eyes to the way her body arched slightly toward his, seeking relief from a pressure only it understood. The clinical terms failed him. The reality was in the scent of her arousal, sharp and unmistakable on the cool night air. It was in the damp heat he could feel radiating through her suit where he held her.

The dispatcher's voice crackled again, oblivious. "Deku, be advised, all medical units are currently engaged in a multi-car pile-up on the expressway. Your ETA is now eighteen minutes. Can you stabilize?"

Eighteen minutes? Deku’s gaze locked with y/n’s. A silent, terrible understanding passed between them. Stabilize. How? This wasn't a wound to pressure. This wasn't a poison with an antidote. This was a biological imperative, a quirk-induced frenzy winding tighter with every second.

Y/n’s composure shattered. A sob hitched in her chest. "Please." The word was a broken thing, stripped of all pride. Her hips gave an involuntary, shameful roll against the solid plane of his thigh, seeking friction, seeking anything. "I can't… I can't wait."

Deku flinched as if struck. His hands on her arms tightened, not in anger, but in a kind of desperate resolve. The professional distance was gone, incinerated. What remained was a man, a hero, and a woman coming undone in his arms. His mind, always racing, showed him the brutal calculus: eighteen minutes of this escalating torment, her quirk potentially spiraling out of control, her dignity in tatters. Or.

Or he could stop being just her temporary partner. He could do what a hero does: save her, by any means necessary. Even if those means crossed a line that could never be uncrossed. His breath left him in a ragged exhale. The fight left his posture, replaced by a grim, heartbreaking acceptance.

"Okay," he said, the word so quiet it was almost lost to the city's hum. "Okay, y/n. I've got you." It wasn't a lover's promise. It was a soldier's vow, heavy with consequence. He began to lower her to the rooftop, his movements deliberate, his eyes never leaving hers.

The rooftop gravel was cold and uneven against her back, a stark contrast to the fire under her skin. Deku knelt over her, his shadow blocking out the sodium-orange sky. His hands, which had lowered her so carefully, now hovered above her hips. He wasn’t touching her. He was frozen. His eyes were wide, his breath coming in short, visible puffs in the night air.

Kirishima. Bakugo.

The names were a silent scream in his skull. Her boyfriends. His… colleagues. Rivals, in Bakugo’s case. Friends, maybe, in Kirishima’s complicated way. They were at their apartment right now, probably waiting for a check-in text that would never come. They trusted him, in the loose, professional way heroes trusted each other with their partners’ lives. This wasn’t in the manual.

Y/n writhed beneath him. A low, desperate sound vibrated in her throat. Her hands scrabbled at the closures of her combat suit, fingers clumsy and frantic. “Hurts,” she choked out. “Everything… it’s too much.”

Eighteen minutes. The medical ETA was a death sentence for her composure, for her dignity. Deku’s analytical mind, the part that never stopped, presented him with the grim data: her heart rate was dangerously elevated, her quirk was manifesting in destabilizing micro-bursts—tiny spheres of water now beading on her eyelashes, her collarbone, the gravel around her head. She was a system overloading. The aphrodisiac wasn’t just desire; it was a physiological crisis.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the words meant for the two men who weren’t there. For the line he was choosing to cross. For himself.

His hands descended. Not to her hips, but to the main zipper of her suit, where it plunged down her torso. His fingers were steady. A hero’s hands. They didn’t tremble as he grasped the pull. The sound of the zipper parting was obscenely loud—a metallic purr that seemed to go on forever. He peeled the tough fabric back, revealing the thin, sweat-dampened undershirt beneath. The heat coming off her body was immense, a palpable wave that carried her scent: fear, exertion, and the sharp, unmistakable musk of her arousal.

Y/n gasped as the cooler air hit her damp skin. Her back arched off the ground, a beautiful, tortured curve. Her eyes found his, glazed and pleading. “Please, Izuku.”

His name, not his hero name. It shattered his last pretense. He pushed the undershirt up, baring her stomach, the soft swell of her lower belly. His knuckles brushed her skin. She cried out—a sharp, broken sound—and her whole body jerked toward his touch.

He had to be clinical. Methodical. He mapped her reactions like a battlefield. The way her muscles clenched when his palm pressed flat against her lower abdomen. The way her breath hitched when his thumb brushed the edge of her leggings. He hooked his fingers into the waistband. The elastic was tight, soaked with her sweat and something else. He pulled them down, just past her hips, revealing the dark, neat triangle of her curls, glistening wet in the dim light.

Deku’s own breath caught. This was the threshold. The point of no return. He could still stop. He could cover her, wait, let her suffer the eighteen minutes.

She sobbed. A raw, ragged sound of pure need. Her hand shot out, fumbling, and found his where it rested on her hip. She didn’t push it away. She guided it down, her grip weak but insistent. Her skin was impossibly hot. Slick.

He closed his eyes for one second. When he opened them, his gaze was resolved, dark with a painful kind of duty. “I’m going to help you,” he said, his voice low and rougher than he intended. “This is medical stabilization. Do you understand?”

She nodded, a frantic jerk of her head, tears mixing with the water droplets on her cheeks. “Yes. Yes. Please.”

His touch was deliberate. His index finger parted her, finding the swollen, dripping heat of her. She cried out again, her hips rolling up into his hand, seeking pressure. She was so wet. So ready. The evidence coated his finger instantly, hot and slick. His own body reacted, a tight, aching pull low in his gut that he viciously ignored.

He began to move. A slow, steady circle over her clit. He applied pressure based on her gasps, the jerk of her muscles. He watched her face, not her handiwork. He saw her bite her lip, her eyes squeeze shut, then fly open to lock onto his with a bewildered, vulnerable intensity. This was the violation and the rescue, inextricably woven.

“Breathe, y/n,” he instructed, his tone softening despite himself. “Try to breathe with it.”

She tried. Her breaths came in ragged sync with his circling touch. The tension in her body was a coiled spring. The water droplets orbiting her hands grew larger, merging into trembling spheres. One dripped from her fingertip and landed on his wrist, cool against his feverish skin.

He increased the pace. His wrist ached. The sound was filthy—the wet, rhythmic slide of his fingers against her, the choked sounds she couldn’t suppress. He added a second finger, dipping just inside her entrance, feeling the fierce, clenching heat. She gasped, her back bowing off the gravel. “There… oh god, there…”

Deku focused on the mechanics. The angle. The pressure. He was building her toward a release, a pressure valve for the quirk’s torment. He was dimly aware of his own hardness, trapped in his costume, a purely biological echo to her crisis. He shoved the awareness aside. This wasn’t about him. This was a rescue. A medical intervention.

Her sounds changed. Grew higher, tighter. Her hands fisted in the discarded fabric of her suit. Her thighs began to tremble around his hand. He saw the crest approaching. He leaned closer, his face inches from hers. “Look at me,” he said, the command gentle but absolute. “Stay with me. Almost there.”

Her eyes, wide and drowning, fixed on his. Her mouth was open, her breaths coming in short, sharp pants. The world narrowed to this: his green, solemn eyes holding hers, and the exquisite, devastating friction of his touch. The pressure built, a wave gathering force, tightening every muscle in her body until she was shaking with the strain of it.

She broke.

Her climax broke over her like a wave, violent and total. A choked cry tore from her throat, her back arching off the gravel as her body seized around his fingers. The trembling spheres of water orbiting her hands burst into fine mist. Her thighs clamped around his wrist, holding him there as the convulsive pleasure racked her, wet heat pulsing against his skin. Deku held her gaze through it all, his expression unreadable, his touch unyielding until the very last tremor subsided.

He didn't pull away. He let her ride the aftershocks, his fingers still buried inside her, his thumb making slow, gentle circles as she shuddered and gasped. The frantic heat in her eyes dimmed, replaced by a dazed, heavy-lidded exhaustion. The unbearable tension drained from her muscles, leaving her boneless and pliant against the cold rooftop. Her breathing slowed, deepened. Her lashes fluttered once, twice, then stayed closed. A single, perfect water droplet, the last of her quirk's manifestation, traced a path from her temple into her dark curls.

She was out. Stabilized.

Deku carefully withdrew his hand. It was slick, glistening in the low light. He stared at it for a moment, his mind strangely blank. Then he wiped it on the clean inner lining of his own torn glove, a mechanical, efficient motion. He looked down at her.

Y/n slept. Peacefully. Her face, which had been twisted with need, was now soft. Her lips were parted slightly, her breathing even. The violent blush had faded from her cheeks, leaving her deep brown skin glowing with a sheen of sweat and leftover dew. Her curls were fanned out around her head, some strands stuck to her damp neck. She was beautiful in a way that felt like a physical blow.

The feelings he’d buried since their second year at U.A. surfaced, not as a slow trickle, but as a floodgate breaking. The quiet admiration. The way his heart had stuttered whenever she’d managed to hold Bakugo’s gaze during a joint training exercise. The way she’d blush and tiny, intricate water butterflies would flutter around her fingers when he’d praised her tactical thinking. He’d pushed it all down when she’d started dating Kirishima, and then when Bakugo had, inexplicably, entered the picture too. He’d folded that part of himself away, labeled it ‘inappropriate’ and ‘unprofessional.’

Now it was out, raw and undeniable, staining the clinical purpose of what he’d just done. His body echoed the betrayal; he was painfully hard, a fact he acknowledged with a cold, internal shame. This wasn’t about him. It couldn’t be.

He moved with deliberate care. First, he pulled her leggings back up over her hips, his movements gentle as he settled the fabric. He smoothed her damp undershirt down, then carefully re-zipped her combat suit, the sound much softer this time. His knuckles brushed her sternum as he fastened the closure at her throat. She didn’t stir. He adjusted her suit, making sure she was covered, preserved. A hero tending to a fallen comrade.

But his hands lingered. He brushed a curl from her forehead, his fingertips lingering on the warmth of her skin. He couldn’t help it. He sat back on his heels, pulling her upper body into his lap, cradling her head against his thigh. The gravel was too cold. He wouldn’t leave her on it. He shrugged out of his own torn cape and bundled it under her head.

He held her like that, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest. The city hummed around them, indifferent. In the distance, he finally heard the distinct whine of medical transport jets approaching. His time was up.

The medical team touched down on the roof in a whirl of wind and efficient noise. Two heroes in white and orange relief uniforms jumped out, a floating stretcher between them. Their eyes scanned the scene: the secured, unconscious villains, the scorch marks from Bakugo-style takedowns Deku had used earlier, the heroine asleep in Deku’s arms.

“Status, Deku?” the lead medic asked, her voice brisk.

Deku’s voice, when it came, was steady. A hero’s report. “Villains subdued with emitter-type quirks, one with a potent contact aphrodisiac gas. It hit Mizuka directly. Symptoms included rapid systemic overheating, involuntary quirk manifestation, and psychological distress. I performed emergency physical stabilization to prevent physiological crisis until your arrival.”

The medic nodded, already pulling a scanner from her belt. She ran it over y/n’s prone form. “Vitals are stable. Elevated endorphins, but no sign of continued metabolic spike. You restrained her?”

“I facilitated the body’s natural release mechanism to dispel the quirk’s primary effect,” Deku said, the clinical jargon tasting like ash. He didn’t look at the medic. He looked at y/n’s peaceful face. “Manual stimulation to induce orgasm. It was the fastest way to neutralize the biological imperative and prevent her quirk from destabilizing further.”

There was a beat of silence. The other medic coughed slightly. The lead medic’s professional mask didn’t slip, but her eyes flickered to Deku’s face, then to y/n’s. “Understood. Unorthodox, but the scan confirms it was effective. We’ll take her for full decontamination and overnight observation. The media liaison will want a statement.”

“The statement is the villain’s quirk and her stable condition,” Deku said, finally looking up. His green eyes were hard. “The method of stabilization is a private medical detail. Releasing it serves no public safety purpose and would only cause her and her partners unneeded distress.”

It wasn’t a request. It was the quiet, immovable will of a top hero. The medic held his gaze for a second, then nodded once. “Understood. We’ll keep the report clinical.”

They transferred y/n to the stretcher with practiced ease. Deku’s arms felt suddenly empty, cold. He stood as they secured her, his body aching in places he refused to name. He watched them lift the stretcher into the transport.

“You coming?” the medic called.

“I’ll secure the scene for the police transport,” Deku said. His job wasn’t over. “Just… make sure she’s warm.”

The jet door closed. The engines whined to a higher pitch, and it lifted off, carrying her away into the orange-tinted night. Deku was alone on the rooftop with the unconscious villains and the ghost of her heat on his skin, the scent of her in the air, and the truth he would have to tell her boyfriends that was already curdling in his stomach.

The police arrived twenty minutes later, their boots crunching on the rooftop gravel, their voices a low, procedural hum. Deku gave his statement with robotic efficiency. Yes, the villains were subdued. Yes, the aphrodisiac gas was the primary threat. Yes, the injured heroine had been transported for decontamination. He pointed to the scorch marks, the bindings, the lingering shimmer in the air where the gas had dissipated. His mind was not on the chalk outlines or the evidence bags. It was in the sterile hold of a medical jet, checking a pulse he could no longer feel.

While an officer photographed the scene, Deku’s eyes caught a glint of light near the rooftop’s edge. He walked over, his movements slow. It was y/n’s phone, screen cracked but still alive. It had fallen from her utility belt during the struggle. He knelt and picked it up. The screen was cool against his palm.

It lit up at his touch. The lock screen was a photo of her, Bakugo, and Kirishima at some festival, red and gold lantern light softening their faces. She was laughing, tucked between them. Deku’s throat tightened. Notifications crowded the top of the screen: 7 missed calls from ‘Katsuki♡’. 4 missed calls from ‘Eiji♡’. A string of increasingly worried texts.

His thumb hovered over the call back button. He could picture Bakugo’s face, the sharp concern morphing instantly into protective rage. He could hear Kirishima’s steady voice trying to mediate, trying to understand. He couldn’t do it. Not yet. Not with the ghost of her heat still on his skin, the memory of her climax seared behind his eyes. He needed to see her first. He needed to know she was okay, truly okay, before he handed this grenade to her boyfriends. He slid the phone into his own belt pouch. He’d return it to her personally.

The rest of his shift was a blur of paperwork and debriefs at the agency. He signed forms, nodded at superiors, changed out of his torn costume. His body moved through the routines, but his thoughts were a single, repeating loop: the hospital. He needed to get to the hospital.

He went straight there, still in his hero uniform. The night shift nurse at the reception desk recognized him immediately, her professional smile widening. “Hero Deku. She’s in room 407. Stable and resting. The doctor just finished his rounds.”

The hallway was too bright, smelling of antiseptic and filtered air. Room 407 was quiet. Deku pushed the door open slowly.

Y/n lay in the hospital bed, sleeping. The harsh overhead light was off, only a soft lamp near the wall glowing. She was wearing a standard-issue hospital gown, the sheets drawn up to her waist. Her curls were a dark cloud against the white pillow. An IV line was taped to the back of her hand. She looked small. Peaceful. The frantic, desperate woman from the rooftop was gone, replaced by the quiet, flustery hero he’d secretly admired for years.

A man in a white coat looked up from a chart. “Ah. Pro Hero Deku. I’m Dr. Saito.”

Deku bowed slightly. “How is she?”

“Perfectly fine, physiologically speaking,” the doctor said, his tone reassuring. “The decontamination scrub cleared the last of the quirk’s residual compounds. Her vitals are strong. She’s just sleeping off the biochemical crash and the sedatives we gave her for comfort.” He glanced at the chart. “There is one minor side-effect. Her quirk might be a bit… glitchy for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. Minor, involuntary manifestations. A bit of extra condensation, maybe a rogue puddle. Nothing dangerous. Her control will return fully with rest.”

Deku nodded, his eyes drifting back to y/n. A tiny, perfect sphere of water, no larger than a marble, was floating lazily above her fingertips where they rested on the blanket. It shimmered in the lamplight. Her subconscious, even in sleep, playing with water. The sight punched the air from his lungs.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Deku said, his voice rough.

“We’ll keep her overnight for observation, but she should be cleared for release tomorrow morning.” Dr. Saito offered a final nod and left, the door clicking shut softly behind him.

Deku was alone with her. The hum of the medical equipment filled the silence. He pulled a chair close to the bed and sat, his elbows on his knees. He just looked at her. The steady rise and fall of her chest. The way her long lashes fanned against her cheeks. The gentle curve of her mouth. A small, helpless smile touched his lips. She was okay. She was safe. That was what mattered.

The smile faded. The weight in his stomach returned, colder, heavier. He had to make the call. He couldn’t put it off any longer. He pulled out his own phone, his thumb finding Bakugo’s contact. He took a deep breath and pressed call.

It rang. Once. Twice. Three times. It went to voicemail. “This is Bakugo. I’m busy. Leave a message.” The beep was sharp, demanding.

Deku ended the call without speaking. Annoyed. He wasn’t leaving that in a voicemail. He scrolled, found Kirishima’s number. Kirishima would answer. Kirishima always answered. He pressed call, his heart a dull, heavy drum in his chest.

It picked up on the second ring. “Midoriya?” Kirishima’s voice was tense, strained. There was noise in the background—the sound of a city, of movement. “What’s going on? We’ve been trying to reach y/n for hours. Her agency just said she was involved in an incident and taken to the hospital. They wouldn’t give us details.”

Deku closed his eyes. “She’s okay, Kirishima. She’s stable. She’s sleeping.”

A rush of static, a hand maybe covering the receiver. He heard Bakugo’s voice, muffled but unmistakable: “Give me the damn phone—.” Bakugo's voice.

"Calm down Kats-" Kirishima fires back.

“Where is she?” Kirishima asked, cutting through, his voice firm now. “Which hospital?”

“Tokyo General. Room 407.” Deku said it quickly. “But listen, the situation… it was complicated. The villain had a contact quirk. An aphrodisiac.”

There was a beat of dead silence on the line. Then Kirishima’s voice, lower. “What does that mean, complicated?”

Deku’s gaze fixed on the floating water droplet above y/n’s hand. “It means she was in immediate physiological distress. Her quirk was destabilizing. The medics were eighteen minutes out. I had to… stabilize her. To prevent a crisis.”

“How.” The word wasn’t a question. It was a demand.

Deku’s free hand clenched into a fist on his knee. He made himself say it, the clinical term he’d used for the medics. It sounded hollow now, ugly. “I manually induced orgasm. It was the fastest way to neutralize the quirk’s imperative.”

The silence that followed was a living thing, thick and charged. He could hear Kirishima’s ragged inhale. He could almost feel Bakugo’s fury radiating through the phone.

“You…” Kirishima’s voice was a strained whisper. Then it hardened, shifting. Deku could picture his face, the concern solidifying into something sharper. “We’re on our way. Don’t you move.”

The line went dead.

Deku lowered the phone. He looked at y/n, still sleeping, unaware of the storm he’d just summoned. The tiny sphere of water above her hand trembled, then split into two smaller droplets that orbited each other slowly. He reached out, his fingers stopping just short of hers. He didn’t touch. He just watched the water dance, and waited for the aftermath to arrive.

[reveuchet]

18+ getting hard while you're patching him up

being a medic meant having to see the same gruffy man come into your office multiple times per week, or even per day. that man was simon "ghost" riley.

you've come to the thought that he might be doin' it on purpose just so he can see you, and this day was particularly different— which did not help his case whatsoever. you were doing your job as per usual, bandaging his wounds up so it wouldn't get infected and whatnot but another problem arised... quite literally.

a hard one in the crotch of his pants, strained and painful. it was begging for some action the more time passed. you tried to ignore it at first, but he didn't seem so well and you know wounds hurt him much less than the specific problem he's facing currently.

"simon? you okay?" you ask, hand carefully and firmly pressing the bandage on his arm.

he lets out a groan. "yeah, i'm fine."

"you don't look like it," you reply, giving him a knowing gaze.

"then why'd ya' even ask?" he glares at you. "just fix it already."

you giggle, quickly finishing your medical work on his arm before diving between his manspread legs and pulling on the zipper to reveal his underwear, cock becoming more prominent against the thin fabric.

but you know you had no time to waste, since there were others waiting for the both of you, so you pulled them down just enough for his cock to spring out in desperation.

there's a cheeky smirk that tugs on the corner of your lips, but you open up anyway, gently putting his hard cock in your mouth. you start bobbing your head back-and-forth, tongue scraping on the underside, pleasure coursing through his veins.

he lets out a groan of relief, trying to keep his sounds low so everyone outside won't hear it, while you're going ham— sucking and licking him all over. the taste of his cock floods your mind, only able to think about servicing him into climax. after all, your job is to maintain his health, no?

his breathing grows ragged, and you feel him getting closer and closer to release. quickening your pace, his body twitches before a generous load makes its way into your mouth.

gladly, you swallow the whole portion, wiping the sides of your mouth before jumping up to clean your tools and take in the next patient. "get out of my room, riley," you say condescendingly.

but he doesn't move quickly, only sitting there for a while, contemplating if his life had come to this type of humiliation.

"fine, fine," he says. "thanks for today, doll."

the nickname rings in your mind for a little far too long. then the thought comes soon enough.

what the fuck is wrong with him?

i hope y'all like it. i haven't written for him in a while nor consumed much cod stuff so...

[athenas-rose]

Maybe or 2 of cowboy!Steve… reader gets invited to his farm/ranch he works on and they get a lil freaky in the stables or out in the open (maybe it’s a secluded area)

God the first one was just pure bliss

Take A Ride Outback

Cowboy!Steve Harrington x fem!reader 3k words

warnings: fluff, tension, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v, size kink, dumbification, breeding kink, unprotected,

When your papa sends you to the Harrington ranch in his place, you should’ve known nothing is ever quick when the cowboy has other plans…

The afternoon sun hung low in the prairie, pouring honey-colored light through the saloon windows. Steve had become a regular, every few days like clockwork, the familiar boots against the floorboards announced his arrival before anyone had the chance to look up. It was another chance to see you, linger by him while you served him a glass of whiskey, reminding you of when he had brought you to the back and changed your whole view on cowboys.

Today was no different, except your papa had beaten you to him. Steve rested one of his veiny forearms against the polished bar, his weathered hat sat beside him while your papa dried a glass with an old rag.

“So…” your pa grunted. “Where’s home for a fella like you?” He didn’t exactly like cowboys, warning you of them the first time Steve had come, but he was more than polite to regulars.

Steve took an easy sip of the dark liquid, before answering. “‘Bout twenty miles west.”

“That so?” He paused his movements.

“Yes, sir.” Steve answered. He still hadn’t spotted you yet, and you had to admit you were nervous wondering if your pa would take a liking to him, Steve was unlike any other man you’ve met before. He captivated your attention, it was addicting.

“Got family out there?” Your pa asked once again.

Steve nodded. “Had.” A brief silence settled between them, your pa looked like he wasn’t going to meddle into a grown man’s business, but the cowboy continued talking. “The folks left me the ranch a few years back.”

Your brow glanced at him with a quirked brow. “Run by yourself?” He questioned.

“For the most part.” Steve shrugged.

“You must keep it busy.”

Steve chuckled. “Keeps me outta trouble,” he swirled the whiskey in the glass.

Your pa snorted, straightening up. “I’ll be the judge of that.” The older man narrowed his eyes through the hoods of his lids. “You always this agreeable?”

“Only when somebody’s daddy’s questionin’ me.” The earned him the first hint of a smile from your pa, making your shoulders loosen up a little.

“Smart mouth.” He pointed out.

“I’ve been told.”

“You know…” your pa began, setting the glass aside. “Most cowboys that wander in here spend more time boastin’ than workin’.”

Steve shrugged. “Figure if a man’s gotta tell folks how capable he is,” the corners of his mouth quirked upwards. “He probably ain’t.”

Your pa let out a quiet huff that sounded suspiciously close to a laugh. Steve hid the smug satisfaction threatening to creep into his face behind another sip of alcohol. He wasn’t trying to impress him, well, maybe a little.

“I expected a pretty boy in a fancy hat.” Your pa muttered, shaking his head

“Disappointed?” Steve asked.

“Haven’t decided yet.” He answered.

“Guess I’ll have to keep comin’ back till you do.”

Your pa whistled, pointing a finger at him. “Don’t push your luck son.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” The words were respectful, though the faint, victorious grin curling at the corner of Steve’s mouth…wasn’t.

The early morning began like any other. Your pa was already outside before the sun had climbed over the hills, loading sacks of flour into the back of the wagon while muttering to himself about deliveries, and folks who never seem to return burrowed materials.

You stepped onto the porch, smoothing your skirt as you tied your apron behind your back. “Mornin’ pa.” You chirped.

He grunted in reply, not turning towards you as he spoke. “Got somethin’ for ya.”

You raised a brow. “That sounds threatenin’.”

“It ain’t.” He disappeared into the storeroom and returned carrying a wicker basket covered with a clean cloth. The smell of fresh bread and peach pie drifted through the air.

You smiled at the scent. “Who’s that for?”

“Harrington.”

Your heart caught in your throat, smile faltering. “Steve?” Your pa nodded as though there were any other Harrington worth mentioning.

“He invited me out to see the ranch this afternoon. Said he’s lookin’ to strike up business with the saloon, wants to talk cattle prices.”

“So, you’re goin’?” You shuffled where you were standing, already daydreaming about the cowboy.

He sighed heavily. “I was.” He jerked a thumb toward the broken wagon wheel leaning against the fence. “Wheel cracked clean through, ain’t makin’ it twenty miles on that.”

“Oh.” You tried to mask your disappointment, you thought if your pa got closer with Steve, perhaps it meant you’d be around him more often.

He suddenly lifted the basket into your hands. “You’ll go instead.”

Your eyes widened, heart thundering in your chest now. “I will?” You asked excitedly.

“Just drop this off.” He stated.

“All by myself?” Your mouth parted, still in shock. Your pa rarely ever let you go anywhere alone, let alone past the saloon.

“Ain’t no harm in it.” You blinked. Your thighs squeezed together from just the thought of being with Steve alone again, he had introduced you to a type of pleasure you hadn’t stopped thinking about.

Perhaps noticing your surprise, he cleared his throat. “Boy’s earned enough of my trust.” A pause. “Besides,” he pointed a finger at you now. “You’re representin’ the family, don’t go wandering off, come back before the sun sets.”

“I won’t.” You nodded, a little too eagerly.

“No flirtin’.” At that you pressed your lips together to keep from smiling, oh if only your pa knew the things you did with that man.

“I won’t.” You muttered.

He studied you for another long moment. “…Why’re you smilin’?”

“I ain’t,” you quickly brushed off. “Was just thinkin’.”

“Dangerous habit.” You laughed, hugging the basket closer to your chest.

“I’ll be back before supper, pa.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“You’d better, young lady.” He only said, before leaving you standing on the porch.

The ride out to the Harrington ranch was prettier than you’d imagined. Wildflowers danced in the breeze alongside the trail, and endless fields rolled beneath the sky until, at last, a wooden sign came into view, alerting you that you’ve arrived.

Just beyond it stood a modest farmhouse, a red barn sitting father back, you hadn’t even reached the gate before someone looked up from the corral.

His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, a few more buttons undone than usual, revealing his bronze dusted skin from a hard days work. His hair was tousled, the strands appearing amber from underneath the sun. One gloved hand rested on the neck of a chestnut horse while the other tightened a saddle strap.

The moment he spotted you, he immediately stopped, lowering his neck into a nod as a toothy grin spread across his face. “Well I’ll be damned.”

You guided your horse through the gate, trying your hardest to ignore the way you felt hot all over, feeling his gaze lingering on the way your skirt flowed in the breeze.

“I was expectin’ your pa.” Steve met you halfway, resting a hand on your mare’s reins before you even had the chance to climb down.

“He was supposed to come, but the wagon split.”

“Mmm.” Steve understood.

“So, he sent me instead.” You held up the basket, showing him.

Steve looked from the basket, to you, he already knew you were much much more delicious. “I reckon I got the better end of that bargain.”

You bit your bottom lip, avoiding his eyes that pierced into you. “You always got something clever to say?” You huffed.

“Only when you show up outta the blue, making my day better than it had been.” He steadied the horse with one hand, while offering the other to you. “You gonna let me help you?”

“I can get down myself.” You said, despite your hands already twitching to reach out for him, needing to feel his touch again.

“I know.” His grin widened. “But I’d sure like to.” You finally slipped your hand into his. His palm was warm, calloused and rough from years of ranch work. With hardly any effort at all, he guided you to the ground, you landed closer to his chest than either of you intended.

For a heartbeat, you didn’t even breathe, Steve looked down at your joined hands as though he’d forgotten he was still holding yours. Then, almost reluctantly, he let go.

“I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout you.” The words slipped out so softly they seemed to even surprise him.

Your breath hitched, gazing up. “You have?”

“‘Bout every day.” You think your heart almost stopped. “I kept wonderin’ if we’d get another moment alone, with your pa watching my every movement.”

“And now?” You asked, tilting your head.

“Now your standin’ right before my eyes.” He shook his head with a quiet laugh. “I think I like this better.”

You extended the basket, but it remained untouched. Instead, his eyes never left yours. “I always figured angels had wings.” He stepped just a little closer.

You laughed. “I’m startin’ to think maybe they ride horses.”

You couldn’t help smiling, he was already breaking the first rule your pa had told you. “I thought cowboys were supposed to be good liars.” You pointed out.

“We are.” Steve agreed.

“So is that a lie?” You raised a brow.

He pretended to consider it, his words coming out as low as a whisper. “Might be the first honest thing I’ve said all week.”

You laughed again, the sound carrying across the wide ranch. Steve smiled to himself, looking all too pleased that he’d been the one to coax it from you. How much he’s missed you.

You nudged your arm with his. “I knew you were trouble, shouldn’t have served you when you first came in.”

He leaned in just enough for his shoulder to brush yours. “If I was trouble…” his voice dipped into a syrupy tone. “I’d be tellin’ you how pretty you look standin’ in my yard.”

“And are you?” He looked over you with an easy smile, the thin sheet of sweat that coated your skin, your legs that would look too nice hanging around his shoulders.

“No.” A teasing pause. “I’m tellin’ you you make my whole ranch look prettier.”

You ducked your head, unable to hide the smile stretching across your face. “I don’t know whether to believe a word you say.”

“You don’t go to.” He reached for the basket at last. “I’ll just spend the rest of my life provin’ it.” Steve winked.

Before you could think of a reply, he turned towards the red barn. “C’mon,” he glanced over his shoulder, sunlight catching the edge of his hat. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

“Someone?” You frowned, hadn’t he said the ranch was all to himself?

“The real boss of this place.” Steve said.

“I thought that was you.” You answered.

Steve husked out a laugh. “Oh, shortcake,” he nodded towards the stable. “Wait till you meet my horse.”

The scent of fresh hay and worn leather lingered in the air, mingling with the soft nickers of horses in their stalls. Sunlight spilled through the wooden slats in long golden beams, catching drifting flecks of dust that fell around you with every step.

Steve pushed open one of the stall doors. “There she is.” A chestnut mare lifted her hair from the hay, ears perking at the sound of his voice.

“Ain’t she pretty?” He asked, rubbing a hand down her nose.

You stepped closer, offering your hand for the mare to sniff before gently stroking the white blaze running down her face. “She’s beautiful.”

The mare leaned into your touch with almost no hesitation, Steve laughed. “Well, now,”

“What?” You glanced up at him.

“She don’t usually warm up to folks this quick.” He explained.

“Maybe she’s got good taste.” You answered playfully. Steve rested his forearm across the stall door, watching you instead of the horse.

The mare nudged your shoulder, making you giggle. Steve’s smile softened at the sound, filling his chest with something warm. “I’ve imagined you here more times than I’d care to admit.”

“Do I get to know what happened in those imaginin’s?” You asked.

There was a knowing look in his eye for a second, making the hairs on your arm stand up, but Steve decided he’d show you all about that soon enough. “You looked at this place like it could’ve been home.”

The word lingered between you, you’d always wanted to live somewhere more freeing, away from the bustle of the saloon. You stepped away from the mare until only the stall door separated you two.

“You really love this place, don’t you?” You asked after a moment.

Steve nodded. “More than anything.” He confessed. “But I think I’d love it a little more if I had someone to share it with.”

Your heart fluttered, making the space seem more cramped than when you had first entered. Steve reached out slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. His knuckles brushed lightly against your hand, when you didn’t move, his fingers slipped between yours.

Your hand fit there as if it had always belonged there. “You still outta stay away from fellas like me.” He murmured.

“You seem awfully convinced you’re trouble.” You whispered.

“I took your innocence away, didn’t I?” The reminder sent shivers down your spine.

“I never planned on staying innocent.” You said.

His hungry eyes drifted from yours to your lips for only a heartbeat before returning. “So you’re happy I fucked you?”

You didn’t answer immediately, making him suffer with every beat that passed. “With all my heart.”

At your answer, Steve didn’t hesitate a moment further, making the hay crunch underneath his boots as he stalked towards you in two strides, finally closing the distance between you passionately.

Your fingers curled around the front of his vest as you let out a sound of surprise, deepening the kiss as he turned his head to the side, gripping your jaw tightly. The rest of the world disappeared beyond the stable walls, pulling Steve closer to inhale his musky scent.

He pushed his tongue past your bottom lip, swirly hotly into your mouth and tasting the sweetness of you he’s missed for weeks. He only pulled away when you were gasping for air, tangling your fingers into his long locks.

“God—Steve…” you sighed.

He groaned, moving his hands up and down your waist to feel every curve you’ve been teasing him with. “Fuck, sugar, don’t know how I’ve been able to stay away from you all this time.”

You were suddenly pushed back against the wall, watching as Steve buried his head into your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses in his trail. “Please don’t stay away, please.” You pleaded. “Need you more than anything, Steve.”

Your words made him growl, sinking to his knees while he hooked one of your legs around his shoulder, hitching your skirt up. “Wouldn’t stay away if your pa came chasing me with a pistol.” Steve gave you one last glance, at this angle you could see the darkness that surrounded his pupils, making your cunt clench in preparation.

You gasped when his face went out of view, licking a heavy stripe up your lips. “Oh—ahh!” Your body jerked, back arching.

Your little sounds were music to Steve’s ears, egging him on to wrap his mouth around the bud of your clit, sucking it roughly. You mewled, holding him in place with a hand that gripped his hair for dear life.

“Mmm, you taste like fuckin’ heaven.” Steve groaned against your pussy, the vibrations going right through your core. He moved his tongue to your entrance, thursting it inside as he began fucking you with the wet muscle.

You cried out, in disbelief, how he could make you feel that good with only his mouth. “D-don’t sto—ohh—op, Steve.” You grinded down against his face, making him increase his efforts.

“Yeah, just like that, baby. Cum all over my mouth like a good girl.” He replaced his tongue with two fingers, curling them against your sopping walls and reattaching his lips to your clit, catching it between his teeth.

You squeezed your eyes shut, overcome with pleasure, and it wasn’t long before you felt yourself on the brink of an orgasm, chasing it as you clenched your walls desperately around his fingers. “I’m gonna—fuck—urg,” you could barely get any words out, throwing your head back once your knee buckled, your high overtaking you.

Steve refused to stop, eating you like you were his final meal until you were pushing at him weakly. His jaw shined with your release, tongue poking out to lick whatever left he could. “Think you have one more in ya, shortcake?” Steve asked, though he was already tapping your thighs, making you jump as he wrapped your legs around his waist.

“So good.” You were still panting, stuck on the orgasm he gave you.

Steve chuckled, watching the dazed look in your eye. “Look at ya, so gone f’me and I haven’t even fucked ya yet.” He shook his head. “Wanna get all drunk on my cock, hm?”

You could only nod rapidly, you wanted every part of him. Steve gave you a rewarding kiss, before pulling out his cock that had been hard since you arrived, and lining it up with your hole. “Big stretch,” he said as he pushed into you, it didn’t burn this time from how wet you were from his mouth.

Steve used that to his advantage, immediately setting a quick rhythm that had you holding his bicep tightly, bouncing you up and down with each thrust. “Mhm, missed this tight pussy so fuckin’ much.”

The air in the stables became hot and heavy with the scent of your sex, the sounds of your sweaty skin slapping together echoed off the walls, turning into a secret melody only the two of you knew.

He pulled you into a searing kiss, messy and fast as your lips molded together into one. You could feel his cock all the way in your stomach, stretching you beyond your limits. “Mmf—oh, fuck—s’too big!” You moaned, trying to get Steve to slow down.

Steve only went impossibly deeper, dragging his heavy length against that one spongy spot over and over. “Ya can take it, sweetheart, ya were made for my cock.” He shushed you.

It wasn’t hard for your orgasm to build up after the last, your pussy pulled him back in every time he pulled out to thrust back into you, it felt like home. Steve was mesmerized with the sight of him spearing you open, the way you clutched onto him, how small you seemed against him and the creamy ring that formed around the base of his cock.

“Fuuuuuck,” Steve fought to keep his eyes on you, feeling dangerously close to his own high, though it was always his mission to make you cum first. “There ya go, can feel how close ya are for me, sugar. Just let go, show me how much ya need me.”

His words sent you over the edge, giving a final cry of his name before you wilted against him, leaning your head into the crook of his neck. Steve’s thrusts grew more erratic after your high, turning shallow as he grunted into your ear.

“‘M gonna fill this pussy up, make it mine. That's all you’re good for—breedin’ this pussy until it’s leakin’ outta ya.”

You nodded, needing to feel his warm cum stuff you deeply. “Y-yes, Steve! Just—just cum in me.” Steve stilled, filling you up with his release while your thighs shook.

“That’s it—just take it.” Steve pulled out when he was sure there was no more left, bringing you back down gently on your legs.

You leaned back against the wall, a lazy smile drawn across your face. He kept a hand on your waist, rubbing your side slowly with his thumb.

After a few minutes, Steve pushed himself back up, a scary look shining in his eyes. “What do you think ‘bout coming inside for a drink before you leave?”

You bit your lip, knowing all too well you were about to christen every corner of his ranch. Hopefully your pa wouldn’t notice if you were a little late.

[athenas-rose]

Maybe or 2 of cowboy!Steve… reader gets invited to his farm/ranch he works on and they get a lil freaky in the stables or out in the open (maybe it’s a secluded area)

God the first one was just pure bliss

Take A Ride Outback

Cowboy!Steve Harrington x fem!reader 3k words

warnings: fluff, tension, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v, size kink, dumbification, breeding kink, unprotected,

When your papa sends you to the Harrington ranch in his place, you should’ve known nothing is ever quick when the cowboy has other plans…

The afternoon sun hung low in the prairie, pouring honey-colored light through the saloon windows. Steve had become a regular, every few days like clockwork, the familiar boots against the floorboards announced his arrival before anyone had the chance to look up. It was another chance to see you, linger by him while you served him a glass of whiskey, reminding you of when he had brought you to the back and changed your whole view on cowboys.

Today was no different, except your papa had beaten you to him. Steve rested one of his veiny forearms against the polished bar, his weathered hat sat beside him while your papa dried a glass with an old rag.

“So…” your pa grunted. “Where’s home for a fella like you?” He didn’t exactly like cowboys, warning you of them the first time Steve had come, but he was more than polite to regulars.

Steve took an easy sip of the dark liquid, before answering. “‘Bout twenty miles west.”

“That so?” He paused his movements.

“Yes, sir.” Steve answered. He still hadn’t spotted you yet, and you had to admit you were nervous wondering if your pa would take a liking to him, Steve was unlike any other man you’ve met before. He captivated your attention, it was addicting.

“Got family out there?” Your pa asked once again.

Steve nodded. “Had.” A brief silence settled between them, your pa looked like he wasn’t going to meddle into a grown man’s business, but the cowboy continued talking. “The folks left me the ranch a few years back.”

Your brow glanced at him with a quirked brow. “Run by yourself?” He questioned.

“For the most part.” Steve shrugged.

“You must keep it busy.”

Steve chuckled. “Keeps me outta trouble,” he swirled the whiskey in the glass.

Your pa snorted, straightening up. “I’ll be the judge of that.” The older man narrowed his eyes through the hoods of his lids. “You always this agreeable?”

“Only when somebody’s daddy’s questionin’ me.” The earned him the first hint of a smile from your pa, making your shoulders loosen up a little.

“Smart mouth.” He pointed out.

“I’ve been told.”

“You know…” your pa began, setting the glass aside. “Most cowboys that wander in here spend more time boastin’ than workin’.”

Steve shrugged. “Figure if a man’s gotta tell folks how capable he is,” the corners of his mouth quirked upwards. “He probably ain’t.”

Your pa let out a quiet huff that sounded suspiciously close to a laugh. Steve hid the smug satisfaction threatening to creep into his face behind another sip of alcohol. He wasn’t trying to impress him, well, maybe a little.

“I expected a pretty boy in a fancy hat.” Your pa muttered, shaking his head

“Disappointed?” Steve asked.

“Haven’t decided yet.” He answered.

“Guess I’ll have to keep comin’ back till you do.”

Your pa whistled, pointing a finger at him. “Don’t push your luck son.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” The words were respectful, though the faint, victorious grin curling at the corner of Steve’s mouth…wasn’t.

The early morning began like any other. Your pa was already outside before the sun had climbed over the hills, loading sacks of flour into the back of the wagon while muttering to himself about deliveries, and folks who never seem to return burrowed materials.

You stepped onto the porch, smoothing your skirt as you tied your apron behind your back. “Mornin’ pa.” You chirped.

He grunted in reply, not turning towards you as he spoke. “Got somethin’ for ya.”

You raised a brow. “That sounds threatenin’.”

“It ain’t.” He disappeared into the storeroom and returned carrying a wicker basket covered with a clean cloth. The smell of fresh bread and peach pie drifted through the air.

You smiled at the scent. “Who’s that for?”

“Harrington.”

Your heart caught in your throat, smile faltering. “Steve?” Your pa nodded as though there were any other Harrington worth mentioning.

“He invited me out to see the ranch this afternoon. Said he’s lookin’ to strike up business with the saloon, wants to talk cattle prices.”

“So, you’re goin’?” You shuffled where you were standing, already daydreaming about the cowboy.

He sighed heavily. “I was.” He jerked a thumb toward the broken wagon wheel leaning against the fence. “Wheel cracked clean through, ain’t makin’ it twenty miles on that.”

“Oh.” You tried to mask your disappointment, you thought if your pa got closer with Steve, perhaps it meant you’d be around him more often.

He suddenly lifted the basket into your hands. “You’ll go instead.”

Your eyes widened, heart thundering in your chest now. “I will?” You asked excitedly.

“Just drop this off.” He stated.

“All by myself?” Your mouth parted, still in shock. Your pa rarely ever let you go anywhere alone, let alone past the saloon.

“Ain’t no harm in it.” You blinked. Your thighs squeezed together from just the thought of being with Steve alone again, he had introduced you to a type of pleasure you hadn’t stopped thinking about.

Perhaps noticing your surprise, he cleared his throat. “Boy’s earned enough of my trust.” A pause. “Besides,” he pointed a finger at you now. “You’re representin’ the family, don’t go wandering off, come back before the sun sets.”

“I won’t.” You nodded, a little too eagerly.

“No flirtin’.” At that you pressed your lips together to keep from smiling, oh if only your pa knew the things you did with that man.

“I won’t.” You muttered.

He studied you for another long moment. “…Why’re you smilin’?”

“I ain’t,” you quickly brushed off. “Was just thinkin’.”

“Dangerous habit.” You laughed, hugging the basket closer to your chest.

“I’ll be back before supper, pa.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“You’d better, young lady.” He only said, before leaving you standing on the porch.

The ride out to the Harrington ranch was prettier than you’d imagined. Wildflowers danced in the breeze alongside the trail, and endless fields rolled beneath the sky until, at last, a wooden sign came into view, alerting you that you’ve arrived.

Just beyond it stood a modest farmhouse, a red barn sitting father back, you hadn’t even reached the gate before someone looked up from the corral.

His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, a few more buttons undone than usual, revealing his bronze dusted skin from a hard days work. His hair was tousled, the strands appearing amber from underneath the sun. One gloved hand rested on the neck of a chestnut horse while the other tightened a saddle strap.

The moment he spotted you, he immediately stopped, lowering his neck into a nod as a toothy grin spread across his face. “Well I’ll be damned.”

You guided your horse through the gate, trying your hardest to ignore the way you felt hot all over, feeling his gaze lingering on the way your skirt flowed in the breeze.

“I was expectin’ your pa.” Steve met you halfway, resting a hand on your mare’s reins before you even had the chance to climb down.

“He was supposed to come, but the wagon split.”

“Mmm.” Steve understood.

“So, he sent me instead.” You held up the basket, showing him.

Steve looked from the basket, to you, he already knew you were much much more delicious. “I reckon I got the better end of that bargain.”

You bit your bottom lip, avoiding his eyes that pierced into you. “You always got something clever to say?” You huffed.

“Only when you show up outta the blue, making my day better than it had been.” He steadied the horse with one hand, while offering the other to you. “You gonna let me help you?”

“I can get down myself.” You said, despite your hands already twitching to reach out for him, needing to feel his touch again.

“I know.” His grin widened. “But I’d sure like to.” You finally slipped your hand into his. His palm was warm, calloused and rough from years of ranch work. With hardly any effort at all, he guided you to the ground, you landed closer to his chest than either of you intended.

For a heartbeat, you didn’t even breathe, Steve looked down at your joined hands as though he’d forgotten he was still holding yours. Then, almost reluctantly, he let go.

“I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout you.” The words slipped out so softly they seemed to even surprise him.

Your breath hitched, gazing up. “You have?”

“‘Bout every day.” You think your heart almost stopped. “I kept wonderin’ if we’d get another moment alone, with your pa watching my every movement.”

“And now?” You asked, tilting your head.

“Now your standin’ right before my eyes.” He shook his head with a quiet laugh. “I think I like this better.”

You extended the basket, but it remained untouched. Instead, his eyes never left yours. “I always figured angels had wings.” He stepped just a little closer.

You laughed. “I’m startin’ to think maybe they ride horses.”

You couldn’t help smiling, he was already breaking the first rule your pa had told you. “I thought cowboys were supposed to be good liars.” You pointed out.

“We are.” Steve agreed.

“So is that a lie?” You raised a brow.

He pretended to consider it, his words coming out as low as a whisper. “Might be the first honest thing I’ve said all week.”

You laughed again, the sound carrying across the wide ranch. Steve smiled to himself, looking all too pleased that he’d been the one to coax it from you. How much he’s missed you.

You nudged your arm with his. “I knew you were trouble, shouldn’t have served you when you first came in.”

He leaned in just enough for his shoulder to brush yours. “If I was trouble…” his voice dipped into a syrupy tone. “I’d be tellin’ you how pretty you look standin’ in my yard.”

“And are you?” He looked over you with an easy smile, the thin sheet of sweat that coated your skin, your legs that would look too nice hanging around his shoulders.

“No.” A teasing pause. “I’m tellin’ you you make my whole ranch look prettier.”

You ducked your head, unable to hide the smile stretching across your face. “I don’t know whether to believe a word you say.”

“You don’t go to.” He reached for the basket at last. “I’ll just spend the rest of my life provin’ it.” Steve winked.

Before you could think of a reply, he turned towards the red barn. “C’mon,” he glanced over his shoulder, sunlight catching the edge of his hat. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

“Someone?” You frowned, hadn’t he said the ranch was all to himself?

“The real boss of this place.” Steve said.

“I thought that was you.” You answered.

Steve husked out a laugh. “Oh, shortcake,” he nodded towards the stable. “Wait till you meet my horse.”

The scent of fresh hay and worn leather lingered in the air, mingling with the soft nickers of horses in their stalls. Sunlight spilled through the wooden slats in long golden beams, catching drifting flecks of dust that fell around you with every step.

Steve pushed open one of the stall doors. “There she is.” A chestnut mare lifted her hair from the hay, ears perking at the sound of his voice.

“Ain’t she pretty?” He asked, rubbing a hand down her nose.

You stepped closer, offering your hand for the mare to sniff before gently stroking the white blaze running down her face. “She’s beautiful.”

The mare leaned into your touch with almost no hesitation, Steve laughed. “Well, now,”

“What?” You glanced up at him.

“She don’t usually warm up to folks this quick.” He explained.

“Maybe she’s got good taste.” You answered playfully. Steve rested his forearm across the stall door, watching you instead of the horse.

The mare nudged your shoulder, making you giggle. Steve’s smile softened at the sound, filling his chest with something warm. “I’ve imagined you here more times than I’d care to admit.”

“Do I get to know what happened in those imaginin’s?” You asked.

There was a knowing look in his eye for a second, making the hairs on your arm stand up, but Steve decided he’d show you all about that soon enough. “You looked at this place like it could’ve been home.”

The word lingered between you, you’d always wanted to live somewhere more freeing, away from the bustle of the saloon. You stepped away from the mare until only the stall door separated you two.

“You really love this place, don’t you?” You asked after a moment.

Steve nodded. “More than anything.” He confessed. “But I think I’d love it a little more if I had someone to share it with.”

Your heart fluttered, making the space seem more cramped than when you had first entered. Steve reached out slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. His knuckles brushed lightly against your hand, when you didn’t move, his fingers slipped between yours.

Your hand fit there as if it had always belonged there. “You still outta stay away from fellas like me.” He murmured.

“You seem awfully convinced you’re trouble.” You whispered.

“I took your innocence away, didn’t I?” The reminder sent shivers down your spine.

“I never planned on staying innocent.” You said.

His hungry eyes drifted from yours to your lips for only a heartbeat before returning. “So you’re happy I fucked you?”

You didn’t answer immediately, making him suffer with every beat that passed. “With all my heart.”

At your answer, Steve didn’t hesitate a moment further, making the hay crunch underneath his boots as he stalked towards you in two strides, finally closing the distance between you passionately.

Your fingers curled around the front of his vest as you let out a sound of surprise, deepening the kiss as he turned his head to the side, gripping your jaw tightly. The rest of the world disappeared beyond the stable walls, pulling Steve closer to inhale his musky scent.

He pushed his tongue past your bottom lip, swirly hotly into your mouth and tasting the sweetness of you he’s missed for weeks. He only pulled away when you were gasping for air, tangling your fingers into his long locks.

“God—Steve…” you sighed.

He groaned, moving his hands up and down your waist to feel every curve you’ve been teasing him with. “Fuck, sugar, don’t know how I’ve been able to stay away from you all this time.”

You were suddenly pushed back against the wall, watching as Steve buried his head into your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses in his trail. “Please don’t stay away, please.” You pleaded. “Need you more than anything, Steve.”

Your words made him growl, sinking to his knees while he hooked one of your legs around his shoulder, hitching your skirt up. “Wouldn’t stay away if your pa came chasing me with a pistol.” Steve gave you one last glance, at this angle you could see the darkness that surrounded his pupils, making your cunt clench in preparation.

You gasped when his face went out of view, licking a heavy stripe up your lips. “Oh—ahh!” Your body jerked, back arching.

Your little sounds were music to Steve’s ears, egging him on to wrap his mouth around the bud of your clit, sucking it roughly. You mewled, holding him in place with a hand that gripped his hair for dear life.

“Mmm, you taste like fuckin’ heaven.” Steve groaned against your pussy, the vibrations going right through your core. He moved his tongue to your entrance, thursting it inside as he began fucking you with the wet muscle.

You cried out, in disbelief, how he could make you feel that good with only his mouth. “D-don’t sto—ohh—op, Steve.” You grinded down against his face, making him increase his efforts.

“Yeah, just like that, baby. Cum all over my mouth like a good girl.” He replaced his tongue with two fingers, curling them against your sopping walls and reattaching his lips to your clit, catching it between his teeth.

You squeezed your eyes shut, overcome with pleasure, and it wasn’t long before you felt yourself on the brink of an orgasm, chasing it as you clenched your walls desperately around his fingers. “I’m gonna—fuck—urg,” you could barely get any words out, throwing your head back once your knee buckled, your high overtaking you.

Steve refused to stop, eating you like you were his final meal until you were pushing at him weakly. His jaw shined with your release, tongue poking out to lick whatever left he could. “Think you have one more in ya, shortcake?” Steve asked, though he was already tapping your thighs, making you jump as he wrapped your legs around his waist.

“So good.” You were still panting, stuck on the orgasm he gave you.

Steve chuckled, watching the dazed look in your eye. “Look at ya, so gone f’me and I haven’t even fucked ya yet.” He shook his head. “Wanna get all drunk on my cock, hm?”

You could only nod rapidly, you wanted every part of him. Steve gave you a rewarding kiss, before pulling out his cock that had been hard since you arrived, and lining it up with your hole. “Big stretch,” he said as he pushed into you, it didn’t burn this time from how wet you were from his mouth.

Steve used that to his advantage, immediately setting a quick rhythm that had you holding his bicep tightly, bouncing you up and down with each thrust. “Mhm, missed this tight pussy so fuckin’ much.”

The air in the stables became hot and heavy with the scent of your sex, the sounds of your sweaty skin slapping together echoed off the walls, turning into a secret melody only the two of you knew.

He pulled you into a searing kiss, messy and fast as your lips molded together into one. You could feel his cock all the way in your stomach, stretching you beyond your limits. “Mmf—oh, fuck—s’too big!” You moaned, trying to get Steve to slow down.

Steve only went impossibly deeper, dragging his heavy length against that one spongy spot over and over. “Ya can take it, sweetheart, ya were made for my cock.” He shushed you.

It wasn’t hard for your orgasm to build up after the last, your pussy pulled him back in every time he pulled out to thrust back into you, it felt like home. Steve was mesmerized with the sight of him spearing you open, the way you clutched onto him, how small you seemed against him and the creamy ring that formed around the base of his cock.

“Fuuuuuck,” Steve fought to keep his eyes on you, feeling dangerously close to his own high, though it was always his mission to make you cum first. “There ya go, can feel how close ya are for me, sugar. Just let go, show me how much ya need me.”

His words sent you over the edge, giving a final cry of his name before you wilted against him, leaning your head into the crook of his neck. Steve’s thrusts grew more erratic after your high, turning shallow as he grunted into your ear.

“‘M gonna fill this pussy up, make it mine. That's all you’re good for—breedin’ this pussy until it’s leakin’ outta ya.”

You nodded, needing to feel his warm cum stuff you deeply. “Y-yes, Steve! Just—just cum in me.” Steve stilled, filling you up with his release while your thighs shook.

“That’s it—just take it.” Steve pulled out when he was sure there was no more left, bringing you back down gently on your legs.

You leaned back against the wall, a lazy smile drawn across your face. He kept a hand on your waist, rubbing your side slowly with his thumb.

After a few minutes, Steve pushed himself back up, a scary look shining in his eyes. “What do you think ‘bout coming inside for a drink before you leave?”

You bit your lip, knowing all too well you were about to christen every corner of his ranch. Hopefully your pa wouldn’t notice if you were a little late.

[firelilyfox]

hospital lights

Pairing: Steve Harrington x female wheeler!reader

Summary: You wake up at the hospital after being attacked by a Demogorgon. Panic claims your mind but Steve is there to comfort you, even if he is a mess himself.

Warnings: injuries. angst. hurt/comfort. crying. friends to lovers. confessions. no use of y/n.

_________________

The first thing you noticed was the beeping. Slow and steady. Then came the smell. Antiseptic, the unmistakable sting of disinfectant.

Your eyelids felt impossibly heavy. When you finally managed to open them everything was blurry.

A dim lamp glowed in the corner of the room. Outside the window the sky was black.

Where… am I? Your heart began to pound.

The last thing you remembered ... Holly. The hallway ...the creature... so much blood. Steve.

Your hand flew to your side. You could feel bandages and the pain that woke up the rest of your sleepy braincells.

Panic surged through your chest. "No…"

The monitor beside you immediately sped up. Beep. Beep. Beep.

Your breathing caught. "I…" The room suddenly felt much too small. Much too quiet and your lungs refused to cooperate. "I can't…"

Every breath came shorter than the last. The monitor screamed faster. Beepbeepbeepbeep.

A chair scraped sharply across the floor. "Hey." A familiar voice.

Steve. You turned your head so quickly it hurt.

He had been asleep. Curled awkwardly in the chair beside your bed. Still wearing the same jacket. Only now it was wrinkled and coloured with old blood.

There were dark circles beneath his eyes. He looked… exhausted.

He was beside you before you could even think. "Look at me."

Your chest tightened painfully. "I…"

"I know." His voice was calm and so gentle. "You don't know where you are."

You shook your head desperately. "I can't…"

"You can." His hand found yours instantly. "I'm here."

You stared at him. Tears already blurring your vision. "Steve…"

He swallowed hard. "I've got you."

"I can't breathe."

"Yes, you can." His thumb brushed softly across your knuckles. "Not with your chest." He placed your joined hands gently against your stomach. "Try it from right here. Breathe with me."

You tried and failed. Tried again.

Steve never looked away. "In." He inhaled slowly. You copied him. "Good. And out."

Another breath. The panic didn't disappear all at once but it slowly loosened its grip. Until finally…you could breathe again.

The tears came instead. "What…" Your voice trembled. "…what happened?"

Steve looked at you. His own eyes immediately began to shine with tears too. "You…" He laughed softly, the sound cracked halfway through. "You woke up."

Another laugh and then suddenly ... he was crying. Actual tears rolling down his face. His shoulders shook once. "Oh my God."

He covered his mouth for a second. "I thought…" Another broken laugh. "For a second I thought I'd imagined this."

Your heart ached. "Steve…"

"You've been asleep." His voice barely worked. "For eight days."

The world stopped. "…Eight?"

He nodded. "You scared all of us."

Your eyes widened. "My family? Nancy and Holly? Where is Mike and ..."

"They are all alright. It`s over now so there is nothing to worry about. I promise all of them are alive."

One name still lingered. You whispered it anyway. "…You?"

Steve smiled. "I'm okay."

Relief hit so hard it made you cry all over again. You hadn't even realized how terrified you'd been until that moment.

Steve watched your face carefully. "You've got questions am I right?"

You laughed shakily. "I think…" You looked around the room. "…I have hundreds."

"I know."

"So…" You looked back at him. "…start talking."

He took a long breath. Then, very quietly…he told you everything.

About the Upside Down. About Eleven. About Demogorgons. About Vecna. About all the years you'd lived beside a war without ever knowing it existed.

You listened. Occasionally blinking and shaking your head in disbelieve.

"So…" You rubbed your forehead carefully. "My baby sister…"

"…has helped save the world." Steve smiled. "More than once."

"Nancy has been fighting these monsters?"

"Mhm."

You nodded carefully. "Mike?"

Steve chuckled. "He'd be offended you even asked."

You stared at him. Then your smile disappeared. "…You. You've been doing this…" Your voice grew quieter. "…for years."

He nodded with a crooked smile. "That`s why my hair already has some grey in it."

"You almost died."

"A few times."

"You never told me."

Steve shook his head. "We couldn't."

"You were hurt."

He looked away. But he didn`t had to confirm, because you remembered the bruises, the cuts and the excuses. Falling off bikes. Car accidents. Bad luck.

All lies. All to protect you.

Your eyes filled again. "I was worried about you."

"So was I."

"No." You shook your head. "You don't understand."

Your fingers tightened around his. "I almost lost you without even knowing it..." The sentence refused to finish itself.

Steve swallowed. "I know."

"You've been risking your life while I thought…" A tear slid down your cheek. "…I thought you were just fooling around."

He smiled sadly. "I was."

"No. You were protecting everybody. Including me." The realization settled heavily between you. "You are a hero, Steve."

He huffed a laugh. "Don`t say that. I was just trying not to die. There is nothing heroic about this."

You took his hand in yours and squeezed it tightly. "I was not there with you, but if there is one thing I know ... its that you would do everything in your power to protect the people you love. That sounds pretty heroic to me."

He sat on the edge of your hospital bed, you could feel his warmth through the thin blanket. "Still ... you got hurt. I wasn`t there to ..."

"Hey." Your eyes found his. "I'm here."

"You could've…" He choked on his own words, unable to swallow down the lump in his throat.

"But I didn't. Because you were there"

"I don't know what I would've done." The confession slipped out quietly.

"So don't."

Steve frowned. "What?"

"Don't make me imagine it."

His heart broke. "You know…" He smiled faintly. "When you were asleep…I talked to you."

"You did?"

"Every day."

"What did you say?"

He laughed. "A little bit of everything. I told you Robin kept stealing my fries."

You smiled through your tears.

"I complained about hospital coffee and I told you Dustin thinks he knows more than doctors."

You giggled. "He probably told them what to do."

"He absolutely did."

You both laughed and suddenly the room finally felt warm again. Then Steve looked down at your joined hands.

"There was one thing…" His voice softened. "…I kept saying every night."

"What was it?"

He looked up, straight into your eyes. "I told you…" His thumb stroked gently across yours. "…that if you woke up…I wasn't wasting another second."

Your breath caught. "Steve…"

"I love you." The words came out without hesitation, calm and steady. "I've loved you since before I knew what love even was."

His eyes shimmered. "I just…" He smiled sadly. "…picked a really bad time to tell you."

You laughed through your tears. "I think…" You reached up, your fingers rested gently against his cheek. "…it's perfect."

He leaned into your touch instinctively.

"I love you too."

His eyes closed, just for a second, as though he'd been waiting to hear those words for years. When he looked at you again he was smiling. The kind of smile that reached all the way to his eyes.

"You know…" You shifted carefully until you were sitting cross-legged despite the nurse absolutely disapproving somewhere in the hallways.

Steve laughed. "What?"

"I've wanted to kiss you…" You smiled shyly. "…for a very long time."

"Yeah?"

You nodded once. "Mhm."

"You've got terrible timing." He said, but instinctively moved even closer. You could feel his hand resting at the side of you hips and his breath on your lips.

"So do you."

He laughed again. "I guess we deserve each other."

"I think so, too."

Very slowly he leaned toward you. Giving you every chance to stop him, but you didn't move away. You leaned closer too. Until your foreheads touched. Both of you still smiling and crying a little.

Steve nudged the tip of your nose with his own. "I can't believe you're awake."

"I can't believe monsters are real."

"I know."

"You really fought all of that?"

Steve shrugged. "You would've done the same and you already did. You are braver than you think"

You looked at him with so much love it almost made him forget how to breathe.

"Steve..."

That was enough. He closed the last little bit of distance. His lips met yours in the gentlest kiss either of you had ever known.

No urgency or desperation, just relief. Years of unsaid feelings finally finding their way home.

When the kiss ended neither of you pulled very far away. Steve rested his forehead against yours, his hand cupping your cheek.

Outside the hospital window, dawn was just beginning to paint the sky. After everything Hawkins had survived…after everything the two of you had survived…

Morning had never looked so beautiful.

__________________

Thank you so much for reading! All interactions are highly appreciated 💙

STEVE HARRINGTON MASTERLIST

if you wanna know what happened before this ... click here

[resident-kennedy49]

Venomous // NSFW Leon Kennedy x fem! reader

Summary: An attack during an attack leaves Leon injured and increasingly delirious. After extraction, he’s whisked away, and nobody’s fucking telling you what’s going on. Finally, you get a phone call. It changes everything.

WC: ~5k

CW: NSFW, like REALLY NSFW, you and Leon are partnered DSO agents, Leon is injured, fuck or die, sex pollen, sex venom, shaky safety practices, no use of y/n, no mention of ages, first time (together), friends to lovers, technically coworkers to lovers, handjob, unprotected p in v, creampies, multiple orgasms (Leon), he's a hopeless romantic at heart, happy ending

Notes: MINORS DNI

“You say you saw the suits.”

“Yeah, in passing.”

“You didn’t think they were important?”

“It’s a fucking lab. Labs are rife with hazmat suits. We’ve never had to equip them before.”

“There were warnings posted all over the exit.”

“There were zombies all up on our ass.”

The splattering offspray from Leon’s last-minute shot paints your back like a gory Jackson Pollock. The infected hits the floor, tripping two more.

It would be more helpful if there weren’t about a thousand of them closing in.

You’re running side by side with Leon, shoes eating up the sterile white floors, trying to divine an exit through the branching arteries of the lab. He has to veto a turn into a side hall when more shambling figures lunge forward; he grabs your arm to tug you away with him, but it’s an unnecessary precaution. You’ve already matched his footwork.

He glances behind as you run.

“Where the fuck are they coming from?”

You’d like to fucking know.

“And why are they all runners?”

You’ve dealt with your fair share of speed-boosted infected; limbs windmilling, clawing and careening, all bursting energy and no finesse.

These aren’t blisterheads. They have stamina. They’re keeping up.

You twist and shoot one whose fingers are uncomfortably close to swiping the back of Leon’s shirt. The nearby white paneled wall goes bright, splotchy red.

“Intel’s getting a new one ripped if we make it out of this,” you pant, breath dry and ragged in your throat. Your lungs are burning.

“We’re making it out,” Leon tells you. Conclusive, no room for argument. He dodges left, hand once again grazing your arm to pull you with, but you’re already there, a perfect shadow.

This hall is wider, brightly lit with glass cases set in between the wall panels.

You’ve only got eyes on one thing as you run.

EXIT

It’s a final sprint.

You grit your teeth, breath loud in your ears, arms and legs pumping hard, trying to build a gap that allows for a sudden smack into the double doors, a loss of momentum and reversal of motion to slam the barrier closed.

‘Slam’ turns out to be optimistic. It’s a hydraulic close. Glacially fucking slow.

“Fuck! Force it!”

You almost bash heads with Leon, throwing your combined weight against the doors as the calamitous wall of infected catch up, arms reaching through the diminishing gap, scratching and clawing at you.

With a roar of effort, the doors finally give way under pressure and close with a crunch. An arm, hand, and various fingers fall onto the concrete.

“Bar it! Bar it!” Leon’s braced against both doors, his body a wedge, jarred by the furious thumping from the other side.

There are massive pneumatic rod locks on either side of the door. The control panel is dark.

“There’s no power!”

“You’re armed!”

Oh, right.

BANG T-SHUNK

Smoke curls from the barrel of your gun. The blasted hole in the control panel sparks weakly, fizzes, then goes dark.

Leon pushes away from the secured doors, rubbing at his ear. Your head’s ringing like a struck bell and you’d been back at arm’s length, not parallel with the barrel.

“Say something?”

“Something.”

“Yeah, can’t hear shit.”

"You only look like it.”

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

He’s flipping you off.

You grab it like a pinky promise, linking middle fingers, and he rolls his eyes.

“Alright. Let’s bounce,” you say.

He pulls you back. Urgent, abrupt. It bumps you against him.

“Wait.”

You’re in a greenhouse.

Rows and rows of lush, overgrown plants stretch unfamiliar leaves towards a glass-paneled sky. The walkways between rows are made of industrial metal grating, a stale funk rising from the darkness underneath.

No breeze is stirring the air. The back of your neck starts prickling; your animal brain tugging on your metaphorical hem and pointing.

The plants are rustling lightly.

Leon half-turns his head towards you, keeping his eyes on the jungle ahead.

“What’s the sitrep on the door?”

It’s still thumping against the locks, battered by the relentless undead. You glance at the panel you’d shot, burst and gutted, the wall above it blackened.

“Fucked.”

“Other doors?”

It’s just wall. Wall, and wall, and wall, smooth and inhospitable.

“Negative.”

“How long can you hold your breath?”

“I don’t think that’s the concern.”

You’re playing back the last hallway. White walls broken by glass panels, streaking by as you run. Behind every glass panel, a bright orange suit, thick like leather.

Bite-proof.

“Fuck.”

“So you tried to bypass it underground.”

“So we tried to bypass it underground,” you confirm. You watch the man nod, taking notes. He’s a leftie.

“Good thinking.”

“Yeah, well. Apparently not.”

The metal grating isn’t light. Thankfully, you and Leon aren’t weak.

The daylight sits like oil on top of water, only greasing weakly off of the reflective metal of more walkways below; descending levels disappearing into the dark.

“Oh, good. Can’t see the bottom.”

“Endless possibilities,” Leon says. “Cover me.”

The first level is an eight foot drop. Leon swings his legs into the gap, scoots forward, and eases himself down slowly, like he’s waiting for something to file a violent complaint. When nothing does, he drops onto the walkway, the metal clanging despite his rubber soles.

He shines his flashlight forward.

“Ugh.”

“What?”

“Love what they’ve done with the space.” He pockets the flashlight, reaching up to you. “It’s a charm you have to see in person.”

His hands are firm on your sides, your shirt riding up a little as he supports you down onto the platform with him. He absently fixes your rucked hem as you shine your flashlight into the gloom.

“Ugh,” you agree.

Roots.

Long, white, spidery roots hang from the ceiling in lengthy clumps and bundles, like massive, cobwebby chandeliers.

Leon’s eyes narrow, scrutinizing.

“Hey. Look.”

He steps forward, reaching into the nearest nest of gauzy filaments. He pulls his hand out, fingers curled around a narrow, dark plastic tube.

You come closer with the flashlight.

The dark color is red.

“It’s warm,” Leon adds, horribly.

The tube snakes off into the darkness below. You point your flashlight down and catch a glint off of something flat, circular, and shiny.

Leon’s separating more tubes from the leggy mass of roots. Only the one is red, but the others don’t look any less… organic.

“God. Which way do you think they run?”

He glances at you. “Three guesses.”

“Plants don’t bleed red.”

“Not typically.”

You share a resigned look, then he brushes past you, face set.

You turn to find him making quick work of the stairs down to the lower levels, hand on his gun.

You check your pistol's chamber and follow.

“A line of tanks.”

“Life support tanks, yes. Dozens.”

“Which way were the tubes running?”

“Both ways.”

“So…”

“The tanks were feeding the plants, and the plants were feeding the tanks.”

“Life support, you said. So there were … humans? Inside the tanks?”

“Yeah,” you say, looking away. “Used to be.”

There’s a thick film of slime on the tank, like growing snot. Your flashlight can’t make out anything coherent inside.

Leon shines his flashlight down the row; cylinder after cylinder, standing like a row of human-sized batteries, all mucky with slime and tickled by the trailing ends of roots from the massive bundles overhead.

Somewhere ahead, a steady dripping, echoing. You don’t appreciate the cliche.

“When was the initial outbreak?” Now that you’re on solid ground, your voice seems to suck right into the floor.

“All the lab logs and entries stop around six months ago.”

“So no one’s been down here for half a year.”

“Yeah.”

Leon shares a long look with you, mouth tight. Then, hesitant, he wipes a window through the muck on the nearest tank.

The beam of his flashlight illuminates the chamber. You can see a vague shadow suspended inside, like a bug in rough, raw amber.

He steps back, jaw tight.

“Dare I even ask?”

He shakes his head. “It’ll put you off soup.”

You shine your flashlight upwards; the root balls catch it and glow, high overhead.

“What was so wrong with good ol’ hydroponics?”

“Let’s just get out of here,” Leon says, heading off down the line of tanks.

“Twist my arm.”

“You didn't see it?”

“It was behind one of the tanks. In the dark.”

“You didn't hear it?”

“It was a little noisy at the time,” you say, annoyed.

Third tank from the last, everything goes spectacularly tits up.

Glass shatters outward, slimy and wet as it ricochets off your defensively raised arms. The body in the tank falls forward and swipes for Leon’s legs.

It’s not like the infected you’re used to, desiccated and dry as jerky.

This one is wet. This one is dissolving, skin sloughing from muscle sloughing from bone. Entrails spill from its body cavity, slippery, spreading across the hoary concrete as the disgusting thing writhes for a claim on your partner’s ankle.

Leon stumbles out of reach, gun aiming at the mucky skull. It explodes like a sixpack in a hot car and you’re shouting, ducking behind your arm again—

That’s when the other thing strikes.

Leon shouts in pain and tries to tear free. The pale, rubbery thing keeps hold of his shoulder like an overexcited dog with a rope toy.

“Leon!”

It’s too close to his head and he’s thrashing, you don’t have a clear shot. Something glints in the shadows behind his hip.

The hatchet. He’s already grabbed it.

A roar, a swing, the song of a sharp blade slicing clean through something organic.

The pale thing hits the ground with a sound like a rotting squash, the vine swinging empty into the darkness behind the tanks.

Leon falls to one knee with a grunt, the hatchet clattering onto the concrete.

“Leon! Leon,” you’re touching his back, crouching down with him. He’s breathing hard through his nose, clutching his shoulder. The fabric is darkening under his hand.

“Let me see. Leon.”

You shove his hand clear, unzipping his collar and yanking it aside.

His skin is patterned with circular rows of bleeding dashes. Lots of them.

“What the fuck.”

The pale, rubbery thing lies flaccid on the floor behind Leon. At first glance, it looks like a starfish collapsed on itself.

At second glance, you start to see the teeth, fine and triangular, in diminishing rows like a shark.

Pink with blood.

“Shit. Hey.”

Leon’s still on one knee, head down. You push his hair back, leaving a bloody streak on his skin, and tip his face up. There’s sweat on his forehead.

It takes him a moment to focus on you.

“Tell me what you’re feeling.”

He grunts. His pupils are a little too big, even for the dim lighting, and they’re not reacting right when you pass your flashlight closer.

You’re trying not to panic.

“Can you get up? Can you walk?”

He lets you haul him to his feet but shoves you off when you go to duck under his arm. You don’t take offense; it’s a good sign. He’s steady enough on his own.

“Grab that,” he tells you, voice rough. He’s holding his shoulder again, pointing down at the beheaded plant. You pick it up by the little stem of vine, grab his hatchet, and follow him close, ascending fast while he calls for extraction.

You don’t wait for your debrief to finish writing.

“What did the labs say?”

“They’re still running tests.”

“What did Medical say?”

“They’re still running tests.”

“What, with a potato? Where's the sense of urgency, here?”

“At last report, Mr. Kennedy was stable,” he says, capping his pen.

“He was half delirious coming off that chopper!”

“They’ve determined he’s in no immediate danger.”

“How can they know if they’re still running fucking tests?”

You get your name in an admonishing tone. You stand up, your chair screeching against the floor.

“I wanna see him.”

“He’s in precautionary isolation.”

“I was exposed to the same bullshit he was. I wanna see him.”

“You weren't bitten.”

“What, you think he’s gonna bite me?”

Your debrief just looks back at you, calm and level, his hands folded prim over the closed folder containing your account of the whole goddamn shit-spackled mission.

“He’s in precautionary isolation,” he repeats.

Your teeth grind, a muscle in your jaw jumping.

“Are we done here?”

“Yes. You are free to go.”

Medical stops you at the door. They aren’t fooled by your purposeful stride, your bored but intent expression. They hook your arm and yank you away like it’s goddamn Looney Tunes.

“We were told you might try that.”

Fucking debrief.

So now you’re sitting at home, dialing the Medical desk every fifteen minutes, certain from the complete non-activity of the past four hours that they’ve filtered your number as spam.

Assholes.

You should go to bed. Medical’s kept you both alive thus far, through hell and high water. Leon’s in good hands. Stable. No immediate danger, they said.

You rotate your phone in your hand, over and over. Upside-down, rightside-up. Staring at nothing.

You call the labs.

Some poor idiot actually picks up.

“I-I-I can’t give you that information,” he stammers, when you demand an update on Leon. On the biting plant. On fucking anything.

“I’m his partner! I was ground zero when it happened!”

“I-I can’t verify that over the phone.”

“Then I’m coming in,” you say, prim. You hang up on more panicked stammering, tossing your phone aside on the couch.

You’ve barely made it to your feet when your phone starts ringing.

Incoming Call Leonnedy

You stub your toe on the couch in your scramble to pick up.

“Leon! Are you okay?”

Immediately you can tell he’s not.

“I need help,” he says. Croaks.

Cold sweat breaks on your skin.

“Where are you? What’s wrong?”

“I’m… I can’t…” He gasps.

You’re a whirl of activity. You’re grabbing your wallet, your keys, pulling a jacket on over your pajamas. There’s no fucking time to change.

“Leon, where are you.”

“Home.”

“What?” You stop cold in your mad dashing, gripping the phone too hard. “They sent you home like this?”

“They said I could take care of it.”

“Take care of what? They won’t tell me fucking anything, Leon–“

He groans through clenched teeth and oh boy, Medical’s gonna find out just how creative you can be when it comes to revenge. You shove your feet ungracefully into some shoes and grab for the door handle.

“The venom,” Leon’s panting in your ear, and then he gets to the zinger. “It’s an aphrodisiac.”

You feel it like lightning, a surge throughout your entire body. Your visual of his situation, based on the noises he’s making, takes a dramatic turn.

“Leon.”

“It’s been six goddamn hours,” he grits out.

“Jesus christ, can’t you just–”

“I’ve tried,” he says. “I’m just goddamn edging myself.”

“Did you call Medical? There’s gotta be something they can–”

“Fucking useless,” Leon says, confirming your hypothesis. “They told me to hire an escort.”

“What?”

“I’m not— fuck— fucking doing that.”

You thump your forehead against your front door, your grip on the doorknob tight enough to crush.

“Leon, if you… there’s no shame. They’re professio–”

“No,” he cuts in. “I don’t…” He breaks off, breath hissing through his teeth, and then fails to elaborate.

That’s alright; you’ve got a pressing question.

“Why’d you call me?”

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. You just have to listen to him breathe like this.

Your vivid imagination is a fucking curse.

"I trust you,” he finally tells you. “I know how this… I don’t have… I trust you.”

You’re partners.

No, you’re coworkers. What he’s asking is… can he ask this? What happens to your partnership in the aftermath? Can you go back to–

“Please,” he breathes in your ear, and tops it with your name.

You wrench the door open.

Before you hang up, he gives you the code for the garage door, and fair warning.

You’re still not prepared.

As partners, you’ve seen each other in various states of undress. Usually partial. Usually because you’re bleeding somehow. Always clinical.

This doesn’t feel like the far end of the same spectrum. This feels like a g-force journey into a different dimension.

Leon’s on his couch, head back, knees wide. Taut like a bowstring.

Completely, stark, buck-ass naked.

His shoulder looks like a bisected watermelon, his skin dewy and pink, dotted with the dark little toothmarks from the venomous plant.

His chest is heaving, his hips restless.

His cock is flushed dark, painfully engorged, thick and pulsing against his stomach. There’s a wet smear on his skin; when his cock lifts, straining, it trails a sticky little string of precum.

“Christ,” you rasp, tossing your jacket aside.

He lifts his head and his eyes can barely focus on you. He looks on the verge of passing out, but he reaches out, reaches for you. You shove a bottle of lube out of the way on the couch cushions and take his outstretched hand.

“I’m here. What do you–“

“Touch,” he pants, barely coherent. “Touch me.”

And here you are in the deep end, no time to brace, no time to breathe. You’re touching him, chamois soft skin, hot and unyielding. His hips jerk on a gasp, a groan dragging from somewhere deep within as he lets his head fall back on the couch.

The hot, swooping sensation in your stomach physically bends you, punches your breath out.

You’ve never handled a dick this hard in your entire life.

You’ve maybe never handled a dick this big in your entire life. He’s long and thick, the head flared, cerise and glistening. You pass your thumb over his slit, smearing through the precum, and his stomach tautens as he pushes up into your hand, his breath rushing out hot, hissing back in. He’s desperate.

He breathes your name. His ass keeps flexing with the helpless motion of his hips and his eyes are closed, forehead knotted.

It’s intense concentration. His world narrowed down, only as wide as the circle of your fist.

Six goddamn hours.

You tighten your grip, trail your other hand up the lightly furred inside of his thigh, teasing his balls before stacking your fists and starting to pump him in a steady rhythm that answers the flex of his body.

His hand lands on your thigh, searing, his fingertips firm on your flesh and pulling. Your knee presses tighter against his leg.

He’s just grappling for a hold on something, for an anchor. His other hand is doing the same thing to the arm of the couch. You just hope he doesn’t move his hand any further to the left on you or he’s gonna find you a little too slippery to hold onto.

Fuck, you’re only goddamn human.

You jerk him faster, his hips starting to meet you in earnest, his body rolling as he chases his disobliging release.

And why couldn’t he get there himself?

What if… what if you can’t get him there, either? You don’t know anything about the venom, they’re still running tests. Maybe this is the result. Maybe he’s just… stuck like this, heightening, exacerbating, until he, what, pops?

What a fucking epitaph that would be.

No, you’re not scripting headstones. That’s not happening.

You start to twist on the upstroke, a flick of the wrist, and Leon moans loud.

“That’s it. Come on, Leon.”

His balls are tightening, drawing up, his forehead beaded with sweat, his mouth open. He’s right on the edge.

“Look at me.”

He opens his eyes, glassy as they are. You make sure he can see you, and then you bend low.

His skin is velvety soft around the firm rounds of his balls. You fit your lips to one of the shapes, touch your tongue to it, tasting the salt of him.

He cries out, thick ropes of cum hitting his chest, his stomach, spurting and spilling down his shaft, smeared by your hand as you milk him through it, relieved.

You can’t stop your breathy laugh, almost lost under his aereous groans. He just keeps going.

“A little pent up?”

He doesn’t quip back. The situation is dire.

His dick gives one last pulse, the final beads of his release dribbling down the head of his cock. You rub it away with your thumb.

There’s a very noticeable issue.

He’s still incredibly hard.

When you meet his eyes, they’re a little clearer. He’s still sunset pink and breathing hard – messy, now, too – but he can track your face better.

“Do you feel any different?”

“Fuck. Barely.”

"What if you're stuck like this?"

“Don't say that," he says. You’re still stroking him, slow, like an afterthought. He drags his hands through his damp hair, hissing when it stretches the scabs on his chewed shoulder.

"It was venom, do you need some sort of antivenom?"

He doesn’t appear to be listening. His hands grip the back of the couch, his hips rolling, cock pushing through your sticky fist.

You grab his hips and force them down.

“Leon.”

He bucks hard against you, bratty.

"You think I know?”

“Don’t give me an attitude.”

“Don’t fuckin tease me,” he snaps, unwisely.

You move fast.

A whump, a gasp, the silence of breath caught in the shadow of a predator.

His breath fans out over your face; slow, tremulous.

“I’m doing you a favor,” you remind him, low, your face inches from his. “I could just leave.”

He’s not moving, trapped under you.

You’re straddling him, your fist tight at the base of his cock.

“What do you say?”

“Fuck.”

“Leon.”

“I love you.”

It rattles you like a gunshot, strikes you and spreads.

It takes your advantage, crumples it up, and throws it in a trash compactor. And then it lights that trash compactor on fire.

“That’s not fair,” you breathe.

“Sorry,” he whispers, and kisses you.

He’s upgraded your permissions. You kiss him back, heated, and let go of your leash.

He breaks from your mouth to gasp when you sit on his hips, his hands catching your waist and gripping.

“Shit.”

“So we’ve learned that I’m not a monk,” you say, a verbal roll of the eyes.

It’s not just a few tepid inches of water in your basement. At this point, your flood’s halfway up the damn walls.

He rocks his hips, rubbing himself against the soaked fabric of your pajama shorts. You keen and pick up the motion on your own.

God, you’re aching.

“You should have said something,” he says, breathless.

“That wasn’t on the invitation.”

“Aren’t you a saint.”

“Yeah. Because when you said ‘I trust you’, I heard ‘take advantage of my compromising situation’.”

“Fair,” he says, then pulls you down to speak in your ear, his scruff a ticklish rasp against your skin. “Fuck me.”

Well don’t you make the perfect pair. He’s hard as granite and you’re wet enough to sink a dinghy.

Taking off your clothes is too much fucking bother. You just shove the wet fabric to the side.

He doesn't watch where you’re taking his cock into your body, the hot, hard length of him sliding in tight past your pussy lips.

He’s watching your face. You don’t know it until you’ve got him in to the hilt, your mouth falling open on a sigh, your forehead smoothing out as you gyrate your hips, a delicious little circle, fully seated on his lap.

"Oh my god, Leon."

He comes.

Your name is somewhere in the long groan sieved through his clenched teeth before his mouth drops open, diced breaths tumbling free as he pulses inside of you, so deep, so hot and thick.

He’s still looking directly at you.

You watch his eyes clear just a little more; sharpening, focusing. Smoke becoming a mist.

“Can I tease you about premature ejaculation.”

“No.” He starts unbuttoning your pajama top. The fabric is wrinkled at your sides where he’d been gripping, almost hard enough to bruise.

“Why, because you’re still hard?” He is, but it’s different. You couldn’t bend steel around him anymore.

“Yeah,” he says simply, and grips your open collar, pulling you down into a kiss.

You arch your back, easing him to just the tip, bottoming him out again, cycling his affected breath through your own lungs. He runs his hands down your chest, grazing your nipples, his tongue reaching into your mouth to taste your sigh.

His hips press up into you, lifting you, a gentle swell. You ride it; start to rock your hips.

The fabric of your shirt whispers down your arms, chased by the skim of Leon’s palms. Goosebumps raise on your skin.

You brace your arms on the back of the couch, riding him faster. He trails his lips down the column of your neck, his scruff a pleasant scratch, his humid breaths printing your skin.

He runs the fan of his fingers over your nipples.

“Leon.”

“Lean back,” he murmurs, his teeth grazing your shoulder. “Let me see you.”

You sit back on his hips, brushing your hands over the caps of his knees. He scratches lightly down the flex of your thighs as you start slapping down on him harder, dropping your head back, gasping.

“Fuck, gorgeous, just like that.”

“God, Leon.”

Your thighs are burning. He starts meeting you, hips snapping, and you look down.

It almost does you in.

Those broad shoulders, that flushed chest. Muscles rolling and bunching under his glistening skin. Hair sticking to his forehead, wet pink lips, blown eyes hooded, watching you, too.

His hands fall to your hips and he growls, fingers bunching in your pajama shorts. Feral. Like he’s going to tear them.

He hooks his arm around your back and surges up, laying you out on the sofa. You whine when he slips out of you, but he’s lifting your hips to yank your shorts and panties down, surprisingly coordinated for the way he’s wound up.

A small part of you expects them to hit the floor with a wet slap. The rest of you is reaching for Leon, impatient, empty.

He brings your knee up, hooks your leg around his hip and pushes back in, one long thrust, his breath a humid narration. You keen, head falling back against the cushions, feeling his lips at your jaw.

He digs his arms under your shoulders, his body rocking you, fluid motions pushing and pulling as he fucks you slow, deep. You grip his back, obsessed with the animal flex of his body.

You can feel every inch of him, stroking your walls. In, out, a steady tide. You arch your back, your stomach pressing to the rippling heat of his abs.

He’s still sticky. You don’t fucking care.

“Score’s two to zero,” he tells you, breath hot against your cheek. “You gonna catch up?”

“I’m not the medical concern.”

He brings your other leg up onto his hip, adjusting. Seeking.

He finds it. You groan loud, raw, and feel him smile against your neck.

“There you are.”

Your jaw hinges open, your vision glazing over as he rubs the head of his cock against the bundle of nerves inside you. He snaps his hips, jolting a gasp out of you, then goes right back to massaging your g-spot.

“You’re not real,” you pant. He nips your skin, sharp.

“River in Egypt, sweetheart.”

You dig your heels into his glutes, pressing in like spurs, urging him faster.

“Come on, cowboy– ah!”

He pushes up onto his hands, skin slapping loud as he starts pounding into you hard and fast. You were already tightening, coil building, and he’s hit your fucking warp drive.

“Fuck, fuck, like that, Leon!”

“Shit, you better hurry,” he says through gritted teeth. His hips are stuttering, rhythm starting to fall apart.

“I told you–“

His thumb circles your clit, just one rotation, and that’s it. The bastard’s got you. Screaming, even.

You come apart beneath him, your foundation shaking, walls clenching around him, wracked by seismic waves. He gasps your name, watching you climax on his dick, then slams in deep and comes with a long, stuttering groan.

The third time, it seems, is the charm.

When his phone starts ringing, you don’t hear it at first. His head is blocking your nearest ear.

“Leon.”

“Mm.”

“Your phone.”

“Mmph.”

You shift like you’re going to try to reach for it yourself, but he’s beautifully heavy on top of you, so you don’t try very hard.

You nuzzle your face into his hair and bring your arms around him instead, closing your eyes. He hums, content.

The ringtone stops, bending to your private moment.

Five seconds later, it starts up again.

“Fuck.”

You grouse when Leon shifts up, but his reach is longer than yours and he doesn’t go far.

“Huh. Medical,” he says.

“Oh,” you say, with mock optimism.

He hits answer, settling back on top of you. You run your hand up and down his back, petting him.

“Kennedy.”

He doesn’t have his volume turned up very high. You get vague shapes of words, spoken quickly, and then Leon’s short responses, felt as much as heard, his voice thrumming through you.

“Yeah. … No. … Don’t need it. … I know. … I know. … No, I’m fine. … Sure. Bye.”

“Fucking useless,” he mutters, his phone clattering onto the coffee table. “Antivenom’s ready.”

You start giggling.

“They want me in for reassessment in the morning.”

It turns into laughter, smothered into his shoulder, and he rolls into the couch crease so he can look at you.

“What?”

“All their overtime hours,” you say. “No match for your partner’s Magical Healing Vagina.”

He laughs, a real one, his hand pulling at your hip to twist you towards him, pressing you against his body. You’re both a fucking mess, and the couch might be a write-off.

It was an emergency.

“Should get you certified,” he says. You make a skeptical noise.

“There’d be a demand.”

His arm tightens around you, minuscule. Almost imperceptible. Might’ve been completely imperceptible, if his arms weren’t so big.

“Mm. We’re sticking to best-kept-secret.”

“How selfish.”

He nuzzles your mouth with his, sharing breath.

“Yeah.”

“Hey,” you mention, to his invading tongue. He retreats and lets you speak. "Did you mean what you said, or was it just self-defense?"

"What I said?"

"Don't be obtuse.”

He brushes his lips against yours, just a snag of soft, moist skin.

"I've never lied to you," he says.

"There's a first time for everything," you say. "You're skirting the question."

He brushes your hair back, studying your face. Content to take forever, it seems.

"If it helps," you say, "I can put you back under duress."

You slide your hand to the front of his hip, laughing when he flinches away.

"Ass," he says, and rolls you onto your back again, dipping to kiss you.

"Yeah. I love you," he says, and maybe it's a little gruff. "And isn't that just a shitload of complications."

"A metric fuckton," you agree, stroking his cheek. His stubble rasps against your fingertips.

His eyes are completely clear, gaze steady looking back at you.

“But maybe it helps that I love you, too,” you murmur.

It's not a kiss this gets you. He's been dishing out all manner of kisses tonight, their significance has shifted. No.

Instead, he nuzzles his face against your neck, wraps his arms around you, and holds you. Holds you like he intends to for a very long time, like you're the only thing that matters, like your beating hearts need to carry out a close and personal conversation.

Good. They can work out the details. You're just gonna lay here and pet the hair of the man you trust most – the man you can finally admit that you love – glowingly content in his arms.

On AO3

Y'all mind if I just give our man a bad good time real quick

Thanks for reading! Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist when I post these fics 🩷

Taglist: @hoovesnhorns @gracelovesgyu @lencix346 @peachyfckingkeen @itimisu

[kindred-s0uls]

i've missed you

"Doctor Kennedy." Leon drawls in a low tone with a soft grin, getting up from the upholstered waiting room chair and striding towards you. You can already see it in the way he moves; how his posture is much more upright than it has been in the last three months. "Jesus christ. Could they at least leave the flirting and eyefucking until they leave the reception area?" The red haired receptionist sighs to the curly-haired receptionist once you and Leon are out of earshot. The curly-haired receptionist quirks a brow at the redhead. "Ah. You must be new here."

tags: 18+, smut, f!pov, oneshot, fingering, butterfly/mating press position, mock sympathy, doctor!reader x leon, reader is married to leon, leon had a near-death experience and now all he wants to go is go back to his wife and fuck her brains out because he missed her so much, re9!leon/post requiem events, mention of an age gap but no real details on it, fucking on the medical exam table, inappropriate workplace conduct from mr and mrs kennedy tsk tsk | wc: 2.4k.

After a mission, nobody even tells Leon to "report to medical for clearance" anymore. Instead, they just simply say "go see your wife". Which is exactly what Leon is doing, right after walking away from Grace and putting his ring back on.

That same matching platinum band glints under the cool toned medical lighting, as you finish typing up a clearance report for a poor rookie who sustained a deep laceration to their arm, which is finally in the proliferation stage. You already received a text from Sherry two hours ago; that a cure was found and a sample has just been received by forensics, almost ready to be forwarded on to the lab. Your fingers hover over the membrane keyboard, and you let out a deep sigh that you've been holding in.

Ever since those black, almost mold-like marks appeared on Leon's hands and neck, you've been struggling to keep it together. It was one thing to be married to such a prolific DSO agent, but it was another thing for everyone and their damn dog knowing about Leon's infection and checking in on you about it. Of course your coworkers had good intentions, but every time somebody asked how you're doing, you would feel a crack in your porcelain armor widening. Replying with a neutral expression, you always say something along the lines of "well he's not showing any psychological symptoms and his vitals are otherwise in tact, so I'm staying hopeful" whenever somebody checks in on you. It was a perfect reply - objective and rational, and it made you appear level-headed.

But for the last three months, on the inside you were anything but level-headed. When the lights would go out in the medical wing of the DSO HQ, you would quietly lock your office door and sob. You didn't want to let Leon see you like this; you felt as if he had enough on his plate already, he didn't need to see you crumble too. You wordlessly took it upon yourself to be a steady force for him during this time - to be an anchor while he tries to navigate this storm. After several years of marriage, Leon knows you well enough to see right through you, but he didn't confront you about your unwillingness to cry or break down. He knew that a large part of this act was your own form of coping.

Before you can type another sentence, you hear a knock at your office door and one of the receptionists call out "Doctor? Your husband just entered the waiting room." You feel a giddiness - the same giddiness you've felt all these years since you first began dating Leon.

"Oh, yes. I'll bring him in." You call out, locking your work computer and shrugging your medical coat back on as your pumps echo through the hallway of the consultation wing, the soft 'click clack' in the pattern of your gait already making Leon's ears perk up. "Agent Kennedy." You call out to Leon, crossing your arms with a small smile on your face. It's an entirely unprofessional tone - one full of adoration and love.

"Doctor Kennedy." Leon drawls in a low tone with a soft grin, getting up from the upholstered waiting room chair and striding towards you. You can already see it in the way he moves; how his posture is much more upright than it has been in the last three months.

"Jesus christ. Could they at least leave the flirting and eyefucking until they leave the reception area?" The red haired receptionist sighs to the curly-haired receptionist once you and Leon are out of earshot. The curly-haired receptionist quirks a brow at the redhead.

"Ah. You must be new here."

You lock the door quietly as Leon takes a seat on the edge of the examination table, his muscular thighs splayed across as his hands clasp together loosely. Before doing anything else, you walk up to Leon, placing one hand on his jawline as you kiss him deeply. You've missed the feeling of his lips on yours, the way his stubble gently tickles your chin, and the way his tongue always tastes like spearmint gum. Reluctantly pulling away, you lean back a little on the edge of your desk with a loving grin, although it quickly turns into a look of genuine confusion. "Your… Your face." Is all you can manage to say. You and Leon have a difference in age; you didn't think much of it since at the time of your marriage it didn't appear so significant back then, but a little later down the track people began to confuse Leon for an uncle or father. But since coming back from that mission, you both look identical in age.

"Oh, yeah. That Elpis cure actually worked. I feel better than I have in well, at least a decade." Leon chuckles.

"…You can be honest with me babe. If this was all some kind of elaborate scheme to get a facelift and some lip filler, I won't judge you." You joke, but you're still in a bit of disbelief. Although that disbelief quickly wears off - you've seen and heard of stranger things happening in this field.

"Glad to know my wife still has her sense of humour intact. Didn't miss me too much, did you?" Leon asks with a grin as you approach him to close the space between you both. He stretches his big, muscular arms out to encase you in a hug as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

"Haha. No actually, I was enjoying the peace and quiet in the home. I finally got a little vacation from those one-liners." You tease, but you are completely lying. Since Leon went on the mission to Rhodes Hill, you stayed in the DSO HQ for the entire duration, even poking your head into Sherry's office when she had some downtime. And Leon knows it.

"Really? Huh. Could've sworn I heard you mumbling in the background about how you were 'going to kill me if I didn't come back alive' in Sherry's headset at uh…" Leon checks his watch for a moment, "probably 2am today?" Leon teases you back. You groan in faux-annoyance, his keen observation skills being both a blessing and a curse.

"Fine… Yes. Of course I missed you." You admit, your lower lip trembling and tears welling up in your eyes. "I really missed you. I was so scared you weren't going to come back. And you were getting more and more sick by the day but they still insisted on putting you on such a dangerous mission." The dam finally broke as you explain how worried you truly were.

"I know. I could hear you crying in the bathroom before I left for Rhodes Hill. But you were putting on a real brave face for me just so we'd both keep it together, huh?" Leon murmurs as he kisses the side of your temple.

"Don't ever contract a life-threatening virus and worry me like that ever again." You chide him between snivels, but there's no anger in your voice. Just relief. Relief that Leon is finally back and safe.

"I can't make promises, but I'll do my best for you." Leon whispers, the low rumble of his voice soothing you as your tears subside.

Pulling away from his hug as your tears have now dried down to salty damp patches on your cheeks, you properly take his appearance in. You've always found your husband handsome, but seeing him like this… You can't stop staring.

"Something the matter, doc?" Leon tilts his head, aware of your ogling.

"Sorry, I just can't get over how good you look." You let out a short laugh, as his hands find their way to your hips, his thumb tracing little circles over the fabric of your black pencil skirt.

"Could say the same to you." Leon whispers, and you roll your eyes playfully.

"I wish." You retort, aware of your current slightly disheveled and sleep deprived state. Leon's lips brush against your neck. Your hands steady themselves against his thighs, gently but firmly gripping them as your knees wobble a little under the sensation of his touch.

"You don't believe me?" Leon whispers, his fingers playing with the hem of your blouse.

"Hmm. Possibly." Your lower lip catches between your teeth.

"Alright. Let me show my pretty wife how much I've missed her then." Leon gives you a lazy grin, guiding you by the small of your back as you hitch your skirt up a little to straddle him.

"O-one day we're gonna get caught doing this…" You moan softly in his ear, as Leon's hand disappears up your skirt, rubbing your pussy through your already-damp panties.

"Maybe. But they've got much bigger issues to worry about than their best agent fucking their best physician." He replies, the fingertips of his index and middle finger pressing against your clit, causing you to let out a small whimper.

"Insatiable." You breathe out, as Leon pulls your underwear to the side to stroke his fingers against your sopping wet folds.

"I'm the insatiable one? When you're already this wet for me? I'm the one who has to keep up with you, baby." He whispers, before capturing your mouth with his once more. Leon sinks his index and middle fingers inside of you, greedily swallowing the soft moans that escape your mouth as his thumb rubs at your clit.

"F-fuck… Oh god… I've missed you so much…" You whine, as his fingers pick up the pace.

"You did? You really missed me? How about you show me just how much you missed me." Leon's fingers curl upwards, hitting that perfect, sweet spot inside of you, making your breath hitch and your body tense.

"Right there, please, please, don't stop…!" You try to contain your pleads and whines of pleasure, your legs trembling, causing the examination table to shake a little.

"Aww, poor baby. You really needed this. Come on, you can let go now. I've got you." Leon coos in your ear, as you grip onto his shoulders tightly, quietly cumming all over his hand. You slump a little in his arms as you ride out your high, watching with heavy-lidded eyes as Leon licks his fingers clean.

"Leon Scott Kennedy. I swear you are going to be the death of me." You rasp out with a fake glare, but your fingers are already nimbly undoing his belt buckle. The wedding band on your finger gleaming momentarily as it catches the light.

"Hey now… Is that any way for a doctor to talk to her patient?" Leon mocks, the deep timbre of his voice causing you to shudder. You free his cock from his underwear; Leon is impossibly hard, his tip drooling with precum, taking on a reddish hue.

"Luckily my patient is also my husband, so he's not allowed to file any complaints." You chuckle, lowering yourself to your knees. Leon gently grasps your shoulder, shaking his head.

"I just wanna be inside of you right now." Leon says. You get up from your knees, and in one swift motion, Leon swaps spots by lifting you up effortlessly and laying you down on the examination table, while he is now standing between your legs. Your skirt is bunched up to your hips, and your underwear is completely drenched with your cum and pulled to the side.

"Please. I need you..." You plead, staring at Leon with blown-out pupils as his big, calloused hands grip the back of your calves to throw them over his shoulders, before his hands travel back to your hips.

"Anything for you, my love." He doesn't waste another second, his hips slowly pushing forward as you feel him stretch your walls, inch by inch, until he's bottomed out inside of you. Letting out a shaky exhale, your glossy lips quiver as the feeling of being totally filled up by his cock makes you squeeze your eyes shut in pure pleasure, your jaw dropping into a perfect little 'o' shape.

"O-oh fuck, more… Please…"

Leon leans down, deepening the angle and rocking his hips into you at a faster and harder pace. "Yes ma'am."

The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin and the squelch of your wetness with every thrust makes your cheeks burn red. You're certain if somebody walked past and paused for a moment, they'd hear such lewd sounds coming from your office, but at this point, you don't care one bit. You've missed your husband so much.

"You fuck me so so good… Oh god baby, I've missed you so much." You coo praise in Leon's ear, and you feel his hips pick up the pace even more. You always know exactly what buttons to push when it comes to him.

"S-shit, you're so fuckin' tight. You're squeezing me like fuckin' crazy. Fuck, such a tight, pretty little pussy." Leon rasps out, and his hips buck into you with a fervor that you're unsure of is even possible from a human standpoint. Every thrust Leon makes kisses that spot inside of your cunt so perfectly that your walls clench around his cock with a vice grip.

"Please, please, cum inside of me, please." You whimper, cheeks flushed and your hair plastered to the sides of your sweaty face.

"Yeah, you want my cum? Take it, princess. Take it. You know I'm all yours… Fuck-" Leon groans in pleasure as he feels your pussy tighten around his cock as you cum, your thighs shaking just as much as the examination table beneath you. Your knuckles turn white as you grip onto the edge of the table, eyelids fluttering shut as you reach that perfect peak. And that's all it takes for Leon's orgasm to follow suit, as he hisses in ecstasy, spilling hot, white ropes of his sticky cum inside of you.

"F-fuck… How much energy did that damn cure give you?" You rasp out, catching your breath as Leon's posture is already straightened out.

"Enough for another round. Or two. Or three." He shrugs with red cheeks and a grin as he helps you hop off the table, giving you a moment to fix yourself up and clean up your office space.

"Alright… Slow down there agent. We need to get home first." You chuckle, locking the office door behind you both as you walk through the reception area. Leon wordlessly extends his arm out to you, and you hand him your work bag as he slings it across his broad shoulder, before reaching out again and grabbing his hand in yours. You have a feeling you may end up in the backseat of his car before you make it home.

-k🐈

[ally-ofthevalley]

Number Eight

re2r!Leon Kennedy x f!reader summary: at a crowded frat party you never wanted to attend, all you hope for is one night away from textbooks, stress, and the growing pressure of being the only inexperienced person left in college. wc: 12.4k content warning: SMUT MDNI!, inexperienced (virgin) reader, anxious reader, use of y/n, alcohol consumption, swearing, fingering (f receiving), protected p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), aftercare <3 note: there's genuinely nothing cuter than my baby re2 leon. guys i was kicking my feet and giggling writing this IT'S JUST SO CUTE ARGHH!! also i swear i tried to make this shorter but i don't know what got ahold of me...

-

“Come on, y/n! Get your head out of your books for once and come with me tonight!”

Your dormmate and best friend, Claire pleaded next to you. She was leaned up against your desk, where you were sitting in front of two different ten pound textbooks, writing in a notebook.

“Look Claire, if I could I would. But my midterm is in two days-”

“-Exactly! You can spare one of those days to come out tonight. Think of it as a break between studying,” Claire tried to convince. 

It was a Saturday afternoon, in the thick of midterm exams, the leaves on campus slowly beginning to turn colours and gracefully shed off the trees. You were captivated in your studies, as one of your biggest exams was only a couple days away. Being in the program you were in, it was hard to find free time for yourself. Most of your days were spent taking notes, practicing review, and rinse and repeat.

To say you weren’t struggling would be a lie. You knew college was going to be difficult, but this was on a whole other level. You couldn’t afford to miss a day of lecture or you would be completely behind, and don’t even think about trying to study the night before your exam.

But hey, that’s what it took to get a well paying career these days, right? 

It also didn’t help that Claire, your dormmate that was assigned to you at random when you moved in, was in a completely different program than you. She understood that you needed your time to do your work, but when it came to a massive frat party being thrown, like tonight, there were no excuses.

“Please, it’s my brother’s first party that he’s throwing as President, and I promised him I would invite as many people as I could,” Claire begs, closing your notebook on top of your hand. You audibly sigh, and finally meet her gaze.

“I don’t think one person will make much of a difference,” you mumble, crossing your arms over your chest. Claire’s eyebrows furrow together, her bottom lip pouting. 

“y/n… it won’t be nearly as fun if you don’t come with me!” She got onto her knees in front of you, her hands gripping both of your thighs in desperation. You would think she was a drama major by her performance right now.

You can see her brain working, coming up with one final way to convince you to get out. Her eyes light up, a wide, toothy grin covering her face.

“I know,” she begins, getting up from her knees and walking towards the middle of your shared room, “we can complete number eight on your bucket list tonight.” 

She points to a giant poster that you and Claire had made, stuck on the wall in between your beds. The poster read ‘Y/N AND CLAIRE’S COLLEGE BUCKET LIST’ in big, bold sparkly letters at the top.

It was an exercise that your residence assistant had you guys work on to get to know one another, but as the two of you got to know each other more, the list got more unhinged. 

It started with, ‘try every dining hall on campus’, and ‘meet each of your professors for each class’. But then the two of you brought it back to your dorm, and came up with some real bucket list goals.

Claire had some for herself, like ‘try a keg stand for the first time’ or ‘go skinny dipping at the pier’. Your goals were less ambitious than hers, as you were quite a lot less experienced than her. But for you, it was way out of your comfort zone.

Your goals consisted of ‘stay out all night partying’, ‘sneak out to the football field at night’, and of course, goal number eight.

‘Lose your virginity’

The words stuck out at you like a sore thumb. All throughout school, you never really had a boyfriend. You always prioritized your studies, your friends, it never really crossed your mind.

But now you’re in college, and the closest you’ve ever been romantically with someone is a cheesy game of spin the bottle in high school.

For the longest time, it felt like the person you were to “give your virginity to” had to be someone special. The timing had to be perfect, detail orientated, and with someone you were in a relationship with. And truth be told, you did still somewhat feel that way. You kept telling yourself if I’ve gone this long, I can wait a little longer, but time is running out.

Being dormmates with Claire really put things in perspective for you. The two of you were at opposite ends of your lives in that area, she had all of her “firsts” a long time ago and was definitely more spontaneous than you.

She would never pressure you into anything, but she helped you realize that your first time having sex is never usually a pleasant experience no matter who it’s with. So it was better to get it done and over with, as she had put it, so you’re not so nervous to do it with your first partner.

Your eyes widened, jaw slacked as you followed Claire’s finger to the poster. 

“No way Claire. Nuh-uh.” 

Claire sighed dramatically, planting her hands on her hips.

“y/n, you said you didn’t care who you lost your v-card to. I don’t see how tonight isn’t the best possible night to do so!” You run your fingers through your hair anxiously, head spinning with thoughts.

You had been studying for days already, your brain feeling impossibly full with material. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, Claire was right. A house full of frat guys, unlimited alcohol supply, and a chance to put the textbooks down. What could possibly go wrong?

“Fine, I’ll go. But I’m not promising anything-”

You were interrupted by high pitched squealing, and a strong hug around your shoulders.

“Thank you thank you! We are going to find you the perfect frat boy to hook up with tonight!” Claire ran to her closet, already beginning to plan out her outfit for the party. 

You sighed, closing your textbooks for the day. This would be the first frat party you’ve attended in college, and to say you didn’t know what to expect would be an understatement. You just hoped you didn’t make a bad decision, and worst comes to worst, you just cling to Claire’s arm all night.

-

From the moment you stepped into the frat house, you figured the former had come true tonight.

The place was a mess. College kids every square inch of the house, beer cans and solo cups covered every surface. There were people playing beer pong on the dining room table, someone funneling a drink in the kitchen, and couples making out on every step of the stairs. Needless to say, it was a typical frat party.

You immediately felt self conscious as you stepped in the door. You knew you looked hot, as Claire kept reminding you, in your mini light blue jean skirt and white low neck t-shirt. Casual for a houseparty, but enough to show off all of your best assets. What was making you anxious was how out of place you felt.

You felt like a little kid in these situations, feeling out of place and a million years behind everyone else. It was times like these where you wished you didn’t keep your nose in your books all throughout high school so you could at least pretend like you belonged. 

Claire waved a hand in front of your face, one eyebrow raised.

“Hello? Earth to y/n?” You blinked rapidly, exiting the zone you trapped yourself in, and focused on her face.

“Huh?”

“I can see on your face that you’re spiralling, y/n. Don’t overthink it, okay?” She smiled, placing a supporting hand on your shoulder. You only nodded, letting out a shudder.

“Yeah, okay. I think I just need a drink.”

You and Claire head to the kitchen, where a large bowl of some sort of spiked punch was. You pour two hefty cups of punch, and pass one to Claire. She raises her cup in a toast, 

“To you getting laid tonight!” You nearly choke on your drink as you take a sip, tasting the much too strong juice on your tongue. You hope that you at least get drunk enough to ease the nerves, and just try to have a good time tonight.

-

“God, it’s been a fucking hour and he’s nowhere to be found,” Claire whines, leaning against the staircase. You stand next to her, overlooking the whole house. Claire had been searching for her brother, the President of the frat, but no luck thus far. You two had made your rounds throughout the house, watching as Claire got stopped by multiple guys desperately trying to flirt with her.

And how could you blame them? Her light brown hair was long down her back, black tank top underneath her cropped red leather jacket. Her black jeans hugged her perfectly as she swayed her hips around the house.

Meanwhile, you just kept drinking, a buzz slowly flooding your senses. You were starting to feel defeated; although you had no expectations of someone catching your eye tonight, it did hurt to watch all the attention Claire was receiving and you get none. 

You tipped your cup up to your mouth to down the rest of the punch, a little spilling at the corner of your mouth. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, and placed the cup down on a table.

You decided it was almost time to go. You’d have one more drink, possibly, then make some excuse that the alcohol isn’t sitting right in your stomach and head back to your dorm. As much of a bust tonight was, you were still proud of coming out tonight. 

You leaned over to Claire, raising your voice so she could hear you over the music and chatter,

“Hey, I think I’m-”

“-Oh my God! Chris!”

In your line of view, you saw a tall, broad shouldered man come inside the house from the back door. He had that similar light brown hair, and hazel eyes. He locked eyes with Claire, and opened his arms for a hug.

Claire turned to you, toothy smile on her face, “Wait here, I’ll be back!” She was already out of your line of vision before you could say anything back. You watched as Claire ran to her brother, jumping into a hug.

“Great, now I’m stuck here for at least another hour,” you mumbled to yourself, crossing your arms over your chest. You lean against the wall of the living room, watching as Chris introduces Claire to some of his frat brothers. 

You started to feel your stomach do flip flops. You were standing by yourself, spotlights suddenly feeling like they were shining down on you. As you watched Claire so effortlessly make new friends, you wondered why it was so difficult for you to go and talk to someone?

Why is everyone staring at me? Just go up and talk to someone! 

Your inner monologue was screaming in your head, anxiety starting to paralyze your body. You knew this was gonna be a bad idea to leave Claire’s side, you should just go-

“H-hey, can I get you another drink?”

Your head whips to the voice coming from your right, eyes wide and face tense.

The last thing you expected to see was one of the cutest boys standing right in front of you. He was tall, skinny but there was evidence of muscle building, bright blue eyes, and swoopy blond hair framing his face. 

He was perfect.

He stood in front of you, one hand scratching the back of his head, cheeks a warm pink unsure if it was from the alcohol or if he was… nervous? 

Why would someone as cute as him be nervous to talk to you?

Your throat dried up, an awkward cough leaving your mouth as you tried to reply, “Uh, s-sure, thanks.”

He only nodded quickly, and sped off to the kitchen. He wasted no time in grabbing two solo cups of punch, extending one arm to give one to you.

“You didn’t lace this, did you?” You teased, taking the cup from his hand, fingers grazing quickly. The boy’s eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his head at your question, his head shaking violently.

“What? N-no! I wouldn’t-”

“-I’m kidding,” You chuckle, taking a sip from the drink, “thank you…?”

“Leon, Leon Kennedy.” Leon relaxes, shoulders loosening and a sheepish smile on his face. 

“Nice to meet you, Leon Kennedy. y/n.” You push yourself off the wall, turning yourself to face him completely.

“That’s a pretty name, I like it.” You begin to feel heat rise up to your face, definitely not from the alcohol. You mutter a shy, “Thanks”, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Leon just watches you intently, like he’s admiring your features. 

“So, what brings you here tonight?” Leon asks, stepping closer to you to be able to hear your response. You suddenly feel very aware of how close he’s getting, and your breath shudders.

“Well, my friend dragged me here because it’s her brother’s party, but I’ve seemed to have lost her,” You look around the room, Claire and Chris nowhere to be found. Leon’s brows raise, taking a large sip out of his drink.

“Oh, you know Chris’ sister? That’s so cool! He’s my President, actually.” 

Your head tilts to the side. Leon’s a part of this frat? Off of first impressions you did not expect him to be into something like that. 

“This is your frat? I’m not gonna lie, you don’t look like someone who’d enjoy something like this.” Leon’s shoulders shrug, looking around at the combobulation of drunk college kids.

“Because it’s really not,” he begins, “I joined just so it would look good on an application. This kinda stuff isn’t really my thing,” he gestures to the party, voice softening. 

You couldn’t help but admire him. He was dressed casual, a grey hoodie with the college’s name embroidered on the front, baggy blue jeans, and beat up white sneakers. If you had met him somewhere else, you would’ve thought he was a lot younger than he was.

You watch as he takes another sip of his drink, throat bobbing as he swallows. Your face felt like it was on fire, how could you get so flustered just from watching him drink?

“N-not a partier?” You stutter, internally cringing at yourself, “What are you doing here then?”

Leon reaches to scratch the back of his neck again, looking down at his feet.

“Kinda have to be at every party we throw,” He mutters, looking back up at you with rosy cheeks, “but I-I was also hoping I’d run into a pretty girl tonight.” 

This had to be a joke.

First, this gorgeous boy approaches you. He offers you a drink, brings it back untouched (so far), stands far too close for a casual conversation, and is now flirting? 

Looks like goal number eight might actually be achieved tonight. 

Although Leon seemed kind, he was still a frat boy. And one thing about them is they’re accustomed to sex. What would he think if he knew you were a virgin? It was better to pretend that you knew what you were doing, than having to embarrass yourself about the truth.

You step a tad closer to Leon, a small smile forming on your lips. 

“Yeah? Did you find what you were looking for?” 

Leon smiled, head tilting down to meet your gaze directly. 

“I think I’ve managed to find the most beautiful girl in the room.”

On the outside, you’re calm and collected. On the inside, you’re screaming. You don’t think someone has ever called you beautiful that wasn’t family. 

Okay, you can’t fuck this up. Leon obviously knows what he wants, and that’s you. He’s looking at you with half-lidded eyes, neck craning down to block you behind the wall. If that doesn’t scream, I wanna have sex with you, you don’t know what does.

You take one final sip from your drink, never losing eye contact with Leon. You flutter your eyelashes a little too quickly trying to be seductive.

“Is there somewhere quieter we can go?” You shout a hair too loud, trying to have your voice reach over the chatter around you two. Leon’s eyes widen a fraction, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He looks over his shoulder at the stairs next to them, then back at you.

“Follow me,” he whispers against your ear, placing his drink on a nearby table to reach for your hand. You do the same, almost slamming your drink down on the table and grabbing Leon’s hand. 

He guides you up the stairs, stepping over couples making out and stray beer cans as you head to the second floor.

The chatter dies down, as there’s far less people upstairs either in line for the bathroom or even more making out. Leon walks to the end of the hall, free hand twisting open a door that leads to an empty bedroom. 

He lets you in first, letting go of your hand to move to the small of your back, just gently guiding you inside. The room is small, with a double bed taking up most of the space, but it’s organized and private.

You hear the door close behind you with a soft click, turning to face Leon.

“Better?” 

The music and chatter is only a low hum below you, the air feeling fresher and calm. You turn to face him, and he’s a lot closer to you than you thought. You can smell the cologne he’s wearing, surprisingly it’s not that awful one every frat boy wears. He smells fresh and woodsy.

You don’t dare meet his eyes, nervous beyond belief, and take a look at the bedroom walls instead.

“Much better, yeah. Is this your room?” You ask, looking at the college memorabilia, a couple posters of movies like The Breakfast Club and Scream. You feel Leon move closer towards you, not even paying attention to the posters on the wall.

“Yeah, all the brothers live here. I try to keep the door locked during parties…” he trails off, and you finally turn your head to look at him.

His pupils are blown, darting from your eyes to your lips. His chest rises and falls rather quickly, like he’s reminding himself to breathe. You fully turn your body to face him, head tilting up. You feel butterflies exploding in your stomach.

Is this really happening? Is this frat boy about to kiss you? You’re not even quite sure how to kiss, to be honest. You figure you’d let Leon take all the lead, since he knows what he’s doing. 

“Hi,” You whisper, eyes rapidly scanning his face for any sort of expression. He smiles, hands hovering awkwardly just over your waist. His head dips a little lower, only inches away from your lips.

“Hey,” Leon whispers back, “you feeling okay?” 

You nod quickly, a nervous smile forming on your face. The butterflies felt like they were trying to escape out your throat, it amazes you just how gentle and sweet this boy is. His hands finally land on your waist, the touch warm and grounding. 

Leon’s eyes focus on your lips for a second, his own parted slightly and the bridge of his nose a deep pink.

“C-can, can I… kiss you?” 

“Y-yeah,” you breathe out, and slowly shut your eyes. You relax your lips, standing perfectly still until you feel the feather light pressure of Leon’s lips on your own.

By any means, this kiss isn’t perfect. His lips aren’t puckered enough, as if he’s afraid to be too forward, and you just barely reciprocate.

But it’s perfect to you. 

Your arms, laying still at your sides, nervously slide up to rest on Leon’s shoulders, which encourages him to deepen the kiss. He adds more pressure, lips firmer against yours, and you follow suit.

His fingers press into your waist more, one hand sliding up in between your shoulder blades to push you against his chest. 

No matter how much of that spiked punch you drank, nothing could compare to how drunk you feel kissing Leon. Your chest tightens, not only from the lack of oxygen but from the intense feeling of excitement.

You feel yourself gaining more confidence the more you kiss him, your lips match his rhythm and your nose is angled so it slots right against his.

For what felt like hours, the two of you pulled away with a wet clack, heavily breathing and foreheads resting against each other’s.

 “Do you w-wanna sit down?” “Leon whispers. You nod, eyes fluttering open and you pull your head away to look at him.

His lips are red and glossy, eyes still staring deeply at you without faltering. He nods as well, and slowly guides you backwards to his bed.

You feel the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed and you sit down, Leon following suit beside you.

Your thighs press against each other, the hands that were on Leon’s shoulders now folded awkwardly in your lap. The air is still for a moment, both of you gathering your bearings for what’s next to come. 

Leon shakily raises a hand, reaching to your face to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his eyes scanning every inch of your face. You bashfully avert his gaze, eyes looking down into your lap.

“Thanks…” If Leon wasn’t paying so close attention he wouldn’t have heard you. But he was so engaged, analyzing every movement and expression. 

His hand moved to your chin and tilted it up gently, getting you to look at him. His eyes flicker between your eyes and lips again, breath shuddering against your face.

“Can I kiss you again?”

“Mhm,” you mumble, your eyes already beginning to shut and your face lean into his. Your lips slot together more effortlessly this time, the kiss still so gentle and reserved. Leon keeps his hand holding your chin, the other snaking its way back around your waist.

Your body relaxes more, getting used to kissing him. For it being your first time properly kissing someone that lasted more than a second, it was going a lot better than you expected. You almost thought you were a natural, the way Leon was reacting.

His hand on your waist started to move, trailing higher up your body ever so slowly. His thigh pressed harder against yours, trying to move impossibly closer to you. He kissed deeper, the suction on your lips more fervent and hungry. You felt his tongue poke sharply at your lips, a little unsure of its motives.

Okay, this is it. He wants to go further, and as nervous as you are, you also want more. You’d say you’re doing a pretty good job at making him believe that you know what you’re doing, or he’s just so eager to get in your pants he doesn’t seem to care.

You feel Leon’s tongue prod at your lips again, more persistent this time. The only thing you thought to do was open your mouth wider, and his tongue slid inside. The feeling was foreign, full in your mouth and slippery. But, you didn’t freak out, and let Leon take the lead.

Your hands folded in your lap reached back up to his shoulders, your nails scratching at the nape of his neck. Leon let out a sharp inhale, a quiet moan vibrating against your mouth. His hand on your waist, moving ever so slowly, reached the side of your ribcage. The base of his hand nudged the side of your breast, and it almost retracted like it burned him.

You grab a hold of the back of his hand with your own, and guide it to cup gently around your breast. You both gasped at the same time, Leon’s fingers flexing reluctantly over the mound. His hand trembles as he squeezes harder, and his kisses get uncoordinated, lips bruising yours and tongues twirling around each other.

Your heart is racing. You can feel Leon get more forward, cupping the underside of your chest and grasping hungrier. You try to get yourself to relax into his kisses again, remembering to slow your breathing and focus on the moment. But everything is happening so fast, and trying to pretend like you know what you’re doing is exhausting. It almost seems better to confess to Leon now, maybe he’d understand and might even-

Your thoughts are thrown out the window when Leon pulls himself off you, lips popping away from yours and hands flying off your chest to bury his face. 

“Fuck- I’m sorry,” he muffles in his hands, “I-I just can’t-” He pulls his hands off his face and runs his fingers through his hair. You frown, watching how flustered Leon’s getting. Was it something you did? Did he think you were a terrible kisser?

Your hands go to push yourself off the edge of the bed, “I’m sorry, I’ll just go-”

“No! Don’t- don’t go,” Leon puts a hand on your shoulder, pushing you back down on the bed. His face is tomato red, pupils dilated so much the ocean blue of his irises barely visible anymore. You only frown, your embarrassment turning into confusion. If he doesn’t want to continue with you why won’t he let you leave?

“A-are you okay?” You ask, watching as Leon breathes in through his nose and out his mouth. His eyes are wired shut, head up towards the ceiling. 

“I have to, fuck- I can’t keep doing this if I’m not being honest,” he stutters, head dropping to his lap, still refusing to look at you. Your eyebrows furrow, head tilting to try and look at him.

“Be honest about what?”

Reluctantly, Leon opens his eyes and looks at you. He scratches the back of his neck, and lets out a final shaky breath.

“Look y/n, I’m really sorry, but I…” He begins, averting your gaze again and looking down at the floor, “...I’ve never done any of this before. I mean, I’ve never even gotten to third base yet. If this isn’t what you were hoping for I underst-”

You cut Leon off with a snicker, which turns into a burst of laughter. You laugh, eyes closed shut and head thrown back, stomach almost hurting. You were so relieved. Of all of the frat guys you tried to hook up with, of course you managed to pick out the one who was in the exact same boat as you.

“I’m glad my virginity amuses you,” Leon scoffs, shaking his head. 

“No! No, Leon,” you calm down, controlling your breathing once more and subsiding the laughter. Reassuringly, you place a hand on his thigh, head tilting to catch his gaze.

“I’m laughing because I can’t believe this.”

“Believe what? That I’m a virgin?” 

“No, because I’m also a virgin,” you emphasize, pointing your finger into your chest. Leon’s eyes widen, head whipping to face you fully. His shellshocked expression makes you chuckle again, his eyes darting all over you. 

“Huh? Y-you’re a-”

“-Yeah,” you sigh with relief, propping your hands on the bed, “I didn’t say anything because I just wanted to get it over with. Figured a frat party would be a great place to meet experienced guys.” 

Still bewildered, Leon’s jaw is slacked open, eyebrows so raised they almost touch his hairline. Then, he begins to laugh. His nose scrunches, head thrown back with one hand holding his stomach. His laugh is infectious, and then you’re laughing again.

It’s light, relieving, and instantly calms your nerves. You feel like you can be more authentic, embrace the nervousness and uncertainty of the situation. Now you know you’re not alone in this, and the two of you can get to share this experience together, it makes you all the more excited.

You lean into Leon’s side more, giggles settling in your chest as a comfortable silence envelops the room. He slides an arm behind you, rubbing gentle circles on your back.

“So,” he murmured, cheeks pink again, “does this mean we can stop pretending now?” 

You look to the side of him, eyes trailing across his soft jaw, you can see the relaxation on his face.

“Yeah, I guess so,” your voice is soft and smooth. Leon shifts, facing you directly, and grabs ahold of your hands. They’re slightly shaky, but he brushes his thumbs across your knuckles to ground himself.

“Look, this is all so crazy. A-and I totally get it if you don’t wanna go through with anything anymore, but I wasn’t overplaying when I said you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

You look away from Leon’s face and to where your hands are intertwined, heat rushing up to your face and ears. If anything, you felt more inclined to continue with Leon. Not only did you find him very attractive, but he was incredibly caring, attentive, and was just as clueless when it comes to being intimate.

 “I want to keep going,” you look back up at Leon. He smiles, eyes lighting up with excitement and gives a couple squeezes to your hands.

“Are you sure? I-I can’t promise that it will be very enjoyable for you, but I want to try.”

“I’m sure, Leon. I want to do this with you.” You nod reassuringly, leaning in closer to Leon, placing a soft kiss on his lips. He melts immediately, lips slotting into yours and kissing you passionately, as if he’s trying to savour the feeling. He pulls back, a thin line of saliva connecting your mouths.

“Alright. If I do anything you don’t like, you tell me, okay?” 

“Okay.”

Leon nods before leaning to kiss you again, with more fire in his movements. He lets go of your hands to grip at your waist, pulling you almost flush to his chest. You drape one arm over his shoulder, the other hand pressing flat against his chest. 

You can feel the fast rhythm of his heart, his pectorals tensing under your touch. Leon goes to swipe his tongue over your lips again, softer this time, and you open your mouth to let him inside. A strained groan vibrated against your mouth, the sound giving you goosebumps. Who knew just by a sound alone could get you so riled up?

Leon’s hands, steadier and firmer, roam your waist, fingers slipping past the hem of your shirt to touch your ribs. You moan, the heat of his fingers melting your skin, and Leon pulls his lips away from yours. He takes a quick glance at your shirt before looking back up at you.

“Can I take this off?” Leon whispered, gently pulling at your shirt. You look at him with lustful eyes, lips swollen and parted. You nod quickly, going to reach for the bottom of your shirt. He stops you, placing his hands on top of your own.

“Wait- I need to hear you say yes. N-need to make sure you’re comfortable with everything I ask,” he places a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth, and you pull your hands away from your top.

“Y-yes, Leon. I want you to take my shirt off,” you whisper, smiling as you watch Leon nod affirmingly and go to tug at the hem of your shirt. You raise your arms and he lifts the shirt up and over your head, gently dropping it on the floor. Before he takes the chance to look at you, he pulls his hoodie off and drops it on the floor as well.

It’s a fleeting moment, but you both take the time to admire one another. Leon is slim, but you can see the muscle on his chest and faint ab lines on his stomach. His arms were the largest, biceps round and muscular on his arms.

You peel your eyes away from Leon’s body to his eyes, and he’s still transfixed on you. You were wearing a light pink bralette under your shirt, and that’s all where he was looking. You felt your face heat up, but you didn’t feel self conscious. It was more of an unfamiliar feeling of being admired.

His eyes meet yours once again, and he reaches out to caress your face.

“You are… breathtaking, y/n.” Leon kisses you, short but passionately, and rests his forehead against yours.

Your heart melts in your chest, his praise almost being too much for you. You’ve gone from no male attention whatsoever, to this absolutely lovesick puppy being so careful and attentive to you.

Your hands are resting on his shoulders again, fingertips putting pressure on his bare skin, “Sh-should I lie down?” 

Leon brushes the side of your face with his hand, watching the way his fingers thread through strays of your hair.

“Yeah, you can lie down,” he whispers, pulling away from you to let you adjust yourself. He watches as you scoot yourself up his bed, resting your head on the headboard. Leon stands, and grabs your legs to slip your shoes off. He neatly places them at the end of the bed, and kicks his own off before climbing back onto the bed.

He crawls up beside you, not entirely hovering over your body but propping himself to lean over top next to you. He uses his hand to turn your head to face him, his thumb brushing your cheek.

“I…I’d like to try something, if you’ll let me,” he began, kissing your lips quickly, “if you like or don’t like anything I need you to let me know, alright?” 

His face is just inches away from yours, his warm breath fanning across your lips. You shift into him more, nodding,

“Okay, I promise.” Leon smiles back at you, closing the gap with his lips. Leon focuses, eyes wired shut and eyebrows knitted together, internally cursing to himself not to mess this up. 

The kiss starts slow, the sounds of their lips smacking against each other filling up the room. You lie still on his bed, goosebumps fanning over your half naked body. That familiar sense of butterflies in your stomach begins to form again, but this time it’s not overwhelming anxiety.

Of course you were nervous. How could you not be? A lot of firsts were happening tonight, which was enough to keep your nervous system on overdrive. But you were also excited. You had been dreaming of this situation for so long, and now that it was finally coming true, it felt surreal.

Your head comes back down to earth when you begin to feel Leon’s lips leave your lips, and trail down your jaw. He peppers kisses along it, making his way down to the underside, sucking just a bit harder on the soft skin.

That elicits a breathy moan from you, Leon’s lips suckling on your neck is a brand new feeling that you realize you’re going to crave for the rest of your life. You tilt your head towards the ceiling to give him better access, and he takes that advantage to kiss all the way down the column of your neck.

Leon’s hands begin to roam, where they once were caressing your face to move down south. With a little more confidence than before, but not much, Leon gently grasps at your breast. His hand stays still for a moment, focusing on kissing your collarbone, but then squeezes.

You pant out of your mouth, the love bites at your shoulders and the friction against your breast was intoxicating. Leon massages and kneads your breast outside of your bra, the flesh spilling out of his palm as he tries to grab a handful. 

Leon’s lips trail back up your neck, sloppier as they move quicker to reach your lips once again. As he kisses you, lips hungry, the hand over your bra moves backwards to the clasp.

You feel as Leon attempts to unclasp your bra, fingers fumbling over the hooks the more impatient he gets. You let him struggle for a minute or two until you’re laughing against his lips, pulling away to reveal a large smile.

“Need some help?” You ask, arms already reaching to your back. Leon just sighs, cheeks flushed and a weak smile on his puffy pink lips.

“S-sorry, it’s a lot harder than I thought it was gonna be.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s cute,” you say sweetly, effortlessly unclasping your bra, the straps falling down your shoulders. 

Slowly, you remove it entirely, dropping the bra over the side of the bed. The newfound cool air breezes over your bare breasts, nipples already hardening at the temperature. You avoid Leon’s gaze, your face feeling hot as someone other than yourself is seeing you this vulnerable for the first time.

“Hey,” Leon whispers, tilting your chin to have you meet his eyes, “you alright?” Slowly, you look back up at him, eyelashes fluttering trying to shake away nervous thoughts.

“Yeah, just…” You pause, “...feeling a little nervous.”

Leon’s eyes are round and bright, scanning your features before giving your lips a soft kiss.

“It’s okay to be nervous, y/n. But I got you, okay?” He nods encouragingly, moving his hand from your chin to brush the side of your face. 

You smile, looking deep into Leon’s eyes, a nervous exhale escaping your lips.

“Okay, I trust you,” you whisper back, flickering back to Leon’s lips and encapsulating them. His hand rests on your cheek, thumb brushing against the soft skin as he kisses you back, long and deeply.

You feel your heartbeat regulate, putting your trust in Leon was something out of the ordinary for you. The attention and admiration he was giving you was different for you, nevermind stripping so bare before somebody. 

But Leon made you feel calm, and you barely even noticed the way his hand slid off of your cheek and down your neck, to gently grasp at one of your breasts.

His hand was warm and firm, the rough skin of his palm rubbing over your nipple sends a shiver down your spine. You leaned into his touch, kissing firmer when you felt Leon’s hand squeeze at the flesh, cupping and massaging. 

A small moan melts into your mouth once his thumb and index finger form around your nipple, rolling it between the digits and pinching. Your back arches off the bed at the sensation, your brows furrowing under his touch.

Still playing with your breast, Leon pulls back to watch your reaction. 

“That feel good?” 

“Y-yes,” you moan, eyes still shut and mind hyperfocused on the fingers tugging at your peaks. Leon kisses the hollow of your neck, trailing sloppy kisses downwards to your collarbone, chest, to the valley between your breasts before landing on the hard nipple of your neglected breast.

A high whine escapes your mouth at the sudden sensation, back arching higher into Leon’s face as he kisses hungrily, his tongue swirling and flicking around the nipple. 

Your legs cross below you, feeling the growing warmth in your core as Leon continues to worship over your breasts. He looks up at your face, lips and hand still glued to your skin, watching as your body writhes under his touch.

He can feel himself already rock hard, pulsating under his jeans from just watching you so stimulated by his actions. If he doesn’t get this moving along soon, he’s going to finish before you even get the chance to.

He places a final kiss to your breast before pulling off with a wet pop, the skin glistening with his saliva. His hand on your other breast slides down to your waist, then further to the button of your jean skirt. His fingers toy with the waistband, feeling you out before doing more than you’re comfortable with.

“Can I pull this down?”

You look down at Leon’s hand, brushing just under your bellybutton at your skirt. 

“Yeah, please,” you say as you’re already lifting up your hips, watching as Leon unbuttons the skirt and you help pull it down to your knees. You kick it off completely, all that’s left on you is a white thong, already a small wet patch forming over your core.

Leon smiles at you, hand resting on your hip. 

“I-I don’t really know what I’m doing, but I wanna make you feel good,” he begins, “so you tell me what feels good and what doesn’t, okay?” His face is so serious, you can tell he is so afraid of messing this up.

And whether it’s because he doesn’t want to embarrass himself, or that he genuinely wants to be able to make you feel good, you can’t tell. But you just nod, matching his smile and swiping a stray hair that had fallen over his eye.

“Okay, I can do that.”

He kisses you softly, forehead resting on yours as his hand slides off your hip, and down and below your underwear. His hand rests on your core, unsure of what to do before slowly, his fingers swipe between your folds. 

Your breath hitches, the feeling foreign as he drags his hand up and down your folds, the slick coating his fingers and reducing the friction. He doesn’t necessarily rub in a specific spot (or the specific spot), just ghosting over your entrance or spending a little too much time on your labia.

You can’t blame him for trying, he told you he didn’t know what he was doing, but a chuckle couldn’t help but escape your lips as he practically touched every part of you except your clit. It was endearing, feeling him try so hard to please you, but you knew if you wanted this night to be somewhat enjoyable you had to step in.

Leon slowed his hand as he heard you chuckle, looking at you confused, “What? A-am I doing something wrong?”

“No no, it's just…” You place your hand on top of his, guiding his first and middle finger to hover over top of your clit, “...try right here. Slow circles.” 

“O-okay,” he stutters, your hand leaving his to rest on his bare chest. Leon puts pressure over the spot with his fingertips, and just like you told him, rubbed slow clockwise circles.

That did the trick, the nerves shocking your body, hips bucking in reaction. Leon notices the action, and quickens his pace.

“Is that better?”

“Yes, a lot better,” you exhale, lashes fluttering as you watch his hand work under your panties. Leon watches your face intently, almost more focused on your reactions than the movement of his fingers.

His brows knit together in concentration, tongue darting out to lick his lips as he keeps those slow circles over your clit. Your thighs twitch around his hand almost instantly.

“Oh,” you breathe, fingers digging into the skin of his chest. Leon’s eyes widen slightly at your reaction, shoulders relaxing just a little. 

“Th-that’s good?” He asks softly, almost hopeful.

“Mhm,” you nod quickly, lips parting when he presses a little firmer, “don’t stop.” 

The words seem to shoot straight through him as he keeps going, a shaky breath exhaling through his nose. You can feel the confidence in him now that he can see he’s doing something right. His fingers maintain the slow rhythm you guided him into, careful but eager, like he’s memorizing every reaction your body gives gim.

Your hips begin to move against his hand without thinking, chasing the friction. Every soft gasp and breathy sound that leaves your lips only seems to encourage him further. 

“You’re doing so good,” you whisper, almost delirious from the sensation. Leon’s face flushes immediately at the praise.

“I am?” He asks quietly, almost sounding surprised. You let out a small laugh between breaths, reaching from his chest to his wrist and holding on tight. 

“Yes, Leon- fuck- just like that,” you curse under your breath, and it nearly ruins him. 

You can physically see the effect it has on him; his jaw clenches, blue eyes darkening as he watches you writhe beside him. But instead of rushing, he forces himself to stay steady, fingers moving in those same tight circles while his other hand slides to cup around your breast again.

Your breathing grows uneven, thighs trembling faintly around his hand. Your core clenches around nothing, your panties dampening the more aroused you became. Something warm begins tightening low in your stomach, unfamiliar but overwhelming in the best way.

“Leon…” You whimper, brows pinching together. His movements immediately slow with concern.

“Did I do something wrong?” 

“No,” you breathe quickly, shaking your head, “no, keep going. I just-” Your words dissolve into a gasp when he presses into your clit again, returning to the quick pace. Leon swallows hard, eyes flickering nervously between your face, your breast where his hand massages, and his other hand beneath your panties.

“Tell me what you need,” he whispers. The sincerity in his voice makes your chest ache. As amazing as it feels against your clit, it feels like something is missing. 

“I-I need you to put a finger in,” you murmur, “but don’t stop, please.” 

Leon nods instantly, transitioning to his thumb to rub faster circles on your clit. His fingers swipe between your folds once again, collecting the slick between them, and slowly pushes his middle finger inside you.

You immediately clench around the digit, the stretch foreign and unforgiving, but it seems to fill the missing void as the knot in your stomach tightens. He pumps his finger quickly to match the pace of his thumb, and the wet friction and repeated pressure makes your back arch off of the mattress.

“Oh my god-” Your hand tightens on his wrist, nails digging into the skin.

“There?” Leon asks breathlessly, almost panicked, “Right there?” 

“Yes-yes, right there.” The praise and reassurance seems to completely undo him. His forehead nearly drops to your shoulder as he keeps touching you, increasingly fascinated by every tiny reaction he pulls from you.

Your legs shake harder now, breathing stuttering as the knot inside you winds tighter and tighter. His thumb is rapidly circling your clit, pressure so deep it almost burns, and your walls constrict around his finger as it pumps faster inside. Then suddenly, the knot snaps.

Your body jerks softly beside Leon, a broken moan leaving your lips as your fingers clutch at his wrist harder, the other hand grasping at the bedsheets. Leon practically freezes for half a second in shock before continuing to motion through it, helping you ride out the waves of pleasure as your thighs tremble around his hand.

Only once your breathing starts to calm does Leon start to slow down. The room falls quiet, except for both of your uneven breaths. He stares at you with wide eyes, somewhere between stunned and relieved.

“Holy shit,” he whispers. A weak laugh escapes your chest as you cover your burning face with your hands. Leon immediately pulls your hands away gently, almost worried. 

“Was that okay?” He asked quickly, “Did I-”

“That was more than okay,” you laugh breathlessly. The tension leaves his shoulders all at once. And then, to your surprise, a shy grin spreads across his face; proud, disbelieving, and a little overwhelmed all at once. His hand pulls out from your core, sliding to your waist to give a reassuring squeeze.

“That was really fucking hot,” Leon mutters as he goes back in to kiss you, tongue jetting out and sloppily swiping over your lips and teeth. You giggle into the kiss, letting his tongue enter your mouth and explore. Your hands wrap around his shoulders, your fingers trailing up the nape of his neck. He groans, leaning against you and crushing you deeper into the pillows on his bed.

Leon pulls away, staring adoringly at your face surrounded by the pillows. His hand pulses around your waist, the other brushing the hair that fell over your forehead.

“I was so scared I was gonna be bad at this,” he mutters, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You feel him kissing the skin there, and you thread your fingers through his hair, nails scratching at the scalp.

“You did so good,” you spoke into his ear, “took a second but we got there.” 

He lifts his head to look at you, and pulls himself up from the bed to hover on top of you. Your head is caged between his hands on the bed, your legs spread wide for his body to slot in between them. 

You can feel his hips pressing into yours, more specifically the rock hard print under his jeans. Leon groans when you lift your hips to rub against it, his head dips and shakes above you.

“Fuck y/n,” Leon’s hips grind against yours, chasing the friction, “you’ve got me so hard.” 

You look down at his hips, the outline prominent on his jeans. You swallow hard, those butterflies erupting in your stomach once again.

This was the part you were the most nervous about. According to ‘losing your virginity’, this would be it. And because it being your first time, you knew that it wouldn’t be as pleasant for you. But you trusted Leon, and he had already stimulated you to prepare, so the best thing you could do was to try and relax.

“Do-do you want to…” You trail off, almost embarrassed to say it. Leon seemed to understand what you were alluding to, and his face instantly flushed.

“Only if you want to. I know it’ll mostly be for me,” he leans his head down to gently peck your lips, “but we can stop if it’s too painful or-”

You interrupt him with a kiss, your hands caressing the sides of his face. 

“Leon, I want to. I really do,” you assured him, lifting your hands to brush the hair out of his face. He melts into your touch, head nudging against your hand. It warms your heart how considerate Leon is; you can clearly see he’s aching to go further, but would never do anything more than what you were comfortable with. And that’s what turned you on the most.

 Leon rose from the bed, standing next to you as he began to unbuckle his jeans. You watched as he clumsily fiddled with his belt, unzipped his pants and let them drop to his ankles.

You almost gasped when you noticed the large bulge through his boxers, practically straining itself to be free. How is that supposed to fit inside of you?

Leon must’ve read your mind, or the blatant concerned look on your face, and he scrambled to his nightside drawer.

“Uh, I think I have…” He opened the drawer, rummaging through it before pulling out a brand new bottle of lube, and an unopened box of condoms. “You never know I guess,” Leon mumbled, opening the box to pull out the gold foil packet. Leon toyed with the waistband of his boxers, before reluctantly sliding them off and letting them pool on the floor.

Instinctively, you looked away, focusing on the posters on his bedroom wall again, but you remembered where that thing was about to be, so you might as well get a good look. 

You weren’t sure if it was because this was the first penis you’ve ever seen in person, but Leon’s cock was big. Not only long, but a decent thickness to it as well. It looked painfully erect, the head red and throbbing, already oozing milky precum out the slit.

His cock sprung out of his boxers, slapping his stomach before bobbing out in front of him. His focus was on the condom in his hands, ripping the foil and tossing it on the nightstand before clumsily unrolling it onto his cock. 

When Leon finally looked up at you, catching your slacked jaw and bright red cheeks, he awkwardly chuckled.

“What, don’t like what you see?”

You stuttered, hands tucking your hair behind your ears while trying to come up with the most appropriate thing to say, “N-no it’s just… I think you’re gonna tear me in half with that.” 

Leon laughed, climbing onto the bed again, hovering on top of you. You could feel his latex covered cock press against your panties, your teeth biting your bottom lip in reaction.

“We’ll take it slow, and that’s what this is for,” Leon grabbed the bottle of lube, opening the lid and squirting maybe a little too much along the length of himself. He groaned when he grabbed ahold of his cock, coating it fully with the lube. After putting the bottle down, he directed his gaze to your hips, where your core was still clothed.

“Can I take your underwear off, y/n?” Leon whispered, his head leaning down close to your face. You begin to nod, and as Leon’s about to correct you you blurt,

“Yes! Yes, you can take them off.”

He breathed a laugh as he reached down to your panties, hooking his fingers around the waistband as he slid them down your hips, taking them off completely and dropping them to the floor.

The air was cold on your core, your panties peeling off slowly from being sticky with your slick. You watched as Leon eyed you, eyes darting all over between your legs. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, spreading your thighs apart with his knee, “this is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You snicker, resting your hands on Leon’s shoulders, lifting your head to look down at both of your hips. Leon catches the way your eyes flick nervously between his face and where your bodies press together, and immediately his expression softens.

“Hey,” he murmurs, thumb brushing along your hip, “we don’t have to rush this.” 

You swallow hard, trying to steady your breathing as he hovers over you. The earlier confidence you’d built up starts to crumble under the reality of what’s about to happen.

“I know,” you whisper, “I’m just nervous.” 

Leon nods like he understands completely.

“Me too.” 

That makes you laugh softly, and the tension in the room eases almost instantly. Leon leans down to kiss you again, slower this time, more reassuring than heated. His hand slides up your waist, giving gentle squeezes. 

“You tell me if you want to stop, okay?” He says quietly against your lips.

“I will.”

He presses one last kiss to your mouth before pulling back just enough to look at you, icy blue eyes searching your face carefully, analyzing every reaction. 

Leon goes to grab ahold of his cock at the base, and gently presses the head up against your folds. A small gasp leaves your mouth as you feel him swiping the head up and down your entrance, mixing the lube with your slick to try and make this as painless as possible. 

He stalls for a second, eyes looking back at yours, “You still okay?”

You nod, “Yeah.”

“It might feel better if you… touch yourself when I go to put it in,” Leon suggests, looking down at your hips to align himself in front of you. You take your dominant hand off of Leon’s shoulder and slide it down to your clit, using your first and middle finger to draw slow circles overtop of it. 

You feel yourself relax a little more, face less tense as you feel Leon’s tip just kissing your entrance. 

But that relaxation immediately disappears the moment Leon moves his hips, the tip forcing its way into you.

The stretch is unforgivable, it feels white hot the deeper he tries to push himself inside. You hiss, eyes wiring shut and nails dig into the skin on Leon’s shoulder. He instantly stalls, pushing no further the second he sees the uncomfortable look on your face.

“Too- ahh- too much?” He almost whines in between words, the constriction from your walls around his cock is almost enough to get him to cum instantly.

“Just- don’t move for a second,” you spit out, concentrating on breathing as you feel your walls adjusting. Leon does as he’s told, not moving an inch as he watches you contort your face. He rubs soothing circles on your waist with his thumb, his lips pressing soft kisses along your jaw. 

You can feel your walls stretching around him, the burn subsiding as you continue to stimulate your clit. Your face relaxes, head that you didn’t realize you had raised, lowered back down on the pillow. 

Leon felt your fingers declaw from his shoulder and it triggered him to pull off of your jaw.

“Better?” He asks, eyes scanning yours for any sort of discomfort. Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth as you nod, inhaling deep through your nose.

“Yeah, you can keep going.” 

Leon whispers a small “Okay”, and grabs ahold of his cock again before letting himself push deeper.

You remind yourself not to hold your breath as Leon inches further in your core, letting out a large exhale mixed with a whine.

You knew this was going to hurt, but not like this. You feel impossibly full, the girth of Leon’s cock felt like a foreign object trying to squeeze itself somewhere it shouldn’t. Just when you thought it was going on forever, you felt his hips flush against yours as he fully bottomed out. 

“O-oh my- fuck,” he groaned loudly, stilling to not only let you adjust to his full length but to control himself.

Leon knew he wouldn’t last long, but the way his cock was being vacuum sealed around your cunt, only a couple of thrusts would be enough to make him cum. 

His grip on your waist grew tighter, stabilizing himself as he dragged his cock back out, pulling out to almost the tip before slowly sliding back in.

Leon was a moaning mess on top of you. Little moans as he thrusted so slowly, feeling every ridge along your walls the deeper he went. When he would bottom out, a breathy whine sheepishly escaped his lips, absolutely reveling in the pleasure. 

You thanked him for encouraging you to play with your clit, the little nerve bundle relieving the pain the more he picked up the pace.

You locked eyes with Leon, his brows knit tightly on his face, jaw slacked and panting.

“Are you- my god- doing alright?” He asked between thrusts, his hips becoming uncoordinated and faster in movement. You weakly moan in response, lifting your head to gently kiss him.

“I’m good, feels better,” you smile into the kiss, feeling Leon’s hips rut faster into yours.

It did get better, not by much, but your walls adjusted around him and you didn’t feel as stuffed. You continued to rub your clit, circles moving faster to intensify the pleasure. You watched Leon’s face as it became more contorted, nose scrunching and eyes wiring shut the deeper he plunged his cock.

“y/n I’m not- not gonna,” he moaned, thrusts becoming shallow and quicker, “oh fuck!”

He stalls his hips pressed against yours, his shoulders tense up as if the wind was knocked out of him. You feel his cock twitch inside of you, a string of moans leaving Leon’s lips give you enough clues to figure out that he came. 

His face is a blushing mess as he realizes how quickly he came, eyes prying open to look down at where your hips connected. They flash back up to you, flickering with embarrassment.

“Oh my god y/n,” he dipped his head to hide his face in your shoulder, “I’m so sorry.” 

You laugh, both hands reaching up to scratch the back of his head. You place a grounding kiss to his temple, keeping your lips pressed against him as you mutter,

“What are you sorry about?”

You feel Leon sigh against the crook of your neck, slowly pulling his head up to look at you. His face is still bright red, eyes wide and pleading.

“You… didn’t get to finish,” he mumbled, his hands pressing firmer into your waist. He feels so tense, beating himself up for something you knew he couldn’t control. You just smiled reassuringly, sliding your hands around to cup the sides of his face.

“Leon, it’s okay. You already made me finish,” you peck his lips, thumbs swiping along his cheeks, “you did so good.” 

The praise cracks a small smile out of Leon, his shoulders finally relaxing, head dipping lower.

“Are you sure? It-it didn’t hurt too bad?”

You shake your head, “Just at the beginning, but then it felt good.” 

Leon sighed with relief, his hands loosening the grip and sliding further up your body. His thumb brushes across your nipple, causing a shiver up your spine. 

“Well,” Leon kisses your lips, soft but passionate, “I still wanna make it up to you.” 

Your brow arches, pulling back just enough to look at him.

“Make up for what?”

Leon’s lips drag along your jaw, sucking that newly found sweet spot just below your ear. His lips are already to your collarbone before he mumbles out, “Gonna make you cum again.” 

You go to speak but are replaced by a low whine as Leon pushes himself off of you, his slowly softening cock pulling out of your core. You suddenly feel so empty, walls clenching around nothing. Leon sits up and removes the condom, tossing it into a small trashcan by his bed. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows as he lies back down next to you, hand massaging down your hip.

“I would like to taste you, y/n,” Leon whispers, eyes searching yours for a reaction. You give him that familiar confused expression, not clueing in to what he’s asking. 

“What do you mean?” Your head tilts, and Leon only travels his hand across your hip, fingers ghosting over your mound. Your eyes widen as it finally clicks for you.

“Only if you’re comfortable with that, but I’ve always wondered what it’s like.” He blushes, keeping his hand resting overtop of your cunt and leaning his face in to nudge your nose.

You swallow nervously, feeling your own face get warm. Of course, you’ve also wondered what having someone eat you out would feel like. And now would be no better time to have you find out, with a willing participant. 

You had already been so intimate with Leon, but something about him getting so close and personal between your legs felt even more intimate. But you’ve come to trust Leon, his eyes are genuine and all he wants to do is please you. 

He’s watching your face as you contemplate, and you slowly nod.

“Yeah, okay. You can do that.”

Leon’s eyes light up, a toothy grin spreading across his face. 

“I’ll do the best I can, I promise,” he finishes his sentence with a kiss, shifting his body to hover over top of you. His lips trail down to your jaw again, and make their way down south. Wet, sloppy kisses down your neck, chest, on each breast, stomach, and just on the top of your pelvic bone. 

Leon wedges himself between your legs, hooking your thighs up and over his shoulders as he becomes face to face with your core. You look up at the ceiling, face still flushed and nervous.

You felt kisses along your inner thigh, moving to kiss the other one before his lips got too close. Your breath hitched when you felt the warm air fan across your folds, eyes shutting in anticipation.

“Hey, look at me,” Leon whispers just inches away from your core. Reluctantly, you tilt your head down and open your eyes to meet Leon’s. “You’re okay. I got you.”

The words are so simple, but the way he looked into your eyes and spoke so earnestly, your heart wants to shatter into a million pieces. You nod and smile, reaching your hand down to thread your fingers through his hair. You must think this boy has a magic power of calming your nerves, because you didn’t look away as Leon dipped his head, jetting out his tongue to lick a fat stripe up the middle of your core.

Your hips jerk in reaction, mouth wide open and shallow breaths leaving your chest. Leon’s arms wrap under your thighs to push your hips down into the bed, stabilizing them. 

He licks another long stripe, tongue parting your folds before stopping right on your clit, and placing a gentle kiss on top of it. 

That elicits a moan from you, the fingers in Leon’s hair gripping tighter as he continues to kiss your clit, taking the bundle of nerves between his lips and sucking softly.

“Leon, fuck- yes,”

Your hips try to buck into Leon’s face, chasing that friction, but his hands won’t let you budge. He just groans against your clit, the vibrations making you whine loudly. 

Leon watches your face as he continues to suck on your clit, seeing that this was eliciting the best reaction from you, and only goes to suck harder. He stiffens his tongue to flick against the bud, causing your head to throw back in pleasure.

You feel that familiar knot forming in your stomach, your thighs closing around Leon’s head the tighter the knot becomes. Your hand gripped his hair tighter, pulling it closer to your core as you tried to grind your hips on his face.

You felt delirious. Nothing had felt this overwhelming until right now, but in the best possible way. The way the suction around your clit made it throb, Leon’s hard tongue replicating his fingers from before and swirling in circles, it was almost too much.

“Oh my god,” you moan, your stomach very suddenly approaching your second orgasm of the night, “I-I’m gonna!”

Leon hums against your clit, lips clamping down on it and shoving his nose deeper into your mound as the knot in your stomach snaps.

Your legs involuntarily crush Leon’s head, face contorting as the orgasm floods through you harder than before. Your chest burns as you hold your breath, muscles tensing all over your body as the waves keep crashing down. Leon rides out your high by kissing your clit, gentler than before, not even phased by you practically suffocating him against your core.

Leon only stops once you finally come down, entire body relaxing into the bed. Your thighs fall to their sides, hanging loosely on his shoulders, hand untangling in his hair and flopping beside you. You watch as Leon finally releases your clit from his mouth, prying his head from your hips to look up at you.

The biggest smile you’ve ever seen was plastered on his face, mouth soaked with your juices and lips pink and swollen.

“Holy fuck y/n,” Leon pants, sliding your legs off his shoulders, “I think that’s the best thing I’ve ever done in my entire life.” 

You laugh, hands reaching up to brush back your hair, “Imagine how I feel right now,” you lift your head to watch as Leon crawls his way back up to you.

“I did good then?”

“You’re a fucking natural in my books, Leon,” you grab ahold of Leon’s face to pull it up to yours, kissing him fervently. You taste yourself on his lips and tongue, but you couldn’t care less. All that mattered to you now was how this night couldn’t have gone better than you ever dreamed of. 

Leon pulled himself to the head of the bed, settling in next to you with his back leaned against the headboard. You shifted closer to him, head resting on his shoulder and a hand absentmindedly tracing patterns on his chest.

All that could be heard in the room was the deep breaths leaving both your mouths. 

The silence felt only the slightest bit awkward, finally coming to realize what you had just done. You’re lying bare naked in a stranger’s bed, next to that naked stranger, and have just completed number eight on your bucket list. 

You bashfully avoid Leon’s gaze, your eyes looking down at your hip where he’s got a hand massaging the skin. You can feel his eyes burning the side of your face, like he’s mustering up the courage to speak.

“I uh, didn’t hurt you, did I?” He whispers into your ear, lips tickling just the shell of it. You turn your head to face him, his face a lot closer than you thought it was, and shake your head.

“No, not the entire time,” Leon’s eyes widened, afraid that he had done something wrong for you to have been in pain, “it’s not uncommon for a girl’s first time to be uncomfortable, having such a big thing be put up there.”

You chuckle, and so does Leon, easing the worry away, “Alright, it’s not that big.”

“Just take the compliment, Leon.” 

You both laugh, Leon’s head leaning down to rest on top of yours while you nudge closer into his shoulder. He snakes an arm behind you, pulling you even closer, your warm bodies melting into each other.

You can still hear the bass of the music from downstairs, the party still going like nothing had even happened. To you, it felt like time had stopped. 

Leon must’ve been thinking the same thing, muttering into your hair after placing a kiss on the top of your head, “So, does this still count as ‘getting it over with’?” 

It takes you a second to reply, because technically, had it been anyone else, you would’ve considered it ‘getting it over with’.

But now you’re here, in the arms of this caring, gentle, selfless boy, who had made sure you were taken care of and reassured. And he was looking at you like you were sent down to him from heaven, a glow encapsulating your body. 

Maybe waiting this long to lose your virginity wasn’t so bad after all. 

“No, I don’t think it does.” 

Leon pulses his hand on your hip, nose inhaling the scent of your shampoo in your hair.

“You know, y/n,” Leon whispers, lifting his head to get a better look at your face, “I’m glad it was you.” 

You lift your head off his shoulder to find his gaze, the brightest smile on your face Leon has seen so far. 

“I’m really glad it was you, too.” 

You reach up to kiss him, not too rough but just enough to show him how much this meant to you.

“Would you wanna,” Leon speaks against your lips, reluctantly pulling away, “maybe, go out for dinner sometime?” 

“Well that’s a little backwards, sex first and then the date?” You tease, patting his chest with your hand. Leon rolls his eyes, but couldn’t help the big grin growing on his face.

“I think this whole night has been a little unusual, don’t you think?” 

Your face goes a little more serious, eyes holding Leon’s gaze, sheepish smile forming.

“Actually, I think tonight was perfect.” 

Leon’s eyes brighten, and the hand that was on your hip comes to cup the side on your face.

“Me too.” 

He kisses you once again, just a gentle peck, confirming that he was feeling the same way as you.

“I was thinking that I could take you-”

*RING RING RING* 

Your head whips as you hear the familiar ring of your phone, coming from the floor of Leon’s room. You sit up from the bed, bending over to the floor to search your jean skirt pockets to find your buzzing flip phone.

The little preview screen showed Claire’s contact, and you cursed to yourself.

“Oh shit,” You muttered before answering the phone, holding it up to your ear.

“Hey Claire-”

“-y/n! Where the hell are you? I’ve been looking all over this house for over an hour!”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. Leon sits up beside you, watching your face as he can quietly hear the yelling through the phone.

“I uh, I’m upstairs.”

“What? I’ve checked up there like three times,” there’s a pause for a second, and you can almost hear the gears in Claire’s brain working as she figures it out, “wait, are you-”

“-Not another word, Claire. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  “No way! Who is it?”You sheepishly turn your body away from Leon’s, as if that would do anything for him to not hear as you whisper, “We’ll talk about it later, okay?”

You utter a small goodbye, and hang up the phone. Your hands rest on the edge of the bed, and let out another big sigh. “I guess that’s my cue to go, Claire’s looking for me.”

You stand up to look for your clothes, skewed all over Leon’s floor, and he helps you pick up each item. As he goes to hand you your skirt and top, he stops.

“Wait- I’m serious about dinner, y/n. I really want to see you again.”

You grab the clothes in his hands, your fingers lingering on his. “I really want to see you again too.” 

You throw your clothes on, adjusting them to make you look somewhat presentable, and notice a notebook and pen lying on Leon’s desk. You open the notebook to write your phone number.

“Call me, and we can figure out a date.”

Leon smiles wide, finger tracing over the numbers on the paper. He goes to give you a hug, his strong arms wrapping around your waist tight. You reciprocate and wrap your arms around his neck, inhaling the smell of his cologne.

“I wish you could stay,” he whispered against your hair. You smile, and turn your head to kiss Leon’s cheek.

“Me too, but I’ll see you soon, yeah?” 

Leon nods, pulling away just enough to place a final kiss on your lips as his answer. As his lips slot perfectly into yours, you can’t help but wonder how you ended up getting so lucky tonight.

After taking a quick peek out the door, you slip out quietly, and head to the stairs. The party is still as busy as before, unaware of one of the most important things in your life happening in the other room.

The second you reach the bottom of the stairs, Claire is waiting for you, arms crossed over his chest, foot tapping inpaitently.

"You've got a lot of explaining to do, y/n."

She looks you up and down, seeing your clothes wrinkled, hair a mess, and face flushed red. You just laugh, and walk with her towards the front door.

"Oh trust me, I have SO MUCH to tell you."

[kenniedollz]

˚ ༘♡ ·˚꒰ Steve Harrington, always eager to help ꒱ ₊˚ˑ༄

summary: you are keeping your bestfriend, Steve, company while he revamps his room and things get a little personal.

warnings: oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), p in v sex, finger sucking, choking without previous talks about it but you like it so, kind of dirty talk but not really.

Setting: in my mind this takes place between s3 and s4. Steve works at Family Video.

a/n: I went ahead and added the sex part LOL

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The first time you met Steve Harrington, you were 7 years old. You had just moved to Hawkins and unlike most people in this town, you had no family there and knew absolutely no one. He sat next to you at lunch that day when he saw you sitting alone. You two have been inseparable ever since.

In the present day, your relationship with Steve had only grown stronger. You knew everything about eachother. Some would say you two are too close.

You sat on Steve’s bed sideways, your head dangling off the side of the bed. Steve was sat on his floor, organizing the drawer that he kept all of his shirts in. You had been keeping him company all afternoon with mindless chatter while he refreshed his room. You were glad to help. You had always thought his room was atrocious. Silently, you hoped he did something about his wallpaper next.

“So, you’re telling me you’ve never had an orgasm that wasn’t by your own hand? In all 20 years of living?” Steve asked, his tone filled with a bit of disbelief. He turned to look at you, raising his eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes. The tragedy of the situation wasn’t lost on you. It wasn’t for a lack of trying. You had hooked up with several people over the years, but those were hookups. You didn’t necessarily have time to break down the complex equation of how to make you orgasm to someone during a one night stand.

“It’s not as easy for me as it is for you, okay?” You asked rhetorically, watching as Steve got that look on his face.

It was the look where you could almost see the gears turning inside of Steve’s head. Most of the time what came next led to no good— but sometimes….sometimes, Steve had good ideas.

“I could help…if you wanted to know….y’know, what it feels like.” Steve offered. His words came out hesitantly, like he was suspended on a tightrope.

You didn’t answer right away. You sat up from your upside down position. That was the kind of question that you took a minute to think about before you give an answer. You sighed, finally allowing your gaze to find Steve’s once again.

“Are you serious?” You asked him. You couldn’t risk answering seriously and making a fool of yourself.

Steve tilted his head as he looked up at you from his spot on the floor. His eyes were darting over your face, like he was searching for any reason he should just back out.

After a few moments of silence, Steve spoke again.

“Of course, i’m serious.” Steve stated.

For just a moment, it felt like you were in some amateur porno. Then you remembered, it’s Steve. This is your bestfriend. Are you really going to let him make you cum? What if this ruins everything? What if it makes him weird.

Despite all that.

“Yeah. Yeah, sure. Let’s do it.” Is what comes out of your mouth.

The next few moments felt like a dream. Steve stood from his spot on the floor, wasting no time connecting his lips to yours. He had his legs on either side of you as he pushed you back onto the bed gently. You had always been a bit jealous of Steve Harrington’s confidence, but right now you were thankful for it.

Your lips moved together in a sloppy kiss. It wasn’t exactly how you imagined your first kiss with Steve to be, but in a way, it was better than you ever could have imagined.

Steve’s lips broke away from yours. You opened your eyes, letting out a soft hum when you saw Steve beginning to trail kisses down your jawline. They were warm and wet against your cold skin.

Goosebumps spread across your skin as Steve pushed his hand up your shirt. You had never felt him so closely before. Every touch was electric. You pushed away the thoughts of how this would affect your friendship tomorrow morning, focusing on Steve pulling your old t-shirt over your head.

“Fuck— you’re not wearing a bra?” Steve asked, his fingers grazing over your nipples lightly.

You let out a soft noise of approval, nodding your head at his question.

“Could you not tell before?” You breathed out, trying to stop yourself from getting overwhelmed by Steve’s touch.

Steve laughed quietly.

“I’m a gentleman— I wasn’t looking at your boobs, okay?” Steve complained, feigning offense.

He didn’t give you a warning as his lips moved forward to connect with your raised nub. Only a kiss at first. His eyes flicked upward to gauge your reaction. Then, he began to swirl his tongue around your nipple carefully. You let out a quiet moan, your mouth dropping slightly at the sensation. Steve sucked as he flicked his tongue back and forth, using his hand to roll your other nipple in between his pointer finger and his thumb.

You already felt better than you ever had with anyone else. No one else had pulled these sounds out of you just by playing with your nipples. You almost felt embarrassed at how reactive your body was to Steve.

“I always knew you would look beautiful like this.”

The words left Steve’s mouth casually, as if they hadn’t rearranged the entire view you had of how Steve saw you and your friendship. You didn’t respond. He had said it more to himself anyway.

Steve removed himself from your breasts. He sat up on his knees, looking down at you for a moment. Steve reached down to lightly pinch your hip, which were still covered by a pair of pajama shorts.

“Scoot up, i’m gonna take these off, yeah?” Steve mumbled.

You didn’t give him a hard time like you might under another circumstance. Right now, the only thing you could think about what Steve’s hands on your skin. You pushed yourself upward on his bed so he could fit more comfortably in between her legs.

Long, thick fingers hooked around your waist band, tugging them down your legs a bit clumsily. You could tell that Steve seemed to be excited for this experience too.

You felt the cool air against your warm center. Neither of you spoke. Steve just took a moment to stare. His fingers trailed down your stomach, as if he were trying to map out every inch of your skin before it was too late. He leaned forward, his eyes flickering back up to make eye contact. It made sense that Steve was the kind of guy who liked eye contact. He was always staring into your eyes when you had conversations.

His lips brushed against your hooded clit carefully. Steve pressed soft kisses on either side of your hood, using his hands to spread open your lips. He licked a stripe up your slit, lapping up the wetness that had already spilled from your core. Steve gripped the back of your thighs, pushing your legs to your chest. You let out a gasp, warmth rushing to your cheeks (and other places) at how exposed you felt in this position.

Steve didn’t waste anymore time. He applied pressure to your thigh to keep you locked in place as he wrapped his soft lips around your clit. You swore you saw stars as he swirled his tongue over the sensitive nub. You pushed against his hands, a series of whines leaving your mouth as you reached down to pull on his hair. That only seemed to motivate him. He pushed back against your straining legs, keeping them to your chest.

He sucked on your clit rhythmically, humming as he flattened his tongue against your clit over and over again. You felt embarrassment fill your stomach as your legs began to shake. A particularly hard suck made your legs jolt forward, only to be shoved back toward your head by Steve’s large hands against your thigh.

“Steve— fuck, Steve. You’re— oh, you’re so.”

Nothing that left your mouth was a coherent sentence, it was just a testament to how good Steve was making you feel. You let him hold your legs back, propping yourself up on your elbows so you could see him properly. You let out a strangled moan as your eyes met his. He was watching you so closely, like every movement he made was tailored to make you feel as good as possible.

You felt an unfamiliar warmth begin to bubble in your stomach as he continued his attack against your clit. Was this it? Was this really all you needed?

“Oh, i’m— Steve, I think im gonna..”

He knew what you were so desperately trying to convey. Steve released one of your legs. You kept it in the exact position he had it in. His hand snuck down your leg, using his finger to gather up some of the wetness between your legs. He pushed two fingers into you carefully. Steve kept his tongue moving against your clit as his fingers searched for that one spot he knew would drive you crazy.

Your whole body clenched up. A loud whimper left your mouth as his fingers rubbed against that spongy area inside of you that made you moan endlessly . Steve rubbed at the spot relentlessly as he ducked his fingers in and out of your opening. You couldn’t stop yourself from chanting Steve’s name loudly as you allowed yourself to come undone around his fingers and mouth.

Your head fell back as your chest heaved. You placed your hands on either side of your head, staring up at Steve’s ceiling.

“Oh my god.” You breathed out, unsure if you were ever going to be able to recover from this.

No man would ever make you feel like Steve Harrington just had. You looked down at Steve as you felt him move from in between your legs. He looked at you, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. There was a dopey smile on his face.

“Fuck me.” You stated.

Steve laughed.

“It was that good, huh?” He asked, assuming you were making a joke.

You shook your head.

“No, no— I mean it. Like actually fuck me. Right now, preferably.” You told him.

“Right now…preferably.” Steve repeated. It was a habit he had when someone said something his brain couldn’t process right away.

He looked back up at you. Your name left his mouth reverently.

“You don’t have to. Think of it as me making up for all the shit guys you’ve slept with.” Steve said flippantly.

You groaned.

“It’s not like i’m asking you to have sex with me because I feel obligated. I just— jesus, I want to have sex with you, Steve Harrington.” You replied bluntly.

The room was quiet for a moment. Steve took a deep breath, nodding his head.

“Yeah, okay, yeah— besides, it makes us even.” Steve muttered.

Neither of you decided to focus on the implications of what this would mean for your friendship as Steve pulled off his shirt and leaned down to press his lips against yours once again.

Things were even messier than before. You could taste yourself on Steve’s tongue as he licked into your mouth lazily. He pressed his hand against your shoulder.

“Lay on your side for me. You trust me, yeah? I’m gonna make you feel good. Better than any fucking loser you’ve been with.” Steve mumbled, his voice an octave deeper than normal.

The gravely tone in his voice went straight to your groin. You nodded your head dumbly, running your hand down Steve’s arm. He was warm.

“I trust you.” You promised him.

You moved onto your side, your vision narrowing in on the horrific plaid curtains that adorned his windows. I’ll convince him to get rid of them later.

A soft rustling sound could be heard as Steve stripped off his pants and underwear.

The bed sank down behind you as Steve positioned himself against your backside. His chest was pressed to your back. You could feel his hardened length pressed against your ass.

“Lift your leg f’me, baby.” Steve instructed, placing his hand on the bottom of your thigh and hoisting your leg over his thigh.

A nervous feeling filled your stomach as you thought about the logistics. Would Steve even fit?

“Are you even going to be able to get it in?”

You shouldn’t have said it. You could almost hear Steve’s ego inflating behind you. Steve let out a cocky chuckle, bumping his head against the back of yours gently.

“It’ll fit.” He said confidently.

God, he was so fucking hot.

Steve moved forward. His tip was pressing against your entrance as his hands snaked around your waist. He lifted his hand up, gently twisting your nipple in his fingers as he pushed further in.

You gasped loudly. Steve was big. The biggest you had ever taken, most definitely. An embarrassing whine left your mouth at the sensation of your walls stretching to accommodate him.

“Jesus— god, fuck, jesus.” You rambled, your eyes rolling back as he slid further in.

You could feel his smile against your cheek. Steve brushed your hair away from your ear with his nose, letting his lips brush the shell of your ear as he spoke.

“No, it’s just me, baby.” He whispered, the familiar arrogance dripping in his tone.

Steve pushed himself all the way in. An obscene noise left your mouth at the feeling of being so full. Steve groaned, his lips moving lazily against your cheek as he gave you time to adjust.

His hand slid down from your breast to your hip, gripping slightly. Steve’s other hand came around to rest lightly against your throat. You moaned pathetically.

Steve didn’t make fun of you, he just let out a huff of laughter as he began his slow pace. He was thrusting like he was searching for something, like he was experimenting on what made you feel best.

A particularly hard thrust sent you into a whimpering frenzy, tilting your head back until the back of your head met Steve’s forehead. You unintentionally clenched around him as he found that same spot from earlier. Steve moaned loudly, his hands traveling from your throat up to your mouth. You opened your mouth, gladly accepting Steve’s fingers inside. His fingers hooked to the side of your cheek, forcing your mouth open just a bit. You swirled your tongue around the tips of his fingers, keening at the feeling.

The sounds filling the room were obscene. Steve’s pelvis smacking against your ass relentlessly, breathy moans and grunts from Steve as he drives his cock deep into your g-spot, loud whines and choked whimpers falling from your mouth as he continued to push his fingers further into your mouth.

“God, you’re fucking perfect. The way you take my fingers? Perfect. The way you squeeze my cock— god, fucking perfect.” Steve rambled.

You could tell by the strain in his voice that he was close. So were you at this point. Steve bit down on your cheek lightly, his thrusts growing sloppier. You moaned loudly, your breasts bouncing up and down with each thrust.

You felt the warm feeling in your stomach once again. You tried to warn Steve but his fingers pressing your tongue down prevented you from saying anything.

“Stee— m’gon—“

A loud whimper left your mouth before you could finish your pathetic attempt at speaking. Your walls clamped down around Steve, clenching your eyes shut.

Steve let out a broken sound. The feeling of you clamped down around him was seemingly too much. He snapped his hips forward one last time, pressing himself as deep into you as he could possibly go as he spilled his load into you.

Neither of you spoke. The only sound that could be heard was the sound of you and Steve’s heavy breathing.

Steve broke the silence first.

“Soooo, was it good?” He asked. You didn’t even have to look at him to see the stupid, dopey grin on his face.

The way he asked the question made it seem like he already knew the answer.

“Oh, fuck off, Steven.”

[brilcrist]

*𝑩𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝑬𝒍𝒑𝒊𝒔*

and Chris being a strong, reliable and worried husband just mend my soul🥹🫶🏻💕

[simplepon]

His birthday girl

tags ۶۟ৎ soft!mark, rough p in v sex, he's kinda mean with you, creampie, overstimulation, spanking, multiple orgasms, oral m receiving, oral f receiving, 7k word count, MDNI 18+ synopsis ۶۟ৎ mark's birthday was coming up, and you decide to come surprise him wrapped up in bows.

Mark’s birthday was coming up.

Your eyes lingered on the calendar, January 22nd circled in ink, as you bit your lip and tried to decide how to make the day special for him…

Maybe a romantic dinner-soft candlelight with wax, just the two of you. It felt dreamy, intimate. Or maybe a gift? one of the comic cons in Chicago was coming up… you could sneak away, find something he’d love-perhaps something Seance Dog–related, maybe get him a signed limited  cover!

With everything on his shoulders lately-the responsibility, the constant pressure, the looming sense that the world could fall apart at any moment-he hadn’t had much time to just be. To do normal things. To enjoy being young, and you both were pretty young after all.

However, a naughty part of you hidden, maybe the devil's voice lingered in your ear tauntingly, and not some wholesome thoughts roamed through your head, like…

What if you were wrapped up in a birthday present, literally just for him to tear those bows off you? 

His lips on your skin, his teeth grazing just the outer layer of the delicate fabric, his calloused fingers gripping your waist, and-

Then all of a sudden, that was the light bulb, that'd be a good idea…

You were lying beside him on the couch in his house, some random TV show playing in the background-something neither of you had ever seen before, just noise to fill the quiet as you both watched without really paying attention.

“Hey, babe,” you mumbled.

It took a moment before Mark’s brown eyes drifted from the screen to your face. A soft, absentminded hum slipped from his lips as he looked down at you. “Hm?”

“What do you wanna do for your birthday? It’s comin’ up.”

You smiled at him, and for a second he just stared-then realization hit, oh… right, his birthday.

He hummed again, more thoughtfully this time, then shrugged. “Y’know, I trust you, babe. Whatever you wanna do, I’ll love it either way.” He smiled, easy and warm.

Your expression turned mischievous. “You sure about that?” you asked, voice laced with playful suspicion.

His brows knit slightly, but then he smirked, leaning in in, he brought his lips close to your ear, his breath brushing your earlobe. “Why? Whatcha planning, sweetheart?”

You laughed softly and pushed him back playfully, grinning. “Secret. Guess you’re gonna find out next week.”

Mark made a mock-hurt face, and you couldn’t help but giggle. He ruffled your hair before pulling you closer, wrapping you up in a comfortable cuddle. The TV kept droning on in the background, but neither of you really cared anymore.

Now, though…you had an idea.

**

You bit your lip as you wandered through the lingerie aisle, the air thick with sweet perfume-notes of cherry and bubblegum drifting around you, your fingers brushed over different fabrics, carefully testing each one. Silk in black, soft pinks, pieces covered in lace some of it beautiful, but a little too much, you wanted something just right.. maybe something softer… velvety.

You moved to another section, scanning the options, but nothing quite clicked. What would Mark like? The light pastel blues didn’t feel right. The violets weren’t really your style either.

“Hey, ma’am! Finding everything okay?”

You turned to see someone about your age in a hot red colored store uniform, she wore a red lip stick and her hair in a sleek updo, smiling politely as she approached. You returned the smile, a little sheepish. “Yeah, I am-I’m just trying to find something my boyfriend might like for his birthday.” You sighed softly.

She smirked, giving you a knowing look, her fingers tapping thoughtfully against her chin. “Ah, I see… Well, there is this section over here…” she said, gesturing for you to follow.

Curious, you trailed after her and immediately, something caught your eye.

This section was different. The fabrics looked softer, smoother-silky, velvety, with delicate ribbon details. They had a subtle elegance to them, less lace, more intention.

“Yeah, we just got in this ribbon collection,” she said, leaning in slightly with a sly smile. “Trust me-wear something like this, and he won’t be able to take his eyes off you… might even want to unwrap the gift himself.”

You felt your cheeks warm, but your eyes were already scanning the display. And then you saw it.

A set designed like a bow-ribbons in a deep cherry red, soft and striking all at once, simple, but bold, the bows would wrap around your front, covering but not giving a lot to the imagination… It was perfect.

You picked it up, smiling as you turned back to her. “I’ll take this one.”

She winked and guided you to the register.

“Alright, your total is…” she began, but you barely registered the number just that it stayed safely in the double digits, and that was good enough.

You tapped your card against the reader, waited for the soft beep, and watched as the receipt printed, she placed the set neatly into a small goodie bag and handed it over.

“Have a good day,” she said with a grin.

“You too,” you replied, smiling as you stepped out of the store, the bag swinging lightly at your side. A warm, fluttering feeling settled in your stomach-anticipation curling softly through you.

He’s definitely not gonna take his eyes off on you now, but before you can think about that, you’ve a lot more errands to do today, and more plans to finish. **

The clock glowed 10:00 PM, its soft light the only thing cutting through the dimness of the room. Outside, the sky had settled into a deep, velvety navy, scattered with quiet stars, and the entire neighborhood seemed to have drifted off into stillness. No cars passing, no voices-just calm.

It was his birthday… and you hadn’t said a word about it all day.

Because why would you? That would ruin everything-ruin the surprise. And tonight, you were the surprise.

Your pajamas were somewhere on the bathroom counter, taking a slow breath, you finally slipped into the bow set, carefully adjusting each ribbon until it sat just right and when you lifted your gaze to the bathroom mirror, you froze for a second.

Wow.

The deep cherry-red fabric hugged your hips in a way that felt almost unfair, the satin catching the soft bathroom light with a subtle sheen, covering your pussy folds and the ribbons rested against your skin, delicate but intentional, each one tied in a way that felt both secure and just loose enough to tease. One gentle pull, and it would all come undone.

The top framed you just as precisely, soft strips of satin crossing and wrapping your nipples, covering what it needed to while still leaving plenty to the imagination. It didn’t just fit-it was presented. Like you’d wrapped yourself up on purpose, like a gift.

You turned slightly, glancing over your shoulder at the mirror to catch the bow at your back, fingers brushing it lightly, testing how easily it might come undone. A small, excited breath slipped from you.

Okay. Yeah. This was it.

You reached for your lip gloss next, twisting it open and smoothing the soft, reddish tint over your lips. It caught the light just enough-subtle, but noticeable, your lips pressed together once, twice.

Then you leaned in a little closer to the mirror.

Your hair fell in soft, clean strands around your shoulders, still fresh from the shower, smooth and slightly damp at the ends. You’d brushed it out carefully, letting it fall naturally, simple but pretty. The faint scent of your perfume lingered on your skin-light roses with a warm hint of vanilla underneath. Not overpowering. Just enough to be noticed if someone was close.

Very close.

You bit your lip, a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth as anticipation coiled warmly in your chest, trailing down into your stomach in soft, fluttering waves.

Tonight was going to be fun.

You stepped out of the bathroom quietly, bare feet soft against the floor as you moved down the hallway and toward the stairs. Debbie wasn’t home, which helped-no unexpected interruptions. And Oliver was out on a playdate, meaning the house was completely, blissfully empty.

Just you and Mark.

Exactly how you wanted it.

Right as you reached the bottom of the stairs, you heard it.

A faint thud from upstairs.

You stilled instantly, your breath catching for half a second before your heart started to pick up, quick and excited.

He was back.

Moving quickly but carefully-you slipped into the kitchen, making sure your steps stayed quiet against the floor. You hopped up onto the counter, settling yourself there, adjusting your posture just slightly, trying to look natural… even though your pulse was anything but.

Then-

The unmistakable sound of the window slider opening.

A soft scrape.

A pause.

Then it slid shut again.

Your fingers curled slightly against the edge of the counter as you listened.

Footsteps followed overhead, steady and familiar, pacing lightly across the floor upstairs.

“Baby?” his voice called out, slightly muffled by the distance, echoing faintly through the house.

You heard him moving around-something being set down, a shift of fabric, the quiet scuff of his boots against the floor. He was probably just getting in, not even suspecting a thing.

Your heart started to race.

Okay-pose. You needed to pose, you shifted slightly on the counter, uncrossing and recrossing your legs, trying to find something that looked natural but still… intentional. Your fingers flexed uncertainly before you placed your hands behind you, palms resting against the cool surface, shoulders subtly pulling back. Was that too stiff? Too obvious?

You adjusted again, angling your hips just slightly, then pausing.

No, no-stop overthinking it… but your thoughts kept spiraling anyway.

Should you look at him right away? Or pretend you didn’t notice him at first? Should you smile? Or-

Okay more footsteps coming closer now, coming down the stairs.

Oh, you didn’t have time.

Your breath caught softly as warmth rushed to your cheeks, and you quickly settled-hands staying behind you, legs crossed, posture just relaxed enough to almost look effortless. You let your hair fall naturally around your shoulders, fingers brushing through it once before you stilled completely, forcing yourself to just… wait.

The sound of his feet hitting the last step made your stomach flip.

“Hey, baby, I-”

Mark stepped into view, his voice trailing off the second he saw you.

He hadn’t even changed yet-still in his suit, the familiar yellow and blue colors catching the low light as he moved.. but he stopped immediately, like he’d walked straight into something he hadn’t been prepared for, his foot barely finished touching the ground before he froze, completely.

His eyes locked onto you… and didn’t move.

For a moment, it was like time stretched thin.

You watched it happen in real time, the slight widening of his eyes, the way his pupils dilated as his gaze instinctively dragged over you, slow and almost disbelieving. From your face… down your shoulders… lingering at the ribbons, the soft red satin catching the light… lower, tracing every detail like he needed to make sure this was actually real, like you were real.

His jaw slackened just slightly, like his brain hadn’t quite caught up yet.

And there you were sitting on the counter, legs crossed just enough to draw the eye, hands hidden behind your back, subtly pushing your posture forward, your expression was soft, half-lidded, calm in a way that completely betrayed the way your heart was pounding.

The ribbons. The bows, the way they framed you like something meant to be unwrapped and you didn’t say anything, you just looked at him and he stared long, before his lips opened and finally he spoke, breathlessly out of air. “I… wow… wha-what is this?” Mark whispered, his voice trailing off huskily.

Not much could prepare him for the sight that beholden him, you standing there in the dim glow of the single overhead light, wrapped-not in silk or satin, but in ribbons, red velvet ribbons that crisscrossed over your breasts, holding them together like a precious offering which you were for him, that was the point and more ribbons cinched your waist, creating a bow just below your navel, it traced the lines of your hips, framing the delicate triangle of panties, where a final, silky bow was tied, a promise he could undo with a single tug.

Now he inched closer, looming over you now, a solid wall of heat and intention. His eyes, wide with shock a moment ago, had now transformed, they’d turned hungry. A man starved, and you were the feast, the main course. They glazed over every detail, like the cleavage peeking between the velvet restraints, the soft, supple skin of your waist, the ribbons hugged, the delicate fabric covering your core.

He looked you up and down, his gaze a physical caress.

“It’s your birthday gift…” you said, your voice softer now, and more shyly as he’s getting more closer and his hands found your waist. Big, warm palms cupping your skin, feeling the heat of you beneath the cool ribbons. A shiver ran through you. You felt too exposed. Which you were. You hadn’t expected it to feel… this intense… maybe because all of his attention, his absolute focus, was laser-locked on you. There was nothing else in the world for him right now. Just the ribbons, the bows, and you looking like that.

“Mm… is that so.” Mark murmured, a hint of amusement coloring his deep tone.

 He leaned in, his nose brushing your hair, then drifting down to the ridge of your neck. He inhaled deeply. Oh, that perfume? Your scent vanilla and a hint of cherry filled his senses. You put all of this on for him? The realization hit him like a physical blow, and a small low groan escaped his lips, his cock hardening painfully against the confines of his suit, god you were just so sweet.

“Put this perfume on for me, baby?” he whispered, his voice now thick with desire, and now his hands grew more desperate, kneading your skin softly, pulling you tighter against him. You squeaked at the sudden closeness. His hands explored, mapping the soft skin of your body, the feel of the ribbons, the smooth skin beneath. One hand splayed across your back, trailing down your lower spine to cup your ass, you slowly nodded, feeling slowly becoming undone, his touches light as feathers were driving you to the edge already…

His other hand kneaded your ass, then delivered a soft, stinging smack. A moan slipped from your lips, and he kneaded the tender flesh in small, soothing circles before his fingers drifted to play with the ribbons at your hip, twirling the ends loosely.

He gradually backed you up until the cold marble of the kitchen counter pressed against your back, the chill seeping through your skin.

“This the idea, sweetheart?” he leaned in, his whisper a hot breath against your ear. “Wrapped yourself in all these ribbons, so I can just take them off you huh?” His voice was velvety, dipped in dark chocolate, and it sent a fresh wave of heat pooling between your thighs because it’s like he knew. Because his fingers, still playing with the ribbon, gave a slight little tug before drifting to the center of your folds. The thin silk of your panties shielded his touch, but his thumb found your clit and rubbed the nub through the damp fabric.

You whimpered, a high pitched moan ricocheting over the walls as your back arching slightly off the counter.

Mark groaned in satisfaction at how easily you were affected by his touch, he didn’t even do anything to you yet. “Look at yourself, my pretty girl ‘s all soaking wet right now. Do you feel that?” he crooned proudly, as his fingers continued their teasing rhythm, applying pressure, creating friction, but not enough. Not enough to give you what you needed.

 He was playing with you. Literally.

“Mark…” you whimpered out, your lips parting as your lashes fluttered.

Then you felt his lips graze the column of your neck. A soft brush, then a nibble. Then wet, open-mouthed kisses. You tilted your neck back, offering him more and he suckled the skin, attacking the sensitive area with a focused hunger. Your knees buckled slightly.

“Mm…” you let out, absent-minded, so focused on the sensations-his lips, his hot breath, the building ache.

His lips pulled away, and he moved to kiss your cheek, then you felt the distinct, sharp pain of a suction. A bruise formed on your neck, slightly red. A hickey. He gave you a mark. He turned, a tug pulling his lips into a smirk as he admired his work, then his eyes landed on you again, softening a fraction.

“Happy birthday…” you giggled airily, your arms coming to wrap around his neck, binding you to him.

He chuckled, a low, warm sound, before leaning in to kiss your lips properly. Not a tease. A conquest. His tongue shoved into your mouth, deep and possessive, sucking on your own wet tongue before pulling away.

“Happy birthday to me,” Mark echoed back, smiling.

You grinned at him for a moment before he attacked your face with a bunch of wet, playful kisses. Then his eyes darkened again, taking you in with that renewed hunger. He just pulled you closer and then lifted you literally off the ground.

“Mark!” You squealed, and he paid no mind to your noises of protests.

“What? I just can’t wait to use you all night, baby since you’re my present,” Mark hummed, his voice vibrating against your chest, the implication of his words made your pussy clench around nothing, and his words were getting you more aroused… 

You blushed deeper, a pink flush that spread from your cheeks down to your neck, as he walked away from the counter with you in his arms. He carried you easily, your weight nothing to him and each step up the stairs creaked under his feet. A warm feeling, a coil of pure anticipation, tightened in your stomach. Your thighs rubbed together instinctively, itching for him to just touch you, do anything to you. Which he would.

Finally, you were in the dim hallway, and then… his bedroom, the comic framed posters decorating the wall greeted your eyes, along with the neat bed that’s probably about to change soon and the desk with his laptop shut, action figurines lined, everything in this room which basically was the personification of Mark but inside the house, this was where you were, and now you were about to have the best fuck of your life, because Mark is definitely not gonna go easy on you tonight…

He didn’t set you gently on the bed. He set you down on the ground just inside the doorway, backing away to form a gap between you. He just stood there, eyeing you up and down, his expression unreadable. Then his finger gestured lazily, a silent command.

Get on your knees.

You obeyed and you bent down, getting on your knees, your hands resting on the floor, sitting back on your heels. He tsked his tongue.

“Wow, look at you. Sitting down, listening like a good little thing.”

His praise wasn’t gentle. It was possessive. It sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of submission and thrill. He finally walked closer, his hand immediately cupping your cheek. You tilted your head, looking up at him. Your eyes glossed with a desperate, needy look, and your thighs rubbed together again, and his eyes subtly glanced between your inner thighs. 

“Mark… I…” you let out, pouting.

Mark raised an eyebrow. “What, baby? Use your words.” His voice was soothing yet slightly condescending, the tone slithering into your ears.

Your lips wobbled. He was teasing you way too much, having too much fun. “I need you… please…” you whispered, pleading. You leaned more into his touch, too needily.

His hand that was cupping your cheek moved to thumb your lower lip, a rough, possessive caress. You looked up at him, your vision blurring with want.

“Aww… I know, baby,” Mark used a tone mimicking sadness, his brows furrowing in mock sorrow. “But… it’s my birthday, remember? Good girls wait, and I haven’t even unwrapped you yet baby, so… you’re just gonna have to wait, can you do that?”  he looked at you, his lips pulling into a small pout, as if this was affecting him too. 

your eyes got a little teary at the prolonged torture, the wait stretching your nerves, but you nodded, shakily, and a soft praise of ‘that’s my girl’ left his lips, then he tutted, a contented noise, before his attention turned to himself. His fingers moved in fast, efficient motions, tugging off his superhero suit off. The fabric parted, slid down his torso. His boxers followed, sliding down to expose him.

His cock sprang out, fully erect, achingly hard. It was a beautiful, so beautiful pinkish with a red hue, the slit at the top already leaking a droplet of clear pre-cum showing how much you were affecting him… and he was well-endowed, thick and long, and you couldn’t help the though even though you have seen it before,

God, his cock is so pretty.

He looked down at you, his expression shifting to raw expectation.

“You know what to do, baby,” Mark hummed, the command clear.

You nodded again, a silent obedience, before you crawled closer and your nose nudged into the base of his cock, brushing against his balls. His masculine scent clean, musky, him filled your nostrils and then finally, your lips parted. You leaned forward and licked a long, wet stripe from the base to the tip then you took him in.

“Fuck.” Mark cursed, his eyes fluttering shut for a second before snapping open to watch you. To watch you take him like this.

Your cheeks hollowed as you sucked, your lips moving to swallow his whole cock. A bulge formed in your throat because he was… big. You gagged slightly, your eyes getting a little teary, but you kept going, bobbing your head down on his length.

His hand gripped your hair, not gently, but firmly, tugging you to go deeper. You let out a choked sound before he decided to take full control.

His hips bucked and he started moving, fucking into your mouth. You let him use you the way he wanted, your hands gripping his muscular thighs for stability. Your eyes watered, tears springing at the corners.

“Look at me, keep those pretty little eyes on me,” you felt his finger move to tap your cheek,  your eyes immediately went up, meeting his gaze. His expression was dark, mixed with a feral hunger as he fucked into your mouth, using you, your face looked lewd tear-streaked, flushed red, lips stretched around him and the fucking bulge in your throat is gonna send him off.

You looked so pretty, your pretty little lips wrapped around his cock, with your knees on the ground, your hair not disheveled yet but a little messy, your cute little cheeks a bit pink, you were being such a good girl for him right now, letting him use you like this. God coming home to this after patrolling he felt like he was being rewarded, he sighed in ecstasy as he kept fucking in your mouth.

You felt his tip reach deep into your throat, and you gagged again, a wet, choked sound as he kept fucking deeply. He cursed under his breath, his words fragmented by pleasure.

“Yeah just like that damn-shit…” Mark let out, his eyes rolling back a little in his skull at the sight of you on your knees, letting him use your mouth, letting him use you how he wanted to. 

He thrusted a few more times, his grip on your hair tugging him deeper into your mouth. Then he stilled, his body tensing. You felt it now the thick, warm ropes of his cum erupting, dripping into your mouth and you gulped, swallowing it all, and he was still coming, a continuous flow. Finally, he pulled his cock out with a wet pop.

You breathed out, your head bowing low, panting fast. A dribble of cum leaked from the corner of your mouth.

Mark didn’t let you rest, he hauled you up immediately, his hands strong and sure. Then he spun you around, pushed you onto the bed with a force that was firm, but not brutal. You were on the mattress, and he was on you, literally, his weight pinning you.

He was on you, his lips pressed onto yours as he kissed you deeply, his muscular thigh nudging between your legs to keep them spread. He wasn’t giving you a moment to breathe. His tongue shelved itself deeper into your mouth like he owned it, and his hands moved to your waist, palming you there before his fingers returned to the ribbons.

He pulled away, looking at you. His hunger had multiplied, a look ready to devour you.

“This goes first,” Mark whispered, his gaze fixed on the ribbons holding your lingerie together.

He finally loosened the knot near your hips. It went loose, the fabric falling away, pooling onto the mattress. He tossed it aside carelessly, before his eyes dropped to your wet, glistening cunt. You were so wet, the little fabric hiding your little pussy folds, soaked through.

He wasted no time.

Immediately, he trailed kisses down your stomach, to your inner thighs, and you felt him hook his strong arms around your thighs, pulling them over his shoulders. His face was inches from your cunt. And he didn’t just lick.

He dove.

He didn’t start slow. He latched his lips onto your cunt and sucked, hard, fast.

Your back arched off the bed, your eyes blown wide as a high-pitched moan ripped from your throat. His sucking wasn’t gentle, it was frantic, desperate.

“Mark… oh my god…” you let out, ecstasy painting your face as your eyes fluttered shut, as you felt his tongue flatten against your pussy folds, and sucked the nub into his mouth, switching back and forth.

He lapped at your pussy furiously, his nose diving in to get more of your taste on his tongue. He thrusted his tongue into your gummy walls, a deep, penetrating invasion. Your thighs shook, your head twisted into the bed sheets, eating you out like it’s gonna be the last ever meal he would ever eat in his life.

His tongue then moved to circle your clit, fast and relentless. You felt it immediately, you literally came so fast. You cried out, a sharp, broken sound. Your pussy felt overstimulated immediately from his tongue, and your hips twisted instinctively to get away, but his arms caged you, iron-tight, holding you firmly against his lips. Your juices coated his tongue, his jaw, his chin. He was not done. Oh, not a chance.

He pulled you closer to his mouth, continuing to lap at your cunt like it was sweet nectar, his groans vibrated against your pussy folds, murmurs of “so sweet” mixing with the wet sounds. It was too much. Your soft, high-pitched cries filled the room, a symphony of pleasure. His lips were latched onto your pussy like he wasn’t letting go. 

“Mark, fuck, I’m…” you let out, your eyes rolling slightly as you felt your second orgasm creeping in. The warm, tight feeling coiled in your tummy again. Your legs shook more and more, and his tongue just shoved inside your pussy again, faster, deeper.

You came again. Your lips parted as you gasped, more of your juices coating his mouth. He just drank you in like it was the last thing he could consume.

But he wasn’t done still.

He kept sucking, licking, fucking you with his tongue, more rounds of overstimulation, more sounds of him sucking on your cunt echoed in the room and by the time he pulled away, it was probably… your fourth time? You lay exhausted on the bed, your body a limp, spent thing-

His lips pulled away, and his jaw was glistening with your juices. He looked wrecked, he then leaned over you, his eyes crawling all over your body and your face. You looked out of it, your eyes glossy and half-lidded from the pleasure, your lips swollen a bit red from his kisses.

“Don’t tap out yet, baby. ‘m not done,” Mark murmured, his voice a low, determined promise, he backed you further into the headboard of the bed, his hands palming your thighs and pulling your hips closer to him. His other hand gripped you, spreading your thighs wider on the bed, opening you all the way up. His cock was furiously hard again, more pre-cum leaking from the tip.

He immediately circled it against your pussy lips, a slick, teasing drag and he did not wait, he entered you in one long, unbroken thrust.

You let out a shaky “ah” from your lips, and more tears drenched your eyes because the pleasure was too much, overwhelming as he seated his hips and bottomed out to the hilt inside you. You were so full, so stretched, you felt his cock twitch inside you, and then his head tilted over, kissing your neck before his lips touched your ear.

“I meant it, baby… I’m using you all night,” Mark whispered, his voice low and hot against your ear, he pulled away towering and looming over you, his hands pulling your hips closer and staying there then-

His hips started moving and you literally whimpered and cried out nonstop, his pace was relentless, the pleasure was so intense, so good. His cock pummeled into your pussy, sliding out only to slam back in, a relentless rhythm. His balls tapped against your clit with each thrust, and the sound of skin slapping skin echoed in the room, and more raw moans escaped your throat, like he was fucking them out of you.

“Ah… oh…” you let out, your eyes rolling back as your head lolled to the side.

His hips continued an unforgiving pace. His cock slid out with a wet, sucking sound before slamming back in. He pounded you into the mattress, literally. He angled his hips, hitting that sweet spot deep inside you with every drive. Your thighs shook violently, but he held them apart as he fucked deep into your soul. The sounds of your crying moans and his rough grunts mixed with the wet sounds of fucking, filling the room.

Your mind was full of cotton. You couldn’t think. God, you couldn’t. Just the sensation of him fucking you, the sounds. He wasn’t fucking you gently, with the care he usually showed. No. His thrusts were firm, hard, rough. He was using you. His head tilted back as he kept fucking your pussy hard, making sure it stuck.

“Fuck-fuck, take it all, fuck yeah-” Mark groaned, as his hips kept snapping fast.

You felt it, literally. You moaned as your back arched, and you came again, coating his cock in your juices. But he still kept fucking you through your orgasm, the sensation borderline between overwhelming pleasure and the sharp pain of overstimulation then his hips stilled, buried deep warm, thick ropes of his cum seeped into your pussy folds, filling you. Your eyes rolled back again, a low whimper escaping your lips.

He stayed there for a second, his weight on you, his cock pulsing inside you. His palm rubbed your cheek, tilting your face to look at him. You tried, your eyes slowly fluttering, tears streaking your face.

“You’re gonna be my cocksleeve all night, baby. I’m gonna make sure to fuck this pussy all full with my cum,” Mark murmured, his voice velvety and sweet despite how dirty and sinful his words sounded, and in a blink of an eye, he immediately turned you over on the bed. Your head buried in the sheets, your ass perked in the air. He pulled your hips roughly back to his, his hand landing with a slight crack on your ass-a spank. 

You whimpered, the sting mixing with the deep, aching fullness. He kneaded the tender flesh soothingly, then slapped it again, making your cheeks flush a deeper red.

“Just like that, sweetheart-just like how I want you,” he whispered huskily.

You felt his hard tip near your inner thighs again, then the tip pressing into the folds of your cunt, slick with his cum and yours and he finally thrusted back in again, and you let out a muffled moan into the sheets, he stayed there, literally grinding his hips in slow, deep circles, stretching you, filling you. You cried into the bedsheets, the pleasure too much, too deep.

“Mark…ah.. too much…” your muffled whimpers were lost in the pillows.

He grunted again, his hips then moving again. His cock slid out of your cunt with a wet, messy sound, only to slam back in before continuing his rough, punishing pace. His hand just slapped against your ass cheek in response to your whines-

“I get to use you all night. So fucking stay quiet and take it for me, okay?” Mark gritted out, his words unusually being slightly harsh contrast to how usually gentle he is with you, but he fucked you like a man possessed, he kept snapping his hips over and over again, shoving you deeper into the bed, his cock slid out and slammed back in continuously, the wet sounds mixing with the slosh of his cum inside your pussy, his previous load dripping onto the bedsheets beneath you, and you cried out, your head just twisting in the pillows as he kept fucking you harder and harder, as if he was trying etch himself inside you.

His thick cum coated his throbbing cock, making it slicker, allowing him to pound into your soaked pussy even faster and deeper and his pace turned brutal, hips snapping with ferocious rhythm. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back to arch your spine, forcing your moans to fill the room raw, desperate cries echoing off the walls as he railed you relentlessly, your pussy folds, overflowing with his cum, let his shaft glide out to the tip before he drove it balls-deep again, the wet squelch of skin slapping skin punctuating every thrust. 

Your mind dissolved into haze, thoughts shattered, no words formed, just more pathetic whimpers and little gasps spilling from your parted lips, a small formed pout on your lips.

He savored the sight, his baby girl utterly wrecked beneath him, eyes rolling white, a trail of drool slipping down your chin. You looked so fucking adorable like this, all limp and obedient under his grip. "Hey…baby… don't black out on me yet," he grinned with a smirk, angling your flushed face toward his, because he wants to see that pretty face of yours, his his hips hammered forward without mercy, and a broken sob escaped you, cheeks flushed red, gaze unfocused and teary.

"M-mm... Ma..." The attempt at his name dissolved into a garbled mess, ending in a feeble hiccup, how cute.

"Shh, ‘s okay baby, no need for words, just keep those pretty lips shut and... fuck..." Mark groaned, lost in the bliss of his cock inside you, your velvety walls clenching greedily around him. His load leaked from your swollen slit, soaking the sheets below. "Just... take this dick…perfectly like that, ‘s all you have to do…" He didn't let up, thrusting over and over, your muffled mewls burying into the rumpled bedding as he chased his next release, as you let out more soft cries.

Your head lolls to the side, cheek pressed into the cool, rumpled sheets, you can’t think straight. Your mind is a blur of sensation, no thoughts in your head except Mark’s cock literally railing you into the bed, and the heat of his skin, and his hands pinning your hips wide apart, it felt so good, all you can do is moan and whimper helplessly into the fabric as he fucks you into the mattress, and how many time had passed you weren’t sure. You didn’t care, just the feeling of him rearranging your insides was scattering your brain.

The pace he sets is relentless, each thrust rocks your entire body forward, some of his warm cum still leaking, pooling down your thighs, along with making it all the more easier for him to fuck you faster, his hands are tight on your hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, holding you in place for his cock. 

The wet, slapping sounds of skin on skin are obscenely loud in the quiet room, punctuated by your muffled cries in the bed was music to his ears.

His cock slides out almost completely, the head catching at your entrance, before he rams back in to the hilt. 

“That’s it,” Mark groans, his hot breath fanned against the shell of your ear. He’s leaned over you, his chest a hot, sweaty weight against your back. “Look at this pussy stretched all ‘round my cock, look at you.” His words, dripping full of proudness and tenderness send another shiver through you, as he keeps fucking literally deep into your soul, and you gasped, your eyes blown wide.

“Fuck-” he cursed, his hips stuttering for a beat. “My baby girl likes it huh? She likes this cock doesn’t she? hm?” You can’t form words. A broken high pitched, “mhm,” is all you manage, the sound vibrating into the mattress.

He chuckles, a satisfied sound. One hand leaves your hip and slides up your spine, a possessive stroke, before his palm splays between your shoulder blades, pressing you down even further, and the angle changes, and the next thrust hits a spot so deep and so perfect that you see stars.

A sharp, high-pitched cry tears from your throat, 

“There it is,” he purrs, He focuses on that angle, his cock driving into that sweet spot, you felt like you were going to be sent over. “C’mon, baby girl, let me hear you, let me hear how good I’m fucking you.” no words left your lips, only soft, broken sobs and breathless moans, he knew that those sobs aren’t from pain or sadness, it was pure bliss, and just full of overwhelm as pleasure borders on too much. 

His hips piston into you without mercy, skin slapping against skin in wet, obscene rhythm. His strong hands grip your thighs harder, prying them wider apart and hoisting them up higher, muscles bulging in his forearms as he holds your trembling legs steady even as they go boneless, quivering like jelly, he was keeping you upright,  you’re melting into the bed, a puddle of sweat-slicked need, and finally, your lips parted.

“‘S good… so good…mark…” you trail off in a wrecked slur, eyes blurred with hot tears that spill freely down your cheeks, nearly rolling back into your skull from the intensity, and hiccuping sobs wrack your chest, soaking the pillows dark beneath your face. 

He drinks in the sight of you, all wrecked, flushed and ruined, marked by his bites and handprints that will probably last to the next morning, his hips never falter, still driving forward with his cock slamming balls-deep in and out of your sopping heat, stretching you wide on every plunge.

“It’s so good…” you babble incoherently, voice cracking as another wave crashes through you.

He leans forward suddenly, his broad chest pressing flush against your sweat-slicked back, the heat of skin seeped through yours, his hot mouth finds your neck, teeth grazing before he nibbles sharply, sucking fresh love bites into the tender skin-purple blooms. Then his hand snakes around, fingers tangling in your hair to tug your head back just enough.

He tilts your chin toward him, crashing his lips onto yours in a tongue-devouring kiss. His tongue fucks into your mouth with the same savage rhythm as his hips, devouring your gasps and little moans while he pounds you harder, faster, deeper. A fat bead of sweat rolls down your spine, tracing the curve of your ass before dripping onto the sheets. Your once-soft hair clings in matted strands to your neck and forehead, heavy with exertion.

He breaks the kiss with a wet pop, lips brushing your ear, “I know, baby. I know… give me just one more, you can do it, sweetheart.”

You shake your head weakly, fresh tears blurring your vision as his hips keep snapping against your ass with punishing force each impact jolting your whole body forward. “S’too much, baby… I can’t…I can’t-” you cry out, voice small and fractured, your pussy spasming erratically around him, and he felt it, you slowly coming undone.

He doesn’t stop. Instead, he turns your face fully into his, lips pressing soft kisses to your tear-streaked cheeks, licking the salt away even as his thrusts hammer on, unrelenting. “You can-fuck I know you can… just come for me, just one more time… soak my cock baby girl, you got it.” His voice is a gravelly murmur against your ear, hot breath fanning your skin while he fucks you through the overload, his free hand sliding down to circle your swollen clit with rough, insistent fingers pushing you higher, and your body caved.

And you feel it building god, you do. The orgasm coils deep in belly, it felt warm, white and hot. your eyes widen in shock, lips parting on a silent scream as it hits, your pussy convulses violently, gushing hot squirt all over his pistoning cock, drenching his balls and thighs in a messy flood. “Fuck-fuck…thats it-” the sensation rips a guttural groan from him he gives one final, brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt as thick ropes of cum erupt from his throbbing shaft, painting your insides white, filling you to overflowing until it leaks out around his girth.

He stays there, locked deep inside your pulsing heat, both of you collapsing forward in a tangle of limbs. 

His weight blankets you protectively, chest heaving against your back, cock still twitching with aftershocks as your combined releases drip down your thighs. Neither of you moved for a long moment, just your muffled gasps in the pillows, along with his ragged breaths.

Slowly he pulled out, his thick tip slid out, leaving your entrance, and you felt utterly empty but so full, your pussy folds were filled with the cum, to the point that it was still leaking into the bed, and out of your thighs, and it felt warm and sticky. He finally collapsed beside you, breath uneven, his arm slipping around your waist as if it belonged there. Without thinking, he pulled you closer, guiding your head to rest against his chest. His heartbeat was still racing beneath your cheek.

His lips found you again-slow this time. Your hairline, your temple, your damp cheeks… lingering, softer now. When he reached your lips, the kiss was gentler, almost reverent, like he was savoring the moment rather than chasing it.

You let out a quiet, exhausted breath, your fingers curling loosely into the fabric beneath you.

“God…” he murmured, his voice low and warm. “You took me like that… you did so good. So, so good.”

The praise made your chest tighten in the best way. You gave a small nod, your eyes half-lidded as a faint, tired smile tugged at your lips. Your whole body felt heavy, completely spent, and completely sore down there… you could already tell tomorrow was going to remind you of tonight in every little movement.

“You okay, baby?” Mark whispered, his lips brushing near your ear, his breath warm and grounding.

“Mhm…” you managed softly, barely more than a hum.

He smiled against your skin, clearly unconvinced but reassured enough, and kissed you again once, twice like he couldn’t quite stop himself.

For a while, neither of you said anything. The room settled into a quiet calm, the only sounds of your breathing slowly evening out and the faint rustle of the sheets beneath you. It was just you and him, tangled together in warmth and closeness.

Mark shifted slightly, just enough to look at you properly, his hand came up to brush a strand of hair from your face, his gaze softening as he took you in, your body instinctively moved closer, even though there was barely any distance left to close.

He huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head a little, his eyes still on you, looking at you like you were everything. “That might’ve been the best birthday present ever.”

Your lips twitched a little, and you smiled up at him teasingly.  “Might’ve?” he grinned faintly, his thumb tracing slow, absent patterns along your arm. “Okay-definitely.” His gaze drifted, taking in the marks he’d left behind, his cum leaking out of your pretty cunt, his expression shifting into something softer, almost awed.

“So pretty,” he murmured under his breath, your lashes fluttered at that, warmth creeping up your cheeks as you held his gaze. For a second, everything felt still-quiet, full, complete, then your eyes widened slightly, and Mark saw it change in your face.

“Oh wait… Mark,” you said, a little sheepish now. “I, uh… I got you something else too.”

His brows lifted immediately, surprise flickering across his face. “What? After all that?” he teased, a small laugh escaping him, and he pulled you a little closer to his chest looking at you intrigued. “What is it?”

You leaned closer, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, “The latest Seance Dog edition comics… signed and… maybe some merch I thought you’d like.” you pulled back just enough to see his reaction and it was instant, his eyes widen in surprise and he was giving you the most cutest gentle puppy look ever despite fucking your brains out earlier, he looked so giddish and happy.

“Babe… you didn’t have to-wait, seriously?” he said flabbergasted, blinking like he was trying to process it, you nodded slowly, smiling at how genuinely stunned he looked, he then sat up a little to try to look for where it was in the room but then you felt his warm furnace of a body disappear which you were quite enjoying before he moved, you still gently pulled him back down your arms wrapped around his waist, “Babe? Where is it??” He looked at you like a child that got his first birthday present which technically it was like that, “Somewhere in the room baby, maybe in the drawers, look for it later, ‘m enjoying your cuddles right now.” you mumbled which caused him to snort a little, you looked so cute. He sighed and kissed your cheeks, before murmuring a disappointed ‘fine’ under his breath but it wasn’t out of actual disappointment, he was far from that.

“But still that’s-” he cut himself off with a soft, disbelieving laugh, pulling you in again. His hands cradled your face as he pressed quick, affectionate kisses across your cheeks, your forehead, the corner of your lips, and you giggled.

“You’re literally the best girlfriend ever,” he murmured into your hair, his voice full of warmth which you let out a small laugh, nudging him lightly. “I think I already gave you a pretty good gift before that.” the notion behind your words, he pulled back just enough to look at you, one brow lifting with a playful glint in his eyes. “Yeah,” he said slowly, “you really did.”

His fingers trailed lazily from your shoulder down your arm, then back up again, like he couldn’t quite stop touching you.

“But now,” he added, his voice dropping slightly, softer, “you’ve set the bar kinda unfairly high.” you hummed, tilting your head. “Oh? Sounds like a challenge.” He smiled at that, something fond and a little mischievous settling in his expression. His hand slipped back to your waist, pulling you just a bit closer.

“Mm… I dunno,” he mumbled, pretending to think. “I just know I’m gonna have to go all out for your birthday.” 

“Oh yeah?” you teased. “And what does ‘all out’ mean to you?” His eyes flickered over your face, then down briefly before returning to yours, his smile softening.

“It means,” he said quietly, brushing his thumb over your cheek, “making you feel exactly like you made me feel tonight.” Your breath caught slightly at that, the sincerity in his voice outweighing the teasing.

“Completely spoiled?” you asked lightly, he shook his head, leaning in until his forehead rested against yours.

“Completely loved,” he corrected, the words lingered between you, warm and steady.

You smiled, closing your eyes for a second as your hand found his, fingers intertwining lazily, and your face moved to nuzzle in his neck, you felt his big arms wrap around you and the other just brushing your hair, humming.

“Well,” you murmured, your voice soft with sleep starting to creep in, “you’ve got time to plan.”

He chuckled quietly, pressing one last gentle kiss to your lips, and you let out a soft sigh, as you melted further into his warm embrace, smiling satisfiedly.

“Happy birthday, babe.”

[thekidsarentalright]

SO FORGIVE ME IF I JUMP AT THE RATTLE OF YOUR KEYS

[aasabovesoobeloww]

happy preacher daugther day

[krowsweater]

gardenias on the fucking tile where it makes no fucking difference who fucking held back from fucking who tbh

[prettygirlconsumedbydeath]

this was all fucking for you fuck

[castielthinkr]

lowkey just submitted the steve harrington and 1 request CAN IT BE SFW . more specifically... hurt comfort... 🤤🤤 okay tyty!!

prompt 1: "shit. shit, shit, shit, c'mere." ty for requesting! great minds think alike anons cw canon typical injuries, set in s5, probably not entirely accurate idk its been a while since i watched, fem reader 1k follower event

the crawl was supposed to be simple. in and out; that's what hopper said. the military's guard was down - it had been a while since anything had really happened in hawkins - so gathering a little intel should have been easy enough.

emphasis on should have.

it wasn't easy. not in the slightest.

the military might have calmed a little, but the creatures in the upside down hadn't. demobats were everywhere, and despite how desperately you tried to avoid them, it was inevitable that they got to you.

at least you had protected mike and nancy.

which leads to now: you're barely conscious, laid on the ground, as nancy tries once again to stop one of her friends from bleeding out in the upside-down. your clothes are disgustingly dirty, but you don’t have the energy left to care.

"least it's only my leg. m'faring better than steve did," you try to joke, but the humour in your tone is weak, and mike and nancy can hear the pain you're trying to bury behind a brave face. nancy mutters something under her breath about stupid idiots being meant for each other.

"i heard that," you say, holding back a wince as she finishes her makeshift tourniquet.

"you were meant to," she says, standing. with mike's help, she gets you on your feet. sandwiched between the wheelers, you begin your journey back to your world.

it's a long walk, longer now that you're partially incapacitated. the bite on your shin throbs with every movement, and you have to fight to keep your head upright and your vision clear. nausea comes in waves, but you manage not to puke on either of your friends. mike is rather fond of his jacket; you don't think he'd forgive you easily if you vomited all over it.

eventually, the rift comes into your line of sight. in the back of your mind you register that you've probably been gone longer than you were supposed to be - nancy's been talking into her walkie more often than usual, not that you've been paying much attention to what she's been saying - and everyone will probably be crowded in the bunker, waiting for the three of you to return.

"you go through first." nancy's voice swims through your head, muffled like you're underwater. "i'll boost her up, you pull her through, then run and get the med kit."

mike seems skeptical. "won't they already have stuff ready for her?"

"i didn't tell them she was injured this badly, just that we ran into demobats. didn't want to panic anyone." anyone. you're conscious enough to realise she means steve, albeit belatedly.

you lose the support on your right side as mike goes through. when you're lucid enough, you'll apologise for putting all of your weight on nancy. she doesn't seem to mind, though. you cry out as she boosts you up, her fingers grazing the soaked fabric of the makeshift tourniquet. mike's arms reach for you, and between them, they manage to get you through.

you land on the dirty floor of the bunker, breathing heavily. the mood in the room shifts. people start to move quickly.

"shit," you hear. someone lands on their knees beside you. steve. "shit, shit, shit, c'mere."

"stevie," you mumble.

"yeah, yeah, s'me. keep your eyes open, honey, 'kay?" he sounds breathless. maybe this is the panic nancy was trying to avoid. speaking of nancy, she's suddenly talking rapidly to joyce and robin. when did she get through the rift?

you're lifted into steve's arms, head on his shoulder as your legs rest across his lap. "you're okay," he mumbles into your hair. he says something loud that you miss, too busy wincing at how the volume of his words bounces around your already aching head. you burrow closer to him, nose just about touching the crook of his neck. his arms tighten around you.

you close your eyes, just for a second, just to rest them, and hear faraway voices yelling. someone closer screams. you just need to rest your eyes, then you'll see what all the fuss is about.

when you open them, you're in your room. your body feels heavy.

"jesus christ," someone says, "hey. you're okay, just take your time."

it's steve, standing in the doorway. he has a glass of water in his hand that he abandons on your desk as he makes his way quickly to your side. "hey."

"hey," you croak. using your voice feels like you're trying to talk underwater.

"you've been out a few hours, honey. how you feeling?"

a few hours?

"yeah, you— jesus, it was scary, you got bitten by a couple demobats on the crawl last night." oh, you must have been speaking aloud.

"bitten?" you say hoarsely.

"yeah, and we couldn't exactly take you to a hospital. how would we explain the bite marks?" steve sits down by your shoulder, stroking a hand through your hair. "joyce, robin, and nancy fixed you up. you managed to stay awake until you were safe though, hm? i'm so proud of you."

"steve," you mutter, embarrassed at his praise.

"i'm serious. i'm proud of you. you kept the bats away from nancy and mike and sacrificed your leg - real harrington move," he says, smirking. the smirk falls soon enough. "don't ever pull that shit again, though. i'll bench you."

"you can't bench me, you don't have that power."

"hopper does."

"don't even start, harrington."

[athenas-rose]

Hi I’m in love with your writing and I wanted to know if it’d be okay to request a Steve x reader where Steve gets a peak into readers home life which is lowk a little toxic. I was thinking maybe they’re having a dinner or something with readers family.

This is obviously only you feel comfortable!

Picked Apart

Steve Harrington x fem!reader 2k words

Warnings: toxic households, hurt/comfort, unrealistic expectations, fluff,

Steve meets your parents for the first time, but uncovers more than you let on

You spent the entire drive to your house staring out the window, a cold lifeless glaze taking over your eyes. It wasn’t a home—only a house you were forced to grow up in and suffered the consequences of being born into.

Your hands were clenched together in your lap, stomach twisting uncomfortably with every turn that brought you closer. Though you didn’t say anything to Steve, you weren’t going to hide behind some false identity, he wanted to know everything about you—so here you were.

That didn’t stop Steve from glancing over at you every few seconds, like you were a puzzle he couldn’t piece together.

“You okay, baby?” He asked cautiously, eyes flickering between you and the road.

“Fine.” You quickly responded, unnatural, rehearsed.

Steve had noticed, of course he had. He noticed your knee bouncing as he pulled into the driveway, how you had spent an hour changing in and out of clothes—having never put in this much effort for a casual dinner, like you were internally fighting a battle.

He was nervous himself, meeting his girlfriend's parents was an already stressful affair, but you never spoke much about them in the past, and he never pressed.

He didn’t get out of the car right away, only turned to you and grabbed your hand, squeezing once.

“You sure you wanna do this?” He tilted his head.

You looked up at him, but your expression was blank. “I should be asking you the same.” Was the only thing you said before you climbed out, sending him deeper into confusion.

There was no one waiting at the door, was the first thing Steve noticed. You only knocked once before letting yourself in, slowly creeping into the kitchen—like you had spent years practicing the art of being unnoticed.

Your mom turned around from the stove where she stopped in her tracks upon seeing you two.

“Oh, you came.” She stated, almost as if your existence had inconvenienced her, there was no warm smile or welcoming hugs.

Her hard gaze slid past you, attaching onto Steve, she seemed to realize her audience and quickly corrected her expression—though too sharp, too performative.

“You must be Steve.”

Steve offered a polite smile, extending his hand forward for a handshake. “Mrs—”

Only to be cut off by your dads voice who entered the room, carrying a heavy presence, his arms crossed tightly while dragging his eyes slowly over Steve from head to toe.

“So,” he said flatly. “This is the Harrington boy.”

A deadly silence took over and Steve awkwardly swallowed, trying to break the tension. “Yes sir, Steve Harrington.”

Your father only hummed in response, and you felt the overwhelming urge to run away and hide in the corner as you usually did whenever things became too intense—but you weren’t going to, you were proud of Steve, and you were going to remain at his side.

Dinner felt like a ticking time bomb. The silent atmosphere didn’t feel peaceful, it was suffocating and every moment spent trapped at the table made you itch to escape.

The only sounds that filled the air were the silverware gently tapping against the porcelain—though you hadn’t eaten a bite, picking your food and refusing to meet your parents' gaze.

Your posture was rigid beside Steve, who kept glancing around the table, trying to figure out the right words to say, if this was a common occurrence between you and your family.

“Er,” Steve cleared his throat, trying to make light conversation. “Your house is very beautiful.”

Your mother sipped from her wine, forming her lips into a tight smile—far from appreciation, close to acknowledgment. “Thank you.”

Your dad leaned back in his chair, zeroing in on you like he could see right through you.

“She never liked this house.” He said, tilting his head, eyes still fixed on you.

Your stomach tightened, trying to not show how the hair on your arms stood up. “She said it never suited her.” He continued.

You shifted around uncomfortably in your seat, releasing an exhale. “I was a child.” You muttered, though it came out weak.

“Hm,” he took another bite. “Funny enough it looks like you haven’t changed much.” He couldn’t help but laugh, as if it was the funniest thing since you sat down. “This new performance doesn’t suit you either.”

The comment made you snap your head upwards, landing harsher than expected.

Steve looked between you two, like he wasn’t being let in on a joke. “Performance?” He asked, brows furrowing.

Your dad raised a fork, vaguely gesturing towards you. “The act that she’s got it all together.” He chuckled under his breath. “Trust me, it’s all going to spill out, sooner or later.”

Heat crawled up your neck, staring harder at your plate and wishing the floor would just open beneath you whole. Steve’s hand found your knee underneath the table, a steady touch, one that nearly undid you.

“She’s just nervous.” He attempted to speak on your behalf, your muscles having locked up and losing your ability to move.

“Nervous?” Your mother echoed. “About what?”

You could feel Steve’s eyes on the side of your head, but he continued. “She doesn’t really bring you up that often.”

Your mother sharply inhaled, you knew Steve was just trying to make things better—it was your fault for not having warned him, but you knew exactly where this was headed.

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” Your father asked, beginning to tap his fingers repeatedly on the white cloth.

“Nothing bad.” Steve rushed out. “Only that she’s busy. With friends—and work.”

“Maybe because she knows exactly what we would think of her now, how much more we expected.” Your mother was quick to jump in.

There it was again, the constant disappointment they never failed to remind you of, needing it to be communicated through every interaction.

“She’s doing fine.” Steve responded, “better than fine, actually.”

Your father still couldn’t believe what he was hearing, staring with wide eyes. “You really believe that?” He asked.

Steve didn’t miss a beat, “I know that.”

Your heart stuttered against your chest at the sincerity of his words. Hearing somebody defended you this hard, like you worth more than you ever saw yourself as—felt like there was an angel next to you.

“You're sweet, truly. But, she’s always been…difficult.” Your mother dabbed gently at the comers of her mouth.

You only felt embarrassed now, everything you’ve ever done or put up with being reduced to a single word, difficult. You watched as Steve’s expression hardened, and you knew you needed to calm things down before they escalated into a storm your parents were aiming for.

“Can we not do this tonight?” You begged, but no one listened.

“She’s not difficult.” Steve hadn’t breathed since the word had been uttered, reluctant to back down.

“Easy to say when you haven’t had to put up with her for nearly twenty years.” Your father scoffed, rolling his eyes.

That cracked the last bit of restraint you had inside, to allow the years of accepting their abuse to finally splinter all at once.

“Put up with me?” You repeated loudly, voice shaking.

The room went still, not even Steve dared to interrupt. But your father only looked irritated by your actions, your mother sighing tiredly like this was another tantrum she had to endure.

“You cannot seriously say that after how you’ve treated me my entire life.” You continued.

“Don’t act like I’m lying.” Your fathers tone snapped.

“No!” The word escaping you before you could rethink it. “You don’t get to act like I’m insane anymore—why do you think I left as soon as I could?” You heaved heavily, needing to get everything out, every confession that kept you up late at night.

“Because you continually make me feel horrible about myself.” Your voice cracked. “You pick apart everything I do, every choice I make, while I just sit there and take it all!”

“We pushed you because we expected better.” Your mother said coolly.

“And look where that got you.” You laughed humorlessly. “I didn’t turn out perfect—because you always made sure I knew I couldn’t be.”

Steve’s jaw clenched, everything suddenly made sense to him—why after every time you returned from your family's house you looked so bitter, why you had gotten your own place so soon after graduating.

“You have no idea what it’s like,” you felt yourself breaking apart, eyes burning. “To grow up knowing nothing you ever do, will ever be enough for your own parents to love you.”

“Quit being so sensitive.” Your mothers face hardened. And you realized in that moment—no matter how hard you tried to make it clear to them, they would just boil it down to your weakness.

You shook your head, pulling back to scrape your chair legs against the polished floor, you’ve had enough. Not sparing them a second glance, you stood up and made your way to the door, feeling the tears pour down your face. You left once, but you hadn’t learned your lesson.

You didn’t hear Steve call after you instantly, his own seat shoving back. “Hey—” but your ears were ringing as you slammed the door, running out to the car and leaning against it, hugging yourself.

Your breaths came out fast and uneven, chest tightening as you didn’t bother quieting the sobs, humiliation coursed through you.

Back inside the house, muffled voices rose faintly before the door opened once more, then hurried footsteps came your way.

“Sweetheart,” you squeezed your eyes shut, remembering that Steve had just watched your parents confirm every awful thing you’d silently worried he would eventually realize about you.

Steve stopped in front of you, looking just as frustrated, though his features softened into something only reserved for you, placing his hands to cup around your jaw to tilt your puffy eyes up at him.

“I know, baby, I know.” He whispered.

“It was a mistake.” You blurted, staring into his eyes that only held concern. “I shouldn’t have brought you here—let you see that.”

He paused for a second, before shaking his head. “No.” He said firmly. “That wasn’t your fault, you’re not the problem.”

That made you break a little more, eyes blurring all over again as you averted your gaze. “I tried so hard.” You pleaded, barely above a whisper. “I got good grades, I never asked for things, I sacrificed a piece of myself—and it still wasn’t enough.”

“That’s not true.” Steve used his thumb to gently swipe away your tears, ducking his head lower. “You’re enough, you’re enough for me, you're enough for yourself, that’s all that matters. Your parents wanted a version of you that doesn’t exist, and you don’t owe them anything.”

He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, and you couldn’t help but feel lighter at his words. “I love you, and I’ll never stop reminding you of it.” He promised.

And you two stayed standing on the pavement for as long as you needed, until you felt strong enough to nod and leave together hand in hand. You couldn’t repair yourself back together, but you had someone willing to help hold the broken parts gently.