“Can you help me?” The young woman asked, her voice calm even though her eyes bordered on desperate. “Please. I have to find my son.”
I wish Gen 6 and 7 were backwards compatible with the Switch ;-;
I was going through all my saved Brooke and Vanjie stuff and found these tweets from Courtney and this makes me a little said but also super happy and smiley🥰
The sad thing is about Wanahton and his children he will have in Red Dead Redemption is that they will never really be safe.
Tag drop: Yuna. Square Enix, I still cannot believe that you’re making me do this.
༻ 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐀 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 (𝟑/𝟑)
𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | Tarzan!Steve Rogers x doctor!reader
𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | 6’6” Steve, feral behaviour/feral!steve, nomad!steve, fluff, angst, size difference, manhandling, possessive!/protective!steve, gentle giant!Steve, SMUT - minors DNI, size kink, manhandling, oral (m&f), dirty talk, p in v, spitting, grinding, lots of cum, unprotected sex.
𝗪/𝗖 | 11K
𝗔/𝗡 | Let's all pretend this was posted on time. Firstly, thank you everyone for coming on this journey with me on my first big AU, I'm sad to see it end, but I'll always be open for blurbs and drabbles for this series. (little past mentioned) James Conrad x doctor!reader. Also, this is not PWP, so it’s much more plot in this chapter than smut !
All mistakes are my own, I'll be revisiting this chapter to edit it and add parts, so it'll probably change soon ! Check out the role reversal of this story: 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐄𝐲𝐞
˗ˏˋ𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐀 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
“Well, I didn’t know jealousy was in attendance tonight–oh wait, it’s just you under all that green envy, Doc–how’s the gala treating you?”
You inhale deeply, avoiding the smug smirk playing on Tony’s lips. You turn to face him, leaning an elbow on the bar as the wine swooshes in the glass. “Did Pepper finally ditch you for the head security guard of the tower?”
Tony laughs loudly, slapping a hand over his chest. “Oh my, it seems I’ve struck a nerve.” He glances over his shoulder, eyes once again landing on the tall, burly blond across the room by the piano. His carefully gelled hair is visible above everyone’s heads, as a sea of reporters and other socialites surround him, hanging off every word he says. From here, you can practically see them swoon and fall for his magnetic charm.
“This is good for him.” You say, trying to convince yourself. “He’s been practicing speaking for weeks–he wants to make a good impression.”
“He has confidence and potential, I’ll give him that.” Tony signals for a refill of his glass, the bartender filling it immediately. He sips slowly, eyes flickering between you and Steve. “You know, we could have just put out a statement. It would have been far less stressful and you wouldn’t have to watch that.” The brunet winces as a young beautiful woman lays a hand on Steve’s arm, caressing his bulging bicep under his suit.
You quickly look down at your heeled feet, remembering Steve asking how you suddenly got a few inches taller after getting ready–you proceeded to show him your heels, “How…walk around in those? Hurt? So–pointy…”
“The public would have made up horrible rumours about him–you saw what they did to Bucky.”
“Barnes was an assassin who was unjustly blamed for the death of–” Tony snaps his mouth shut, grinning at the passing socialites, then once they’re gone, he rolls his eyes, “--Those two are basically the biggest blabbermouths of the city, and Peter nearly spilled the beans about the manbeast to those punks.” He huffs. “The kid is smart, but his mouth sometimes isn’t… an odd mix considering he’s in charge of presentations for the new interns.”
You sigh loudly.
Tony raises a hand in surrender, “--As I was saying, that is a weak comparison between Barnes and Rogers, one is a completely clean slate, no foul, no blood, nothing–and you seem to be convinced people will dig up some dirt on him, yet allowed him to be interview by himself.”
“I’m not convinced that they’ll dig up dirt–there isn’t dirt anyway, he isn’t a bad person.” You correct, gaze dragging across the vast ballroom. People in different, sleek gowns and suits, chatting enthusiastically, eating hors d'oeuvres and sipping fancy champagne or wine. “The independence will be good for him, and he wasn’t against it.”
“But he wanted you with him all night, right?”
You sag, fiddling with your necklace, that was enough for Tony.
“Doc, I know you care about him,” The man starts, furrows his brows as he finds the words, “but maybe you’re doing what you think is better for him–and in turn, you’re ignoring what he knows is best for the both of you.”
Your eyes widen and you shoot him a look, “What coming of age novel did you get that from?”
“The one Peter left in the lab,” Tony says, so easily that you don’t know if it’s the truth or not. “I understand that getting his face out there and showing everyone he isn’t a threat is important. Ignoring the fact that we’re admitting that S.H.I.E.L.D. is once again, a mountain of secrets that go down to the Earth’s core,” He cracks a smile when you laugh lightly, “But is all that publicity worth it when you’re sulking in this beautiful dress, and some noisy reporter is hanging off your fella’s arm?”
“He doesn’t know what she’s doing, it isn’t his fault.”
“I agree–but, if you told him the difference between being friendly and flirting, I think he’d brush off the press in the blink of an eye,” Tony says as he steps away, disappearing into the crowd.
You knew that, and you also knew that Steve would attract attention. People were moths to his flame, and you weren’t jealous–rather proud that he was handling it all so well–considering he despised the suit he was wearing too, clothes are just, ugh.
You bring the glass to your lips, still in a daze and not realizing your glass was empty. A delicate clang sounds behind you, a familiar drawl ringing in your ears.
“Bartender, refill for that glass, please.”
Turning around, a startled laugh escapes your body. Slowly taking in the tall, slender dark-haired man before you. “I can order for myself, you know?”
The man chuckles, a hand running down his velvet suit jacket. His blue eyes twinkle, “I figured you were too busy staring off into space to bother.” James leans over, following your line of sight across the room, a knowing smile crawling on his face, “or rather, longingly admiring from afar.”
“You’re hilarious.” You say bluntly, taking a long gulp of your drink. “Did your date get sick of you already?”
James rolls his eyes, nudging your shoulder, “I don’t know, did you ever get sick of me when we went on dates?”
Your scoff, a little part of you thankful for another familiar face in the sea of socialites and reporters, though, James’ British accent was fresh among the distant chatter. He’s sporting a slight stubble, his brown-blond hair in a messy gelled style, only aiding to his dashing prince charming flair.
The two of you have a friendly past-turned whirlwind of light romance, stemming from the beginning of your career when you were an intern in a busy city. As the days went by like snapshots, you and James grew close.
When you met him, he was a British S.A.S. officer who was hired by Stark Industries to teach survival techniques and share knowledge about jungle warfare. Throughout your friendship, there was occasional mutual flirting, definitely some attraction until you both took it one step further. The romantic relationship didn’t last very long, you were too busy with your career, and he was being sent back to London for work. The two of you decided it was best to end it before things turned sour–despite the break-up, you still consider James a good friend.
“So, that’s the Rogers’ son.” James hums, “he’s a lot bigger than what I expected.”
You stare up at him because of his towering height. There’s a playful quirk on his lips. “You knew?”
“I suspected something.” The brunet rephrases, “And I may have been consulted for tracking him down.”
Of course, his new profession. “That’s why you’re here tonight, to get your face plastered on the papers for helping?” You quip.
“Credit is due where credit is deserved, and I like to think I helped at least a little,” James smirks, his gaze trailing down your face and neck. “I couldn’t make it to the expedition but I assume it all went well.”
“As well as it could have. A sprained wrist was worth all of this, and all of him.” you glance over your shoulder, locking eyes with the giant ways away, you give him a small wave but Steve’s gaze shifts to your ex next to you. One second later, and the realization is evident on his face, undoubtedly recognizing the man from the box of old photographs deep in your closet.
You and Steve had gone through the pictures, you wanted to show him ones of your family, back home and your first days in New York–you didn’t expect a few coupley ones to slip out too.
“Captain Conrad!” A voice calls from the crowd. James twists around, lifting a hand before pushing off the bar.
“I’ll see you later?” He walks backwards, both eyebrows raised.
You just shake your head, turning back to your drink and noticing it was empty once again. This time when you look back at Steve, he’s still staring at you, the ghost of a grin on his face. He raises his glass of water with a wink, melting you from across the room.
It happens in a passing moment, but Steve, seemingly more vigilant tonight, notices immediately. The night has come to an end, the press leaving in good spirits and hopeful of the absolute story in their hands–the once highly confidential mission of the Avengers’ finally revealed, a man who survived in the jungle for his whole life, the son of a missing S.H.I.E.L.D. scientist who injected him with a recreation of Erskine's formula–a mouthful, but pure gold in the eyes of the public.
Steve’s story is going worldwide, and that creates a tsunami of attention.
Earlier in the evening when he was answering the millions of questions for reporters, he felt strange when they would touch his arms, or lean a little too close. He thought they had too much to drink–you told him what alcohol can do to someone, and Steve connected the dots.
Must be drunk. Maybe needs to stop?
So he took a glass from a young reporter and she giggled and thanked him–she thought he was going to be a gentleman and get her another glass–but Steve just placed it on a passing waiter's tray and returned to the conversation, as if he didn’t just cut the woman off.
Now, you and Steve are standing by the exit, waving and bidding farewell to the attendees tonight. Polite smiles, and halfhearted chuckles, as they leave through the wide elegant doors.
As the young reporter from earlier stalks closer, bright eyes locked on him, Steve feels your grip tighten on his arm. You lightly pull him to your level before pressing a lipgloss kiss to his bearded cheek. Then, you grab his chin, meeting his lips swiftly, giggling and wiping the makeup away.
Steve has always trusted his intuition. Growing up in the jungle, he had no choice when he wasn’t taught rules of conduct, he didn’t know anything else.
Going by his gut feeling has saved him many times too.
A nasty fruit here, a mudslide or two, an approaching predator, a poisonous bug or reptile–he wouldn’t be affected by the poison, but it would hurt. The bottom line, he trusted his intuition immensely.
After all, it brought him to you. He had smelt something remarkably different from the normal wilderness when he was with Bruce and the magic colour box–it’s a Rubix cube, Steven, Rubix. He was going to ignore it, far more interested in what else Bruce had brought for him, but there was an underlying instinct, combined with curiosity and protectiveness.
Perhaps an unfamiliar animal had wandered too close, and in the jungle, Steve has learnt that unawareness is a weakness.
He was correct about the unfamiliar animal–you were a woman with a smell that made him lose his mind, which led to him tackling you into the ground, hurting you.
Sometimes, Steve feels bad about that–but you always comfort him. Offering him cuddles and kisses as you comb your fingers through his hair, many instances of his guilt episodes have ended up with your panties on the floor, and his face between your thighs.
At the thought of your wetness all over his mouth, staining his beard and dripping from his tongue, he adjusts himself in his slacks.
“Steve,” you scold, pulling away his hand, “Don’t do that in public.”
He breathes heavily, mind flashing with that little glint in your eyes when you kissed him, claiming him before that woman.
You claimed him, you thought he was yours just as much as he thought you were his. Excitement bubbles in his chest, and also his lower region.
“Steve! I said stop that.” You huff, holding his hand in yours tightly. Glancing around the room for any lingering gazes, you look down at his crotch again and gasp. His length nearly bursting the zipper of his pants, very obviously showing off his gracious gift.
“Touch–please?” The blond murmurs, leaning down to nip at your ear, thick arms wrapping around your body to press against his cock. Slowly, his hips move in circles, desperate for relief, “I’m yours… please, touch–”
Your hand slaps over his mouth, a heat blooming on your face as you hurriedly tug him to the car waiting to take you both back to the tower. You push him into the back before sliding next to him, telling the driver to take a shortcut.
Steve ignores your request to put on a seatbelt, instead, rubbing his hand over the prominent tent in his pants, low groans flowing from his pink lips. You buckle him in, unable to stop him from placing your hand over his cock, slowly thrusting into your grip.
The elevator ride to your floor is unbearably long. Steve is grinding against your ass, mouthing messily at your neck as if the camera isn’t blinking from the corner of the ceiling. As soon as you step foot onto your floor, he starts stripping.
“Can try your mouth?” Steve quickly rips off his shirt, buttons flying and fabric tearing. “Please–be gentle… will try to be.”
You don’t have to be gentle, your mind says as you drink in every inch of his pale skin. The dark hair on his chest–that has surely gotten bigger, thicker since you first met him, as did most of his body. Bulging muscles and meat, veins visible under his taut skin, shifting before your heated eyes.
As he stands nude before the elevator doors, you finally spring into action. Dragging him away from the surveillance area and to the privacy of your bedroom, squirming as his hands start tearing your dress from behind.
“Want to see–didn’t let me see before we left,” Steve murmurs as the bedroom door shuts. He pins you against the wall before hiking your thighs around his waist, his hard leaking cock pressing against your stomach. A deep growl rumbles his chest as your breasts spill out, immediately, he takes your nipple into his mouth. Manhandling you higher on the wall with both his arms, closing his eyes in bliss as he suckles your nipple. “So soft–” He switches to the other, and one moment later, you’re flat on the bed.
A loud tear echoes through the room as your panties flutter to the ground, Steve is standing at the foot of the bed with a hand around his cock. His muscles flex as your thighs spread, revealing your wetness.
He groans, kneeling on the mattress and reaching towards you, “maybe no mouth–”
You stop him before he comes any closer, “but I want to taste you, please?”
An audible breath escapes his nose, jaw clenched tightly as he nods once, then twice. “Yes–yes, mouth.”
Flipping over, you crawl towards him. You feel warm as his eyes trace over your figure, lingering on your ass. Now, lying on your belly with his cock brushing your lips, you allow him to cup the back of your head and pull you closer.
“Heard lots about… how feels.”
A heat combs over your skin, you already know your thighs are sticky. “What did you hear?”
You wrap a hand around his base, feeling the throbbing under your fingers as you drag up his thick girth, the tips of your digits not meeting. You marvel at the prominent veins trailing up the sides, leading to the bulbous head, cum leaking down the redness. Taking the head into your mouth, you lightly suckle, swiping his taste with your tongue.
Steve moans loudly, knees buckling as his hips jerk forward, shoving more between your lips. “Feels… so good, oh.” His voice dies as he peers down at you spitting on his cock, spreading your saliva up and down his length. “Tongue…”
You hum, sliding down to the floor onto your knees. You don’t waste any time, licking from the base to the tip and spitting once more. Squeezing your thighs together, you look up at him before taking him deeper. He’s hot and heavy on your tongue and the fat stretch burns your lips, and you want more. Turns out, so does Steve.
“More–please.” His lashes flutter as you massage his balls in your other hand, saliva spilling from the corners of your mouth, slickening his cock as you take more of him.
“C’mon, Steve, don’t be shy.”
“Not shy…” He bites his lip, “can take charge, please?”
You nod with a mouth full of his shaft, your eyes watering slightly as he widens his stance, placing both hands on either side of your head.
As he groans above you with a firm hold and you’re taken by him. Piercing his thick and powerful thighs with your nails as he forces you closer, hips naturally gaining momentum. His skin flushed red, blooming up his heaving chest to his bearded cheeks. His hair falls in front of his eyes, but it doesn’t lessen the heat in his gaze.
His jaw drops as your eyes squeeze shut, a choked whine coming from your throat as he fucks your mouth. You can feel your juices trailing down your thighs as Steve slowly pumps in and out, his thick cock slick with your spit.
“Mouth so…” He pulls out as a string of saliva connects his throbbing tip to your lips, he quickly pulls you back on his cock, “wet, feels so good, sunshine.”
You relax your throat, breathing through your nose and let him use your mouth. Wet noises fill the room as you slobber on his length, trying to take as much as you can–but he’s too big, too thick, you can only get halfway before pushing him away.
The two of you build a pace between his praises in broken English and your own muffled whimpers. He takes your mouth like he owns it, allowing his desires and instincts to take the wheel, but you know he’s still holding back, and you tell him that he can go as deep and as hard as he wants. You know he could go absolutely mindless with pleasure–and you’re right.
Steve is always animalistic whenever you’re intimate, it makes sense he’s the same for his first blowjob.
He experiments with pace and strength, gathering the dripping saliva from your chin to smear on his cock, making the slide smoother so you can take him deeper. His neck craned low, eyes locked on your stretched lips around his fat girth, he can’t get enough of your gagging noises.
“Sunshine, so small down there.” He breathes, “know I’m bigger than you–and like it a lot.”
You whine, massaging his balls again as he hits the back of your throat, sliding deeper.
“Like that too? Know you do–can smell you,” Steve pauses, pulling you off to circling his heavy tip on your swollen lips, he slaps your cheek with it too, wanting to mark you in every way possible, “can smell your cunt.”
You can’t help but reach between your thighs, already on the brink with having him in your mouth, using you so passionately. Your fingers slip inside with ease, you slowly start to bounce on your hand and Steve takes notice.
His motions become rougher, your garbled moans more consistent. “Do like it, so much–touching yourself. Wish I was touching you instead.”
When Steve cums, he’s just as beautiful as he was the first time all those weeks ago. His eyes squeeze shut as his mouth falls open, neck and abs tensing under his pink skin, a low guttural groan nearly vibrating the walls. He floods your mouth, his thick seed spilling from your lips and down to your bare chest, you swallow as much as you can, moving his hands to take a last bit of control.
You lick up his length, gathering any rogue droplets, not wanting his taste to escape even the slightest. Steve helps you out too, swiping the cum from your chin with his fingers, shoving them deep into your mouth until you gag again, “like noise…” his blue eyes fall to your hand, still between your thighs, “like taste more though, want you on my tongue again, please.”
You should’ve known he wouldn’t stop after the blowjob. You’re lucky tomorrow was your day off too.
Steve can’t help the nervousness bubbling in his stomach as he stares down at the bouquet–which he made himself at the florists with Sam and Bucky.
This journey actually began with Bruce.
“Love like science?”
Steve trusts Bruce, almost as much as he trusts you. And when he finds the guts to ask about the odd feelings inside him, he goes to the doctor. Although, Bruce wasn’t very knowledgeable in that department and he warns Steve as such.
“Will talk with Buck and Sam, but want to hear Bruce first,” Steve says confidently.
The doctor is nose deep in a thick novel, currently on his lunch break. “You can just tell her, Steve, or make a grand gesture, whatever you feel is right–whenever it feels right.” Bruce tries to be helpful. Truthfully, he’s honoured that Steve came to him first, off all people the man has come to know, he still goes to the first person he’s formed a friendship with. “Unlike experiments, there aren’t specific steps for telling someone your feelings.”
“Nothing to follow?”
“Nothing to follow.” Bruce smiles softly, “Just do what you feel when you feel it's right.”
Before the journey, it was a wondrous whirlwind stemming from when he accidentally threw away your rough version of a document–one that you’ve been working on for weeks. He just wanted to please you, do some spring cleansing–it’s cleaning, Steve, not cleansing–in your shared home.
He dusted the shelves, wiped the windows, cleaned the couch and scrubbed the floor. He also got rid of anything that looked like garbage and in his defense, your bundle of papers was a mess, various scribbles and crinkled sheets, there were coffee stains on the cover. So, he tossed it in the recycling.
One can imagine the rage you felt after coming home to a missing thirty-plus-page document.
You didn’t yell at him, instead, you just sulked into your bedroom and locked the door. Exhausted out of your mind, and completely discouraged.
Steve waited for you to come out, sitting in front of the door and tentatively asking about your day, then when you didn’t answer, he told you about his.
“Got perfect on physics test… and English paper–you helped me write…” He taps on the door, sitting before it like a child. He glances at the doorknob, trying it once again but deflating when it wouldn’t open. “Am sorry, sunshine. Didn’t know–just wanted to do kind thing for you… always work so hard, always so kind. Missed you so much today too–” He presses his forehead on the wood, closing his eyes, “--never meant to hurt, hate when you get hurt or upset.”
He perks up as he hears the shuffling of sheets, jumping to his feet as the lock clicks. Then, he bursts through, sweeping you into his thick arms and kissing all over your face. He feels the wetness on your cheeks and pulls away.
His heart physically aches, like a thousand thorns stabbing his chest. “Oh… so sad?”
You inhale shakily, the softness in his voice making you break down all over again.
“Working too hard, too much. Need break.” Steve frowns, holding you tightly. His bare chest is warm under your cheek. “Will be super careful next time, promise. Will also treat sunshine–be tender.”
From there, bloomed the sweetest displays. Steve put the recipe book to great use, cooking you meals every day and baking you sweets at night and over the weekends. He even had a little apron, always welcoming you home with a beaming smile and delicious food, kissing you breathless before setting up a relaxing bath for you.
Sometimes he’d join, other times he’d just sit outside the tub, holding your hand and listening to you talk about your day.
It was a dream to be doted on like this. Although, you wished to do the same to Steve, knowing he deserved it just as much.
You had gifted him custom plushies that looked just like Peter, Wendy and Tinkerbell. Shortly put, Steve’s body nearly exploded after he realized what they were, he then hauled you off to the bedroom for some special experiencing–as he called it.
Then, he wanted to do more because he felt more than just happy with you, he felt excitement and glee, pure adoration and warmth in your presence.
It was uncharted territory from there. Deeper than anything he’s ever encountered, the unfamiliarity made him uneasy.
That’s what brought him to Sam and Bucky, his first option for help in his particular field. He communicated his confusion with his feelings, starting it off by asking to speak to them in private. “What about… deeper feelings? Like, feel so happy with person, want around all the time–feel relaxed and calm, but also, can’t contain excitement or happiness.”
Sam and Bucky, mostly Sam, proceeded to give Steve several pointers on ‘wooing.’ Dating in the modern world was very different from what he has seen in the wilderness, no mating dances or displays, but instead romantic gestures and gifts, quality time like date nights. He knew respect and communication were important, and to say the least, he was overwhelmed.
“Makes my chest ache–in good way. Just,” He huffs, “Want to go everywhere with her–do everything for her.”
Bucky raises a brow, metal fingers wrapped around a glass. The three of them are lounging on the roof, far away from any prying eyes or nosey spies. The sun is setting slowly, ghosting above the building tops and casting a yellow-orange glow.
“Have you told her that?”
“Don’t know how–already tried to dress up.”
Sam laughs loudly, “Oh, I remember that. Thought you’d have to cut your hair after it got stuck in the scrunchies. How did you manage to squeeze into one of her dresses?”
Steve shrugs, absentmindedly twirling the ends of his hair. He definitely didn’t want a haircut anytime soon, although his beard needed a trim soon. “Ripped it on accident, sunshine didn’t get mad. Just giggle… super cute giggles.”
Bucky and Sam share a long look, seemingly non-verbally conversing about the giant across from them on the plush outdoor patio couch. Sam tilts his head and in turn, Bucky snorts, rolling his eyes.
“Women today aren’t the same women as in the forties.”
“Which can be very helpful for our guy here,” Sam appealed, “Advice that worked on women back then and advice that works on women now–we’ll have him primped and polished.”
Bucky checks his watch, slumping, “I guess I could help–”
“--As if you have plans on a Tuesday night.” Sam scoffs playfully, already standing and clapping his hands, “Steve, you’ve got yourself the two most eligible bachelors of the city for all your questions and concerns of the heart.”
That’s how Steve ended up walking along the streets of New York, dipping in and out of various clothing stores, exiting with a new shopping bag and one new potential friend, the store employees and owners were very fond of the curious and blunt giant, most of them fell in love with his bright spirit and charming smile.
His wardrobe at the tower consisted of t-shirts and sweatshirts, mostly track pants or shorts–Steve didn’t wear many clothes when he was roaming around your shared floor. Hence, whenever he made public appearances, Tony had someone drop off carefully selected clothes for said occasion.
Steve inhales deeply, Sam’s words bouncing off the walls of his mind.
“Be confident, your posture is already perfect, you just need to accentuate that energy, and kill her with it.”
Steve’s eyes widened in horror, colour draining from his face, “kill?”
Bucky steps in, rubbing his hands down the blond’s shoulders, smoothening his leather jacket. “Not literally–nice going, Sam.” He murmurs, “You like her, Steve?”
It’s quiet for a few beats, the giant’s blue eyes falling to the bouquet in his hands, “Love her, Buck.”
The brunet smiles, “Right, you love her–”
“Then, just let her know. She wants you for you–not some yuck-version of you. Be yourself, be honest, be a good listener.”
Steve hesitantly steps into the elevator, pressing the button for your shared floor. He gives Sam and Bucky a short wave.
“Call her a cute pet name!” Sam shouts as the doors close.
“Baby… Sweetheart…Doll … Lover.” Steve repeats every nickname he can think of, his foot anxiously tapping on the floor as the elevator ascends higher and higher. Finally, it dings before the doors slide open, revealing the clean but well-loved living room of your floor. The blankets on the couch are folded, pillows fluffed, but the coffee table is almost covered in all your documents and research papers. The familiar scent of your soap wafts to his nose as the faint music from the bathroom cuts.
“Steve? Is that you?”
“Lover… like that.”
Sam grins, “I don’t hear that one too often, but I think she’d like it.”
Your footsteps falter as you round the corner, a white robe tied around your waist as you spread moisturizer on your face. You raise a brow, “what did you say?”
“...yes, lover.” Steve is still standing in the elevator but quickly shuffles out as the doors begin to close. He tightens his fist around the bouquet, eyes glued on your bare skin. Trailing up your legs to the expanse of your chest, and finally your neck where a few marks were already healing.
Steve knows he’ll be replacing those with fresh ones tonight. He was counting on it.
“More flowers? The ones you got me yesterday are fine.”
The blond stiffens, “These for…uh…”
You smirk, “are you seeing another woman, Steve?”
“No! Never!” Steve exclaims, desperately shaking his head, “These for you–would never, ever be with other person.” He blinks profusely before gesturing to the couch. “Can—May we talk?”
You know what was coming, but you still keep your mouth shut. Nodding silently and walking to the couch, you pat the cushion next to you. As Steve steps closer, you can feel the waves of distress melting off him, constricting your throat. The bouquet, colourful and sweet, is placed on the cluttered coffee table before he plucks one of them, a yellow one.
Steve faces you, vulnerability behind his light eyes. With a touch as delicate as the morning clouds, he places the flower behind your ear.
When you place a hand on his thigh, Steve takes it and brings it to his lips. Closing his eyes as his lips press against the back of your hand, his facial hair scratching your knuckles, it’s a slow and strong kiss as if he’s trying to send his feelings straight through your bloodstream.
Steve doesn’t know why he’s so nervous. He wasn’t going to tell a wild lie, or break your heart–he’d never do that.
But, love. What was love?
Universal in every form–love began at the list of fundamental human necessities, through complex twists and shades of a million colours, the four-letter word was not simple in the slightest. A blessing and a curse of humanity and compassion. With a camouflaging ability to be bare and shrouded at the same time, being true to one and being unknown to their lover. Although, as pure as it is, love can be tainted by people.
Jealously, begging and pleading, unfair and unjust. Much too strong or much too little, love is beautiful.
Among the different forms of it, complete love included intimacy, passion and commitment.
Steve knew love as actions, things he’s seen with his own two eyes, but feeling love was entirely different. Something so personal and dear, buried within his heart and soul, Steve didn’t know how to define such an intense impression.
“Feelings… are strange.” He begins, mumbling against your skin before setting your palm on his chest, you can feel the faint thumps of his heart. “Feeling something—is so different from speaking. Wish was other way to describe what I feel here.”
You meet his gaze, giving an encouraging nod. “I know what you mean.”
His brows knit tightly, “but want to tell you how I feel…through words.”
It’s incredibly difficult to explain to anyone else–but so clear inside. Indecipherable yet easy.
“Want you around all the time–hate when apart. When together, feel happy—so happy, comfortable,” loved, “with you.” Steve cradles your hand between his, occasionally squeezing your fingers, “My sweet, beautiful, kind, cute—so cute and tender, soft, sunshine… everything good inside you.” He shuffles closer, the emotion behind his eyes is spellbinding, “teach me so much—never get annoyed or mean when I can’t understand.” He knows that some people aren’t as kind when it comes to his lack of knowledge and experience.
“Not first to be kind or tender to me—but have always been, from the beginning, even when I hurt you.” He inhales sharply, leaning down to nuzzle your cheek, he whines lowly in his throat, “know I’m forgiven, but still hate that I hurt you.”
“Promise to never do it again, will never harm, hurt you.” He interrupts, “Always be tender, sweet… because you deserve that.”
You laugh wetly, cupping his bearded cheek and sniffling, “You do too, Steve. Don’t forget that.”
“Won’t forget—promise that too.” He leans into your touch, eyes almost fluttering shut before they shoot open, he squints, “But, Sunshine promise too?”
You nod as a wave of adoration almost knocks you to the floor, but even if it did physically strike you, you know you wouldn’t fall, not with Steve pressed against you. The gentle giant, with a heart of gold and a set of diamond eyes that gleamed and glimmered with hope, a purity that was so precious.
Steve licks his lips, falling forward until your foreheads meet. He squeezes your hand once more and dips down until your noses touch. He hums happily, wide eyes staring into yours. “You’re so beautiful up close—uh, lover.”
A part of Steve wanted to climb inside you, because maybe then he’ll finally be content—there was no describing how close he wanted to be with you. He wanted to live within your heart, kiss your soul and bathe in your existence, but he couldn’t explain that with his lack of vocabulary. So, he says it differently and in a way he does fully understand.
“Colourful birds in jungle—macaws…like little rainbows with feathers and can fly. They have one love for entire life,” Steve’s cheeks are cherry red, his blue eyes so clear, you can almost see his spirit, “And want… I want that with you.”
If he closes his eyes, he can see the vibrant birds. Perched high in the trees, the wisps of nature surround him as they mutually groom and share food with each other. Similar to the other animals in the jungle, but those creatures didn’t mate with only one for their entire life. They weren’t like the birds.
The birds that wake up every morning and check their mate for any concerns, they didn't groom them or solely share food with them. He knows those actions stemmed from something inside, deep within them. To have one for a lifetime.
“Please speak… feel so many nerves now…” he whispers, brushing his nose along the side of your face, a quiet whine coming from his throat. “Please—”
He’s cut off by your lips crashing against his, trying to convey every emotion. You cradle his face between your hands as he deepens the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth.
Steve loves you—the glorious man with a brilliant will. A dream in every sense of his being, a disadvantaged soul who has blossomed into a lively flower. A strong stem with the ability to withstand almost anything, physical and mental obstacles included. The petals vary because they’re coloured with his qualities—some are more than one shade to represent his change in characteristics, from a dull grey to a bright tint. And the pistil, it was blinding as if the sun had shrunk to size, although small, the radiated warmth wasn’t any different. Still beaming and sparkling before your eyes.
Steve pulls away with a wet smack, lips a little swollen, “Take that as same feelings?”
You’re engulfed in his glow, soaked to the core with Steve–this was the kind of intensity you’ve only fantasized of. Yet, it’s right before you, he’s right in front of you and inches from your face. With the most adorable grin and doing his signature head tilt.
You manage a nod before Steve is hauling you up and dashing to the bedroom. As you’re placed on the bed, the springs squeaking beneath you, he’s climbing on top of you again. Too lost in his touch, you don’t realize what’s happening until a sharp tear bounces off the walls.
Steve’s face flushes, “ah, oops…” He offers you a crooked smile, still clenching the loose threads of your robe, “not patient enough to untie.”
Then, you notice he’s also naked. His leather jacket flung across the room, as well as the rest of his clothes. His hair was slightly tousled and falling in front of his face. One of his hands reaches down, wrapping around his hard cock.
It didn’t take a genius to know what was on his mind.
“Are you sure about this?”
The giant grunts, his other hand gripping your leg and shuffling between your thighs.
You reach out and grab his chin, forcing his eyes to yours. “Are you sure about this, Steve?” The intense passion swimming in his eyes is answer enough, but you want to hear him say it.
“Yes, so much—made sure to pay attention to specialists, want to do it with you. Feel close to you, and feel you on me… be inside you.” He dips down to mouth at your exposed chest, trailing up to your neck and biting on a fading mark. “Please, let me inside?”
A high-pitched whine escapes your throat as the head rubs your clit, spreading your arousal before brushing your hole. He’s gotten close to slipping inside more than a few times, but this would be intentional. And you were ready.
“Y-Yes, Steve—” You gasp as he immediately starts pushing in. The mushroom tip is unable to breach your tightness, even with your excitement dripping out.
“Should open you up first–” He starts pulling away, fisting his cock again as the thick head bobs against his abs.
“No, no,” you desperately shake your head, your heart pumping against your ribs, “please, don’t stop. I want–ah!”
Steve has a finger shoved inside your hole, curling until he feels that rough patch. A dribble of spit lands on your pussy as he glares down at you, “Specialist said to make sure you’re comfortable–”
“I am, fuck, I just want you inside me, baby. Please.” Your voice trembles slightly, eyes watering as he pumps another long digit into you. Your hips rise off the bed as he pulls them out, messily rubbing your clit.
“Say it again.”
“Please, baby, I love you–I want your cock–ah, inside me. Know you want it too, your cock is leaking–” He moves so fast, hooking your knees over his elbows and his length sliding between your folds until the head pops in. He doesn’t pause for a moment and continues penetrating your soaking sore, causing you to squeak loudly.
He groans, eyes shut as his shoulders shudder. The feeling of your pussy wrapped around him, choking his thickness and he isn’t even halfway. The last string snaps and he bites into your neck, muffling his helpless moans.
You have zero clue what’s happening as he begins pumping in and out of you, each time, getting deeper. The juices spilling from your pussy soaking the sheets, nearly dripping down his balls with every thrust.
“So wet—tight.” Steve grits his teeth, gaze bouncing between your blissed-out face and your little hole struggling to take his girth. He spits down on your connected centres, using his fingers to spread your combined wetness down the rest of his cock.
He’s so big, it burns, but you want more.
“All the way, baby, please.” You cry out, legs flailing before he grips them, pinning them to the mattress.
He continues working into you, stuttering groans filling the room and harmonizing with your whines. Your legs are thrown over his shoulders as he braces himself on either side of your head, his breath fanning across your cheeks. As he draws deeper, the base of his cock meeting your cunt, his pubic hair touches your tingling clit.
The euphoria is evident on his face, completely taken with the short amount of time. He whimpers as he pulls out almost all the way, the heavy tip rests inside your cunt before he goes forward again. “Want to last long but can’t—feels so good.”
You hiccup a, yes, digging your nails into his broad shoulders as the pressure builds within your stomach. His veins brushing against your throbbing walls, the stretch of your thighs similar to the stretch of your hole, burning.
Steve’s eyes fall to your heaving chest and down to your tummy, his pace quickening as the wet slapping sounds increase. He growls as you clench, his cock reaching the deepest part inside you, sending waves of pleasure through your bloodstream.
“Can see myself, baby.” Steve groans, alternating between thorough grinds and deep thrusts, watching the bulge appear under your skin. “So little—small, but taking me so well.”
A warm hand lands on your lower tummy, pushing down as your thighs tense, legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him closer. He gets rougher too–just as eager as the headboard bangs against the wall. Every pound of his hips sends your juices spilling, a creamy ring appearing at the fat base of his shaft.
He wipes the drool from your lips, bringing it to your nipple and pinching the nub. “Can be more gentle, but love you–love seeing me inside you. Seeing you stretched–it hurts?”
You shake your head, vision blurring. He kisses you, shoving his tongue into your mouth and swallowing each of your cries. His hands grip your shoulders as he pulls away, keeping you firmly locked on his cock, forcing you to meet each of his thrusts.
“Want me to be gentle?”
You shake your head again, eyes fluttering open. You watch his girth slam into you, a redness blooming on his skin, as your little pussy takes everything he has to offer.
“Can finally cum inside you–instead of just on.” He growls, “Want that? Be filled with me, only me. Can watch it spill out too, claim from inside.”
Your high topples over, stretching your mind paper-thin, his name written on the page.
Steve’s jaw drops as you convulse around him, squeezing him so tightly he whines. You squirt, soaking him with your mess. His cum painting your walls white, flooding you from the inside out. He grinds against you, his pelvis rubbing your pulsating clit raw. Every dirty motion shoves his seed deeper, the tip of his spurting cock kissing your cervix.
“Know about this…” He trails off, fingers delicately tracing through your wetness that soaked his thighs and the bed. “Love it, baby, so much.”
The laugh you let out is quite pathetic, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not with Steve flattening you to the mattress, covering you in his warmth–as you’re also filled with his cum.
You try to move, your thighs aching. “You have to–ah, let go of me.” You yawn, and lightly tap his back, your digits trailing down his spine.
The giant grumbles, shifting around and you think he’s finally going to release you, but no. Steve slips his arms under you and rolls over as you start fading away into unconsciousness. The last thing you hear is him getting up, mentioning getting sunshine all clean.
“Wake up… please.”
You flip over, squinting at the harsh sunlight. “Hm?”
Steve is facing you, a blanket barely covering his muscular form. He smiles, hair messy and eyes soft. “Sex again?”
You giggle sleepily as he crawls over you, nuzzling your neck and nipping your cheek. He kisses you gently, fingers tracing down your body. “I almost forgot you barely need rest.”
“You okay? Good sleep?”
He pulls away, thick lashes brushing his cheekbones, “...can experience you again? Before work, please?”
You lace your fingers in his long hair, lightly tugging. His eyes fall shut as his hips sink between your thighs, bare as you, he slowly grinds. “Take me however you please, baby.”
You peek from the corner of your eye at the giant who was still staring at you, his clear blue gaze searing into your skull, you honestly think he could read your thoughts. Although, you know if he did, he wouldn’t be staring at you in the first place.
It’s quiet for a few moments, he averts his gaze to his little notepad, pencil still in hand. “...upset?”
You sigh, “Why would I be upset over a barista?”
There’s a long pause, “Flirting?”
“She wasn’t flirting with you, she was just asking if you wanted whipped cream on your drink.”
Steve was still getting the hang of certain mannerisms, and apparently, everything that was remotely kind was classified as flirting in his eyes.
Especially when it was towards you. You can still remember the terrified face of the mail carrier who had complimented the array of plants on your windowsill in your office, Steve happened to be on a break between his classes and saw the whole thing. The poor mail carrier had dashed out the door after Steve growled and scowled like a wild animal, establishing his dominance by hovering like a shadow, glaring them down until they tucked their tail between their legs and left.
It didn’t help that an intern who had occasionally flirted with you entered right after. Somehow, he didn’t notice the giant man in your office and proceeded to slyly chat you up with his eyes on his phone, texting away. Once his phone was away, he was met with the deadly gaze of a manbeast, jaw clenched as tightly as his fists.
The blood immediately draining from his face, the young man profusely apologized and excused himself. He shut the door but that didn’t stop Steve from thundering down the hall after him. You were racing after him, bumping into other scientists until ramming into his wide back, the elevator doors had saved the young intern momentarily.
Calming Steve down had been a mission itself, one that involved missing clothes, shut curtains and your office desk breaking. You were stuttering with warm cheeks while explaining the incident to Tony after he caught you disposing of your broken desk. Although, he made sure to order you a new, very sturdy one.
As if on cue, the intern walks in, his eyes bugging out of his head as he spots Steve, sitting next to you with a thick novel in his hands. Broad shoulders stretching the white henley, hair slightly touselled.
“Can help, boy?” The blond hisses, leaning towards you protectively.
The young man’s eyes flash between you and the documents in his hand. He slowly inches backward, “Dr. Banner wanted you to look over, uh, his recent physical test.”
“Oh, okay.” You stand but then you’re yanked down to Steve’s lap, a startled gasp escaping your lips.
“Give.” The giant holds out a hand expectantly, he grunts a quiet, “Thank you, boy.”
You hide your embarrassment–and sudden arousal–with the folder, holding it in front of your face as the intern lingers by the door.
“Dr. Banner also wanted to meet with the both of you in twenty minutes.”
As you review the results of Steve’s recent physical, the differences from the last one are stark. His weight has increased, probably from the change in his diet, from whole fruits to carbs, and his desire to try at least everything once.
You start squirming on his lap, his thick thigh tenses. “O-Okay, thank you.”
Steve inhales sharply, keeping his gaze locked on the intern until the door clicks shut. Then, he’s on you, flipping you around and plopping you on the desk, no definitive crack resonating through the room like last time. You noted to send Tony a fruit basket.
Steve’s face is buried in your neck, his beard roughly scratching you as he mouths at your skin. “Getting wet again…”
Your whine is muffled by his hand, vaguely reminding you of your first meeting in the jungle. Steve must remember it too, because he smiles, then nuzzles one half of your face, then switches to the other side.
“Smell good, sunshine…Love you.” His fingers trail up your skirt, pulling at the tights, “Taste before we go?” You gasp as the fabric is torn, from the crotch and down your legs until it’s a mangled mess on the floor.
A loud squeal escapes you as he latches onto your cunt, mouthing messily along your folds and suckling your nub. He groans against your wetness, his beard rubbing you raw.
Steve pulls back, wide eyes blinking. “Want you to squirt–again, please, like when we fucked.” You cover your face with your hands, thighs snapping shut but he prys them open, rough hands massaging your thighs, “again, please, love when you do it.”
You can’t deny him and it seems everyone also knows that because when you leave, they all give you knowing looks, the intern hiding behind his computer screen with the most startled expression. A contrast to Steve who was as smug as can be, your creamy mess still evident in his beard.
You were so kind, all the way from the beginning. Your good heart could outshine any flame, glow amongst the brightest smiles, just like right now. In the sea of grinning children and parents, their gleaming faces are nothing compared to the beam on your lips.
“Your family loved you, they weren’t perfect but no one is.”
Steve doesn’t miss a beat. “You are.” His eyes are honest, blue.
You smile softly, “I have my flaws.”
“And they’re perfect to me…everything about you is perfect to me.”
You smiled so lovelily when he said that this morning, and as if history was repeating itself, you were smiling like that again. Except from halfway across the room as you lean on a bookshelf, listening to him read ‘Tarzan’ to the small circle of children.
The library walls are vibrant and the decorations are cohesive. The theme of a pond, painted trees on the walls and bookshelves, mushroom or flower painted table tops with little chairs at each.
The young children are completely immersed with the man in the comfy armchair. Steve flips the page, showing the colourful illustrations before reading the words, with just as much enthusiasm as he started the session with. Exaggerated facial expressions and giving each cartoon character their own voice. It’s crazy to think that just a few weeks ago he was repeating everything you said, learning different tones and pronunciation.
His eyes meet yours once again. Twinkling as they take in your gentle face.
You’ve been like this since he met you, and now that he knew you, he wanted you for the rest of his days.
After confessing your love for each other, Steve got more confident. Sexually, through his own initiations but also within himself through self-assurance. Mistakes have been made, they were unavoidable, but Steve always kept trying and that combined with your never-ending encouragement, has led to now. From struggling to read the letters from his parents, to reading with an animated voice to young children.
“Want to read, but will ask if don’t know. Want to try.” He exhales, determinedly glaring at the papers in his hands. “Will help, right?” After you nod, he begins the first one, dated a few weeks after his birth.
He quietly reads next to you and pauses to ask for help. Blinking down at you as his nose turned red, lips quivering.
‘We never want you to think that we don’t love you’ they say multiple times in the letters, they call him their angel, sweet boy, their baby. You watch Steve tear up as faded memories rush back, consisting of faces he couldn’t remember.
‘You love the animals and playing in the water,’ is printed in faint cursive, ‘I always told your father there was nothing bluer than your eyes–not even the crystal waterfall.’
There were many letters, and as the final sheet is pinched between his fingers, he pulls you onto his lap. Burying his face into the crook of your neck and kissing the skin.
“Am so sad–but don’t remember them. Barely remember faces…” He rubs his nose under your ear, “Wish they were there, have so much to tell them.”
‘The world is beautiful, my angel. As are animals and nature, all things are–and always will be–naturally beautiful. Although the effortless vision, be wary of those who choose to make the world a dangerous place.’
“Think I understand that…” Steve sniffles. “Not only good in the world–but doesn’t mean world bad–people can be good or bad. Just have to find the good, tender.” And be good and tender. “I found my good.” He says against your shoulder.
Steve succeeds and reads them all, with you hovering closely for help. It’s quite often, but you’re immensely proud of him. With a comforting hand on his back, rubbing slow circles as you listen to his deep drawl.
The sheet flutters to the coffee table, lying in the bed of tissues. And Steve breathes shakily, wrapping a blanket around the both of you before sinking into the couch. He’s snug between your thighs, the side of his face pressed against your bare tummy. He kisses the softness, possessively gripping your hip with his hand. “Want you for life. To the end–and whatever comes next.”
You clap with the rest of the crowd as Steve ends the book, setting it into his lap with a grin. Avidly asking the children what part was their favourite, beginning the energetic conversation that they all look forward to.
“How is he adjusting?”
You nearly jump out of your skin, wide eyes meeting James’ as he leans on the bookshelf across from you.
He cocks a brow, “are you all right?”
“I’d be perfectly fine if you didn��t sneak up on me like that.” You huff.
“I’m here for my nephew and I’ve been standing here the entire time, but you were too lost in him again.” James notes, “seems like he has that effect on people wherever he goes, hm?”
You sigh, about to speak but cut off by loud giggles. The children have all scooted closer to Steve as he flips through the picture book, excitedly pointing at the illustrations. Various colourful drawings of the jungle and wild animals, Tarzan’s adventures that almost mirror Steve’s life.
“Does he miss it? I can’t imagine the culture shock.” James asks quietly, following your gaze, “All of the unfamiliarity–the sudden wave of new. He seems fine but… you know, never mind.” The dark-haired man lifts his arm, revealing a tiny purple coat, “I’m glad he has you. He’s very lucky.”
“I’m the lucky one.” You glance at him.
James smiles as a young boy stumbles closer, he steps forward to scoop him off the ground and turns to you again. “Always the sweetheart, aren’t you? That’s what I adore most about you. Perhaps the both of you are lucky, then.”
All of the children reluctantly leave with their parents, enthusiastic farewells and waves to Steve, who happily returns each and every one of them.
The giant frowns, eyes following James as he waltzes away. He grumbles, “Flirting?”
You blink and shrug, “I actually don’t know.”
He makes a disgruntled noise, murmuring to himself, you only catch a few words, steal, fight, and mine. “Ugh, what he thinks he’s doing…”
“It doesn’t matter what he was doing because I don’t care. He is not one of my concerns and I’ll never go—”
“—steal, he can steal you—”
“—no, he won’t. Never.” You pinch his cheek, “do you know why?”
Steve blushes, “because love me?”
You grin, going on your tippy-toes and pulling him down for a quick peck, “that’s right, baby.” You release his face to grab his hand, about to head towards the exit doors, but he pulls you back. A startled squeal escapes you as you crash into his firm chest, his arms wrapping around you instantly.
“Why not say it—want you to say it, please?”
You turn in his hold, cupping his jaw and bringing him down to your height, “I love you, Steve. I love you so much.”
The blond chirps happily and affectionately nuzzle your face. He kisses your nose. “I love you—more than reading.”
Once you’re in the comfort of your home, you change into cozy clothes while Steve strips down to his underwear. He sits on the couch and pulls you to his lap, mouthing along your neck softly, as not to intentionally lead to anything—although he wouldn’t be opposed to it—but just a simple action to feel closer to you.
The television plays in the background to your thoughts as James’ words sink in. Of course, you’ve considered that before, but hearing it spoke those static concerns into fruition.
Poor Steve, the sinking feeling goes straight to your heart, tugging the strings in all sorts of directions and spelling out your guilt.
“FRIDAY, where’s Steve?”
“In his studio, Dr. L/N.”
As you step into the room, your jaw drops. There’s paint everywhere. Dark blue and black on the glass ceiling, there’s some deep green too, and it drips down. It’s also all over the walls, and floor, and most importantly, covering the blond man standing in the middle of it.
The giant jumps, paintbrush clattering to the ground as green spills onto his feet. A half-painted tree on the sunroof, next to bright white spots.
“What are you doing? Tony said no paint on the glass.”
There are streaks of paint on his face too. “...but sky…”
You gape at the once clear ceiling that projects anything–that did project anything.
Steve looks like a kicked puppy, with furrows brows and a pout. “City sky… can’t see stars–hate that can’t see stars. Miss home lately.” He confesses in a small voice, looking down at his black and blue hands. “Always slept under the stars… talked to the stars… when I don’t see it, I feel sad.”
You don’t realize you’re crying until Steve wipes your tears. His face twisting in confusion and worry, “what’s wrong?”
Every time you blink, you can see his home and his friends, Wendy, Peter and Tinkerbell. When your eyes are closed, you’re transported to that blissful heaven in the jungle with Steve, the man who smacked oranges out of your hand and carried you everywhere, the giant who risked his life for you.
Then you open your eyes and are flung back to reality. In the city that never sleeps, a playground bustling with energy and technology. Steve is still there and he hasn’t changed, except for the altered mannerisms for the modern world and widely expanded vocabulary and knowledge. But there’s a sadness in his eyes, you can’t tell if it’s a reflection of your own regret.
“What’s wrong?” He repeats with a deep frown.
You hiccup as he rubs under your eye, brushing away the tears. “I’m sorry, Steve.”
“I—We took you away.”
Steve tilts his head, bare chest rising and falling with each breath. The seconds bleed into minutes and soon enough, you’re lying on your back with Steve hovering over you. His hair tickles your face as he kisses away your tears, the delicate presses of his pink lips sweeping away the blue.
“Can be sorry… but don’t need to be.” He murmurs against your cheek. From his perspective, meeting you and leaving the jungle was both a blessing and a burden.
Hopping on a plane and flying across the globe was overwhelming enough. As was discovering the truth of himself and his family, what lay in his very existence. The jungle was his first home, the place where he’s spent most of his life, discovering himself within the sky-high trees and sparkling clear waters, it’s also where he’s nearly died a few times. But the city was his second and current home, especially with you in the picture.
Simply put, he loves the jungle, he loves the city and he loves you.
The city came with so many great things and introductions to opportunities and new experiences he’s been graced with. He’s made many new friends, like Sam, Bucky, and Tony, people with who he can communicate, people who are just like him. And the food was an enormous advantage too, no more fruits and bugs, rather meals stemmed from different cultures all around the world.
And the world—the world was huge, and there was so much to explore, so much he would have missed out on if he stayed in the jungle.
The blond sprinkles kisses from your forehead to your chin, “World… world is wonderful place, want to see every part of it.” He murmurs, brushing a hand on your neck, “Wouldn’t get to do that if never met you–or never left.”
Steve is just as beautiful as he was when you first met him. His chest heaving slightly, a faint sheen of sweat covering his skin. His hair is wet too, just like yours since you did a spontaneous jump off the waterfall a few minutes ago.
He seems more relaxed to be back in his element, the jungle. You squeak as he pulls you on top of him, your naked skin sticking to each other.
“Stars–missed them so much.” He has a blissful expression on his face from the sparkling in the sky. One of his hands falls to your ass, cupping the flesh firmly. “Can smell you getting wet.”
“Technically, I am wet. It’s from the water.” You gesture to the rushing falls behind you, still as clear as your first visit to the island, but a little scary considering how dark it was outside.
“So happy Peter and Wendy liked gifts–Wendy looks cute in clothes…”
You hum, silently thanking Tony’s marvellous mind for bringing you all back here again. He proposed a little project last month after the paint incident. Stark Industries to operate a reserve for the island, protecting it under the law with big and nasty–his words–lawyers to ensure no one harms the wildlife or resources.
“My lawyers won’t fail to jail anyone who messes with the manbeasts island, and that’s a promise. We’re securing the island from anyone who doesn’t have explicit permission, creating a safety bubble of sorts, who knows, maybe you’ll live there once day, doc.”
You’ll never forget the way Steve’s eyes lit up at the mention of going back to the jungle.
“Always saw the stars when I slept here. Love seeing them again!” He exclaims, flipping you over to pin you against the blanket. Back at camp, your little shared cot is stripped bare–just like the two of you. Steve wiggles between your thighs with a smirk. “Want to know a secret?”
You hum, half amused. “I think I already know what you’re going to say.”
The moonlight caresses his features, “Didn’t know much about sex when we were here the first time, but want to have you now. Here, under the stars… my homeland.”
“You’re going to take me right here in the wild like an animal?”
“Mhm… know you’ll like it, sunshine.” Steve grins madly, “Also know you wanted me when we met–smelt you then.”
You go to shove his shoulder, but he grabs your hand and kisses your knuckles, nibbling on each of your fingers before pressing his lips to your palm. “So little compared to me…” He mumbles, trailing down your arm to your elbow, each movement sinks him closer.
Your eyes fall shut as he kisses across your chest, to your neck, murmuring about your smell and taste.
“Moon loves you.”
“Moon must love you.”
You shiver as his hands massage your thighs. “How do you know that?”
“Love makes people glow… and you’re glowing now.” He preens as your fingers knot in his hair, eventually cupping his bearded face. “Or, maybe that’s because you’re sunshine… but also don’t think I’m making sense right now…”
The laugh you let out is pure glee as you yank him down, your lips colliding in a slow kiss. His hard, big body presses against yours, his facial hair tickling your face, causing you to giggle again.
“Mhm–stop it, trying to kiss you, not your teeth.” Steve grunts, laughing too. He pulls away with a grumble, “trying to be romantic, why you’re so giggly?”
“I’m happy.” And, so, deeply, mindlessly, in love.
“I’m happy too.” The giant softens, “haven’t been this happy in jungle before… feels good to be back with you.”
It does feel good, it feels great, phenomenal.
Your journey, although it was completely out of your control, started on this very island, a few miles North. You suppose it only makes sense for a chapter to conclude back at the beginning.
Looking at Steve, his skin covered in a light sheen of sweat, thick lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks, you can see the faint red of his skin under the moonlight.
Looking at you, Steve remembers you saying there was no magic in your world–but you’re wrong. Because how else would he end up where he is, with you under him, a giggly and beautiful mess. How could everything fall into perfect place without magic?
Yeah, you both decide.
You both definitely want the other as a staple in your next adventure, making it a shared one. And hopefully the one after that, and after that. All the way to the end.
𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: I never thought i’d actually end a story with ‘the end.’ As stated at the beginning, this part will be revisited tomorrow and over the weekend (for editing and adding parts, probably making the smut longer and putting more dialogue, so the word count will increase too).
𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞! My new series has been posted, it’s a role reversal of this lovely work with feral!reader — 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐄𝐲𝐞
☼ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ☼
Thank you everyone who has supported me since I started this series, you've all made me so happy, and I'll never be able to thank you enough. I hope you all enjoyed. I'm always open for feedback/your thoughts !
I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲
ATEEZ being obsessed with your boobs
a/n: this was requested and would be relatively shorter than the mingi one that i did. other members are under the cut, and pls mdni
Okay, so our hot ass captain would be very busy to even notice his lingering affection over your boobs.
Like there are those times when he's unconsciously looking at it.
You're wearing a t-shirt? He'll look at it.
Hoodies? Will still look at it.
It's just so subtle and well hidden that it'll be difficult to realize it himself.
Until one day, when you visited him, wearing a dress with a low v neck line.
You just wanted to give him some food that you cooked, eat lunch with him in his studio as an impromptu date.
Then it happens, you bent down a bit and flashes him your cleavage and bra.
Hongjoong's mind went 'Shit. I want to lick that and rip her bra off .'
So he went and did it. Food forgotten because fucking hell, he'd rather eat you more than anything.
His hot mouth sucking and licking your skin, tongue circling around your nub.
And oh, let's mention how attentive he is. If your right boob is being messed around with using his mouth, then the other one is being played with his hands.
Yes, the size of his hands are puny but he's skillful with it. He fondles your breasts with so much expertise, his fingers tweaking your nipples just right.
His favorite thing though is burying his face on your chest while he fucks you. He just couldn't get enough of its softness.
IT'S SO FLUFFY HE'S GONNA DIE!!
He's the definition of respectful on the outside, freaky on the inside.
He will never do anything risky out in the public, but behind closed doors, expect some adventure and journey.
He loves your body so much that he'll make a song out of it so get ready to get your mind blown when he calls you in his studio.
"I want you to hear this song, it's inspired by you."
Then the lyrics goes, 'You make me so crazy yeah, squish 'em more, give me more, I'll take all of it.'
You already know what comes next, it's time for some great great sex and boob loving.
Ah, our gentle and respectful oppa who knows not to do anything that might make you uncomfortable.
Unlike Hongjoong, he already is aware of is infatuation over your boobs.
He already noticed the way his eyes naturally trail down on your chest area, or how his hands are always itching to touch it.
HE. JUST. KNOWS.
But because of his motherly and caring nature, he chose not to act on his desires. Wanting to give you space and not push the responsibility of satiating his libido.
Oh, but not good for him because you have also already discerned his not so lowkey fixation over your bosoms.
The unholy amount you caught him licking his lips while looking at your cans is a dead giveaway. So, you did what you can.
Tease the heck out of him.
Some minute actions from you that he might or might not catch on, but will still definitely affect him.
Such as wearing tight clothes that'll squish your boobs together, or wearing loose clothes that will show your cleavage if you bent down just enough for him to see.
You also do this thing where you hug him, but you make sure to plaster your jugs against him, because you want him to feel.
Give him a taste of what he's missing out on if he doesn't do anything about his fantasies.
The thing that snapped him was when you wore a bikini and showcased it in front of him.
His eyes visibly darkened as he approached you dangerously. He ran his hand over your hair, down to your neck until it stopped in the middle of your chest.
And he groped your boob, massaging it roughly while his other hand slowly removed the straps of your bikini.
His hot mouth wandering over your shoulders, and his mouth, his TONGUE. We all know how good he is with that, and he'll make sure that at the end of it all, your bosoms would be covered with his spit.
"You are now entering a danger zone, baby girl. I hope you're ready."
He can be an idiot sometimes, but he's so sure that you're seducing him on purpose. And now, he won't hold back from doing all the things he had always wanted to do with you.
Another tall man that can gaze right into your shirt if he wants to. And he sure does it like it's free real estate.
Before I forget, this man LOVES it if you wear clothes on dates that will turn him on. It doesn't have to be too revealing, but he does appreciate a bit of skin.
Okay, back on track, he turns it into a game.
Like he will guess what color your bra is for today and he will take a sneak peek from above if he's right or wrong.
Now, the situation will depend if he guessed it correctly or not.
In your sexual relationship with this puppy, it's either he's fucking you into oblivion or making sweet love with you. And what decides it is the game that I have mentioned before.
Okay so, if he guessed it right the option of fucking you til you drop will win.
In which he'll let you top him, but no, you're not in control.
Bounce all you want, meet his hips, he'll enjoy the show but if he gets bored. He will thrust up like an animal.
If he got it wrong though, you'll be writhing under him as he pleases you to no end.
Either way, he'll still get what he wants.
If you're on top of him, he can watch your boobs go up and down. He can touch and fondle it as well. And if he wanted your nubs in his mouth, he'll just order you to lean down.
The softness of your bosom and your nipples dangling over his face is the main reason why he cums faster when he's under you.
On the other hand, if he's making love to you, he'll gladly do all the work.
Kissing your neck down to your breast, gently caressing your breasts before his tongue twiddles and all over your skin.
Overall, him obsessing over your boobs is something that will bring you into heaven no matter what happens.
Shy boi but ain't really lmao.
This man enjoys watching your boobs jiggle regardless of what you're doing or what you're wearing.
If he's going to be honest though, his favorite look on you is whenever you wear his tank tops. It shows the right amount of skin and cleavage and fuck, he just wants to eat you up right then and there.
So he did just that, shy boy no more.
His warm breath surrounds your chest as his mouth hovers above them, effectively stimulating your nerves.
He didn't even give you a warning when he suddenly started licking around your areola, tracing little circles, flicking your nipples with the tip of his tongue, then flatting it down to cover more area.
He draws your nipple into his mouth, sucking it like a lollipop, he adds more sensation into it through nibbling.
And now he thinks that he'll do it again because of how good your boobs feel in his mouth and hand, and just everywhere.
He also does this thing where he video calls you after dates. If he has to be real, he will openly admit that he wanted to see your breasts. He just can't do shit because the two of you are out on public.
Thus, he calls you while you're in the bath, wanting to jack off at the sight of you.
He'll ask for you to strip in front of the camera, and it's weird how he enjoys watching your bust get free from bra.
He'll also ask you to just take a bath, loving the way the soap lathers on your skin, or how the water runs over your body.
"Why do you have to be so hot and sexy, damn, I can't control myself."
He'll say that loudly and it will resonate through your phone's speakers.
He's a sweet guy tho, he'll get mad when you wear clothes that are too tight. He doesn't look like it, but he's possessive as fuck.
"I don't want others to look at them, they are my precious!"
This man CAN and WILL make you cum even if he's just playing around with your tits.
He can go for hours just to prove a point, and that is his power over your body and of course, how much he loves you as well.
This guy right here made a mistake of making you wear a sports bra when he invited you to go to the gym.
He was distracted the whole day, watching your cleavage show whenever you bent down. Your boobs jiggling every time you jump.
Those moments have him wondering, 'Maybe I really am a boob guy.'
And so the journey began. That night was crazy, he really did EVERYTHING just to satisfy his neverending desire over your bosom.
He showcased his techniques and even used his hidden toys on you.
San uses this lavender scented oil on you, like a massage. He will spread it all over your chest then boom, his whole hand clamps down on your jugs.
He's harsh, a devilish smirk on his lips as he watches your boobs get squished on his hands.
Your nipples are in between the spaces of his fingers and he'll do this miniature of an action to pinch them in that position.
And he LOVES TO BITE.
When you wake up in the morning, there would be bruises and bite marks everywhere. Your nipples would also feel a bit sore due to the amount of delicious abusing it got.
If him lightly nibbling to full on eating your mammary glands is not pleasurable, then something about you is wrong.
Outside, in public, he will look like a loving and protective boyfriend. Backhugging you or putting an arm around your shoulders.
But really, whenever he backhugs you, he just wants to feel your boobs on his arm. Or the arm around you is just an excuse for his hands to slightly touch your clothed cans from time to time.
Huge tease. He lives for your whining and whimpering for more.
You expected this though, you did wear those skimpy outfits that will surely accentuate your curves and boobs.
You already know that you're in for a long night whenever his eyes wander down to that favorite part of his.
Yes, Wooyoung is very vocal about it. He tells you everyday to take care of his 'darlings.' In which he's pertaining to your boobies.
He's not even shy to tell you things like, "Remove that shirt and bra in front of me. Come on babe, gimme a show to enjoy."
His obsession shows whenever you're cuddling, literally watching a movie and having an indoor date night.
Everything is innocent and nice until his naughty hands suddenly place themselves on your chest.
"Wooyoung!" you'll protest for a bit, and that will soon die down when his hand slips inside your shirt. Gliding it up as his fingers skim on your stomach.
Man is great at using his hands and fingers lol.
He moves them around your breast, enough to send shivers down your spine but not exactly touching the most sensitive parts. His fingers would inch closer in your areola, and when your nipples are fully erect, his fingers would lightly play with it.
He rubs them slowly, increasing in pressure and speed every minute.
And he stops just when you're getting to the exciting part. You'll get mad and he'll shrug you off.
"I thought you wanted me to stop?"
He wants you to beg, be a good girl and tell him what you want, and he'll gladly give it to you.
We should really appreciate how large this man's hands are. Like damn, I would slap anyone silly if they say that he won't be good at nipple play because HE IS.
His fixation on your boobs is something that you had noticed when you had sex with him for the first time. He literally spent a lot of minutes on your tits.
And he just had to touch them EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.
He's fucking you missionary? Dog style? Cowboy? Oh whatever position you have, his hands are always on top of 'em goodies.
Okay so moving on, foreplays are mostly focused on your chest area.
Starting with his fingers that are tracing small circles over your skin, getting closer and closer to your erect nub. And when he gets to it, no lmao, he won't touch it yet but will give you a soft squeeze.
The one thing that will make your back arch and ask him to give you more is in between his squeezing and massaging, his fingers would trace your areola, building your anticipation up.
When he thinks that you had enough teasing, he goes and gives your nipples some feathery touches. Until he decides to pinch it abruptly, creating a jolting sensation.
He doesn't stick to that, he'll tweak and twist them just right. He plays around with the pressure to rile you up more. One moment it's gentle, then next it's rough. He ranges it from fast to slow like a turtle.
His hands and fingers are enough to send you over the edge, it is possible with how he treats your boobs like a queen. He matches it with praises too.
"You're doing great princess. Yes, that's right. Moan more for me."
@hyuckilstan @minkiflwr @ateezbabysitters @gwenchwana @bikiniholic @cookiesandcreams @rielleluvs
The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood Part 3
Series Summary: Lori "Babycakes" Tate swore she would never date a biker but when her life is in danger, she is put under the protection of a small club known as The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood. She suddenly finds herself attracted to not one, but five bikers.
A reverse harem, biker AU.
Part Three Summary: Lori meets the Brothers.
Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC, Walter Marshall x OFC, Mike x OFC, Geralt x OFC, August Walker x OFC
Word Count: Approx. 4 k
Reverse harem, age gap (OFC 23, ages range from 23 to mid 40s), oral sex (male and female receiving), unprotected p in v sex, anal sex, group sex, masturbation, praise kink, mentions of body fluids, drug use, recreational drinking, sex work, criminal activities, mention of death, violence, use of weapons, mentions of war, mentions of abuse, angst, fluff, probably a lot more that I will add as they come up.
Part Three Warnings:
Masturbation, caught in the act, flirting, smutty thoughts, embarrassment, angst, fluff.
Authors Note: Thanks to @henryobsessed for beta reading.
I hope you enjoy it!
Divider made by me. Edited by me, there will be errors.
Part Two Part Four
We had only been on the highway for a few minutes when I heard the other bikes. They drew up in formation and briefly took up all four lanes. Each rider was wearing their colours and full-face helmets so I couldn’t get a read on any of them, other than they all looked to be close to Sy’s size and build. Well, except one, who seemed a little slimmer, but was at least as tall as the others.
One of the riders signalled something to Syverson who inclined his head in response. Then two of the bikes pulled ahead while two others fell behind and they stayed that way for the rest of the journey.
The problem with being a pillion on a motorcycle, especially on a long stretch of highway, was that you didn’t have much to do except think.
It wasn’t something I normally had a problem with, I was fairly comfortable with my own company for the most part, but I had a lot on my mind and not a lot of it was pleasant.
There was one incessant thought, one that wouldn’t leave me alone despite how often I tried to ignore it. It was inescapable considering my arms were currently wrapped around the subject of those thoughts.
Syverson. He was a complication in my life that I didn't need right now.
The first problem was that he was attracted to me.
I shouldn’t be surprised really. Not because I thought of myself as remarkably good looking, but because he’s a biker and I’d heard the phrase “any hole is a goal” uttered too many times by guys like him to take his attraction as anything more than a passing interest.
When I realised he was checking me out, my first thought was that I should take advantage of it because if I got him on my side it might make dealing with him and the rest of the Brothers easier. So I played up the innocent girl act by biting my lip and looking wide-eyed. But if I'm honest with myself, it had only been partly an act.
The truth was I found Sy to be ridiculously hot.
And sweet Jesus, when he swept his thumb over my lips I almost moaned.
Which was my second problem. I was attracted to him too.
Sy might appear a little different to most of the bikers I knew, but in the end, he was in the life and that meant he was not a viable option as a romantic partner. I’d seen too much heartache and too many failed relationships to go down that road.
I loved my mother, but I didn’t want her life. A life walking around a clubhouse wearing a patch that read “Property of ….” so other assholes don’t try to touch you, always being worried about his fidelity and the social stigma that comes from being associated. Not to mention the constant stress of knowing your partner could end up in jail or dead.
Still, there was no harm in flirting with him, right? Who knows how long I was going to be stuck with them, so what was the harm in having a bit of fun? I’m sure he’d be up for it. I've yet to meet a biker who wasn't keen for a bit of no strings attached sex.
No, not a good idea. Not with Sy anyway. I liked him too much already. He had made me laugh for God’s sake. After all the shit I’d been through, it only took one perfectly imperfect wink for me to melt. If he'd tried to pick me up in a bar and he wasn't in the life, there's no doubt in my mind I’d go home with him.
No. Hooking up with Sy would be too risky. The last thing I wanted was to catch feelings.
I concentrated on ignoring how hard his body was, how good he smelled, how blue his eyes were, and how cute his dimples were when he smiled.
Fuck. Maybe it was already too late.
After a couple of hours of fixating on Sy and arguing with myself, I finally found something that took my mind off it.
I was freezing.
The icy wind of the Arizona desert cut right through my jeans. My knees were starting to ache and my leg muscles cramped.
I huddled closer to Sy, leaning my head against his shoulder to use his huge form as a windbreak. It worked, mostly, but my hands were unprotected, my gloves were no longer enough to keep my fingers from growing numb. I started making fists, trying to keep the blood pumping, hoping it would warm me up.
I felt Sy take my hands, one at a time, and slip each into his unzipped pockets in the front of his jacket. Instantly they felt warmer, and once again I was surprised by his kind gesture.
I tightened my arms around him, hoping he’d realise I was trying to thank him. He seemed to understand and gave my knee a gentle pat. He left it there for a few moments, and I could feel the warmth of him heating my cold knee through his glove.
Ever so slowly, he moved his hand down my calf and rubbed it gently, as if he were massaging heat back into my cramping muscles, before he worked his way up again. I held my breath as he patted my thigh and I squeezed him tight again, this time tightening my thighs as well.
I suddenly didn’t feel quite as cold.
I was not going to fall for him, I was not going to let his tender gestures fool me. I was not going to be seduced by a few moments of sweetness and a nice smile and a strong body and amused eyes so clear and blue they were like the sky on a cloudless day.
No way. Not worth it.
As soon as the cold ebbed away, a sudden wave of weariness hit me and I felt tired. Dead tired.
The rumbling sound of the v-twin between my legs, its gentle vibration at this speed, and the smoothness of the road became a soothing lullaby, and I found myself dozing, suspended in the twilight between being awake and asleep. It made the final hours fly by and it wasn’t until we turned off the highway that I was able to stay awake.
By the time Sy and the other riders pulled into a motel it was very late, well after midnight, and I felt a little sorry for the other guests. Not many people can sleep through the sound of one set of aftermarket pipes, let alone five.
When Sy killed the engine, I groaned as a muscle in the bottom of my foot tightened. It was gonna take a minute for me to get off the damn bike and I was a little embarrassed as the others were already lifting their long legs over their rides and Sy was waiting patiently for me to dismount. The guy who had signalled Sy on the highway headed towards hotel reception immediately, not even taking the time to remove his helmet.
I took a deep breath and willed myself to clamber ungracefully off the bike. My legs protested, but I was able to clear the bike before they gave out and I stumbled into a firm body that caught me by the shoulders before I ate pavement.
“Ooft! Easy sweetheart.”
I looked up at a man with a beard similar to Sy’s, but his hair fell around his face in thick curls, almost like a cherub from an old painting. His blue eyes were serious and a little stern, even as a smile split his face and his voice was unexpectedly warm. My breath caught in my throat, he was gorgeous.
“Has Syverson already worn you out?” he asked in a gentle voice with a soft and polite English accent.
His hands held my upper arms, straightening me until I was standing again. My legs still felt like jelly, and not just because of exhaustion. I was right when I thought the other riders were as big as Sy, this guy was at least as burly. But unlike Syverson this guy had the appearance of a cranky grizzly, having little of Sy’s playfulness despite his smile.
“Ease up, Marshall,” Sy said. I looked at him gratefully and one side of his mouth turned up in a smile in return.
“She’s fine,” Marshall said, and I turned back to him.
He was staring at me, his head tilted to the side showing off a large black and grey rose tattoo on his neck and a small gage in his ear. He looked like he was studying me, and from the wolfish grin on his face, he seemed to like what he saw. My heart started to race, thundering so loud I thought there was no way he couldn’t hear it.
“Aren’t you, sweetheart?”
I nodded slowly and Marshall tentatively let me go, keeping his hands close as if he thought I would fall again. Once he was satisfied I could stand on my own accord, he loosened the straps of my helmet and gently took it off before smoothing my tousled hair. He tucked the helmet under his arm while he helped me take my gloves off and shoved them into the helmet.
Two more bikers flanked Marshall. Both were unbelievably appealing too. One of them drew my attention immediately because of his unusual and striking appearance. He had silvery-white hair pulled back into a braid which isn’t unusual in itself but his face wasn’t that of an old man; he looked to be in his late 30s. The other was younger, probably my age, no way was he over 25. He appeared to have a youthful enthusiasm that I hadn’t seen in the others.
I stared at all four of them with my mouth no doubt agape. These weren’t bikers, these were models, each one more attractive than the last.
“I’m Mike,” the younger one introduced himself, grinning broadly.
He was cute and cheerful, his blue eyes seemed to sparkle as if he knew something you didn’t. He had a barbell piercing through his eyebrow and a small stud in one of his ears. There was a glimpse of a tattoo that poked above his jacket and up his neck, but I couldn’t make out what it was.
I instantly liked him and returned his affable smile. In a way, he reminded me of my brother before the drugs and the club sucked the life out of his eyes. I stuck my hand out to give him a shake, but before I could introduce myself, he threw his arms wide and wrapped them around my waist. He squeezed with a groan and lifted my feet off the ground. I yelped but started to giggle; I was not expecting this level of flirtation within seconds of meeting him. I liked it though, his flirtations came across as playful and fun rather than sleazy.
“Mike,” Sy barked.
“Fuck, alright.” Mike put me down but not before he whispered in my ear, “He never lets me have any fun.”
Mike planted a quick kiss on my cheek and let me go. Marshall must have seen because he smacked the back of Mike’s head.
“Fucking creep,” Marshall reprimanded.
I was worried that it would go further than that, but Mike just chuckled and rubbed the back of his head like it was something he was used to.
Sy stood beside me and laid a heavy arm lightly around my shoulders, directing my attention to the other biker.
“This old man is Geralt,” he said, smirking.
Geralt gave Sy a weary look from beneath lowered brows before he offered me his hand with a half-smile. I took it and I gasped as I looked at his eyes, I had never seen such bright amber eyes in real life before. They were beautiful and appeared to shine even in the darkness of the car park. I opened my mouth to tell him my name when I heard another voice behind me.
“Syverson.” A set of keys were thrown at Sy, which Sy caught easily in one hand. “Take the client to her room, you take the first watch.”
I turned to the guy, he wasn’t looking at me, his eyes were on Marshall, throwing him another set of keys.
“Marshall, you’re with Mike, second, third shift. Geralt, you’re with me, fourth, I’m fifth. Any questions?”
I felt Sy stiffen, seeming to bristle at the orders. This last Brother was obviously in charge and when he finally looked in my direction, I could see why.
He took my breath away. He was just as attractive as the others but he had a next level aura of danger that the others couldn’t compete with. He shouldn’t be so good looking; by all rights his Tom Selleck moustache should look ridiculous, but it somehow didn’t.
“Walker,” he said simply.
“Lori,” I managed to mumble. There was something about Walker that simultaneously made me feel hot and cold. He wasn’t tattooed or pierced the way the others were, but he was far more intimidating than the rest of the Brothers.
He smirked and raised his eyebrows as he looked me up and down.
“She’s pretty,” he said, while still appraising me, and obviously not addressing me, “but I don’t get what all the fuss is about.”
Heat rose to my cheeks as anger and embarrassment swirled within me. I was tired, sore, and been through hell in the two weeks since my parents had been killed; the last thing I wanted to do was get into an argument in a car park. But I knew if I was going to get any respect from this guy I couldn’t let his rudeness slide. I knew guys like Walker and I couldn’t let him get away with shit like that or he’ll think he can walk all over me.
I was also too exhausted to fight, too tense, so I snatched the keys and my bag out of Sy’s hands and made my way to the room.
“Jesus, Walker,” Sy said behind me. “Do ya always have to be such an asshole?”
If Walker replied, I didn’t hear it.
I opened my room and slammed the door closed, locking it behind me. I went straight for the bathroom, dropping my pack carelessly on the bed and stripping off my clothes as I went.
The room was basic but clean and well maintained, however the bathroom left a lot to be desired. I took one look at the showerhead and knew it wouldn’t be the best shower of my life.
When I turned the water on, the pressure was so hard I had to cover my nipples before I could stand to be under the spray. But the water was blessedly hot and was exactly what I needed to soothe away the aches and pains of the ride.
I leaned my forehead against the tiles and took advantage of the harsh spray, letting the water massage my back. It felt good, real good, and as my thoughts started to drift, a familiar need began deep in my core as my body cried out for my nearly nightly ritual before I slept.
My hand moved slowly over my breasts, nipples hardening under my fingers, I turned around, the water pressure no longer hurt, the stinging pain only served to heighten my arousal. I pressed my back against the cool tiles as my hand drifted lower, the competing temperatures made my skin feel electrified, sensitive to every touch. My fingers danced slowly over my belly, getting lower, and lower until they slid over the small patch of hair on my mound. I shivered as the pads of my fingers ghosted over my clit, seeking the warmth and slick of my throbbing heat.
A moan escaped my throat as I slid two fingers inside me, curling them deeply, feeling for that smooth spongy spot. It was hard to reach at this angle, so I widened my legs, curled my spine and groaned as I found it.
I closed my eyes, letting my thoughts wander, thinking for a moment of Jake, my sometimes fuck buddy, but quickly my thoughts shifted, and it was no longer his face I saw in my mind.
Images of Sy came quickly, the way he felt as I held him while we rode. How he had caressed my leg sent shivers up my spine as I imagined him touching me like that again, skin against skin.
But that wasn’t all, I thought of all of them, Marshall, Mike, Geralt, wondered how each of them would feel. Would their hands be rough on my skin? Would their lips be soft on mine? Would they grunt and groan? Would they whisper words of praise in my ear? Were they dominant, or primal, or tender, or giving, or maybe all of it at once? I know I shouldn’t let these men invade my fantasies, but God, I couldn’t stop.
Then I thought of Walker with that smirk, that teasing grin that made me want to both slap him and drop to my knees.
“Fuck,” I mumbled as my thighs started to tremble.
“Fuck!” cried a louder, deeper voice.
I froze. I became a deer in headlights as I looked towards the door and saw a figure distorted by the thin layer of condensation that clung to the glass of the shower.
Snapping into action, I swiped an arm across the glass catching a fleeting glimpse of a wide-eyed Sy as he slammed the bathroom door shut.
I turned the water off and grabbed a towel, my breath coming in heaves, my guts churning as my face burned with embarrassment.
Okay. Think about this clearly. He couldn’t have actually seen anything, the glass was too fogged up.
He had heard though, there was no doubt about that.
I had been thinking about him, and the others too. I had left the bathroom door open and everything, he’s going to think that I did that on purpose. But I didn’t, I had locked the door to the room and…
Fury overtook my shame and I stormed out of the bathroom.
“You pervert! I locked the door.”
Sy was standing by the window, peeking through the curtains. His jacket was off, slung over the back of a chair and a silver handled gun was strapped to his thigh. He turned slowly, taking in my appearance and sucked on his bottom lip as he took a few steps towards me.
“It’s a hotel, Babycakes. They have spare keys.”
“My name is Lori and I would have thought a locked door meant I wanted privacy.”
Shrugging, he grinned. “You ain’t gonna get much privacy until we get to the Clubhouse.”
“What? You’re staying in here?” My voice was a little shrill but Sy nodded and I shook my head. “No. I thought you’d wait outside the door. I don’t want to be sleeping here with… men I don’t know.”
I almost said Walker but stopped myself. Oddly he was the only one I didn’t feel like I could trust.
“You scared of us, baby?” Sy asked in a low voice.
The back of his fingers skimmed over my still damp shoulder and down my arm. For a moment I couldn’t breathe, his touch was eerily similar to what I had just been fantasising about, gentle yet deliberate, hot and thrilling.
“Why?” My voice was huskier than I hoped it would be. “Does that turn you on? Is that the kind of sick shit your club is into?”
“Not at all,” Sy replied steadily, smirking, “I like my women willin’.” He cupped a hand under my jaw, lifting my chin higher. “Did ya finish the job in there?”
My eyes widened in shock, I didn’t think he would be so bold as to come right out and say what he saw. He chuckled as his hand slid down my neck, resting on the bare skin of my chest.
“I could give ya a hand if ya want,” Sy said, his voice seemed lower if that was possible, deeper, rougher, deliberately seductive, “Might feel good.”
“Is that a standard service you offer as part of your contract or…?”
I tried to sound disinterested, but my voice betrayed me. I was breathless, my body was a hot, throbbing mess. Sy licked his lips and my eyes were drawn to them. They looked so plush and inviting, and the whiskers surrounding his mouth seemed so soft.
“It’s an optional extra,” Sy shrugged and his fingers traced the edge of my towel, “But for you, I’ll throw it in for free, no charge.”
It’s what I said but it’s not what I meant. I said no out of habit, having said no to men like him my entire life. It was a lie and an obvious one. My fingers were already sinking into his beard, and I could feel him clench his jaw beneath my touch and his nostrils flared. Taking half a step closer, I met his eyes. They were hooded, dark and still held a glimmer of amusement. His hand moved to the nape of my neck, the other snaked around my waist, resting on the small of my back.
“Then how ‘bout I eat ya pussy cause I want to?”
He pulled me closer, our bodies met and his fingers slid into my hair. I put a hand to the centre of his chest, I had every intention of pushing him away and he must have known because he held me tighter, pressing his hardness into my hip.
“’Cause I wanna hear ya make those noises again, but this time I want you to make ‘em because of me.”
My core fluttered, no it was more than that, every muscle in my body seemed to quiver with anticipation of his offer, and dear God did he have the confidence of a man that knew he could deliver.
“No thanks,” I managed to utter. Barely.
Sy’s grin didn’t waver as he inhaled deeply and let me go.
“Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug and went back to his position by the window.
It took me a minute to get my bearings. I was completely dumbstruck, still overwhelmed by Sy even though he was now across the room.
I cleared my throat and swallowed hard. Fuck me, was I in trouble here.
Sy glanced at me over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow as the corner of his mouth twitched in a smirk.
“You’re really gonna stay here all night?” I asked.
“For a couple of hours, then one of the others will take over,” he said, his voice sounding a little more serious and matter of fact than it had moments ago.
I didn’t like the sound of that. All five of them coming and going in my room while I slept, me not knowing who I’d wake up to?
Despite Sy’s advance or maybe because of it, I felt like I could trust him and would rather he stayed with me than the others. Having to keep an eye on one horny biker would be easier than having to watch out for five.
I took my bag from the bed and dressed in the bathroom, with the door closed. Though I was beat, I blow dried my hair with the shitty hair dryer the hotel had attached to the wall before braiding it.
While I was brushing my teeth I looked at my pyjamas in the mirror, realising now why Sy had chuckled when he saw them. When I packed, I had no idea the Brothers would actually be in my room with me. The tank top was so thin you could see the dark pinkish skin around my nipples.
The thought made my body warm. Part of me liked the thought of them seeing me like this. But I knew it would be a mistake to go down that road. Nope, my pussy would be a barren wasteland for the foreseeable future.
Pointedly not looking at Sy, I went back into the room and grabbed my shirt from the floor, turning it the right way round and slipping it on over the top.
First thing I was going to do when I got to the clubhouse was buy new pyjamas.
Aomine Daiki x F! Reader - Sleeping in My T-Shirt
A/N: I wrote this years ago in one of my MANY notebooks, and have now decided to finally type it up, along with improving it quite a bit. This is based off the song “Sleeping in My T-Shirt” by: Zak Waters. I recommend giving it a listen!
TW: Mild Swearing, References to drinking, Suggestive Themes. Little bit of Angst w/ Fluff.
Aomine Daiki had been a very heavy sleeper back during his teen years. It would take forever to get him up in the morning. More often than not, you (his next door neighbor and the only other female friend he had) and/or Momoi would have to go over to his house and drag him out of bed to get him to school. You were usually a bit more gentle about it than the pinkette, as you were nice enough to make breakfast if you got to his place early.
However, once Aomine got drafted into Japan’s professional basketball league, he had to start getting up early for practices. It took some time for him to get into the routine, a lot of alarms and coffee were involved, but after about a year, he’d managed to make waking up before sunrise his new normal, even on weekends.
Which was why the midnight-haired male was slightly confused to have been woken up by the sun coming through his curtains, the morning light shining in his eyes as though to force him to start the day.
Aomine was still groggy and could feel the makings of a headache coming on, so his initial confusion was pushed aside.
The toned male stretched out his arms as he let out a tired groan. He was about to sit up when he noticed an odd weight on his bare chest. He looked down and found his eyes widening in shock at the sight.
There you were, snuggled into the man’s side, wrapped in his soft comforter with your head resting right above his heart. Your body rose and fell in time with your soft breathing as you continued your journey through dreamland.
Aomine wracked his half-asleep brain for answers until memories of the previous night came flooding back to him.
He’d had Kagami, Kuroko, and Kise over to watch a game on his huge flat screen. He and Kagami had a drinking challenge after the game that ended in a tie and the other two eventually grabbed the passed out redhead and said goodbye before leaving.
And a drunk Aomine is a horny Aomine.
He had decided to booty call you, for some reason. He remembered you said were at a nearby bar and would be over soon. Your speech was a bit slurred and when you arrived you smelled of sake. You were drunk too apparently.
He recalled opening the door to his place and seeing you standing there, clad in a pair of skinny jeans that hugged your ass perfectly and a V-neck shirt that gave him a nice view of your cleavage.
He remembered you giving a small casual greeting before stepping into his home and locking the door behind you. He immediately picked you up and started attacking your neck as he carried you back to his bed. The rest of the night was spent on that bed as the place was filled with sounds of pleasure.
The navy eyed man groaned as his head started to ache. It was too early to start thinking about the ramifications of his and your actions the previous night. He carefully moved your head off his chest and began getting up, trying his best not to disturb your peaceful slumber as he picked up his discarded boxers off the floor and slipped them on.
Once Aomine got to his feet, his hand immediately shot up to hold his head as he felt a raging hangover overtake his brain.
Damn, how much did I drink last night? He thought.
The muscular male lightly shook his head as he shuffled towards the kitchen, intent on getting some coffee and a drink of water.
After turning on the coffee-maker and downing a glass of H2O, Aomine decided to head back and see if you were awake yet. What he saw made him freeze in the doorway;
You must have moved around after he left ‘cause the comforter you had been wrapped in previously was now only pulled up to your hips. You had a leg slightly kicked out from beneath the blanket, allowing Aomine to catch a glimpse of your bare thigh which bore hickeys that he’d left the night before.
However, what had really caused the basketball player to take pause was what you were wearing.
You had on one of his t-shirts. It was black with red and white accents to make it look like a jersey. It was the one he was wearing last night actually. And damn did it look good on you.
The man couldn’t take his eyes off you. The rising sun that was coming in through the window gave you a soft glow. That, paired with your relaxed expression and messy hair splayed across the pillow, made you look like a sleeping angel in his eyes. Sure, you were sort of drooling and lightly snoring, but the man found that adorable. The fact that you were wearing HIS t-shirt, made it look like you were his. Only his.
Aomine had no idea what to make of the new feelings he had just discovered. The man had never been the romantic type. Hell, he figured he wasn’t even the relationship type, seeing as he had gotten used to one night stands with women he barely remembered the names of and greeting the sunrise alone. He’d rarely ever had someone stay ‘til morning, and none of them ever wore his clothes.
But you were different. You weren’t some girl he’d just met at a bar or club last night and decided to take home. Sure, he’d slept with plenty of women, but you were one of his oldest friends. Aomine had known you since middle school and had practically grown up with you.
You had been there for every game, every win and every loss. You helped him when his grades were in the gutter so that he wouldn’t be suspended from the basketball team in high school. You made sure he was fully healed from a minor ankle injury that one summer, telling him “If you don’t wait until it’s all better, you could get hurt even worse and not be able to play anymore! Then who will be the next top player in Japan? Huh?!”
You’d supported the tan male all those years, never once doubting him. Aomine thought back to all the times you had called him out on his bullshit when no one else was bold enough to, and how you were so easy to talk to. Did he enjoy your jokes and banter? Yes. Did he find you physically attractive? Fuck yes. But, he’d only ever seen you as a close friend, maybe a potential “friend with benefits” if he ever decided he wanted that.
But seeing you in his room, laying in his king-sized bed like you belonged there.... the navy haired man knew he couldn’t go back to being “just friends” with you or even becoming fuck buddies. For the first time in his life, Daiki wanted to have an actual romantic relationship with someone, with things like cheesy picnic dates, anniversary gifts, the whole package.
Aomine realized he wanted to wake up to the sight of you wearing his t-shirt every morning.
“....Shit. I’m screwed.” He said to himself as he facepalmed and walked back to the kitchen.
At least my hangover has died down. He thought begrudgingly.
~Mini Timeskip~ Half an Hour Later
You awoke to the aroma of fresh brewed coffee and the feeling of a bad hangover. You kept your eyes closed as you sat up and started feeling around the blankets for your phone.
Huh...That was weird... When did your bed get so big? Wasn’t your mattress only a Full? And which sheets were these? You didn’t remember buying any linens that were this soft.
You felt yourself yawn as you stretched out your surprisingly sore body. Why was your body so sore? Especially your back...? You gradually opened your eyes and tiredly looked around the faintly familiar room before looking down to inspect the blankets. That was when you caught sight of what you were wearing.
Were you wearing...Daiki’s shirt? And...wait, where was your underwear?
Slowly, the previous night’s events came back to you, your cheeks becoming warmer with each new memory until it felt like your face was on fire.
You groaned. How could you let yourself do that?! It didn’t matter how attractive Aomine was, how drunk you were, or how horny you were, you shouldn’t have come over when he called. What if this ruined your friendship for good?! You didn’t want to lose the man. You had had a crush on the bluenette back in high school, but you’d managed to shove those feelings down almost immediately. You knew what he needed more was a friend, not a girlfriend, so you suppressed your little crush and kept it to yourself.
However, those feelings never fully went away. They just evolved from a childish crush into genuine love. But you knew Aomine didn’t see you that way. So, you instead stayed his friend and continued on with your life as you tried to move on from him (which hadn’t been going well, which was why you were at the bar the night before).
Which was why, finding yourself in said man’s bed, in only his t-shirt and nothing else, after a long night of...“activity”, was the last thing you thought would ever happen.
You sighed tiredly, your head aching from your massive hangover. You groaned. You knew you couldn’t stay wrapped in the basketball lover’s sheets forever. So, you dragged yourself out of the ridiculously comfortable bed and searched for your bra and panties, not caring enough to put on pants since the shirt came down to your lower thigh anyway.
After putting on your underwear and slipping the over-sized shirt back on, you made your way out of the bedroom and toward the smell of fresh brewed caffeine juice that your nose had detected earlier.
As you stepped into the kitchen, the scent of coffee washed over you, perking you up a bit. You noticed Aomine, leaning against the counter in a black tank top and grey sweatpants. He was drinking from a mug that simply said “The Best” on it. The man was looking off to the side with an uncharacteristically contemplative expression on his face, as though he was deep in thought.
You walked up to the tall man, waving a hand in front of him.
“Aomine! You there? Earth to Aomine!!” you said loudly in a teasing voice.
The bluenette shook his head, seeming to snap out of his reverie. He turned his gaze to you, a small scowl on his face before realizing it was just you. He looked further down and noticed you were still in his shirt, though now he had a much better view of your beautifully bare legs. He stared for a moment before going towards the coffee-maker.
“You want some?” he offered nonchalantly, making sure to make eye contact with you.
You nodded with a tiny relieved smile, glad that at least things weren’t awkward for now. Why isn’t this awkward? You pushed the question aside for the time being.
“Sure. Hey, you hungry? Because I’m starving. You mind if I make some breakfast?” you asked as you made your way to the man’s fridge and pulled out some basic ingredients while he grabbed a mug from one of the overhead cabinets.
“Yeah, I’ll take some.” he responded. You could hear him pouring coffee into the mug he had grabbed for you as you started on making some food for the both of you. It felt like you two had done this routine a thousand times. Though, when you thought about it, you guessed you sort of had.
You remember all the times you made breakfast for Aomine and yourself back in your school days, and how you would sit and eat together if you had the time to. If not, you both would just scarf down your morning meal as you raced to make it to school on time. You smiled at the memory as you stirred the pot of miso soup you were making.
Suddenly, you felt a pair of strong arms hug you from behind, pulling you into a muscular chest.
“Aomine?” you asked, a hint of pink dusting your cheeks. Said man leaned in and softly kissed the side of your head.
“Daiki. Call me Daiki. We’ve known each other for so long, yet you still call me by my surname. Last night was the first time I’ve ever heard you use my given name.” the navy-haired man spoke in a soft voice, almost a whisper.
Your cheeks were set ablaze by his words, yet you found yourself letting out a small laugh.
“Then you can call me (F/n) from now on.” you replied cheekily.
You heard a deep chuckle come from behind you as you felt the man’s chest rumble a bit.
“I already call you (F/n), dumbass.” he said, his voice full of mirth.
You laughed at his statement. It was true, he’d been using your first name ever since the second year he’d known you. Afterall, Aomine had never really cared about formalities.
“Yeah, but I never gave you permission to call me by my given name. So I’m officially granting you permission now.” you stated jokingly, another laugh passing your lips as you turned off the stove and gave the miso one last stir before setting down the spoon.
The pro-athlete behind you let out a chuckle as he spun you around by your waist, making you face him.
“Oh? And do I need permission to do this?” he asked cockily.
Before you could get a word out, Aomine leaned in and gently sucked on one of the many hickeys that peppered your neck and shoulders. The one he targeted was in a sensitive area that he’d discovered the night prior. Your eyes shut as a small involuntary moan left your mouth at the pleasurable feeling, before the man quickly pulled away.
Your eyes sprang open to find the perpetrator looking at you with a smug smirk on his face. You glared at him for a moment, until he unexpectedly kissed your cheek and let you go.
“Come on, let’s eat.” he stated, grabbing bowls and plates from different cupboards and calling over his shoulder for you to grab the silverware and serving spoons.
Breakfast was...normal. Not a single ounce of awkwardness or embarrassment. It was like last night never happened. There were more “accidental” hand touches and your banter seemed a bit more flirty, but it didn’t really feel all that different from normal. Why wasn’t this awkward? Why did you feel so comfortable? This was just a one-night thing, right?
“Hey, (F/n), can I ask you somethin’?” Aomine inquired as he took the empty plates towards the sink to be washed later.
You snapped back to reality. “Yeah, Ao- I mean, Daiki. What is it?”
The man stayed in his place, facing away from you. His tone was surprisingly serious as he spoke.
“What are your feelings towards me?”
Your eyes widened at his question as you were rendered speechless. What? Was he seriously asking you how you felt about him?
You were conflicted. Part of you wanted to say that you were just drunk last night and that you still only saw him as friend, since you knew Aomine didn’t really do relationships and you didn’t want to lose him by telling him your feelings.
The other part of you was screaming that this was your chance to tell him you loved him, from the way his eyes sparkle when he bites into a teriyaki burger to his stupid catchphrase; to tell him that you had never wanted anyone else so badly; to tell him that last night was the best night of your life and you couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.
You chose neither and instead decided to redirect the conversation.
“Well, what are your feelings towards me?” you asked.
The tan-skinned man turned around to face you, his face giving no signs of what he was feeling.
“I asked you first.” he stated calmly.
“I asked you second.” you fired back, a mischievous glint in your eyes.
The athletic man walked towards your seated figure, stopping to kneel beside you, his expression still unreadable.
“Why won’t you answer my question?” Aomine asked, not a hint of anger or malice in his tone, just pure curiosity and a touch of concern.
You turned your head away from him. What if he never wanted to see you again after you told him the truth? You didn’t want Aomine to not be in your life.
“Hey, at least look at me?” he said softly. You then felt a calloused hand gently grasp your cheek. You allowed your head to be turned towards the man beside you.
Your eyes were met with the same stunning pair of ultramarine orbs that never failed to make your heart flutter just a bit. It seemed like Aomine had let his guard down a bit, as his expression now portrayed concern.
“Do you really regret it that much? Look I know we were both drunk, but I’m clean, I swear. We used protection, and I also noticed you were wearing a birth control patch too, so don’t worry. I’m sorry if I hurt you or-” the man began. His characteristic cockiness and nonchalance were nowhere to be seen. He looked genuinely worried and a bit panicked.
You couldn’t take it anymore. If you lost him after today, then so be it. You couldn’t standby and let the man you loved think that he screwed up when he hadn’t done a single thing wrong. You rushed forward and captured Aomine’s lips with your own, cutting him off mid-sentence. You brought your hands up to meet his faintly stubbled jaw, gently holding him in place.
Aomine clearly wasn’t expecting this, as he immediately froze. It didn’t take long for him to thaw though. Once he felt your warm hands caress his jawline, he melted into the kiss, placing his hands on your waist as he tilted his head to the side to get a better angle.
Soon, the need for air was too much for you, causing you to pull away from the heated moment.
“Wha--” Aomine began, only for you to put a finger to his lips.
“I don’t regret last night even the slightest bit.” you softly panted out.
His expression turned confused. “Then why wouldn’t you answer my question?”
You panted a bit more until your breathing returned to normal. You then sighed before looking up to meet the eyes of the man you’d known for over half your life.
Well, here goes nothing.
“Because I love you, Daiki. I’m in love with you, and I didn’t want to fuck up our friendship. I don’t want to lose you. I know you're not a ‘relationship’ kind of person, so I figure I won’t be any different. I don’t expect you to change for me and I promise won’t mention this to anyone, so please... don’t let this ruin what we have...” you practically pleaded towards the end as you casted your gaze to the floor.
You were met with stunned silence, which only made your eyes water.
I’m only a one-night stand, nothing more. What was I expecti-
“Is that what you really think?” Aomine’s voice cut through your negative thoughts, causing you to look up into his midnight blue eyes.
“(F/n).... I think I love you too. I’ve never wanted someone to stay before, and I’ve never felt more at home then when I’m with you. I know that’s cheesy as fuck, but I mean it. Look, I may not know a lot about dating or romance in general, but I think I’d like to try with you. What do you say?”
You were shocked. Were you still dreaming? Was this some elaborate prank? No, your body aches were definitely real and you knew Aomine would never go this far for a joke.
This was really happening. Aomine Daiki was really asking you out the morning after you two drunkenly hooked up.
You smiled wider than you had ever thought possible and launched yourself out of your chair at the unsuspecting kneeling man, sending you both tumbling onto the dining room floor. You didn’t bother asking if he was okay as he immediately started laughing at your reaction while his hands stayed on your hips.
“I’ll take that as a yes?” he questioned teasingly.
You instead brought your lips to met his in a quick kiss.
“Yes. My answer is yes.” you stated smugly.
The male beneath you grinned mischievously at your words, sitting up suddenly, causing your position to change to one where you were straddling his waist.
“In that case, you wanna head back to bed?” Aomine queried in a suggestive tone.
You let out a small chuckle. “Daiki, I got almost no sleep last night thanks to you. How about a nap first?”
He groaned exasperatedly, though you could tell his heart wasn’t really in it.
“Fiiiiine....” he whined dramatically.
You giggled and stood up, offering a hand to the male still sitting on the floor. He gave you a half-hearted glare as he took your out-stretched hand and pulled himself up with ease.
You then lead the way back to his giant, outrageously comfy bed, plopping down into the soft sheets and motioning for the tan male to join you. Aomine let out a laugh and walked over to the large bed, removing his sweatpants as he did so.
You lifted up the comforter and got under the blankets, remembering to take off your bra before getting comfortable. You scooted over towards the other occupant of the bed and snuggled into his side.
“Hey, (F/n), do you think you could... turn around?” you heard the male inquire, sounding a bit embarrassed.
“Umm...ok?” you replied, turning to face away from the man and wondering if maybe he didn’t like cuddles.
Your thoughts were promptly cut off by the feeling of arms wrapping around your waist and a well-toned chest against your back.
You giggled. “You know, if you wanted to spoon, you could’ve just said so.” you stated, tilting your head as much as you could to try and look at the man behind you. Instead of an answer, you just felt him nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, resting his forehead there. He was too embarrassed to admit that he wasn’t used to non-sexual cuddling. He was even more embarrassed when he realize he liked it.
“It’s okay to ask for cuddles, Daiki. They’re a normal part of most romantic relationships. And I am almost always up for cuddles, ok?” you said soothingly, moving your hands to the arms around your midsection and drawing lazy patterns on his bare skin.
You heard a muffled “Ok” come from the man as he spoke against your shoulder. You smiled softly at his response.
While Aomine may have had a lot of experience in the bedroom, he was a fish out of water when it came to things like this.
You sighed happily as you snuggled against the tan male, smiling a bit wider when you heard him let out a hum of approval as his arms tightened a bit, securing you in place without restricting your movement too much.
You hummed in contentment as you slowly drifted off to sleep with a soft smile on your lips.
A/N: Hi! Sorry I’ve been gone for forever! Didn’t think this would end up this long! Think it turned out over twice as long as the original I wrote years ago... This was still my first time writing for Aomine, so I really hope he wasn’t too OOC. Anyway, hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading!
“It’s like losing your very heart.” Eiluned whispered. “You’re alive, but you’re not living. The world goes on, but you’re stuck in place. And nothing can be right again until they’re back in your arms.”
Pick a Pile: Let your s/o hype you up
Here, s/o means significant other, they can be your fs or if you aren't interested in the idea of marriage than they can be your boyfriend/girlfriend who you would spend most of your life with. I was thinking about writing a channeled letter too, but my lazy ass was busy procrastinating🤧. Maybe next time!?
Also, this is my first pac so plz bear with me🥲
Disclaimer: Tarot is all about your current energy, take what resonates and leave the rest. At the end of the day, you create your own destiny.
Also, the pictures aren't mine.
P.S. English isn't my first language, so I would appreciate it if you would just ignore any grammatical mistakes.
The first one is pile 1, the next is pile 2 and the last one is pile 3.
King of Pentacles, Ace of swords, IX of Pentacles, Strength, Page of Wands, V of Swords.
Alright, your person sees you as someone who's highly ambitious and have that regal aura. They want to tell you that they love how determined you are. They are asking you to remember all the things you have achieved, they are proud of you. They are ready to do anything for you, are you aware of that pile 1!? You are a force to reckon with, you can be warm and soft at one moment and a ruthless(not literally) and 'I mean buisness' person the just the next moment. Your s/o wants to remind you that you have the ability to make all of your wildest dreams come true. See the world as it's filled with infinite opportunities!! Also, you complete your s/o. Your s/o wants to tell you that all your hardships are over or going to be over soon. Your s/o wants to enjoy every single day of life with you! You show strength even during moments of danger and distress. You are a very compassionate person! You will achieve whatever you want to, if you put in the efforts. Your s/o believes so much in you, its overwhelming!🥲
You might be facing some problems these days, your s/o wants you to know that they'll always be there with you, throughout your journey. Also, just a reminder that it's okay to make mistakes!
Your s/o wants to remind you that its okay to take break, and that life needs to be recharged regularly!! Go for a walk, cook your favorite meal, do anything, just give yourself a treat. Keep moving forward, however small the steps might be.
Ace of Swords, VIII of Swords rev., Page of Pentacles, II of pentacles, V of Pentacles, X of cups.
Alright pile 2, if you've been waiting to start something this is the time! Your s/o wants to remind you that you are someone who's smart and clever. That you are capable of achieving success(whatever this terms mean to you). To them, you are a royalty. You accept yourself the way you are, and you own your power and responsibility. How can your s/o not fall for you, pile 2? You might have gone through some sort of struggle, and look at you now, holding your power like a royalty! You're ambitious and focused, not only that you're a very loyal person. Your s/o admires how you're focused on what thr future might hold and not what the past was like. Your relationship will be a steady one. You might be stressed, and you might be juggling things, your s/o likes how you're able to handle things by yourself(just a reminder that its okay to ask for help, if you ever feel overwhelmed). Your s/o is asking you to take care of your health. Your s/o wants to tell you that you're their happiness and they might want to have family with you(doesn't have to be babies, it can be puppies or kittens, take it however you want it to). They think of you are their happily ever after!
Hmm...your s/o also wants to tell you that you are irreplaceable, don't you dare think that anyone can replace you in your s/o's life. Don't underestimate yourself.
Knight of Pentacles, The Hermit, The Sun, V of pentacles, Ace of Swords, III of Swords.
Your s/o want to remind you that you're someone who has come this far by effort and determination. You're very well capable of wordly success. You are very generous and have that warm presence. It seems as if people like being around you, but you seem to hide yourself in a shell. You are very intuitive and tend to follow your inner voice, atleast this is what your s/o thinks. You are true to yourself, you should be proud of this pile 3, cuz your s/o is damn proud of you for this!!! You are their sunshine! You radiate abundance and strength. Your s/o wants to give you so much joy and happiness, get ready!
Are you afraid or anxious of something? Perhaps something you did in the past? You have to face that thing, you can't run from it forever yk.
All the three piles have Ace of Swords.🤧 If you're waiting for something, this is the right time. Also, your s/o likes that how you always favour truth all the time. You might have a sort of duality to you.
Ahhh...your s/o is(or going to be) very committed to the relationship. Your s/o asks you to calm down, and take one step at a time. There's no need to hurry.
Could you do an imagining or one shot with a female reader x Adaman. With him trying to reach her and make her realize she isn’t in this alone that she can rely on others to help save all the people from the danger of the time rift. lol what if a little kid of the diamond clan gets stuck in a time distortion field?
overworked | adaman x reader
v fun prompt. very much channeled "tired college student" energy in this but very fun.
reblogs are greatly appreciated | request open | kofi tips greatly appreciated
cw: general exhaustion, nondescript injury. me being stressed the fuck out about space-time distortions.
Deeply sighing, I place down my satchel unceremoniously somewhere on the floor- laying down on the hardwood as opposed to walking a little bit further to a cushion or mat. Exhaustion holding my eyes heavy and burning my eyeballs, I finally let my eyes slip shut.
I really wish other galaxy members could get better so my fucking back doesn’t break, but half of them are helpless- hell, one of the members of the security corps can’t even keep her own direction.
Maybe that’s why Arceus brought me here- half of everyone is helpless.
Most people here- well, I guess, technically “now”- don’t even have more than one
Pokemon, much less having a coherent team to be of any use.
My head thumps, stres pulsing through me as I let the wood hold me in uncomfortable flatness-
“Hey! You awake in there?”
Groaning, I stand up again, pulling my satchel back on, exiting my cabin.
“There you are! Professor said there's one of those time-space warp things forming in one of the wilds and it’s pretty close to a Diamond Settlement- think you could go check it out?”
“Yeah I can,” I smile, trying to appear less like I’m being held together by my clothes.
“Great! Don’t push yourself too much there though; Just make sure no one enters it and nothing exits it. Adaman is going to be there to help too.”
At least Adaman is going to be there.
“I’m going too so I can be extra support but, uh,” Rei pauses, “If I’m going to be honest, I’ll probably end up wrangling kids and making sure they don’t run into the distortion.”
“That’s still helping; If anything it’s safer,” I reassure him as we walk together to the gate, the guard giving us an escort for the journey.
“If anything gets really dicey, I’m sure someone will come help.”
Who else? I’m the only person helping all of you-
Okay someone competent.
“Have… Have you ever been in a time-space distortion?” Rei shyly asks, obviously scared.
“I have on accident; It’s pretty intense. Hurts my eyes.”
“Are the pokemon really that scary?”
“Oh absolutely. They���re definitely a security threat. Sometimes pokemon will leave the distortion.”
“Geez,” Rei pauses, looking out into the distance- a threatening aurora in the distance forming a dome, “But I guess you can handle it- You’ve handled everything else!”
I am one request away from founding Team Rocket, Rei.
“I’ll do my best.”
Arceus, please don’t let me die here.
“There you two are!” Adaman startles me amidst my exhaustion and stresses, “I thought I’d meet you halfway.”
I smile at him, his gaze soft on me, reading my face.
“I don’t think this distortion will last long, but it felt like too big of a threat to not get help.”
“Do you know anything about the distortions- I mean, you fell out of the sky!”
“No, Rei, I don’t know anything.” I snap.
Every damn person has to mention it every two minutes.
“Just because she was brought here doesn’t mean she knows why or how,” Adaman softens the tension, slowing his strides down to meet mine-
Come on, not in front of Rei-
“True,” Rei doesn’t seem affected by anything I’ve said.
I sigh as I follow Rei, a few strides ahead of me and Adaman-
A sudden grip on my hand startling me for a moment, Adaman tightly holding my hand as we walk; his gaze meeting mine for a moment, obviously concerned.
“We’ll get to the settlement before the distortion completely forms,” Rei is smiling.
Of course he’s scared of this; he’s a kid having to work for a grumpy dude with-
“The biggest thing in the settlement is making sure no one is around it and everyone is a safe distance away,” Adaman explains, his thumb softly stroking the skin of my hand, “When it fully appears, everyone needs to be away. The distortion won’t wipe away the settlement but any pokemon might.”
“Anywhere in particular you guys are moving to for now?”
“Close to Lake Valor; some security corps have already helped us make sure there’s no pokemon around while we wait out the distortion.”
I nod as we come up on the settlement; the distortion only 25 yards away from the seemingly abandoned settlement.
“Are we going to be safe, Adaman?” A small voice pipes up- a young girl looking up at him as she holds a doll against her chest.
“Absolutely,” Adaman confidently reassures her, letting go of my hand, “Go with your family; we’ll protect our home.”
God, he’s precious.
“Everyone is cleared out from what we can see.” A security corps member explains, “If there's any stragglers, someone should go behind us and bring them.
“Sounds like a task for you, Rei,” I smile at him, confident in his ability.
“Are you sure?”
“Definitely. If anything is pursuing you, we're here, and I'm sure Pikachu is itching to beat something up,” Rei laughs, Adaman looking to the dome again.
“Has everyone gotten anything they want to keep safe with them?” Adaman asks the security corps.
“Anything they can comfortably carry is with them; anything else was put in your tent, per your orders.”
“Good; go ahead with the others.”
“Could you check for anyone now, Rei?” I ask, a little feeling in my gut warning me.
“Do you think there’s anyone left behind?” Adaman faces me, pulling me against him in our moment of not-so-private privacy.
“I just, I just have a gut feeling,” I explain, his arms tightly around me.
“Come with me for a minute,” He whispers, pulling me into a tent I assumed was his, extra trunks stacked in the tent.
“You know we have to keep this a secret,” I lightly scold, his arms wrapping around me again, pulling me flush against him- giving in as I wrap my arms around him.
“I’m aware, but if I’m to be blunt, you look a couple missions away from collapsing,” Adaman gently cradled my head, stroking my hair as I lean more of my weight on him.
“I am,” I admit, his irritated sigh inspiring some sort of possessed confidence in me.
“Don’t kill yourself working, alright?”
“I don’t feel like I have a choice half of the time,” I grumble as he strokes my back.
“Then let me help- Get me and I’ll help you.”
“You have a clan to be running.”
“Half of me running the clan is making sure no one tries to have a philosophical debate with a Pearl Clan member that ends up with us in a war,” Adaman lightly laughs, “I have time for you; I have time for your health.”
“What if I get kicked out for not being good enough?”
Adaman pauses with an irritated sigh at the proposition.
“Then you come to me and the Galaxy team falls apart because you seem to be the only thing creating any progress.”
“If that happens, I will help you; I’m sure Irida would help you too. We’re stubborn, not stupid.”
I laugh at the admission, squeezing him in the hug-
“I think there’s a kid in the distortion- What are you two doing?!”
Rei frantically nods, still caught up on us holding each other.
“I’m going, you stay on the outside so if anything happens to me they get out, alright?” I instinctively command Rei, sprinting out of the tent to the distortion, Rei and Adaman following me.
God this one looks intense.
Stopping before the wall of the aurora, I sigh a deep sigh,
Well I haven’t died yet,
Running into the distortion.
The terrible, similar sound of wind running throughout the distortion, holding a pokeball in my hand defensively, running through the entrance, trying to find somewhere where a child would be hiding-
Tree, rock, something bigger like that-
A roar scares me, something obviously sighting me as I break out into a sprint-
Find the kid- Escape- Find the kid- Escape-
A sniffle pulls me from my matra for a moment- a little Diamond Clan member clutching onto their clothes, shaking behind a rock. I run over, immediately using myself as a shield-
“It’s alright, I’m here, I’ll protect you,” I whisper, trying to keep anything else from noticing me, holding out my arms to the boy as he immediately ran to me, hiding in my arms-
Now to get out-
A cut breaks into my back, a sharp hiss from a sharp breath through teeth-
“Hold on to me as tight as you can,” I instruct, grabbing him, bracing myself for another hit as I broke out into another sprint-
Something is going to follow me outside of the distortion- oh no.
Something wet seeps into the fabric on my back, the adrenaline doing its job as I finally realize the gash in my back-
Just a little more-
The all too familiar scream of the distortion being exited rings in my ears, panting at the mixture of the gash and the child.
“Are you alright?!” Rei immediately rushes over to me, taking the boy from me.
“Not really,” My voice is weak-
Rei retreats to the settlement, carrying the boy as he leads me back to Adamans tent-
“Where’s Adaman?” I ask in a weak panic, Rei sitting the boy by the entrance as he pulls me to sit on a cushion.
“Taking care of whatever caused-” Rei pauses, shock stopping him- “Whatever caused this.”
I weakly nod, Rei’s attention focusing onto any sort of medical supplies he could find- Adaman abruptly entering the tent.
“Are you alright?” Adaman softly asks the boy, the boy rushing to him for a hug- still nodding yes as he seeked comfort.
“You’re safe now, we’ve got you; we’ll take you back to your family,” Adaman promised, the boy quiet from shock but still nodding in agreement. The boy leaves his arms, sitting back down to where he was, Adaman turning his attention to me-
I nod, too weak to talk, Rei still panicking somewhere behind me.
“Let me take care of her, he doesn’t need to see her injured,” Adaman quietly instructs Rei, “Take him to another tent so he can calm down and we can make sure nothing will follow you out of the camp, alright?”
Rei weakly nods, taking the boys hand as he leads him out of the tent, quickly moving to another as Adamans hand on my shoulder startles me=
“Do you feel lightheaded or exhausted?”
“Exhausted,” I mumble, his hands working on pulling off my coat.
“I’m sorry if I see anything, you need to get out of this.”
I hum a weak response, nothing really making sense, the blow taking the wind out of me.
“It might hurt, but I can patch this up; it's surprisingly not very deep,” He explains, the final bits of my top coming off, a blanket placed in my lap, “Just stay awake for me so I don’t accidently hurt you, alright?”
I nod, a sudden touch on my lap startling me, Leafeon curling up in my lap, doing his best to comfort me.
“You need to sleep after this, you’re exhausted,” Adaman scolded and instructed, bandages wrapping around my front to secure some cotton on my back.
“I don’t think I have a choice,” I murmured, slurring together some words as Leafeon rubbed his head against my stomach.
“Let me help you, let me take care of you,” Adaman whispers against my neck, gently kissing the tender skin.
“You don’t need to-”
“I don’t need to, I want to, that’s why I’m asking you to let me,” He sighs with exasperation, “I want to take care of you, if you’ll let me.”
“Okay,” I whisper after a moment, his lips running up my neck to kiss my ear,
“Let me wash my hands and I’ll check on the distortion and Rei.”
“Wait why do you need to wash your hands-”
“Because they’re bloody- did you forget you have a gash in your back already?”
Adaman sighs, rinsing is hands in a bowl of foggy water,
“Stay with me for a little while; it’ll be a part of the distortion mission.”
“I get to make that decision; you’re in my care right now, taking care of my clan, alright?”
Adaman gently kisses my forehead, exiting the tent to check on the others, Leafeon resting in my lap. Humming to myself, I gently pet Leafeon, his little noises of appreciation making me smile as I finally just rest. The distant sounds of the distortion fading as I rest my eyes.
“It’s gone,” Adaman says, a smile in his voice as he re-enters, sitting beside me and Leafeon, “You two look comfy.”
“I wanna lay down,” I mumble, Leafeon leaving my lap to return to the bed, Adaman helping me stand.
“Just make sure you don’t accidentally sleep on your back, alright?” Adaman instructs me, sitting on the bed and pulling me down to lay with him.
“Mhmm,” I hum as he pulls me against him, helping me lay on my stomach.
“I’ll stay with you as long as you need,” Adaman pulls the blanket over us, gently kissing my forehead as Leafeon curls at our feet.
“Alright,” I whisper, blindly kissing his chin before snuggling my head under his chin, a little chuckle warming my chest.
List of video games turning 10 years old in 2022:
- Armored Core V
- Assassin's Creed III (the final Assassin's Creed in the Desmond Miles arc)
- Assassin's Creed: Liberation (the first Assassin's Creed game with a female protagonist)
- Asura's Wrath
- Binary Domain (a third-person shooter from the Yakuza team)
- Borderlands 2 (dear god, Gearbox needs to find some new jokes to tell)
- Call of Duty: Black Ops II
- Counter-Strike: Global Offensive
- The Darkness II (a solid third-person shooter based on the comic book of the same name by David Wohl, Marc Silvestri, and Garth Ennis)
- Darksiders II (one of the last games that THQ made before they went bankrupt in 2013)
- Dead or Alive 5
- Diablo III (remember when this game was taking forever to come out?)
- Dillon's Rolling Western
- Dragon Quest X (only in Japan)
- Dragon's Dogma (an action RPG from Hideaki Itsuno, the guy who helped make Devil May Cry what it is today)
- Dust: An Elysian Tail (one of the best indie games you've never played)
- Epic Mickey 2: The Power of Two
- Far Cry 3
- Final Fantasy XIII-2
- Tom Clancy's Ghost Recon: Future Soldier
- Gravity Rush
- Halo 4
- Hatoful Boyfriend (the visual novel about dating pigeons)
- Hitman: Absolution
- Hotline Miami
- The House of the Dead 4
- Kid Icarus: Uprising
- Kingdom Hearts: Dream Drop Distance
- Kingdoms of Amalur: Reckoning (deserved SO MUCH BETTER)
- The Last Story (an action RPG from Hironobu Sakaguchi, the creator of Final Fantasy)
- Lego Batman 2: DC Super Heroes (the first Lego game to use actual in-game dialogue instead of pantomiming everything)
- Lego The Lord of the Rings
- Lollipop Chainsaw
- Lone Survivor
- Mark of the Ninja (another of the best indie games that you have never played)
- Mass Effect 3 (and its controversial ending)
- Max Payne 3
- Medal of Honor: Warfighter (one of the last MoH games before it took an extended hiatus)
- NeverDead (not a good game, but such a fun and unique concept)
- New Super Mario Bros. 2 (COINS ARE BACK, BITCHES)
- Ninja Gaiden 3 (plus its extended version, Razor's Edge)
- One Piece: Pirate Warriors (what if Dynasty Warriors, but Luffy?)
- Paper Mario: Sticker Star (the one that not a lot of people liked)
- Persona 4 Arena
- Persona 4 Golden
- PlayStation All-Stars Battle Royale
- The PlayStation Vita
- Pokémon Black 2 and Pokémon White 2
- Pokémon Conquest (what if Pokémon was a Final Fantasy Tactics game? And crossed over with Nobunaga's Ambition?)
- Professor Layton and the Miracle Mask
- Prototype 2
- Resident Evil: Revelations
- Resident Evil: Operation Raccoon City
- Resident Evil 6 (yeah, 2012 wasn't a good year for RE fans)
- Retro City Rampage (once again, a great indie game that nobody has played)
- Rhythm Heaven Fever
- Ridge Racer Unbounded (RIIIIIIIDGE RACERRRRRRR)
- Silent Hill: Downpour (the last Silent Hill game before you-know-what happened)
- Skullgirls (THE LAUNCH PARTY THAT NEVER ENDS)
- Sleeping Dogs (one of the best games I have ever played. Not even joking)
- Sonic & All-Stars Racing Transformed (what if Mario Kart was better?)
- SoulCalibur V
- Spec Ops: The Line
- Street Fighter x Tekken
- Syndicate (an FPS reboot of an RTS series from the 90s)
- Tekken Tag Tournament 2
- The Testament of Sherlock Holmes
- Thomas Was Alone (indie games are so good, you guys, JUST PLAY THEM)
- Tokyo Jungle
- Transformers: Fall of Cybertron
- Twisted Metal (the reboot)
- Telltale's The Walking Dead (still not over that ending)
- The Wii U
- XCOM: Enemy Unknown
- Xenoblade Chronicles
- Yakuza: Dead Souls
- Ys Origin
- Zero Escape: Virtue's Last Reward
Prompt 10 with Sasuke Uchiha?
"I dreamt of you" "Sounds hot." "It was a nightmare."
pairing: sasuke uchiha x reader
warnings: a small graphic depiction of gruesome killing, slightly suggestive
tossing and turning for the past twenty minutes made you irritated. you tried to count sheeps, it didn't help instead you kept counting to see till what number could you keep on counting. meditation didn't help because your mind kept running off everywhere and even though you swear you tried to concentrate, a certain someone clogged your brain.
"it's fucking useless." you muttered. "i might as well get up."
walking out of your tent, you were greeted with cool, refreshing breeze. the grass on the ground danced in the direction of the wind, making a beautiful 'V' as it blew on.
"this is much better."
team Taka had decided to rest the night over here as they would be heading south tomorrow morning. the journey would be quite long so Mr. Grumpy Uchiha ordered, not suggested or adviced, ordered all the members to go to bed early.
now who the fuck sleeps at 9 p.m.?
certainly not you, courtesy to your energetic body language and brightly lit eyes. you leisurely walked around, aiming at no place in particular, just taking your time and enjoying the silence.
now you very much enjoyed Karin and Suigetsu's 24/7, 365 days bickering evident by your habit to pipe in from time to time and you also enjoyed annoying or as you like to call it- flustering your team captain, but you'd be lying if you said moments of peace and solitude like this weren't very much appreciated and needed.
"brooding in silence, Uchiha?" you called out as soon as you recognised his form and chakra. "or are you thinking about someone, under the stars and the moonlight, near the lake as if-"
"i dreamt of you." he cut you off. his head hanging low.
you shut up in an instant. that's… not what you expected. he dreamt of you? as in had a dream in which you were there. he didn't mention anyone else, just you.
was it a wet dream- oh God, did he just have a dream about you two-
"sounds hot." you blurted out.
"it was a nightmare."
well a decent person with some shame and dignity would have wanted to be buried 10 ft under the ground and would be apologising profusely by now.
but you, you shameless creature would have said it anyways because of your blabbering mouth that always gets you into trouble.
you let out a small chuckle at first and then went full on laughing mode. "of course it was. i haunt you even in your dreams, pretty boy."
you joked but didn't let it show that it slightly hurt. you wished he actually dreamt of you, wet or not, but it would have made your day to say the least. constant bickering was your way of flirting and annoying Sasuke but talking to him actually made you happy. you genuinely liked him and you were sure you made it painfully obvious.
"i have dealt with pretty messed up stuff but that dream was gruesome."
"what? did i rip you open with my sharp long nails, but didn't damage any important internal organs causing you to bleed yourself to death instead of immediately killing you so you-"
"no you didn't. in fact i almost lost you, in an even cruel way. i woke up sweating and all." he replied. "i did went to check up on you. but since i sensed your chakra, i didn't want to disturb you so i didn't knock."
"i am glad you're alright." he ended after a minute long pause.
your heart was a frenzy inside your chest, you swallowed the screams of excitement threatening to escape your lips. on the outside you looked unaffected but your body told a different story.
"i couldn't sleep anyway. also if you ever need to talk, you can come to me."
"huh? hmm got it."
"uh, Sasuke? are you alright there?" you shifted on your feet.
"yeah just-" he sighed. "nothing. why couldn't you sleep?"
"dunno," you shrugged. you sat down next to him on the stone and looked towards the lake just like him.
he didn't say anything in return and you didn't expect him to. you two just sat down in silence for a minute or two.
you didn't know why a nightmare affected him so much. shinobi get nightmares all the time, it comes with the package.
"Y/n, if you don't mind, stay with me here for some time."
now now now what a perfect opportunity to tease him and joke about this but he was being vulnerable for the first time since you had the blessing to meet the Uchiha and since you two ever talked. this was so new to you that you questioned if he was even Sasuke or some impostor.
but you knew better.
"it'd make me assured."
"sure." you replied. if it'd make him be at peace, you could stay for as long as he wanted.
"thank you." slight pink dusted his cheeks and he was glad it was dark and you weren't looking at him.
a/n: thanks for sending an ask, hope you like it :)
Khonshu x Female! Goddess! Reader
Chapter 2. A lesson in mythology
Warnings: None? (let me know, if I should add smth)
It's Canon Divergence. The story is not following the plot of the show.
Prologue Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
The 1st POV
The moon is alone in the navy blue sky. There are no stars to accompany it, just endless darkness holds a white orb in its tight clutches.
Roaming in the golden labyrinth, I try to find … Actually, I don’t know what I’m looking for, but my legs keep carrying me.
I see a lean silhouette in the distance, standing on the top of the hill. Their head is tilted towards the lone moon.
The figure doesn't seem to notice me, or at least doesn't bother to acknowledge, when I come closer to them.
A long bird skull is eliminated in the soft white lights. I immediately recognize it.
Is it a projection of my mind? Is it trying to play tricks on me?
But I make no move. It feels like I'm floating, my body is light, my mind is thoughtless.
"The moon is rather lonely, don't you believe?" I hear myself saying, though I don't know where it's coming from, like it's not my thoughts but somebody else's.
"Yes," the figure laments, the string of sadness is prominent in the tapestry of a rich voice.
"It's not fair," I carry on, "the moon's beauty and grace shouldn't be kept to itself. I deem, I know what it lacks."
I take a handful of the sand and blow it into the sky. Its small pieces, resembling diamonds, fly towards the dark canvas, strewing it, they light up, forming constellations.
"Thank you, Maat," the bird figure whispers. His massive skull rests gently on my head, while the swathed hands are holding me around my waist. "Thank you, my starbriger."
Waking up, I realise that I feel refreshed. No more fatigue from restless sleeping, there is only content void of lightness in my chest.
The dreams have changed as well. They are no more plagued with the stone pyramid, but with incomprehensible episodes that leave an imprint of warmth in my chest.
The bus is not anywhere near being devoid of people today. Though, the journey home is far pleasant, when you are not worn out to no end.
I'm going through the same place, where I saw a mysterious man with no less mysterious bird-headed being, not knowing the purpose of the search.
At the last second, I race to the door, particularly stepping over the heads of disgruntled people, I get off the double-decker and head towards the British Museum.
A large banner with "New Egyptian exhibition" meets me at the entrance, so it becomes my destination.
A wide range of showpieces, artifacts and specimens are presented among the massive hall.
A specific exhibit feels like calling me, gaining my full attention. It's an ancient stela with Egyptian hieroglyphs encircling a woman in a voluminous pleated robe, a single feather adorns her head.
"Maat”, the name echoes around the room, bouncing across the room. I shiver, millions of tiny needles are thrusted into my skin. A well-known tag is knotted in my chest, leaving me breathless.
I turn around to inspect the room, but my eyes land on mahogany obsidian orbs of the man's irises. I immediately recognise the slightly untamed curly hair.
"Sorry," the dark-headed man apologies timidly, "didn't mean to startle me. It's Maat, the Egyptian goddess of truth, justice and harmony. In the Duat,creepy place, trust me, the hearts of the dead ate weighed against her feather. She was also—"
"Are you working here?" I cut him short. From his chattering I start to get a small headache, a slight pressure on my temple.
"No, sorry, not any more at least," he gabbles. "I'm Steven. With a V." (It never gets old)
I start introducing myself when in the corner of my eyes I notice a familiar bird skull.
"Have I gone nuts?" I whisper.
"Well, you're not alone," Steven whispers in return.
I peer at him, he wears a soft smile, something tells me he knows something, while I don't have the foggiest.
"You can see him as well, can you?" I finally voice the question.
"Something I wish I couldn't. Nevertheless, I do see Khonshu."
"Yes, the Egyptian god of the moon."
The named Khonshu has not moved from his spot, looming in the other end of the hall, while people are roaming around, completely oblivious to the deity.
She is standing here, a few meters are keeping them apart, her gaze is puzzled yet intrigued and alive, there is no hint of fright.
I wish I could touch her. Is it even possible? he wonders, keeping the riddle to himself. He wants to feel her, her soft and hot like flames touch always left a burn on his soul.
He's afraid to approach her, afraid that she's just a myth, he let himself believe.
When the girl waves at him, he's totally flabbergasted.
"I believe he wants to talk to you," his avatar chimes in their silent interaction. "Let's find a place without unwanted eyes and ears."
The 1st POV
We reach an empty alley, where no prying soul can bother us.
"How do you know him?" How a human can meet a deity, there must be a story behind it.
"Well," he awkwardly rubs his neck, the sight of discomfort. "I'm his avatar. 'Fist of vengeance' he calls me."
"You can say so."
The god of the moon is already awaiting us. How do you greet him? Do you kneel?
Up close, he's even taller, and more powerful. His posture is strong, intimidating, the staff in his hands only magnify the effect.
"Hi," I greet him meekly.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," Khonshu's words rings out. His voice is the same as in the dream: strident and soulful, the finest sound of a violin is just a creak compare to the tone of his voice. It makes my breath hitch.
"I dream about you."
"What do you see in the dream?" he inquires.
"I always see the moon. Though, I was caged into a pyramid, deprived of the chance to get out. But recently it's changed. I'm no longer a prisoner but a wanderer, who doesn't know it's destination. Yesterday I found you. You were sorrowful and alone, as the moon in that sky. I took a handful of sand and created stars for you. You called me —"
"Starbriger," Khonshu completes.
"What does it mean?"
His chance to reply is taken as a man with a serving knife in his grasp ambushes us. And he is aiming at me. But before he can swing the weapons, a masked man in white neat suit sets on the assailant, punching him in the face.
"Knocked out!" he exclaims, when the man falls down. "It was like a knife through butter. Get it. Knife." He imitates sticking a knife.
"Steven?" I ask the man.
Before he can answer, the man stands up. Steven doesn't wait, he grabs the man and pin him to the wall of the building.
"Please," the man pleas, trembling. "I was just sitting at a restaurant with my date. I don't even know how I get here."
Something in me tells me it's not right. The attacker is not the man who is holding the blade. The man before me is not guilty.
"Let him go, Steven," I order with authority, "he's innocent."
"He tried to make canapés of you."
"Trust her," Khonshu points. "She knows it. Let the man go." His words, his trust make me feel proud. I smile, itching in my heart return, as if it begs me that it needs something more.
As soon as the man is released, he flees, leaving a trail of dust behind.
Khonshu addresses me, kneeling down before me:
"The feeling you get, the itching inside your chest, the tagging, your dreams are all the projection of your memories and past. You're Maat. The Goddess. And most importantly, you're my lost…love."
When Khonshu finishes the speech, I start to get a strong splitting headache. The more I think about his words, the harder is the pain. When I can't take it anymore, my mind shuts down.
The worm is able to break the fall of the girl. Her eyes are open, but she doesn't move or show any reaction. The face is blank.
"What's wrong with her?" the human questions.
"She's mortal." The god answers solemnly. "Her body could not cope with her memories that number thousands of years, and so it caused her to enter a catatonic state."
"How do we help her?"
"The forced memories will fade away, and she gets to normal, though without the recollection of the triggers."
The girl is coming back from her trance. I hide in order to prevent from the unpleasant experience.
The 1st POV
I notice Steven is holding me in with arms. I jump from his embrace, hoping that dim light can hide my embarrassment.
"What happened?" I ask him. Steven is no longer in his white suit, but in his casual wear.
"You blacked out. I think you should go home to rest. Meeting a moon deity and nearly getting cut takes its toll on you."
And Steven walks me home. Without Khonshu this time. Or at least I think so.
Getting to my flat, I thank Steven and give him my number in case he'll need to reach me. Bidding goodbye, he leaves.
A few minutes later, I hear a knock on the door. Did Steven forget something?
"Steven, do you —," but it isn't Steven.
At the threshold is standing a tall man, with long dark hair and groomed beard, who is wearing plain white clothes.
"Em, can I help you," I ask awkwardly.
"My name is Barry. I'm avatar of Ra. I'll like to talk to you, dear." The man grins.
Well, it took longer than I expected. I hope it's worth it :)
Channie Doesn’t Know
seo changbin x reader
part 1/8 - come on fuck me emo boy. find the playlist here
word count: 3.2k
genre: smut, teeny bit of fluff - MINORS DNI
warnings: ah fuck here we go / rock star changbin, smoking, cheating, unprotected sex (do better), bin’s a bit mean, biting, blood (just a teeny bit), marking, biting, bruising exhibitionism, crying, pet names: princess, slut, ￼dirty talk. if i missed anything, PLEASE LET ME KNOW.
summary: the greatest mistake changbin has ever made.
a/n: stating the obvious here, but i don’t condone cheating. this was fun to write, and hopefully it will be fun to read, but i’m begging you not to cheat on anyone ever. anyway, i’m v excited to kick off this series with changbin and hope it lives up to your expectations! pls send all of the feedback, i’m so excited for you to go on this journey with me <333
this is a work of fiction. this fic in no way represents seo changbin as a person or stray kids as a whole. you are responsible for the media you consume. please read responsibly.
series taglist: @lix-ables, @rachalixie, @agustd-essert, @fthan, @chaitae-bae, @cloudyybinin, @lix001
Changbin never believed in mistakes. To him, everything in his life had some sort of purpose - there was no such thing as a bad choice. He did what he felt was right, and never once has he been wrong.
It was the heaviest storm September has ever seen. The puddles on the streets were deep, and Changbin watched the crowd outside the venue continually sink their feet in the murky water. Docs covered in mud, wet denim sticking to legs. He was grateful to be hidden under the alley walkway, dry and warm.
His head was resting on the cool, damp brick, cigarette hanging between his lips as he lazily attempted to light it. The wind kept catching the flame, blowing it out before it was fully developed. The lack of nicotine grew increasingly more irritating, distracting him from the loud slam of the alleyway door.
“Need a hand?”
Changbin slowly turned to the owner of the voice, mouth dropping just enough for the cigarette to roll out and into a puddle to be whisked away.
That was his last one.
“Fuck.” He mumbled, throwing his head against the wall enough for it to sting slightly. “Not anymore.”
Water splashed under your boots as you approached him, Changbin watching out of the corner of his eye. The sounds of water pattering on the asphalt was the only noise, followed by the familiar click of a lighter.
A cold hand gripped his chin, tugging it gently in your direction. With a smirk on your face, you took the cigarette from your lips and slipped it in between his. The combination of the burning tobacco and the cool of your touch made Changbin’s head spin, eyes threatening to flutter shut.
He took a long inhale, holding it for longer than necessary before blowing the smoke out in your face. When it cleared, he found himself staring at your lips - red and slightly parted, more tempting than the stick that was in between his.
“Better?” You had asked, pulling his eyes and thoughts away from your lips.
He smirked before offering the cigarette to you, studying the way your lips wrapped around the end of it.
The two of you shared the cigarette, smoking it down to the very end before tossing the bud on the ground. Changbin watched as you stepped on it, flattening it down before kicking it in the direction of the other littered cigarette ends.
Changbin was mesmerized by you. The way you had your hair pushed back, jaw clenched as you lit the second cigarette. Then it was the way you exhaled, the white smoke disappearing into the evening rain. At one point, you had leaned into him, passing the stick along, and the smell of your perfume overwhelmed him. Floral, rosey, warm. The opposite of the heavy smoke that hung between you two.
Tobacco had never eased him like your presence had.
The second cigarette was gone within a blink, bud falling and meeting the same fate as the first. “As much as I’d love to share another, I need to go in.” You said, glancing at your watch.
“Nah, go. Thanks for sharing.”
You looked up at him, smile slowly fading. “Wait…” He watched your eyes narrow in on his lips, and he felt his breathing screech to a halt as you leaned in. He hoped you couldn’t see the way his hands were shaking, or the slight tremble of his lips.
Changbin had never kissed somebody in the rain before, though he had always wanted to. It was a cheesy fantasy, but one that he could never shake. He wanted the feeling of warm lips against his in the cold rain, bodies tingling with a lethal combination of anticipation and bone chilling cold. His skin rose as you got closer, and he found himself leaning into your movements.
Right as the tip of your nose brushed against his, you stopped. He breathed you in; tobacco and rose and mint. A smell so unique, one that he swore he would never forget.
Soft fingers touched his chin for the second time that evening. His eyes fluttered shut, body already beginning to chill.
He felt your thumb press against his bottom lip, the pressure growing by the second. Instinct told him to open his mouth, to take you in. But he didn’t. Not yet. He wanted to know your next move.
The thumb on his lip moved to the right, tugging on it as you swiped once, then twice. Changbin opened his eyes just as you moved your head back to look at him. You placed the same thumb that was just on his lip in your mouth, lips forming around it as you sucked before popping it out.
“Had a bit of me on you.” The thumb pulled on your bottom lip, smearing the red lipstick down your chin.
Lipstick. All you were doing was wiping lipstick off his lips, and it had him harder than he had ever been before. It was just fucking lipstick.
But, was it? Or was that just his breaking point?
Manners be damned. Changbin grabbed your face, stumbling out from under the walkway just a bit to fall into the rain. Your lips collided against his, tongues hungrily pressing into each other. He pulled you into the rain with him, slamming your body against the brick wall of the venue. Your moans echoed in his mouth, allowing him to deepen the kiss.
No time was wasted. Lips never left each other. Your hands worked on his belt while his fell to your pants, shoving them down just enough to let him slip inside you.
He’ll never forget the way you felt around him for the first time. The warmth of your kisses and walls rivaling the ice of the rain and wind. Your hair stuck to your face and his, molded together in every way possible. Changbin didn’t even know you, didn’t even know your name, yet here he was - ramming himself into you in a pale evening light. Where anyone could see.
Maybe it was the way you held his hand, bringing it up to your throat and encouraging him to grasp it. Or maybe it was the way you begged him, “baby” falling from your lips over and over as your climax approached. It could also have been the way the brick wall cut his hand after he had placed it there to brace himself. It could have been a number of things, but all Changbin knew was now that he’s had you, he would never let you go.
Changbin didn’t believe in mistakes.
He didn’t understand the weight that came with fucking you in an empty alleyway.
It wasn’t until the two of you snuck back inside the venue, giggling as your clothes dripped onto the vinyl flooring that he realized maybe mistakes were real.
And maybe you were one.
“Hey!” A friendly voice called. A voice that always brought Changbin warmth, always made him feel safe in a way no other friend had. He looked up to see his blonde friend making his way over to the two of you, smiling to greet Changbin-
Chan walked up to you, laughing as he brushed the hair plastered to your face back. “You’re soaked. Get caught in the rain?”
You smiled sweetly at him, leaning into the warmth of his touch. “What gave it away?”
Chan’s nose scrunched as he smiled at you, then he did something that made Changbin’s stomach turn.
He leaned in, taking you into his arms as he kissed you just as Changbin had moments ago. He heard your muffle laughs against Chan’s lips, watched as you tried to squirm away.
“You're going to get wet!”
He was going to vomit.
As if noticing him for the first time, after the kiss was broken, Chan looked up at Changbin. “Damn, you both got it pretty bad. What were you doing out there, anyway? It’s been a mess all day.”
You looked back at Changbin, eyes flashing with warning as you stared at him, awaiting his answer.
No, he really was going to throw up. Right here, in front of his friend and his best friend’s new girlfriend, who he just fucked like an animal.
His mouth was dry, hands shaking so bad that he was hoping Chan would believe he was just cold. “Just bummed a cig. That’s all.” His voice was raspy, unstable as he lied to his friend.
Then you bit your lip, smiling at Changbin in satisfaction, and he realized he would lie over and over for you just to feel your body against his again.
That’s what he was doing now. Lying to Chan for maybe the fifth time this week alone as he had you bent over in the back of the equipment van.
The van was cold, snow piling up on the front windows and getting thicker as the clock ticked on. Changbin tore every article of clothing off of you the second you shut the sliding door behind you, nails scratching into the hickeys Chan had left on your back nights ago.
At first, Changbin would worry about the marks on your back or shoulders - Chan’s claim on you. How recent were they? Did he believe Changbin’s marks were his own? Could he tell the difference?
Now, it was a game to him. Counting the bruises, daring to add more and more each time. It was almost as if he wanted Chan to find out about the two of you and what you did when he wasn’t around. How easily you fell to your knees for Changbin, how quickly your legs would spread.
He would never tell his friend, but the marks might, and that made Changbin more determined to lie for you. Even if it meant betraying the one person he knew trusted him completely.
Changbin didn’t notice how hard he was scratching until your back arched, a cry filling the van.
“Fuck, Bin.” You threw your head back, panting as you spoke. “Do it again.”
The skin was raised, purple with the threat of breaking, and yet here you were, begging him for more.
And who would he be to deny you?
He raked his nails down your back again, using his other to grasp your hair and keep your head up as he dragged his nails down your spine. “Like that? Like when I hurt you like this?”
“Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Just give me more-“
Changbin pulled you up by your hair, back slamming against his chest and sticking to it with your combined sweat. “More? You want more?” He thrusted into you harder, scratching around to your stomach and dropping lower. “You’re so fucking greedy, you know that? You get my cock and Chan’s whenever you want it, and he doesn't even know. What’s next? Going to cry to Ji for his after I fill you up?”
You chuckled, head falling onto his shoulder. He loved the way you looked like this, eyes shut and drool slowly dripping out of your mouth. So fucked out and in complete bliss. “Maybe I will. What will you do about it, huh? I’m not even yours.”
I’m not even yours.
The words bounced around his brain, bruising every corner they hit and making his body ache. It was true - you weren’t his. He was very aware of that. But to even think about it for more than three seconds made his chest ache, heart falling into the depths of his stomach.
He didn’t know who he hated more - you for making him feel this way, him for falling for you, or Chan for getting to be with you.
Fresh anger coursed through his veins as he pushed out of you, your whines from the sudden withdrawal only pissing him off more. Changbin sat on the floor of the van, back against the back doors. He grabbed your hips, pulling you into his lap and flipping you around before he rammed himself back into you.
You cried out at the intrusion, throwing your head back in pleasure. Changbin took the opportunity to attack your neck, biting all over the pure, untainted skin.
Maybe Chan would know now. Maybe he needed to know.
“Changbin-“ Your words were unstable, syllables breaking as you tried to speak. “No. Can’t-“
“Why?” He growled, biting the side of your neck harder. It had to hurt, the way he was pulling at your skin. But he couldn’t find it in him to care; you had hurt him too much, it was only fair he got to return the favor. “I think it’s time Channie knows who fucks you better than he ever could.”
The van was squeaking with Changbin’s movements, shaking as he slammed harder into you. He continued to bite around your neck, your hands cupping his face to keep him there. It was disgusting, the way he smirked when you grabbed him. For once, he got to win, even if Chan would never know.
One of your hands traveled behind his head to grip his hair while the other found your clit, circles rubbed in time with Changbin’s thrust. “Fuck. Love when you fuck me.”
Changbin gave no response, too busy biting on you hard enough to finally break the skin. The metallic tang of blood coated his tongue, moaning at the warm feeling of it. He left the bruise to find your lips, sticking his tongue in your mouth immediately to give you a taste.
Whether your moans were from how he fucked you, or the amount of pain he continued to inflict on you, Changbin didn’t care. He never would care, so long as he was the one wrecking you.
Breaking the kiss, two fingers found the underside of your chin, tilting your head back gently. He moved your head side to side, studying the constellation of bruises. “Fucking gorgeous.” He whispered, thrusts slowing just a bit as you began to clench around his cock tighter. “My pretty little pain slut, all marked up for me.”
A gasp left your lips, lifting your hips just a bit only to slam back down on him. Changbin could reach parts you never knew existed; he was aware of that, as you had told him in a hushed whisper when he took you in a dressing room shower before a show. He made you tingle in ways that burned so good, toes curling and body shaking any time he hit those spots. It’s where he was hitting now, your entire body threatening to shatter as he fucked you closer to your end.
“Binnie.” You whined, clashing with his lips again. He favorite thing about fucking you? The way you always, always kissed him before you came. It’s what made him think you might love him the way he loves you. “Close.”
The fingers on your chin moved down to wrap around your throat. “Never have to ask.” Changbin mumbled, slowing down just a bit to ensure he kept hitting your favorite spot. “Always allowed to cum around me, princess.”
Your eyes flutter shut, letting yourself give into the bliss. Changbin hissed as the way you clenched him tighter, his orgasm threatening to break free. He wouldn’t let it - no, it was his rule with you. He would make you cum a million times before he even considered cumming at all. He didn’t give a fuck about himself, only you.
It’s always been only you.
Your sharp cry almost drowned out the muffled ringing of your phone. The two of you froze, listening to the shrill tone fill the stuffy space.
“Ignore it.” You mumbled, lifting your hips up to get things started again.
But this was an opportunity Changbin couldn’t pass up.
He reached behind you, hand diving into your bag to fish out the phone. Once he found it, he held it in the space between you two. Your expressions couldn’t be more opposite; Changbin smiling wickedly, eyes wide with excitement while you shrunk, a worried expression painting your face.
His thumb hovered over the answer button, looking you dead in the eyes. “Behave.” His command was sharp, and he gave you no time to answer before confirming the call.
“Baby?” At the sound of Chan’s voice, Changbin started to move again. “Been trying to get a hold of you for a bit. Everything okay?”
Your eyes welled with tears, riling Changbin up even more. He bit his lip to hold in his laugh, slowly deepening his thrusts. “Ye-yeah. ‘M good. Just-“ You pressed your lips together, silencing the gasp you almost released. “-Just been a bit busy.”
“Okay, good. I was getting a bit worried.” He sounded so relieved, so quick to believe your lies. His friend had always been a bit too trusting. “Are you coming out tonight?”
Changbin leaned into your chest, mouth forming around your nipple to suck and bite. He looked up at you, watching as you winced in pleasure. It was a bit sadistic, how much this made Changbin lose his mind. He should feel bad - after all, you are his best friend’s girlfriend.
But he didn’t really give a fuck, not when he could make you fall apart without even trying.
“Of course.” The tears were flowing now, dripping down your chin. Changbin’s free hand found your clit, teasing it as you spoke. “Getting dressed now.”
“Great! I’m so excited to see you. I actually wanted to talk to you about-“
Chan trailed on, the two of you unable to focus on what exactly he was saying. Changbin pulled off your nipple and muted the call. Once silenced, you finally cried out.
“Binnie, please hang up. Can’t-can’t-“
He rolled his eyes, thumb moving quicker. “Shut up.” His cock rammed into you, the pleasure overwhelming. “Cum now, with Chan on the phone, or we’re done.”
The threat was empty - he could never leave you - but fuck, the way your tears fell faster and whines grew louder was too fucking hot. You nodded quickly, agreeing with him before you unmuted the call, Chan still rambling on.
“-so I think mid set would be a good time for that. What do you think?”
“So-sounds good.” Your breathing was heavier, legs shaking around Changbin. “It’ll be good.”
“You think?” His tone was so sincere, truly valuing your bullshit opinion. “Well, what about this? So-“
Changbin hissed as you clenched around him, not bothering to slow down. You searched for his lips, finding them just as you broke, drenching Changbin’s lower body in your essence as you came hard. He allowed himself to moan quietly against your lips, rocking into you more as he chased his high.
Chan was still talking as you both finished. Changbin’s head fell against your shoulder, muffling his heavy breaths against your neck as he attempted to come down.
“I just wanted to tell you that.” God, his voice was so annoying right now. Why did Changbin even answer the call? “I do have to run. Changbin should be here soon with the equipment, but I’ll see you later, okay?”
At the sound of his name, Changbin looked up to find you staring down at him. “ ‘Kay.”
“I love you.” Chan said.
Your eyes never left Changbin’s. Black tears stained your cheeks, blood drying on your neck, sweating making your hair stick to your forehead. It wasn’t the most ideal moment; post sex with your boyfriend on the phone, but Changbin would swear you had never looked more beautiful in that moment.
The moment you locked your eyes with him, no longer speaking to Chan.
“I love you.”
©: chvnnie 2022
The Green Knight and Medieval Metatextuality: An Essay
Right, so. Finally watched it last night, and I’ve been thinking about it literally ever since, except for the part where I was asleep. As I said to fellow medievalist and admirer of Dev Patel @oldshrewsburyian, it’s possibly the most fascinating piece of medieval-inspired media that I’ve seen in ages, and how refreshing to have something in this genre that actually rewards critical thought and deep analysis, rather than me just fulminating fruitlessly about how popular media thinks that slapping blood, filth, and misogyny onto some swords and castles is “historically accurate.” I read a review of TGK somewhere that described it as the anti-Game of Thrones, and I’m inclined to think that’s accurate. I didn’t agree with all of the film’s tonal, thematic, or interpretative choices, but I found them consistently stylish, compelling, and subversive in ways both small and large, and I’m gonna have to write about it or I’ll go crazy. So. Brace yourselves.
(Note: My PhD is in medieval history, not medieval literature, and I haven’t worked on SGGK specifically, but I am familiar with it, its general cultural context, and the historical influences, images, and debates that both the poem and the film referenced and drew upon, so that’s where this meta is coming from.)
First, obviously, while the film is not a straight-up text-to-screen version of the poem (though it is by and large relatively faithful), it is a multi-layered meta-text that comments on the original Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, the archetypes of chivalric literature as a whole, modern expectations for medieval films, the hero’s journey, the requirements of being an “honorable knight,” and the nature of death, fate, magic, and religion, just to name a few. Given that the Arthurian legendarium, otherwise known as the Matter of Britain, was written and rewritten over several centuries by countless authors, drawing on and changing and hybridizing interpretations that sometimes challenged or outright contradicted earlier versions, it makes sense for the film to chart its own path and make its own adaptational decisions as part of this multivalent, multivocal literary canon. Sir Gawain himself is a canonically and textually inconsistent figure; in the movie, the characters merrily pronounce his name in several different ways, most notably as Sean Harris/King Arthur’s somewhat inexplicable “Garr-win.” He might be a man without a consistent identity, but that’s pointed out within the film itself. What has he done to define himself, aside from being the king’s nephew? Is his quixotic quest for the Green Knight actually going to resolve the question of his identity and his honor – and if so, is it even going to matter, given that successful completion of the “game” seemingly equates with death?
Likewise, as the anti-Game of Thrones, the film is deliberately and sometimes maddeningly non-commercial. For an adaptation coming from a studio known primarily for horror, it almost completely eschews the cliché that gory bloodshed equals authentic medievalism; the only graphic scene is the Green Knight’s original beheading. The violence is only hinted at, subtextual, suspenseful; it is kept out of sight, around the corner, never entirely played out or resolved. In other words, if anyone came in thinking that they were going to watch Dev Patel luridly swashbuckle his way through some CGI monsters like bad Beowulf adaptations of yore, they were swiftly disappointed. In fact, he seems to spend most of his time being wet, sad, and failing to meet the moment at hand (with a few important exceptions).
The film unhurriedly evokes a medieval setting that is both surreal and defiantly non-historical. We travel (in roughly chronological order) from Anglo-Saxon huts to Romanesque halls to high-Gothic cathedrals to Tudor villages and half-timbered houses, culminating in the eerie neo-Renaissance splendor of the Lord and Lady’s hall, before returning to the ancient trees of the Green Chapel and its immortal occupant: everything that has come before has now returned to dust. We have been removed even from imagined time and place and into a moment where it ceases to function altogether. We move forward, backward, and sideways, as Gawain experiences past, present, and future in unison. He is dislocated from his own sense of himself, just as we, the viewers, are dislocated from our sense of what is the “true” reality or filmic narrative; what we think is real turns out not to be the case at all. If, of course, such a thing even exists at all.
This visual evocation of the entire medieval era also creates a setting that, unlike GOT, takes pride in rejecting absolutely all political context or Machiavellian maneuvering. The film acknowledges its own cultural ubiquity and the question of whether we really need yet another King Arthur adaptation: none of the characters aside from Gawain himself are credited by name. We all know it’s Arthur, but he’s listed only as “king.” We know the spooky druid-like old man with the white beard is Merlin, but it’s never required to spell it out. The film gestures at our pre-existing understanding; it relies on us to fill in the gaps, cuing us to collaboratively produce the story with it, positioning us as listeners as if we were gathered to hear the original poem. Just like fanfiction, it knows that it doesn’t need to waste time introducing every single character or filling in ultimately unnecessary background knowledge, when the audience can be relied upon to bring their own.
As for that, the film explicitly frames itself as a “filmed adaptation of the chivalric romance” in its opening credits, and continues to play with textual referents and cues throughout: telling us where we are, what’s happening, or what’s coming next, rather like the rubrics or headings within a medieval manuscript. As noted, its historical/architectural references span the entire medieval European world, as does its costume design. I was particularly struck by the fact that Arthur and Guinevere’s crowns resemble those from illuminated monastic manuscripts or Eastern Orthodox iconography: they are both crown and halo, they confer an air of both secular kingship and religious sanctity. The question in the film’s imagined epilogue thus becomes one familiar to Shakespeare’s Henry V: heavy is the head that wears the crown. Does Gawain want to earn his uncle’s crown, take over his place as king, bear the fate of Camelot, become a great ruler, a husband and father in ways that even Arthur never did, only to see it all brought to dust by his cowardice, his reliance on unscrupulous sorcery, and his unfulfilled promise to the Green Knight? Is it better to have that entire life and then lose it, or to make the right choice now, even if it means death?
Likewise, Arthur’s kingly mantle is Byzantine in inspiration, as is the icon of the Virgin Mary-as-Theotokos painted on Gawain’s shield (which we see broken apart during the attack by the scavengers). The film only glances at its religious themes rather than harping on them explicitly; we do have the cliché scene of the male churchmen praying for Gawain’s safety, opposite Gawain’s mother and her female attendants working witchcraft to protect him. (When oh when will I get my film that treats medieval magic and medieval religion as the complementary and co-existing epistemological systems that they were, rather than portraying them as diametrically binary and disparagingly gendered opposites?) But despite the interim setbacks borne from the failure of Christian icons, the overall resolution of the film could serve as the culmination of a medieval Christian morality tale: Gawain can buy himself a great future in the short term if he relies on the protection of the enchanted green belt to avoid the Green Knight’s killing stroke, but then he will have to watch it all crumble until he is sitting alone in his own hall, his children dead and his kingdom destroyed, as a headless corpse who only now has been brave enough to accept his proper fate. By removing the belt from his person in the film’s Inception-like final scene, he relinquishes the taint of black magic and regains his religious honor, even at the likely cost of death. That, the medieval Christian morality tale would agree, is the correct course of action.
Gawain’s encounter with St. Winifred likewise presents a more subtle vision of medieval Christianity. Winifred was an eighth-century Welsh saint known for being beheaded, after which (by the power of another saint) her head was miraculously restored to her body and she went on to live a long and holy life. It doesn’t quite work that way in TGK. (St Winifred’s Well is mentioned in the original SGGK, but as far as I recall, Gawain doesn’t meet the saint in person.) In the film, Gawain encounters Winifred’s lifelike apparition, who begs him to dive into the mere and retrieve her head (despite appearances, she warns him, it is not attached to her body). This fits into the pattern of medieval ghost stories, where the dead often return to entreat the living to help them finish their business; they must be heeded, but when they are encountered in places they shouldn’t be, they must be put back into their proper physical space and reminded of their real fate. Gawain doesn’t follow William of Newburgh’s practical recommendation to just fetch some brawny young men with shovels to beat the wandering corpse back into its grave. Instead, in one of his few moments of unqualified heroism, he dives into the dark water and retrieves Winifred’s skull from the bottom of the lake. Then when he returns to the house, he finds the rest of her skeleton lying in the bed where he was earlier sleeping, and carefully reunites the skull with its body, finally allowing it to rest in peace.
However, Gawain’s involvement with Winifred doesn’t end there. The fox that he sees on the bank after emerging with her skull, who then accompanies him for the rest of the film, is strongly implied to be her spirit, or at least a companion that she has sent for him. Gawain has handled a saint’s holy bones; her relics, which were well known to grant protection in the medieval world. He has done the saint a service, and in return, she extends her favor to him. At the end of the film, the fox finally speaks in a human voice, warning him not to proceed to the fateful final encounter with the Green Knight; it will mean his death. The symbolism of having a beheaded saint serve as Gawain’s guide and protector is obvious, since it is the fate that may or may not lie in store for him. As I said, the ending is Inception-like in that it steadfastly refuses to tell you if the hero is alive (or will live) or dead (or will die). In the original SGGK, of course, the Green Knight and the Lord turn out to be the same person, Gawain survives, it was all just a test of chivalric will and honor, and a trap put together by Morgan Le Fay in an attempt to frighten Guinevere. It’s essentially able to be laughed off: a game, an adventure, not real. TGK takes this paradigm and flips it (to speak…) on its head.
Gawain’s rescue of Winifred’s head also rewards him in more immediate terms: his/the Green Knight’s axe, stolen by the scavengers, is miraculously restored to him in her cottage, immediately and concretely demonstrating the virtue of his actions. This is one of the points where the film most stubbornly resists modern storytelling conventions: it simply refuses to add in any kind of “rational” or “empirical” explanation of how else it got there, aside from the grace and intercession of the saint. This is indeed how it works in medieval hagiography: things simply reappear, are returned, reattached, repaired, made whole again, and Gawain’s lost weapon is thus restored, symbolizing that he has passed the test and is worthy to continue with the quest. The film’s narrative is not modernizing its underlying medieval logic here, and it doesn’t particularly care if a modern audience finds it “convincing” or not. As noted, the film never makes any attempt to temporalize or localize itself; it exists in a determinedly surrealist and ahistorical landscape, where naked female giants who look suspiciously like Tilda Swinton roam across the wild with no necessary explanation. While this might be frustrating for some people, I actually found it a huge relief that a clearly fantastic and fictional literary adaptation was not acting like it was qualified to teach “real history” to its audience. Nobody would come out of TGK thinking that they had seen the “actual” medieval world, and since we have enough of a problem with that sort of thing thanks to GOT, I for one welcome the creation of a medieval imaginative space that embraces its eccentric and unrealistic elements, rather than trying to fit them into the Real Life box.
This plays into the fact that the film, like a reused medieval manuscript containing more than one text, is a palimpsest: for one, it audaciously rewrites the entire Arthurian canon in the wordless vision of Gawain’s life after escaping the Green Knight (I could write another meta on that dream-epilogue alone). It moves fluidly through time and creates alternate universes in at least two major points: one, the scene where Gawain is tied up and abandoned by the scavengers and that long circling shot reveals his skeletal corpse rotting on the sward, only to return to our original universe as Gawain decides that he doesn’t want that fate, and two, Gawain as King. In this alternate ending, Arthur doesn’t die in battle with Mordred, but peaceably in bed, having anointed his worthy nephew as his heir. Gawain becomes king, has children, gets married, governs Camelot, becomes a ruler surpassing even Arthur, but then watches his son get killed in battle, his subjects turn on him, and his family vanish into the dust of his broken hall before he himself, in despair, pulls the enchanted scarf out of his clothing and succumbs to his fate.
In this version, Gawain takes on the responsibility for the fall of Camelot, not Arthur. This is the hero’s burden, but he’s obtained it dishonorably, by cheating. It is a vivid but mimetic future which Gawain (to all appearances) ultimately rejects, returning the film to the realm of traditional Arthurian canon – but not quite. After all, if Gawain does get beheaded after that final fade to black, it would represent a significant alteration from the poem and the character’s usual arc. Are we back in traditional canon or aren’t we? Did Gawain reject that future or didn’t he? Do all these alterities still exist within the visual medium of the meta-text, and have any of them been definitely foreclosed?
Furthermore, the film interrogates itself and its own tropes in explicit and overt ways. In Gawain’s conversation with the Lord, the Lord poses the question that many members of the audience might have: is Gawain going to carry out this potentially pointless and suicidal quest and then be an honorable hero, just like that? What is he actually getting by staggering through assorted Irish bogs and seeming to reject, rather than embrace, the paradigms of a proper quest and that of an honorable knight? He lies about being a knight to the scavengers, clearly out of fear, and ends up cravenly bound and robbed rather than fighting back. He denies knowing anything about love to the Lady (played by Alicia Vikander, who also plays his lover at the start of the film with a decidedly ropey Yorkshire accent, sorry to say). He seems to shrink from the responsibility thrust on him, rather than rise to meet it (his only honorable act, retrieving Winifred’s head, is discussed above) and yet here he still is, plugging away. Why is he doing this? What does he really stand to gain, other than accepting a choice and its consequences (somewhat?) The film raises these questions, but it has no plans to answer them. It’s going to leave you to think about them for yourself, and it isn’t going to spoon-feed you any ultimate moral or neat resolution. In this interchange, it’s easy to see both the echoes of a formal dialogue between two speakers (a favored medieval didactic tactic) and the broader purpose of chivalric literature: to interrogate what it actually means to be a knight, how personal honor is generated, acquired, and increased, and whether engaging in these pointless and bloody “war games” is actually any kind of real path to lasting glory.
The film’s treatment of race, gender, and queerness obviously also merits comment. By casting Dev Patel, an Indian-born actor, as an Arthurian hero, the film is… actually being quite accurate to the original legends, doubtless much to the disappointment of assorted internet racists. The thirteenth-century Arthurian romance Parzival (Percival) by the German poet Wolfram von Eschenbach notably features the character of Percival’s mixed-race half-brother, Feirefiz, son of their father by his first marriage to a Muslim princess. Feirefiz is just as heroic as Percival (Gawaine, for the record, also plays a major role in the story) and assists in the quest for the Holy Grail, though it takes his conversion to Christianity for him to properly behold it.
By introducing Patel (and Sarita Chowdhury as Morgause) to the visual representation of Arthuriana, the film quietly does away with the “white Middle Ages” cliché that I have complained about ad nauseam; we see background Asian and black members of Camelot, who just exist there without having to conjure up some complicated rationale to explain their presence. The Lady also uses a camera obscura to make Gawain’s portrait. Contrary to those who might howl about anachronism, this technique was known in China as early as the fourth century BCE and the tenth/eleventh century Islamic scholar Ibn al-Haytham was probably the best-known medieval authority to write on it extensively; Latin translations of his work inspired European scientists from Roger Bacon to Leonardo da Vinci. Aside from the symbolism of an upside-down Gawain (and when he sees the portrait again during the ‘fall of Camelot’, it is right-side-up, representing that Gawain himself is in an upside-down world), this presents a subtle challenge to the prevailing Eurocentric imagination of the medieval world, and draws on other global influences.
As for gender, we have briefly touched on it above; in the original SGGK, Gawain’s entire journey is revealed to be just a cruel trick of Morgan Le Fay, simply trying to destabilize Arthur’s court and upset his queen. (Morgan is the old blindfolded woman who appears in the Lord and Lady’s castle and briefly approaches Gawain, but her identity is never explicitly spelled out.) This is, obviously, an implicitly misogynistic setup: an evil woman plays a trick on honorable men for the purpose of upsetting another woman, the honorable men overcome it, the hero survives, and everyone presumably lives happily ever after (at least until Mordred arrives).
Instead, by plunging the outcome into doubt and the hero into a much darker and more fallible moral universe, TGK shifts the blame for Gawain’s adventure and ultimate fate from Morgan to Gawain himself. Likewise, Guinevere is not the passive recipient of an evil deception but in a way, the catalyst for the whole thing. She breaks the seal on the Green Knight’s message with a weighty snap; she becomes the oracle who reads it out, she is alarming rather than alarmed, she disrupts the complacency of the court and silently shows up all the other knights who refuse to step forward and answer the Green Knight’s challenge. Gawain is not given the ontological reassurance that it’s just a practical joke and he’s going to be fine (and thanks to the unresolved ending, neither are we). The film instead takes the concept at face value in order to push the envelope and ask the simple question: if a man was going to be actually-for-real beheaded in a year, why would he set out on a suicidal quest? Would you, in Gawain’s place, make the same decision to cast aside the enchanted belt and accept your fate? Has he made his name, will he be remembered well? What is his legacy?
Indeed, if there is any hint of feminine connivance and manipulation, it arrives in the form of the implication that Gawain’s mother has deliberately summoned the Green Knight to test her son, prove his worth, and position him as his childless uncle’s heir; she gives him the protective belt to make sure he won’t actually die, and her intention all along was for the future shown in the epilogue to truly play out (minus the collapse of Camelot). Only Gawain loses the belt thanks to his cowardice in the encounter with the scavengers, regains it in a somewhat underhanded and morally questionable way when the Lady is attempting to seduce him, and by ultimately rejecting it altogether and submitting to his uncertain fate, totally mucks up his mother’s painstaking dynastic plans for his future. In this reading, Gawain could be king, and his mother’s efforts are meant to achieve that goal, rather than thwart it. He is thus required to shoulder his own responsibility for this outcome, rather than conveniently pawning it off on an “evil woman,” and by extension, the film asks the question: What would the world be like if men, especially those who make war on others as a way of life, were actually forced to face the consequences of their reckless and violent actions? Is it actually a “game” in any sense of the word, especially when chivalric literature is constantly preoccupied with the question of how much glorious violence is too much glorious violence? If you structure social prestige for the king and the noble male elite entirely around winning battles and existing in a state of perpetual war, when does that begin to backfire and devour the knightly class – and the rest of society – instead?
This leads into the central theme of Gawain’s relationships with the Lord and Lady, and how they’re treated in the film. The poem has been repeatedly studied in terms of its latent (and sometimes… less than latent) queer subtext: when the Lord asks Gawain to pay back to him whatever he should receive from his wife, does he already know what this involves; i.e. a physical and romantic encounter? When the Lady gives kisses to Gawain, which he is then obliged to return to the Lord as a condition of the agreement, is this all part of a dastardly plot to seduce him into a kinky green-themed threesome with a probably-not-human married couple looking to spice up their sex life? Why do we read the Lady’s kisses to Gawain as romantic but Gawain’s kisses to the Lord as filial, fraternal, or the standard “kiss of peace” exchanged between a liege lord and his vassal? Is Gawain simply being a dutiful guest by honoring the bargain with his host, actually just kissing the Lady again via the proxy of her husband, or somewhat more into this whole thing with the Lord than he (or the poet) would like to admit? Is the homosocial turning homoerotic, and how is Gawain going to navigate this tension and temptation?
If the question is never resolved: well, welcome to one of the central medieval anxieties about chivalry, knighthood, and male bonds! As I have written about before, medieval society needed to simultaneously exalt this as the most honored and noble form of love, and make sure it didn’t accidentally turn sexual (once again: how much male love is too much male love?). Does the poem raise the possibility of serious disruption to the dominant heteronormative paradigm, only to solve the problem by interpreting the Gawain/Lady male/female kisses as romantic and sexual and the Gawain/Lord male/male kisses as chaste and formal? In other words, acknowledging the underlying anxiety of possible homoeroticism but ultimately reasserting the heterosexual norm? The answer: Probably?!?! Maybe?!?! Hell if we know??! To say the least, this has been argued over to no end, and if you locked a lot of medieval history/literature scholars into a room and told them that they couldn’t come out until they decided on one clear answer, they would be in there for a very long time. The poem seemingly invokes the possibility of a queer reading only to reject it – but once again, as in the question of which canon we end up in at the film’s end, does it?
In some lights, the film’s treatment of this potential queer reading comes off like a cop-out: there is only one kiss between Gawain and the Lord, and it is something that the Lord has to initiate after Gawain has already fled the hall. Gawain himself appears to reject it; he tells the Lord to let go of him and runs off into the wilderness, rather than deal with or accept whatever has been suggested to him. However, this fits with film!Gawain’s pattern of rejecting that which fundamentally makes him who he is; like Peter in the Bible, he has now denied the truth three times. With the scavengers he denies being a knight; with the Lady he denies knowing about courtly love; with the Lord he denies the central bond of brotherhood with his fellows, whether homosocial or homoerotic in nature. I would go so far as to argue that if Gawain does die at the end of the film, it is this rejected kiss which truly seals his fate. In the poem, the Lord and the Green Knight are revealed to be the same person; in the film, it’s not clear if that’s the case, or they are separate characters, even if thematically interrelated. If we assume, however, that the Lord is in fact still the human form of the Green Knight, then Gawain has rejected both his kiss of peace (the standard gesture of protection offered from lord to vassal) and any deeper emotional bond that it can be read to signify. The Green Knight could decide to spare Gawain in recognition of the courage he has shown in relinquishing the enchanted belt – or he could just as easily decide to kill him, which he is legally free to do since Gawain has symbolically rejected the offer of brotherhood, vassalage, or knight-bonding by his unwise denial of the Lord’s freely given kiss. Once again, the film raises the overall thematic and moral question and then doesn’t give one straight (ahem) answer. As with the medieval anxieties and chivalric texts that it is based on, it invokes the specter of queerness and then doesn’t neatly resolve it. As a modern audience, we find this unsatisfying, but once again, the film is refusing to conform to our expectations.
As has been said before, there is so much kissing between men in medieval contexts, both ceremonial and otherwise, that we’re left to wonder: “is it gay or is it feudalism?” Is there an overtly erotic element in Gawain and the Green Knight’s mutual “beheading” of each other (especially since in the original version, this frees the Lord from his curse, functioning like a true love’s kiss in a fairytale). While it is certainly possible to argue that the film has “straightwashed” its subject material by removing the entire sequence of kisses between Gawain and the Lord and the unresolved motives for their existence, it is a fairly accurate, if condensed, representation of the anxieties around medieval knightly bonds and whether, as Carolyn Dinshaw put it, a (male/male) “kiss is just a kiss.” After all, the kiss between Gawain and the Lady is uncomplicatedly read as sexual/romantic, and that context doesn’t go away when Gawain is kissing the Lord instead. Just as with its multiple futurities, the film leaves the question open-ended. Is it that third and final denial that seals Gawain’s fate, and if so, is it asking us to reflect on why, specifically, he does so?
The film could play with both this question and its overall tone quite a bit more: it sometimes comes off as a grim, wooden, over-directed Shakespearean tragedy, rather than incorporating the lively and irreverent tone that the poem often takes. It’s almost totally devoid of humor, which is unfortunate, and the Grim Middle Ages aesthetic is in definite evidence. Nonetheless, because of the comprehensive de-historicizing and the obvious lack of effort to claim the film as any sort of authentic representation of the medieval past, it works. We are not meant to understand this as a historical document, and so we have to treat it on its terms, by its own logic, and by its own frames of reference. In some ways, its consistent opacity and its refusal to abide by modern rules and common narrative conventions is deliberately meant to challenge us: as before, when we recognize Arthur, Merlin, the Round Table, and the other stock characters because we know them already and not because the film tells us so, we have to fill in the gaps ourselves. We are watching the film not because it tells us a simple adventure story – there is, as noted, shockingly little action overall – but because we have to piece together the metatext independently and ponder the philosophical questions that it leaves us with. What conclusion do we reach? What canon do we settle in? What future or resolution is ultimately made real? That, the film says, it can’t decide for us. As ever, it is up to future generations to carry on the story, and decide how, if at all, it is going to survive.
(And to close, I desperately want them to make my much-coveted Bisclavret adaptation now in more or less the same style, albeit with some tweaks. Please.)
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