#reader smut

RE2R!Leon — (21 years old)

⟡ Insecure about his dick size, but 5 1/2 inches is average, right?

⟡ Leon doesn’t haven’t a preference for woman but when he met an older woman like you, he fell in love, the age gap only being 6 years

⟡ Is it embarrassing to say that you’re the only girl he brought over to his crappy apartment, a girl who’s older than him, he even tidy it up his room and especially his bed only for it to be ruined later

⟡ He shouldn’t jerk off in the RPD bathroom while he’s on duty because you couldn’t stop sending him dirty texts

⟡ Dry humping your clothed ass when he feels you pressed up against him at night

⟡ Sometimes comes right in his boxers when you continue to rub against his aching cock

⟡ He can be a bit perverted when doing laundry, he might take a sniff of your panties

⟡ He always has condoms on the bed side drawers, he’s always over prepare

⟡ The first time he tries pussy is life changing, he always feasts for it, “please—pleasee, baby” while he tugs on the waist band of your sweatpants when he has to go to work in 30 minutes

⟡ When you told him you wanted to try having raw sex, he was hesitant and was thinking of all the possibilities what could happen, he thought about your pregnancy more than you

⟡ His first time fucking you raw, he barley puts his tip in and he’s mumbling random things like “oh god oh god oh—fuck-“

⟡ Praising you over and over again when he’s so close to coming from your pussy clenching around his cock

⟡ Always so gentle during sex since he doesn’t want to hurt you

⟡ That’s why you put him back on condoms because he always came too fast like a horny teenager

⟡ Slow sex, just kissing you and slowly thrusting into you feeling like his cock is about to explode inside you

⟡ Pulls out his aching cock when he about to come and shoots it all over your belly

⟡ He’s so subby and when he needs you after a long day of work and just doing reports

⟡ Bondage? He never expected for that to be one of his kinks until you start stroking his cock as all he can do is moan and watch you abuse his tip even edging him

⟡ Your mouth feels like heaven, it shows you’re experienced by the way you’re making him moan under you

⟡ Nicknames he’ll call you: baby or some other name that’s short and sweet!

RE4R!Leon — (27 years old)

⟡ He’s now mature into a handsome man after the events of Raccoon City

⟡ With the years passed, he’s definitely more cocky and it shows during sex, “You gonna come all over my fingers just like that?” His voice filled with cockiness, watching you fall apart

⟡ This time, Leon prefers woman younger than him, this time the age gap being 3 years

⟡ After coming back from Spain, he can’t help but crawl back to bed with you and caress your body, never letting go, a feeling of fear that he wasn’t going to see you

⟡ His huge muscular arms holding you tight, kissing you down to your neck, his hands undressing you to feel you more

⟡ All those months of being gone really made him needy, coming after you sucked his tip for not even 2 minutes

⟡ This time bondage is different, it’s you being tied up, all vulnerable for him, roleplaying like you’re the one who needs rescuing

⟡ He loves fucking you against the wall, guess it was worth it to gain some muscle while he was back in specialized training to become a elite agent

⟡ “Giving my princess what she needs” Then rubbing your soaked panties with that cocky grin like he’s doing you a ‘big’ favor

⟡ Spits into your mouth before making out with you, tongue swirling together as he fingers your needy pussy

⟡ Of course he still wears a condom, right now isn’t the time to settle and have a kid when he’s out here fighting infected people and barely home as it

⟡ Even sex is more different well it’s depends, if he came home from a mission then it’s rough but usually it’s slow sex in the morning

⟡ Leaving hickeys on your warm body is all he can think about

⟡ Masturbating should’ve been left 6 year ago but he can’t help but touch himself when you send him nudes when he’s overseas

⟡ He can’t even let you shower alone without him, it most likely ends up with you on your knees sucking him off

⟡ Loves painting your face with his come after

⟡ Nicknames he’ll call you: babe and princess or if he feels very cocky then brat

RE6!Leon — (36 years old)

⟡ An older woman with big tits that he can motor boat in is his dreams

⟡ Age gap only being 4 years, as he always hears you complain about your wrinkles which he can’t even see

⟡ He definitely didn’t expect you to come along in his life, since he was helplessly in love with another woman who didn’t want him

⟡ He’s the definition of a jealous man, gets jealous of every man who claims to be your ‘friend’, it’s called protection, that’s why he’s having rough sex with you on the bed…right?

⟡ He has you gripping the sheets like crazy when you mention another guy around him, he’ll fuck the guy out of your memory

⟡ He has a habit of talking to your pussy like it’s a person, “She’s so needy for me today” as he proceeds to finger the fuck out of you

⟡ Overstimulation is the best with him, after you just comed all over his fingers, he just slides his cock right in, making you come twice while he rubs your clit still talking to your pussy

⟡ Maybe he has a bit of a daddy or degradation kink, he continues to hold a grudge of you talking to that guy from early, “You’re all mines, my body, all mines for Daddy, right? You little cheeky girl” pinching your cheeks

⟡ Type to send you videos of himself jerking himself off to a photo of you, muttering your name

⟡ He doesn’t even try when he eats your pussy it’s like he’s a pro at it, his tongues always hitting the right spots, but even so, he doesn’t allow you pushing his head in

⟡ Allowing you to ride him is a rare thing but you do it so good, he even praises you “Look at you go, sweetie” before pushing you down more

⟡ Nicknames he’ll call you: sweetie, cheeky girl, beautiful, honey

@strxwoq 2026! Do not copy or try to copy!

ugh re6 and damnation leon are literally my favorite, i can’t wait to write about damnation leon 🤤

A ridiculous notion, you'd shooed it from your brain as quickly as the idea had sprung up. Ignoring that hitch in his breath when you'd undone his updo, running your fingers through those raven locks whilst he rested beside you for bed.

You continued your book that you had once been immersed in, but not with as much fervor as before, now slightly distracted as you listened for a change in your lover's breathing. You'd noticed a shift in his posture, how he'd stopped lazily reading along with you, now just sitting against the headboard beside your figure, eyes traveling up and down and up and down.

You smiled and he caught this quickly, leaning into the touch of your hand a little more.

"Your day was well, my lord?" Your voice broke through the previously warm silence, never taking your eyes off of the pages.

But you could still feel the way Zuko's eyes burned against your skin, his hand slowly making its way under the covers and onto your thigh, moving your nightgown up and up and up. He hadn't answered with more than a hum, and you huffed out a laugh, flipping to the next line.

"Not much to report then?"

Again, a small hum, something disgruntled as you brushed your fingers through his soft strands, nails scratching against the very back of his head, just above his neck and shoulders. He was growing warmer in the face, close to his ears, and you could feel it. Your husband, a nervous wreck? Well, that just couldn't be. Zuko had never been much for shyness, and while that temper had subsided with age, a blush was rarely worn, and not with such vulnerability.

"Is it sleep that keeps your from conversation?" You finally turn your head to face him, and a smooth sigh falls from his lips, like he'd been itching for you to look in his direction just once, just for a second, and that would've been enough. "I can leave you to sleep, if you'd like."

"I'd burn cities if you left me," he mutters, leaning his head back into your fingers some more, hoping for friction. "I am comfortable."

So, you nod and continue your reading, leaning closer so that he might join again too, rather than stare so feverishly.

The hand that lies in his messy hair has come to a slow halt as your eyes move along the page, now distracted by the story and more or less forgetting about the man that sits beside you. Failing to notice that hurt, needy look on his face when you stop moving your hands. He rubs his head against your palm again, to no avail, letting out a childish huff.

He whispers your name gently, and you hum back, copying his previous silent attitude. You mumble something about almost being done, but this brings him no sort of satisfaction. Almost done could've meant hours before you'd closed that book, and that simply wouldn't do. He needed his head scratched now, he burned with the feeling.

Zuko tried to sit still for a moment, he really did. He wasn't always so dramatic about these sorts of things, but now, he couldn't help himself.

It's not long before he's taking the book, marking where you'd left off, and throwing it sliding it along the floor. His lips make a tight, curt line as he moves and lays right on top of you, head on your chest and placing your hands right where they belonged.

"Zuko—"

"Much better," he sighed dreamily, nuzzling his head just below your breast bone, against your ribs and crushing into your lungs with his weight ever-so-slightly. His voice rumbles against your chest, sending vibrations through your whole body. "Morning time is better for reading anyway."

You closed your gaping mouth, accepting your fate as you ran your fingers through his hair again, braiding and then unbraiding, humming some quiet little song to lull him. You twirled the hair in your fingers and felt his breath coming to a slow, calm rhythm.

And he had almost fallen straight to sleep, if not for the accidental tug you gave at the very top of his head.

You mumbled out a quick and babbled apology, rubbing his hair down again to remedy the offense, but something in the atmosphere had changed, almost drastically. You felt a heat start to fall into you from his body, and when your hands grazed against his back, he was hot to the touch, stiffening at the feeling of your finger pads against his shoulder blades.

"Zuko?"

"Hmm?" He went to lift his head before quickly deciding against it, resting back down atop of you.

His hands rest upon your thighs reassuringly, rubbing them softly in a cadence that you followed, back into his hair like nothing had happened. But his body was still stiff. And you know he felt warmer, you were certain of it.

Well, it's not like you knew for sure why he'd reacted that way.

So, of course, the only logical plan of action was to...test it out.

You continued your previous rhythm for a moment, a couple scratches here and there, a few twirls and twists. And then a tug, just one, just to see what might happen. And who could blame you for being so curious?

Certainly not Zuko, who had let a low groan slip from him, hips shifting slightly above the covers.

You hadn't expected that.

So you tug again, a little harder while still being careful with him, and that's what elicits what you swear is a moan if you had been listening close enough. Your eyes go wide with surprise and before Zuko can try to explain himself, you pull again, completely lifting his head off of your chest, holding him in the air by a fistful of black as if his head hadn't had a body at all. Oh, but it did, because you felt that body above you, growing warm and then warmer, hips pressing down against you like instinct.

"Wait-, fuck—"

You laugh at him, you really can't help it, and this only earns a sort of pout threatening to form, his brows knitting together at the very center as he looks up at you through those gorgeous lashes.

"You like when I pull your hair, my lord?"

You pull again, a little higher so he's eye-level with you, and his hips move with him, right against your leg, once, twice, and a third like it's uncontrollable. And perhaps it is, because Zuko lets himself whine in your grasp, hands holding himself up against the mattress and gripping the sheets like he's forcing himself not to rut against your leg like a dog in heat. You extend your arm and lunge it forward, pulling him back so that his head tilts towards the ceiling, watching the slow movement of his Adam's apple when he gulps. He's breathing heavily, one arm steadying himself and the other gripping your thigh, fingers digging into your plush skin.

"Please-, more, please—"

You smile sort of evilly and that sad, hopeful look on his face just contorts further, repositioning himself so that you might have a better angle to pull from. He struggles against your hand, resting his nose in the crook of your neck, kissing softly and then frantically when he notices you haven't moved at all, arm still frozen and locked in the same spot it was minutes before. But he needed you to pull again, and he needed it badly.

"Need it," he nods against your skin, feeling you pet his head briefly before holding a handful of his hair, rubbing it through your fingers as he spoke. "Love when you- hngh- pull my hair, my love, s'good."

You couldn't imagine that, the way he said it so peacefully, so eagerly. You'd had your fair share of bad hair days, combs getting caught and stuck, hair getting tangled in bed or within your clothes when you tried to remove them. And yet, Zuko was begging for it, some newfound idea bouncing around in his head and spreading like wildfire.

"Feels like this-" You felt a sudden rush of heat against your lower stomach, just above your measly excuse for undergarments, and Zuko's hands pressed against your skin, sending that warmth straight through. You clamped your thighs shut instinctively and he nodded again, lips pulling into a smile against your temple. "S'good, right? Feels good? Please, my love, just a little. Only need a little, please."

And who were you to reject that low and whiny tone in his voice?

You pulled his head back again with a harsh yank and he groaned, hands gripping into your stomach, thumbs brushing downward. He sat back and pulled you into his lap, holding you against the tent growing in his own undergarments, sighing happily when you'd settled your weight on him so that he could feel that familiar wetness just between your legs as you straddled. You wouldn't admit that you liked this just as much as he did, mostly because you couldn't. No one was having more fun than Zuko was, that was so embarrassingly obvious.

Still, with every tug of his hair, he found himself bucking up into you uncontrollably, the friction of your clothing between the two you just enough to meet that feeling in his head right now. He moved one hand from your waist to dip down and into your underwear, sighing again at the slick feeling.

"S-shit, Zuko—"

He shook his head quickly, taking one of your hands and using it to palm against his clothed length, already hard and bulging, already weeping with precum under your touch. "No need to be shy, my love. It seems I'm in the same predicament."

One hand continues to slide along your folds while the other encourages you to feel the way his body searches for you, his hips jerking up and up to feel your hand glide against him. You don't protest when he takes your hand and slips it into his pants, watching his gasp and throw his head back when you finally touch him, curling your fingers around the very base of his pulsing veins. You had seldom seen your lord struggle to keep his composure like this, but he was completely undone now, wrapped around your finger and biting at his lip at the feeling on both of your hands, both tugging.

His grunts fill the otherwise quiet room, staring deep into your eyes and you keep pulling his head away every time he tries to kiss you. He'll lean in close, breath mixing with yours and then tug, like it's funny, like you're having a grand old time making him look like this, all disgustingly needy, a little whimpering mess. And you are, you can feel it in your heat beneath you, the way he slips one, then two digits deep inside, and you're riding them heartily, like it's second nature.

"S'good, my love," he nods, twitching against your palm, lips finally meeting your nose before he's pulled away again. "S's-oft. You're so- shit- ah you're so good. S'good, feels s'good."

He's a babbling, blubbering mess, feeling you pause with one hand to pull with the other, forcing himself closer to you with each separate movement, trying to make you quicken the pace against his cock or strengthen the tug against his hair. And all the while, his fingers dig painstakingly slow against your clit, in small circles and then along the slick that keeps building between the two of you, the sounds of wet desire pulsating throughout the room in a steady sort of hum. The two of you, in perfect synchronization, as you do most things.

"She's so ready f'me," he says lowly, smiling boyishly down at your cunt, dipping fingers back in, making you pick up your own pace in response. "Just from making me feel good. So fucking wet f'me already." He's grinding his hips up into your fist, trying to move past them so that his greedy tip might get just a taste of what's so eagerly waiting for him. "You like touching me like this?"

And you can't help but nod, because you do, and his fingers are so deep, and you're riding them messily, tugging his head back so you can kiss that the sensitive part of his neck, just below his ear.

"No need to try and take the attention off yourself, pretty." He looks down between the two of you again, in some sort of awe. "I know- ah- what she wants. Can- fuck- feel her sucking me in." And if Zuko could, if he really wanted to, his jerking hips would've pushed past your fists a long time ago, his dick searching for that smooth feeling deep inside of you that his fingers were seemingly preparing you for. For now, you hand was enough, more than enough as his entire body seemed to stutter with every pull and caress of your thumb, every long glide against his shaft and that slitted tip. His dick is practically drooling, awaiting its sweet release that he's just inching closer and closer and closer to.

You feel yourself let out your own strangled whines as you grind against him a little faster, quickening the pace of your hands so that he might do the same.

And he reacts perfectly, driving his fingers almost all the way out and then hard and fast back in, deeper each time.

The hand that's on your waist falls against the sheets and the gripping of fabric is natural until it...isn't. There’s a windy sound beside you both, his head falling forward as your look up, sensing something off.

"Zuko?" You halt your movements just slightly, sniffing at the air.

Burning.

Fire.

Zuko was much to busy to notice, fucking up into your first repeatedly, rushing to meet where his fingers were plunging into you, throbbing along the crevices of your hand and shifting closer, and closer, and closer.

But the sheets were burning. He was actually burning the sheets below him, without even fully realizing. That had to be fixed soon, discussed even sooner, if you ever made it out of this room alive. You looked into your husband's dark eyes, all filled with lust and pride, and you knew how unlikely it might've been.

Still, you'd eventually forgotten to mind as well, free hand flying to his shoulder as he continue to jolt, the fingers within your dripping hole feeling warmer too, not so hot as to burn, but enough to feel it all within you, to bring you so so close to eternal damnation. You felt yourself start to break and before you could even say anything, even register that you were close, Zuko nodded, locking his lips with yours and practically eating your moans as you came down, still riding your high out along his fingers, feeling his own ruts only falter slightly before you'd both stilled.

All of a sudden, and with a filthy suck of his fingers, he'd placed you along the bed, holding both of your hands in the air to wait. You stared curiously through hazy and glossed-over eyes, to which he grinned, one hot hand spreading your legs apart, and the other holding his dick steady at your entrance, ready to slide in with an impeccable sort of ease.

"You pull," he commanded gently, bowing his head to you so that you might make great use of your new handle bars. "I'll do the rest."

zuko smut, zuko smut, zuko smut, zuko smut, zuko sm---

I haven't written actual smut in maybe three years so bare with me guys pls

boyfriends dad, who found your Instagram quickly enough. scrolling along the photos that you would post, whether it be your face, outfits, food. he was always looking at them when he had some time alone. he couldn't help himself, sooner or later cum would be all over his screen and he'd have to wipe it off. no shame to his actions.

boyfriends dad, who was a little nosey. just a little bit. he had overheard a phone call a while back, you were talking to your friend and seemed distressed and even disappointed. "i dunno, he just can't..pleasure me like i thought he would." oh? really?

boyfriends dad, who would take advantage of times you two would have alone. sometimes he would give subtle touches, those subtle touches would turn into not so subtle accidents. unlike his son, he could make you squirm and writhe with a few touches. unlike his son, he could have you moaning for real on his dick. unlike his son, he could have you cumming with just his hand.

boyfriends dad, who fucked you like an everyday schedule that just couldn't wait any longer. he'd have you bent over every surface he could get you on. kitchen counter, bathroom sink, couch, your boyfriends bed. shit, if he could compare this to the first hole he fucked this would be much better.

boyfriends dad, who could never stop talking and grunting while he fucked you. he wanted you to know you were his, even if on the outside you weren't, you surely were on the inside. "don't act all wimpy, take this dick like a man— 'less you a lil' girl, hm?" "daddy's got you addicted, don't he? mhm, ain't even gotta tell me with your words i can already see." "shh, shh, ain't none of that cryin'. big boys don't cry." "goood boy, suckin' me in so good."

boyfriends dad, absolutely loved to watch you come crawling back to him after you said you wouldn't. you'd try so hard to be a good boyfriend, try to force yourself to like the way your boyfriend fucked you, but you just couldn't do it. it was so difficult, you had to jerk yourself off beforehand. you just missed it so badly. missed his big hands gripping at the soft skin of your waist, missed the way his chest hair tickled your back when he leant down to go deeper, you missed it all.

boyfriends dad, who would rub it in your face each time you'd come back to him. saying things like you couldn't resist him, and he was right. fucking right. you'd have to give him head as an apology, listen to him degrade you like some side bitch. "fuck..look at ya, chokin' on this dick like you ain't beg me for it." he would thrust his hips the moment you'd get used to it for a second, seeing the way you could only gargle and whimper as a response.

boyfriends dad, who was just as obsessed with your body as you were of his. he paid attention to every little detail, every little twitch and wiggle so he would memorize it and get it right(unlike someone he knew). watch your tummy fill up and bloat with his cum each and every time he plunged in deep so he could feel the relief of cumming inside like he was getting you filled of his damn kids.

You’re tucked against him, pressed against his side and half sprawled across his chest, your cheek resting just below his collarbone and above his heart. His arm is heavy around your back, it wasn’t pinning you down, God, Steve never pinned you down. He held you, his arm was just there solid, warm, grounding.

Your body still feels loose in that post-sleep, post-everything haze, limbs uncoordinated, thoughts slow and drifting. There’s a faint ache in your limbs, not unpleasant, just the quiet reminder that you’re real, that last night actually happened.

You’re not fully awake, you are not fully anything. Not tired, just in between dream and reality where everything feels a little better. Or maybe that's just Steve.

Steve breathes beneath you, steady and deep. Every inhale lifts you slightly and every exhale lets you settle back into him. You can hear his heart if you focus, the quiet rhythm of it, the proof that he’s really here. That this isn’t something you imagined in the half-dream state where reality and want blur together. You wouldn’t be surprised if it was.

You shift just a little, careful not to wake him, though part of you isn’t sure whether you want to or not. The sheet slides down his chest as you move, pooling at his waist. Your fingers rest there absentmindedly, tracing nothing in particular, just following the rise and fall beneath your palm.

Your fingers splay idly across his chest, the soft rasp of hair beneath your palm. It’s darker there, thicker toward the center, not perfectly even, curling slightly in places and there’s something grounding about it, the way it makes his chest feel lived-in rather than polished. Your fingers drift lower without thinking, following the faint line that disappears beneath the sheet, that narrow trail like an arrow pointing somewhere you consciously do not follow. Still, the knowledge of it sits warm in your chest, intimate in a way that has nothing to do with urgency or lust. You press your lips briefly into the space just above it instead, breathing him in, feeling absurdly fond of the fact that he’s real like this, hair and all, uncurated, unguarded, entirely himself.

That’s when you really notice them.

His beauty marks. They’re scattered across his skin in a way that feels intentional, like someone dotted them there thoughtfully and then stepped back to admire the work, but they are also something so simple that they look like they were there by pure happenstance, a reverent thing. He was so beautiful.

There were a few near his shoulder, one just above his sternum, another lower, closer to where your hand rests now. You’ve seen them before, noticed them without really seeing them, but now, in the quiet soft cushion of your shared bedroom, they feel important. Like something you want to learn, something you want to worship and appreciate.

You lift yourself slightly, just enough to look at him properly. Steve’s face is turned toward you, lashes resting dark against his cheeks, mouth relaxed in sleep. He looks younger like this. Softer. Nothing like the version of him the world usually sees, the confident one, the joking one, the one who fills space without trying. This Steve feels like a secret, and you are so, so lucky you get to see him like this. Your sweet, sweet boyfriend.

You don’t think about it before you do it. You just lean down, press a gentle kiss to the first beauty mark near his shoulder. It’s barely there, more intention than pressure, your lips lingering for half a second longer than necessary.

Steve shifts beneath you, brow twitching faintly, a quiet sound leaving him, somewhere between a sigh and a breath. You smile to yourself, small and private, and move to the next one.

You kiss another.

And another.

Your kisses are slow, deliberate. Not rushed. Not playful. Each one feels like punctuation, soft markers of attention, of care. You follow them the way your eyes want to, tracing a lazy path downward and then back up, your lips warm against his skin. There’s something grounding about it, about following these tiny markers across his skin, about paying attention in a way that feels almost devout. Each kiss is gentle, unhurried, like you’re afraid of breaking the moment if you rush it. You’re aware, distantly, of how intimate it is. Not in a way that makes your heart race, but in the quieter way that makes your chest feel full. Like this, this is something sacred in its own right.

You move slowly, your lips tracing an uneven path upward. Steve breathes in deeper when you kiss just below his neck, his arm tightening slightly around you, instinctive. His fingers curl into the fabric of his your shirt at your back, grounding himself as he wakes.

“Hey,” he murmurs, voice rough and barely there.

You freeze, lifting your head just enough to see his eyes flutter open. He looks at you for a second like he’s still deciding which reality he’s in. Then his mouth curves into a lazy, familiar smile.

“Morning,” you whisper.

He hums in response, eyes closing again as if that’s all the confirmation he needs, basking in the warmth of your love. “You’re very quiet,” he says, words slurring slightly.

“I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Too late,” he mumbles, but there’s no complaint in it. His hand slips under the shirt where his thumb rubs slow circles against your back. “What’re you doing?”

You hesitate, suddenly self-aware, heat creeping up your neck at the intimacy, taking its place and settling on your cheeks. Steve’s mouth parts, you’re just so gorgeous, he loves waking up to you.

You shrug lightly and hum. “Noticing things.”

He opens one eye, squinting at you. “That sounds ominous.”

You huff softly and lean back down, pressing another kiss to his chest. “You have a lot of beauty marks.” you say simply.

Steve lets out a quiet laugh, chest vibrating beneath your cheek. “Wow. Thank you. I was really hoping you’d bring that up.”

“They’re pretty,” you add, frowning slightly because his tone sounded awfully like self-abasement, and because you are trying to find the right word for how deeply the affection for them runs in you. “You’re pretty, Stevie”

His laughter fades into something softer. You feel him shift beneath you, adjusting so you’re more comfortable, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck.

“I love you,” he says gently.

“I know,” you reply just as softly. “I love you too.”

There's a moment of just appreciation, looking at him and being so permeated with love. The pause is long, long enough that you wonder if he’s going to fall back asleep. He watches you lean down again, watches you kiss another small mark near his collarbone like it’s something precious. His throat bobs when you move higher, when your lips brush the skin just below his neck again.

Steve’s breathing changes, still calm, but deeper now, more aware. His fingers tighten just slightly where they rest against you, like he’s anchoring himself to the moment. You don’t notice at first. You’re focused on the next small mark, on the warmth beneath your lips. It’s only when his fingers brush the side of your neck, gentle, grounding, that you look up meeting his eyes. He’s watching you like he’s not entirely sure what to do with the feeling.

“What?” you ask softly.

He shakes his head, barely perceptible. “Nothing.”

He goes quiet after that, eyes slipping closed again, trusting you not to disappear. You kiss your way slowly upward, pausing occasionally just to rest your cheek against him, to feel his warmth seep into you. There’s no urgency. No need to prove anything. Just the quiet certainty of being wanted and wanting in return.

When you reach near his lip, you hesitate, pressing a kiss there that lingers. Steve exhales shakily. You kiss the last beauty mark on his cheek and then pause, deciding to rest your cheek against his chest again. His heartbeat is steady beneath your ear. Fast enough to be noticeable.

A minute passes. Maybe more.

“You’re awake now.” you say quietly.

“Mm,” he hums. “Was anyway.”

Your chest tightens, uncomfortable with sudden shyness and warm all at once. You don’t respond right away, there’s another stretch of silence. Comfortable. Real. The kind that doesn’t need filling. So instead, you press one last kiss just below his jaw, then settle back against him, tucking yourself into the space you seem to fit perfectly.

You nod, even though he can’t see it. “Okay.”

Steve shifts slightly, adjusting so you’re more comfortable, his arm tightening fully around you now. He presses his chin briefly against the top of your head, not quite a kiss, just contact, breathing you in.

“You okay?” he asks.

You think about it. Really think. Because you realise that this is all you’ve ever wanted.

“Yeah,” you say. Then, after a moment, “I love you.”

“Good. Because I love you too.”

Outside, a car passes. Somewhere down the street, a dog barks. The world starts to wake up again. But for now, you stay exactly where you are, neither of you move, for once, you don’t feel the need to go anywhere else. You stay there, listening to him breathe, feeling the warmth of him seep into you. You are so loved, and you love him so much in return, and that feels like enough.

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