#siren reader

Sitting on the railing, legs dangling over the angry waves of the ocean, Court closed his eyes for what felt like the first time in days. The soft evening breeze combed through his hair and in the peacefulness of the moment, Court let himself indulge in the French brandy he had nicked from their time on port. He relished in the momentary burn when a sudden force pushed him from behind, the bottle slipping out of his hands as he attempted to steady himself. Loud shouts erupted from around him but the noise was drowned out as his eyes narrowed in on the waves below. Court was sure he had seen a flicker of movement down below, something that resembled a tail disappearing into the darkness of the water. The sharp ring of a slap brought Court out of his trance as he whipped around. The newbie they had picked up clutched the side of cheek, eyes glassy with tears. In front of him, long metal chains were scattered across the floor, the box upside down a few feet away. Matteo and Arthur continued their berating of the kid as he cowered further into the wall behind him. 

“That's enough” Court commanded the two, who immediately protested. 

“But Captain, he could have knocked you over!” 

“He didn’t.” Court responded sternly, turning to face the young boy. “When little Artie here was new, he snuck a wench onboard, forgetting we were leaving the next morning. By the time he got the courage to fess up, we were two hours out. Had to clean the cellar for two weeks.” 

Arthur’s face flushed for a moment before he stood up straighter and pointed at the boy. “You call me Arthur, you understand that lad?” The boy looked at Arthur, then at Court who flashed him a smirk and nodded. 

“As you wish… Artie.” he teased with brief confidence. Upon seeing Arthur’s reaction, he regained his senses and with wide eyes, sprinted below deck. Court couldn’t help but crack a small smile, seeing a version of younger him in the boy. 

“Sometimes I really wonder how deep our friendship goes.” Arthur sighed, earning a bark of laughter from Matteo. 

“Sometimes I wonder how deep that empty hole you call a skull goes.” Matteo replied, slapping the back of Arthur's head. 

As Court watched the two bicker back and forth, his mind wandering to a memory he had tried to cage away. The night that had left him and his brothers an orphan. The night he abandoned the only family he had. The night he had met Fitz as a scared little boy in the darkness of a rusty tavern. Hiding behind a barrel, fifteen year old Court had curled into a ball, replaying the sound of his father’s knees hitting the ground. A younger Fitz had walked in and noticed his quivering body behind the barrel immediately. When he had asked what happened, Court had whispered a snappy, “Nothing that concerns you.” From that moment Fitz had decided to take Court under his wing, treating him like a child of his own. Still stuck in his mind, Court made his way to his quarters, where he attempted to get a little rest before they got to shore tomorrow. 

The day had gone by in a flurry. After docking, the crew had spent the day gathering food and supplies in the bustling town. Court of course had begun his routine checkups on the twins. Sneaking into the castle had been no easy feat at first but after over a decade of doing so, he knew the place like the back of his hand. Court watched from a small window that faced Colt’s usual position guarding the princess’ door, which he was currently leaning against whilst laughing at something Arabella had just said. Court’s heart panged with guilt that he could not be there to know more about his brother's life. With a somber smile, he turned away and climbed back out the window.

The Church was harder to get into with it being so spacious as Court didn’t have many shadows to hide in. That’s why he always made sure to dock on Sunday’s, so he could blend into the crowd of people at mass, which included the Inquisitors. Most of the time he would only catch glimpses of Ryland, who would be too busy helping the Father set up or getting the seniors settled in. However today, he stood in front of the altar, delivering a report about a recent witch hunt. As Ryland’s eyes scanned the room, Court was sure they met with his, and for a split second recognition flooded Ryland’s face before he blinked it away. Court averted his gaze, almost hanging his head in shame. If only his brothers knew how his heart yearned to speak to them again. To question if they were safe, if their lives felt fulfilled. Alas, it was for their own good. 

At least that’s what Court told himself. 

That night, Court slammed back cup after cup of cheap rum as he often did after seeing his brothers. Most of his crew was here, enjoying the comfort of countless women before they departed again tomorrow. The door swung up open with a jarring thud, though it went unheard by most over the chatter of the tavern. Court looked up from where his head was buried in a girl's neck to see a rain soaked figure making its way to the bar. Curious, he watched as the figure took off their hood, revealing a young woman, her frantic eyes searching the place. She wiped her face hurriedly and slumped onto the closet chair she could find. A sudden voice in the back of Court’s head told him to go check on the woman and before he could question it, he was walking towards her. 

“My lady, are you alright?” he asked wearily. Her head snapped up at his voice, beautiful doe eyes looking up at him. 

“Yes I— I am alright. Just got to find somewhere to spend the night.” she muttered the last part, though Court caught onto it. 

“You couldn’t possibly survive the night alone.” he chuckled, looking the woman up and down. 

“Who exactly is going to help me?” she snapped back, raising her eyebrows. 

Feisty he thought. Whether it was the alcohol, the weight of the day itself, or the beauty radiating off her, Court felt compelled to offer his services. 

“You’re looking at him lass.” he smirked, holding out his hand. She skimmed her eyes down and then back up at him, unimpressed. 

“You’ve got quite the nerve believing I would leave with a man like you.” 

He scoffed. “Why else would you have come into this rathole?”

“Can’t a woman have an appetite for rum or is that reserved for toads such as yourself?” she snarled. 

“Sweetheart, women like you don’t drink rum. They drink Canary wine.” Court responded with a sly grin. She watched with narrowed eyes as he leaned over her to grab a drink. The smell of rum and saltwater invaded her senses as his face got unbelievably close to hers. She closed her eyes for a moment before coming back to reality.

“What do you know about women like me?” she questioned, holding Court’s intense gaze. He flashed her a wicked smirk as he brought his hand up to face level. The woman’s eyes widened as they landed on the necklace dangling off his fingers. 

“That you wouldn’t survive a night here alone,” he repeated. “With all these men like me around here.” 

The woman watched him from a moment before lunging towards the necklace. To her unfortunate surprise, Court was expecting her movements and ducked his hand away before she could get to it. 

“You coming along then?” he chuckled, holding his arm out as if waiting for her to wrap her own around it. He heard a begrudging huff and the shuffle of a dress, motivating him to begin walking towards the door. 

"Acclimate?" Steve stepped into the room, or rather, staggered. His standard-issue grey t-shirt was completely soaked through, clinging to his chest in a pathetic, damp mess.

He looked less like a super-soldier and more like a drowned golden retriever. "Tony, I just tried to run on the treadmill and the air is so thick I practically inhaled a gallon of water. It's eighty-seven degrees in the gym. Clint is melting."

"I am," Clint mumbled into the countertop. "Tell my bow I loved it."

"He's fine, he's just dramatic," Tony said, dismissively waving a hand in the air. "Hydrate, Cap. Drink a gallon of electrolytes. Build some character. The climate is locked."

"Locked?" Natasha’s voice was a low, dangerous purr from the corner, though even she didn't have the energy to stand up. "By whom?"

"Me," Tony snapped smoothly, finally looking up with a look of practiced indifference. "The firewall is encrypted. Don't touch the wall units, you'll short the grid. Just deal with it."

He closed his laptop with a sharp, definitive click.

Outwardly, he was the picture of arrogant, unbothered engineering genius.

But internally? Inside his chest, Tony was absolutely, deliriously giddy. He was practically vibrating with a triumphant glee.

He had spent the last three days watching you — watching the slow, relentless way you had taken over his mind like algae blooming across a reef. He knew exactly how dry your skin got in the standard, sterile tower air. He knew what your home sea felt like.

He had just single-handedly turned a multi-billion-dollar skyscraper into a sweltering, tropical marshland entirely for your satisfaction, completely ruining the comfort of the world’s elite strike team just to keep your scales happy. And God, it felt good.

He stood up, smoothing down his dry, crisp shirt with a smug smile. "If anyone needs me, don't. Go find a fan."

The complaints eventually faded into a heavy, defeated silence. Tony stood up, the chair scraping sharply. He walked toward the private elevators, the air shifting as the doors slid shut. It grew thicker, richer, carrying the faint, briny scent of salt and deep, cold water.

He pushed the doors to your pool room open, ready to launch into a defensive rant about "optimisation," but the words died in his throat.

The room was bathed in a golden, bioluminescent glow, the air thick and heavy with the scent of an ocean he’d never actually visited. He stood on the threshold, paralysed.

You were sitting on the edge of the pool, your back to the door, your skin shimmering with an iridescent, almost supernatural quality that made the air around you seem to hum. You were a creature of another world, perfectly at home in a space he had meticulously carved out for you.

You slipped into the water with a soundless grace, a movement so fluid it seemed to rewrite the laws of physics. Then, you turned, your eyes locking onto his.

In the dim light, they looked dark and bottomless, holding a pull that felt less like a request and more like a command.

"Come join me in the water, Tony."

He stood frozen, his hand still on the doorframe. The sarcasm that usually acted as his armour felt thin, useless. He saw the way you moved —the subtle, hypnotic grace that was entirely, inherently siren. For a moment, he felt like a man standing before the tide, knowing he was going to be pulled under.

"Me?" He rasped, his voice a gravelly, vulnerable sound that betrayed how much the air in the room was affecting him. "I build, I don’t dive in. Plus, I think Capsicle is currently plotting my assassination for the thermostat incident."

You didn't blink. You just waited, your presence radiating a calm that made the rest of the tower feel like a fever dream. The silence stretched, heavy and expectant, until he finally let go of the doorframe.

The water was a sharp, biting cold against his heated skin, a jarring contrast to the heavy, humid air of the room. It swirled around his waist, soaking the heavy fabric of his shirt until it clung to him, heavy and restrictive.

He was trembling — not from the temperature, but from the terrifying intimacy of the moment. He had spent months convincing the world he was invincible, and now, he was standing in a private pool, stripped of his armor, waiting for you to see exactly how broken he was.

You didn't look at him with pity. You looked at him with a kind of predatory awe.

"Your shirt’s getting wet," you murmured. Your voice was a soft, rhythmic hum, a sound that seemed to vibrate through the water and lodge itself directly in his chest.

"I’m aware," he rasped. The words were gravelly, the usual shield of sarcasm dying in his throat. He looked down at his own hands, then back to you, his eyes searching yours with a desperate, naked intensity.

"I spent so long trying to... to get your attention with these 'optimisations.' So stupid. I’ve spent months — god, I’ve spent my whole life — building things to keep the world away. I thought if I made the world fit you, if I played god with the humidity and the temperature, you’d finally see me. I’m a pathetic, arrogant man, aren't I?"

You didn't answer with words.

Instead, you reached out, your fingers cool, electric, and unnervingly precise. You held his gaze, a silent, heavy question passing between you. He found himself nodding, a shallow, ragged intake of breath escaping him as you began to work the buttons of his shirt. One by one, they fell away, and you tossed the fabric carelessly past the pool’s edge.

Your touch drifted down to his bare chest, tracing the jagged, dark webs of the palladium poisoning with reverent wonder.

"These veins," you whispered, your fingers light as silk against his skin. "They remind me of the dark currents in my home sea. You are a creature of the abyss, just like me."

Your palm moved to the arc reactor, staying splayed against the mechanical glass, tilting your head as you watched the rhythmic pulse of the blue light. "And this. It is a jewel. A star pulled from the surface and kept trapped in your chest. It is so beautiful, Tony. So topological."

He looked down at his chest, at the glowing arc reactor reflecting off your wet skin. He didn't see a weapon anymore. He didn't see a ticking bomb.

"You really see it that way?" he murmured, his voice cracking as his forehead came to rest against yours, his breath hitched.

"I’ve hated this thing for months. I thought it was just the countdown to me turning into nothing. But you... you look at the rot and the machine, and you call it a star. I've been chasing you so hard I forgot to just... be here. I'm scared, darling. I'm so terrified of what's inside me. But then I look at you, and for once, the noise in my head just... stops."

"You are not the rot," you hummed, your hands remaining firmly splayed over his heart, your voice a hypnotic, melodic vibration that settled deep in his marrow. "You are topological and complex. A star kept in the dark."

His ego was entirely gone, leaving only the man beneath, locked completely into your orbit. He didn't wait for your permission. He surged forward, his hands sliding firmly over the smooth, gleaming skin of your back to anchor you against him.

"I'm done watching," he breathed against your lips, his voice firm, low, and final. "I'm done building."

He closed the distance, initiating the kiss with a desperate, hungry intent. It wasn't the kiss of a man who held back. It was the kiss of a man who had finally realised he was worth saving, right here in the dark, wet quiet of the water.

The kiss deepened, turning from desperate to consuming. You were locked in his orbit, and he was anchored to you, his hands mapped across the planes of your back, his thumb tracing the dip of your spine. The rest of the tower — the hum of the servers, the creak of the vents, the distant, muffled shouting of a team near the brink of madness — ceased to exist.

Then, the doors groaned open.

A wet, heavy silence followed. Steve, Natasha, and some lethargic others shuffled into the room like refugees from a drowned world. They were soaked, bedraggled, and eyes-glazed-over exhausted.

They reached the edge of the pool, gasping as the air shifted, but they didn't stop. They didn't even pause.

Natasha saw you. Steve saw Tony. Thor saw the water.

They looked at the two of you, chest-to-chest, lost in your own private current, and the Avengers simply... didn't blink. There was no scandal. There was no "Tony, explain yourself." There was only the collective, soul-deep exhaustion of a team that had survived the humidity of their lives.

"Thank God," Steve wheezed, his voice cracking. He didn't even wait for an invitation; he just sank into the pool, his uniform clinging to his skin, and let out a long, shuddering breath. "I don't care if you're in the middle of a civil war, Stark. Just tell me the ventilation is fixed."

"Refreshments," Thor rumbled, diving head-first, the splash sending a wave of water over the deck, right against your feet.

Bruce didn't even look at the two of you. He just floated in the corner, eyes closed, whispering something about "stabilised oxygen levels."

Tony didn't break the kiss. He didn't even pull back to acknowledge the intrusion. He just tightened his hold on you, his knuckles white against your skin, his lips moving against yours as if the entire team were nothing more than a passing current in the sea.

He was the one who pulled you closer, effectively shielding you from their view with the width of his shoulders, his ego completely, utterly replaced by the need to stay right where he was.

You could feel him vibrating against you — not with anger, but with a stubborn, defiant joy. He didn't care about their complaints. He didn't care about their presence. He was active, he was here, and for the first time in his life, the most important thing in the room wasn't the machine.

It was the way your hands came up to thread through his hair, anchoring him to the spot while the world drowned around you.

$ tag @twentytomidnight @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger @froggibus

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"So use them," Tony says, not looking up from his work. "Now, here."

"Tony, everyone's home."

"They're Avengers; they can handle it." He looks up, his smugness surfacing as he gestures around. "I had the acoustics recalibrated last month — it’s perfect. Use the common area."

You look at him for a long moment, then turn toward the centre of the floor. You start small with one sustained note, low and careful, testing the air like weight on a frozen lake. You let it open.

The link flares into life — a hum in the marrow, a sudden, blinding clarity in the air.

Tony looks up, his pen pausing in mid-air.

Sam walks in from the hallway. He makes it four steps before the link catches him. His eyes go soft and unfocused. He starts to drift towards you, leaning against the counter and looking at you like you’ve just whispered a secret.

"Hi," he says, his voice dropping an octave, honey-thick. "You know, I’ve been meaning to tell you: you’re the best part of this entire building."

You keep going, the song pulling at the threads of their defences. Bruce wanders in from the lab, looking dazed, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that borders on worship.

Then Natasha, who moves with iron intention at all times, walks toward you with her arms uncrossed and her posture completely open. She stops in your personal space, her hand brushing your arm.

"I could listen to you breathe, let alone sing," she murmurs, her gaze tracing your lips.

Clint drops from a vent, lands on the couch, and turns to face you with the serenity of a man who has made peace with his entire life. "Oh," he says, beaming. "You have no idea how much I’ve been wanting to just… sit here and look at you."

Steve arrives last, stepping out of the elevator. He sees you and smiles — not the captain's mask, but the real, unguarded one — and he stops. He walks over, his hand finding the small of your back. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone as beautiful as you right now," he says, his voice a low, reverent rumble.

Thor follows, tiny coffee in hand, looking at you with the full, unbridled warmth. It seems he would very much like to compose a ballad in your honor.

Tony hasn't moved. He’s at his workbench, his focus shifting from amusement to something much darker and tighter.

"Okay," Tony says, his voice sharp enough to cut glass. "Great. Good session. Rogers, you came from somewhere, go back."

"I was just going to tell them," Steve says, completely ignoring Tony, "that they make the whole world feel like home."

"They’re making the world feel like a headache," Tony snaps. He physically pivots Steve toward the elevator. "Out, Cap. Go find a shield to polish."

Thor begins, "In Asgard, there are songs —"

"Incredible, fascinating — not today." Tony steps directly into his sightline, shielding you from Thor’s gaze. "Point Break, you have a realm, multiple realms. Go be in one of them."

He clears the room like a man possessed, ushering a lovesick Bruce, a smitten Sam, and an unconvinced Clint out of the room. Natasha is the last to leave; she pauses to look at Tony with a sharp, knowing gaze, then turns to you. Her hand lingers on yours for a second longer than necessary.

"Don't let him stifle the music," she whispers, her eyes locking onto yours, before she turns and walks out.

Tony stands in the silence. He rolls his shoulders, his face a mask of annoyance. He turns to you, looking like a man who has successfully managed a logistical catastrophe.

"See?" he says. "Fine. A little redirection, and everyone's back to normal."

He’s completely present: all alert, and oddly still himself.

You think about what you know about siren song and the rare people it doesn't touch. In all the history of what you are, there is only one thing that grants immunity. It isn't strength, and it isn't serum. It’s someone who is already completely, irreversibly occupied.

Someone whose interior weather is so thoroughly taken up by one person that the song finds no foothold. There is no door to open because every door is already locked from the inside.

"Vocals sounding good, though, right?" Tony says, picking up his pen. His hand is shaking, just a fraction. "I’ll have FRIDAY send a calendar invite. Weekly with a cleared floor."

"Tony," you say.

"I can make it official, set up the parameters —"

"You weren't affected," you say simply.

He stops, glancing up. "What?"

"The song, the link, and everyone else. You saw them."

"Yeah, they were... a bit pathetic."

"Natasha was flirting with me, Tony."

Tony’s jaw shifts. "Natasha flirts with everyone. It's a tactical maneuver."

"Steve was telling me I'm the best part of his world."

"Steve is a Boy Scout; he says that to flags."

"You weren't affected," you repeat, stepping closer to the workbench.

He stares at you, his breathing hitched. "I’m just... I have a higher —"

“Sir,” FRIDAY’s voice interjects, calm and crisp, “I have been monitoring your vitals. Your heart rate is currently spiking to levels identical to previous instances of extreme emotional distress. Specifically, the patterns observed when you are in the vicinity of—”

"I'm experiencing a technical anomaly in the acoustic dampers, FRIDAY, that’s all," Tony rattles off, his words tripping over each other in a frantic stumble. "It’s a hardware issue. Purely mechanical. My heart is fine, my blood pressure is optimal for a man of my genius, and I definitely don’t need an analysis of my biological responses to —"

“Sir, I believe you are in lo —”

"Shut up."

He’s flushed, his gaze darting everywhere but at your face, his fingers white-knuckled around his pen. You just smile, keeping your distance, watching the frantic gears of his mind finally start to grind toward the truth.

"Weekly sessions," you say softly. "I'll see you then, Tony."

He just nods, unable to form another syllable, already back to his screen but failing to read a single word of it.

$ tag @twentytomidnight @froggibus

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Sephiroth has seen you once before.

It was only a glimpse. He barely managed to make out your figure.

Your silhouette loomed over the rest of Hojo's lab, a void in the luminous blue water of your tank, like a statue watching over the room.

He froze when he saw you, mesmerised by just your featureless outline, yet Hojo had dragged him away after only a moment.

Ever since, he's felt urged to return to you - as if you're calling his name on a wavelength that he cannot hear but only feel.

You take over his mind every night, occupying his thoughts before he falls asleep and haunting his dreams. He imagines what you might look like. You could be hideous and will tear him to shreds as he stands in fear. Or perhaps you're something divine, something that will lure him in before sinking your sharp teeth into his unmarked neck...

He knows what your life is likely to be. He knows that Hojo will be carrying out wicked experiments on you each day, violating and damaging you. He curses that stupid man and has contemplated multiple times whether he should simply barge into the lab and set you free.

He knows he shouldn't. He knows Hojo would try and kill him for it. He knows that after himself, you're probably the scientist's most precious creature.

But that just convinces him even more. He pleasures himself every night to the thought of Hojo's greatest experiments fucking like wild animals - the thought of Shinra's greatest soldier getting ruined by a filthy beast.

And when everything breaks down for Sephiroth, he finally lets his desires take over him.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Nibelheim is in flames behind him.

Sephiroth is no longer the hero he was perfectly molded into. He has replaced that man with a murderous monster and he wants to meet his cursed kin. He wants to meet you.

He easily struck down the dozens of Shinra workers that tried to block his path to you and when he reaches the door to the room you're kept in, he barges in like he's about to raid it.

Hojo's not here, but Sephiroth hardly cares right now as he slams the door behind him and locks it, throwing various items of furniture in front of it. He is not risking any Shinra scum interrupting his time with you.

The only light in the room is the harsh blue lighting of your tank, which appears absolutely massive. The cylindrical cell takes up nearly half of the entire back wall, spanning the floor to the ceiling.

His eyebrows furrow as he notices your lack of presence, so he slowly walks over and peers into the glass. The interior descends into complete darkness, yet something tells him you're secretly curled up at the bottom, looking up at him.

Now that he's up close, he realises your tank isn't actually as big as it seemed. It's tall, yes, but quite cramped with limited space for you to move around. It saddens him to think that this has been your 'home' for at least the past few years.

Not wanting to tap against the glass, Sephiroth looks around for something else he could possibly entice you with. He spots a bucket of fish sitting on one of the tables and rushes over to it. Beside the bucket lies a clipboard with a single piece of paper attached to it. He's not in the mood to read any of it, but he catches the line that states, 'Feed time: 12:00 pm daily'.

His nose scrunches, appalled. You're only being fed once a day? Poor thing.

Without even thinking about the obvious risks of this act, he takes a handful of fish and heads up the steps leading up the side of your tank.

He takes a deep breath in preparation, then opens the lid of your tank and drops a fish into the water. He hurriedly closes the lid and peers around the front of the enclosure , watching the fish sink agonisingly slowly into the shadowy depths below.

He pouts, his goal having been to get you to swim up so he can see you.

So he tries again and watches the second fish head into the darkness on its own... then the third... and then the fourth.

He holds the last fish desperately in his hand, closing his eyes and saying a small plea to himself, before lifting the lid once more.

However, before he can drop the fish in, a large webbed hand breaches the surface and locks onto Sephiroth's arm. In shock, he lets go of the fish and it drops down the stairs as he tries to break free.

A second webbed hand takes hold of his other arm, claws scratching at his skin.

Sephiroth's instincts overpower his lust as he pulls back in fright, yelling and kicking at you, yet your grip is too strong.

"G-Get off! Stop!" he screams, tears building up in his eyes as panic sets in.

This was a terrible idea.

With a solid hold on Sephiroth and the lid of your tank open just enough, you pull yourself up, your back crashing into the lid and sending it flying backwards.

From the waist up, you're now out of the water, giving Sephiroth a decent idea of your size. You tower over him, your broad frame engulfing him. Slimy scales on your arms and neck shimmer against the glow from the tank and Sephiroth's terrified eyes follow them up your body until he reaches your face. His breath hitches.

You're absolutely beautiful.

Your eyes mirror the depths of the ocean, their mesmerising hues hypnotising Sephiroth and making him relax in your arms as he admires them.

Your majesty calms him, reminds him why he came here. It was to see you - to let you devour him as you were the only kin he feels he has.

He no longer struggles in your hold. Instead,  he slowly takes off his gloves, careful not to make any sudden movements, dropping them beside him.

He then gently runs his fingers over your broad, soft chest.

A confused sound leaves you as your eyes follow his hands and he chuckles.

His touch trails down, ghosting over your waist where skin and scales meet. He takes your hands in his and guides them to his belt.

There’s a small click as the buckle is undone and Sephiroth lets the garment fall.

He looks up at you as he takes your hands to the clasps of his coat, watching your unreadable expression with eager eyes.

When they both pop, his coat opens to reveal his SOLDIER belt resting on his stomach.

He catches the way your eyes widen slightly with hunger and the thrill it gives him goes straight between his legs.

As if you're watching an oyster reveal its pearl to you, you sink back into the water until your lower half is submerged and watch intensely as Sephiroth undresses fully for you.

Each movement is slow as Sephiroth tries not to visibly shake from his nerves. Every so often he'll glance over at your still frame, his arousal pulsing as your dark eyes burn into him.

Once he's fully nude for you, he hesitantly reaches out for you with an unsteady hand, wanting you to come back to him. The pure, unmarked skin of his palm immediately tempts you and you surge towards him.

Your body weight pushes him down onto his back. The breath is knocked out of him and you tug his jaw open and force your tongue inside.

Sephiroth groans into you, letting you have your way with him as you settle between his splayed legs.

As you indulge in his delicious taste, you start to subconsciously grind yourself against Sephiroth's heat. The white-haired man whines at the feeling of scales rubbing up and down his dick, the sensation so foreign yet somehow so right.

You finally pull back, relishing in your little pearl's submission. He meets your gaze and wraps his legs around your waist.

"More...Give me more, my love..." he pants, practically humping you like a dog in heat.

He doesn't know if it's his words or his actions that you understand, but one of them gets through and you take hold of his sculpted hips and flip him around.

He moans loudly as your slick body slides between him, feeling completely helpless in this moment.

Your hands lie on his ass, roughly toying with the soft flesh. You never knew humans could be so...alluring.

Unable to resist your feral urges, you dive in and begin gliding your long tongue along his hole.

Sephiroth jerks up and yelps, yet you instantly shove him back down again with a strong hand on his back, hissing in his ear at his disobedience.

His heart races in fear and excitement, whining when your tongue finds his hole again and pushes its way inside.

Your strength surpasses his - Sephiroth can only wriggle about under your unbreakable hold, crying and gasping at the new sensations his body is experiencing.

"P-Please, m-mmph~!" he babbles, his words slurred like he's dreaming.

His legs kick up behind you as you continue to knead his thigh with your other hand.

Your tongue slithers against his walls as it stretches them wide open, only just missing a certain spot that Sephiroth is crying for you to hit. Your prey desperately tries to arch his hips up to give you easier access, but you're having none of it and press your hand into his back.

Sephiroth screams in frustration and you only stop when his frantic kicking makes it a little too difficult to carry on. As soon as your hand leaves his back, he pushes his ass up, his thick thighs quivering.

He glances back at you anxiously, as if anticipating you to pounce on him, and is met with you flashing your terrifying fangs at him in an evil grin. His dick twitches and you lean in, using that same tongue that just devoured his asshole to lick all the way up from his tailbone to his neck.

You push your hips onto his, driving his back down as you lie fully on top of him. He moans erotically as your tongue runs up the side of his neck.

"Oh, my love~" he sighs. "I've waited for this for s-so long..."

He reaches up and cups your jaw with his hand, biting his lip seductively when you make eye contact with him.

"Waited for you..." he whispers, before opening his mouth and letting you slide your tongue back in.

Despite the filth of the situation he's in, Sephiroth finds this action romantic. Almost as if it's your version of a kiss.

As you devour him in it, you both gently rock your hips together. The longer you continue this movement, Sephiroth notices the scales rubbing against his ass becoming smoother, like they're disappearing.

Just as he wants to part from the kiss to see what's happening, something hot and wet pokes the inside of his thigh.

He jumps, breaking your kiss and whipping his head around to look behind him. He nearly cums from what he sees.

He stares in awe as a pink tentacle-esque appendage, similar to your tongue only much longer and thicker, slides out from a slit between the crotch area of your scales.

You watch, amused, as his eyes widen with shock, blush covering his cheeks. Your cock slaps against his ass, smearing a mysterious slimy substance all over it.

Sephiroth gasps at the lewdity of it all and when your dick prods at his hole, he looks up at you like a lost puppy. His hand falls from your jaw to your chest, which he buries his face into when he feels you enter him with ease.

You lower his upper half back down and wrap your arms around him, essentially hugging him from behind as you start thrusting into him.

At this, Sephiroth tears up and reciprocates the hug as best he can. 

This is everything he needed, everything he longed for.

The slapping of your scales against his wet skin is the only thing he can hear right now, his own cries unimportant as your warmth envelops him.

"M-My love..." Sephiroth sobs into you.

Despite being inhuman, you can feel his emotions and hug him tighter, lifting his hips up slightly to get a better angle in him.

Your dick now slips against that spot he was dying for you to hit earlier, making him roll his eyes back as he sees stars. The loud whines and whimpers he lets out are muffled by your powerful arms.

Everything about this experience is new to him - the pleasure, the comfort, the protection. All his life Sephiroth has been made to believe that he's undeserving of these things, yet you of all people have shown him otherwise.

With you, Sephiroth is not Shinra's most powerful soldier, a weapon used for war. Instead, he is vulnerable in a way that makes him feel wanted. Loved.

He's so lost in how incredible your dick and your body feel that he doesn't realise that you feel the same way. Sort of.

Your pace picks up and the man beneath you starts squirming as a different kind of heat begins to swirl inside of him.

"Oh~! A-Ah! I'm gonna-- Oh, my love I-I'm gonna--!!!" his words are nearly incoherent.

As you hammer into him, the only words he can get out are various pet names for you alongside the occasional "Cumming~~!".

And that's the only warning you get before he shudders in your arms, pearly cum gushing out of him as his orgasm takes over.

With your limited interactions with humanity, you've never seen this behaviour before, so you cease moving and loosen your hold on him, peering over his shoulder.

After who knows how long, his orgasm fades, leaving him trembling beneath you.

You push the hair out of his face to check if he's still conscious. Even if he's not, you're too impatient to wait for him to wake up, grabbing him harshly and dragging him halfway into the water.

This throws him out of whatever state he was in as he cries out in surprise.

"W-Wait, my love--!!"

He stutters as you pull out and spin him round to face you, his flushed face stained with tears.

He weakly manages to wrap his legs around your waist as you shove back into him. He hurriedly grasps your shoulders, struggling to adjust to your speed as you pound into his abused hole.

His cries and shouts fall on deaf ears as your dick pistons in and out of him. His tight ass squeezes the wet tendril, a choked 'Ah!' being punched out of him each time it rams into that same spot.

"Too much~~! 'S too much my love--!" he rambles.

Faint colourful patterns start to dance around in Sephiroth's vision. He no longer has any strength or energy to move on his own, completely relying on your body to keep his head above water.

You bask in his desperation, softly lapping and nibbling at his earlobe possessively.

This pathetic man walked into your enclosure and opened your tank like a naive child trying to feed a lion at the zoo. He has made his mistake and you will not let him back out of it.

He's given you a taste of something you have been denied for years.

You will make this man your mate whether he likes it or not.

The thought alone is enough to send a thrill down you, clinging onto his toned waist as you slam even more brutally into him.

You let out a pleased trill next to his ear as your hips stutter, ready to fill your mate up.

"W-Wait-! Ah~! A-AH?!"

Sephiroth's noises are cut off by the feeling of your hot sperm releasing into him, his own overstimulated cock weakly spurting out more small drops of white.

His nails dig into the scales on your shoulders as he clenches around you tight, focussing solely on the warmth spilling into his stomach.

"Love..." he whispers, dizzy.

Sephiroth physically cannot carry himself and his head falls onto your shoulder in exhaustion.

You peer down at him curiously, before scooping him up in your arms and lying back in the water, letting him rest on you as his own personal lifeboat.

He falls asleep within minutes, so worn out he doesn't stir when you later jump out of your tank, carrying him with you in your arms.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Shinra SOLDIERS finally manage to break into your cell, hours after you escaped with your lover.

All they discover is your empty tank with the top wide open and a rogue dead fish lying on the floor.

You close the front door with a soft thud before turning around and getting to work. You race upstairs and dash into your shared bedroom, clawing through your wardrobe and pulling out several of Katsuki’s old jeans and jackets that have holes in them.

Grabbing the pile, you steadily make your way back downstairs, pressing the garments to your midsection and tilting your head from side to side to get a glimpse of your feet like you’re heavily pregnant (not foreshadowing; you are not pregnant; I’m being 110% serious right now).

You dump them in a heap on the couch and pull out a vintage sewing kit Katsuki said belonged to his mum. Setting the little box down on the coffee table, you plop down next to the pile of clothes. You pull a pair of black skinny jeans onto your lap, lean forward and flick back the lid of the sewing box. The inside is decorated with hand-painted sirens. You swear you can feel their knowing eyes on you, sizing you up and questioning your life choices. Or maybe they’re silently reminding you of who you are and standing with you in solidarity. Either or, you fish out a needle and a spool of thread.

Poking the end of the thread through the eye makes you want to rip your hair out. You push your glasses up onto the top of your head before bringing the needle to your face and closing one eye as you try and stab the little opening with the slick thread.

It takes four licks and five minutes for you to finally thread up the needle. You huff as you replace your silver-wired glasses on your face and stab the needle through one side of the jeans.

After a few minutes, you switch on the TV and turn it down, desperate for a bit of background noise as you mend Katsuki’s clothes. The whole process takes a few hours and involves you stabbing your fingers more times than you care to count. Luckily, no blood is drawn. At last, you set his favourite winter coat down on your lap, all stitched up and as cosy as ever.

Next, you do what all housewives do and watch an episode (or two) of your favourite reality TV show. You’re on the edge of your seat as it plays, the wine glass filled with water threatening to spill as you jolt forward dramatically, yelling in hysterics at the flat screen.

On the menu for lunch today is trout. You catch the little squirmer from your kitchen’s fish tank and gobble it up with your eyes on the clock. It’s already 4pm. Where did the day go? Katsuki should be home by 5, and date night starts at 6:30. Wiping your mouth, you head upstairs and take a relaxing shower. Afterwards, you wrap yourself in a thick robe and take care of your skin just like Mina told you to.

Sitting down at your vanity, you stare at yourself in the mirror. You find it fascinating to just look at yourself sometimes. Besides, you never looked at yourself before now. There are no reflective surfaces beneath the tides except for scraps of metal from shipwrecks you happen to come across (and often cause).

As you spray your face with setting spray, you hear the familiar clanking of your blonde’s keys at the front door. Smirking, you lay out a few of the products he bought you to doll yourself up. While patting tinted moisturiser onto your cheeks, he stalks in. You lock eyes with him in your reflection, and giggle softly as he comes up behind you and squeezes your shoulders.

“How was work?” You ask while spreading the base product onto your forehead.

He murmurs, “Good,” while kissing the top of your head. “And you?”

You start blending out your moisturiser as you reply, “Yea, it was good. I patched up all the holes in your clothes.”

“Oh shit. Thanks, honey,” he mumbles while dragging his fingers through your hair.

You grin, “That’s okay.” Katsuki watches you for the next little while as you apply your makeup. You don’t need it. Of course you don’t! You’re stunning just the way you are, majestic as ever, even though you no longer traverse the seas. But he knows how much you like making yourself look even prettier. He’s mesmerised as you apply eyeliner, making a little wing at the corner of your eye before dragging the pen across your lid in smooth motions.

You chirp, “Shouldn’t you be getting ready, babe,” as you energetically shake the eyeliner.

Your blonde smirks as his hands drop from your warm shoulders, “Yea, guess I should be.” He leaves you to finish up while trudging off to the bathroom, ready to scrub off the weight of the day. You sigh in relief as you quickly finish up your mascara and lips.

Drenching your face in another coat of setting spray, you spring up and stay quiet as you listen to Katsuki in the shower. You can hear the pumping of his body wash, signalling that he’ll be at least another ten minutes.

With such little time, you hurriedly retrieve the shopping bag you’ve been hiding all these months and pull out your wrapped goodies. You glance around as though you can see an incoming threat with your blurry vision before carefully removing the branded sticker and unravelling the maroon tissue paper. Placing it back in the bag, you hold up the dark red lingerie set you tried on what feels like forever ago. Your fingers trace the delicate, lacy heart motifs before you strip off your robe and tug on the matching bra and panties.

Fuck! Do you really have to wear this all night? Fifteen seconds in and your ass crack is being flossed by this fuck ass g-string.

Hearing the shower turn off, you shove the remaining lingerie set back in the bag and scamper to return it to its secret place (the bottom of your wardrobe). Then, you put on tonight’s outfit: a black mini dress paired with a cardigan and ballet flats.

You stand in front of your full-length mirror and admire yourself from every angle possible. You’re so engrossed in gazing at the long scar horizontally across your thighs that you don’t notice Katsuki sneak up behind you.

His grumble pulls you from your daze, “You look fuckin’ gorgeous, fishfreak.” You flinch and shake your head, whipping around to see him right there.

“O-oh,” you stutter. “Thanks!” You chime while blushing. You notice the slightly fishy scent still lingering on his skin, mixing with the caramel of his body wash. He’s changed into a black shirt and dark baggy jeans. You twirl his chain around your finger as you gaze up at him.

“You look quite nice yourself,” you tease. Your blonde leans down and kisses the tip of your nose, his hands sliding up your hips and grabbing your waist. He almost closes the gap between your lips, but you pull back.

You tut, “You’ll ruin my lipstick, Suki.”

He shrugs, “And? You can just reapply it.” He dives in for a kiss again, but you expertly dodge, stepping back and facing the mirror once more. You sigh as you take in your appearance, your hands smoothing down the wrinkles of your dress. As your eyes dip lower, you can’t help but stare at your scar again. Your lips become poutier the longer your gaze lingers, unintentionally.

Katsuki invades your space once more, pressing his chest against your back while his hands grasp yours and wrap your arms around your body.

He sways you gently, murmuring in your ear, “Quit pickin’ yerself apart, sweets. You look beautiful.” His warm hands slip down your sides and eventually rest on your scar while his chin nuzzles your shoulders.

He whispers breathily, “’Specially ‘ere, alright?” You nod, sighing and moulding into his muscular frame. He glances down at his watch and kisses your cheek lightly, informing you that it’s time to go. You grab your bag and follow him out the door.

During the car ride, Katsuki’s hand rests on your knee. Every so often, he glances over at you, smirking to himself about how pretty his girlfriend is.

Shutting off the engine, he turns to and asks, “You sure you wanna be paintin’ in that?” You hum in agreement as you hop out of the car and join him before heading inside the art studio.

The bright lights shine down on you both as you try to follow the instructor’s directions on how to paint a crab, and fail miserably. The air is alight with a certain buzz. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but everyone is so talkative and friendly. Smooth jazz plays softly overhead, and part of you wishes you had brought your earplugs.

You decline the drink offered to you. Alcohol can be toxic to fish in high concentrations, and you’re not eager to test how much liquor you can handle until it becomes too much. However, you do take a sip of your blonde’s rosé and immediately recoil.

With you face scrunched up in displeasure, you whine, “What the fuck?! Why does it taste like that?!” His laughter rumbles in his chest as he places the glass down.

“This is nice wine, fishsticks,” he smirks. You roll your eyes and refocus your attention on the half-painted crab in front of you. Something is soothing about stroking the white-dipped bristles across the canvas, bringing to life a creature you’ve interacted with a handful of times. Your brows knit together as you concentrate on staying within the confines of your base shape, and soon, all you have left to paint are the eyes. Those beady, black eyes that hold the depths of the ocean within them.

Gazing over at your boyfriend’s canvas, you have to stifle your chuckle.

His head snaps to you, a look of annoyance across his handsome face as he grumbles, “The fuck you findin’ funny?” You wave your hands in front of you, trying to tell him “nothing” while you silently die of laughter.

Your palm slams down on the table as you give up on containing yourself.

“Oi! Why’re you laughin’ at me?!” He forcefully swirls his paintbrush in the jar of murky water provided, eyeing you with a deep scowl. You clutch your tummy, croaking out how it hurts.

He smirks, “As it should, fishfreak.” You surge forward, the pain too great as you cling onto his bicep with tears of joy distorting your vision.

“Kat-Kat-suki,” you groan.

“Fuck off,” he grumbles while wiping his now half-cleaned, wet brush on your apron.

“It-it looks like a rock,” you pant.

“It doesn’t look like a fuckin’ rock!” He shouts, drawing curious eyes from fellow painters. You nod while fanning your reddening face with your hands, attempting to calm down and cool off. He shakes his head and mumbles to himself while dipping his brush in brown paint. Raising it to the canvas, he ignores your fake apologies and coos to forgive you.

After recovering, you do your best to paint the crab’s eyes. How do they turn out? In your opinion, they could be better. But Katsuki stares at you in awe of your artistic skill while blobbing two black dots for the eyes. He finishes off his glass before embracing you all grumpy. You peck his lips, which disintegrates some of the tension in his shoulders.

By the end of the session, you both walk out with ‘masterpieces’. You giggle and tease him for his stripy rock as he ignites the engine and pulls out of the parking lot.

You question, “Suki, should you be driving right now?”

He brushes off your concern with, “’M fine, love. Besides, if I’m not driving, how’re we gonna get home?”

“Fair enough. Just don’t crash, please,” you pout. He grins while squeezing your knee.

“’Course I won’t.” The streetlights highlight your blonde’s slight flush from the alcohol. You grip his wrist and pull his hand up to your lips, delicately kissing his scarred knuckles and palm. He sighs and gazes down at you briefly before gluing his bright eyes to the road. Satisfied, you pull his hand down to your lap and hold onto his forearm for the rest of the drive home.

Pulling up in front of your home, Katsuki suggests taking a walk down by the beach. You enthusiastically agree and almost run off down the well-worn path while he locks the car.

“Come on, Suki!” You call out to him. Chuckling, he jogs over to you and takes your hand. He guides you down to the ocean and lets you go as you kick off your flats and dance in the sand. Picking up your shoes, he trails behind you with a lazy, lopsided grin on his lips.

You’re radiant beneath the moonlight. The breeze fingers your wild hair as you kick snowy sand while singing another shanty. You seem to glow while so close to the rolling waves, and your lover whispers a quiet thanks to the heavens for letting him have you. At least for having you right now.

Your footsteps slow until they stop, and you wait for Katsuki to catch up.

You tease him, “Come on, old man! I’ll be all wrinkly by the time you get over here!” Sighing, he quickens his pace. When he’s close enough, you jump into his arms. Without fail, he drops your flats and catches you, looping his arms underneath your butt. You secure your arms around his neck and lean down to dot his face in playful kisses. He catches your lips with his, the tang of the rosé still fresh on his tongue, which makes you grimace.

You mumble into his mouth, “Ew.”

He bites back, “You’re ew. Now shut up, freak.” You smirk against him while catching his lower lip between your teeth, making him hiss. You gently nip at the pink flesh, drawing back and tilting your head before diving back in.

Eventually, Katsuki sets you back down, but keeps his hands on your lower back as he kisses down your neck. Reaching your collarbone, he pulls back and rests his forehead against yours.

He breathes out, “I’ve got somethin’ f’you.” You giggle as you steal another kiss before releasing him. The moon illuminates the pink dusting his cheeks as he pulls out a jewellery box from his pocket.

“Kat—”

“It’s not a ring. Not yet,” he cuts you off.

You sigh, “Oh, thank God. I love you, but I don’t think I’m re— OH MY GOD!” Taking off the lid, your boyfriend presents to you the antique crab necklace you had admired together on your first ever shopping trip. Tears swell in your eyes as your fingertips trail over the intricate metalwork. You gaze up at him, choking on your sobs as he stares at you, nervously chewing on his bottom lip. His bottom lip you should be chewing on right now.

“D-do you like it, baby?” He stutters. You nod and drop your head against his chest, encircling his meaty torso with your arms as you ugly cry. He shushes you and rubs your back with one hand, patting your shoulder blades lightly.

He murmurs, “D’you wanna put it on?”

“Y-yea,” you say shakily, salty tears running into your mouth. Your blonde carefully takes the necklace out of its box and unclasps it. He then nudges you back a little. Your head tilts up, your glasses all foggy and eyes already puffy like you’ve got hayfever, as he drapes the necklace on you and hooks it at the back.

Lifting your hair, he adjusts the pendant so it sits right between your clavicles. Then, he draws you back into his warm embrace. You bunch his shirt in your fists as you wail, utterly distraught by his thoughtfulness.

You mumble between sobs, “W-what d-did I d-do to-to des-deserve you?”

He pats your head and soothes your back as he mumbles, “You didn’t have to do anythin’, sweetheart.” That makes it so much worse. Your cries level up to 100, and Katsuki’s eyes widen as he feels his shirt slipping down because of how tightly you’re clenching it.

The ocean gazes upon your trembling frame and tender cuddles. As do the stars and the sea breeze and the sand. They watch as you finally tip your head back and look at your boyfriend, sniffling.

You mutter shakily, “I-I love youuu.”

Your blonde kisses your forehead and mumbles against it, “I love you, too, fishie.”

…˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚…

You groan into Katsuki’s mouth as your back hits the mattress. Moments ago, you had been on the beach, basking in one another before one kiss led to another and now, you’re both ravenously tearing at each other’s clothes. Your fingers intertwine in his short locks and pull him even closer, deepening your kiss. Tongues swirl and map out each other’s mouths like the constellations.

At this point, you don’t care about the wine’s sourness lingering on his taste buds. If anything, it makes you more feral for this man. You nip at his lower lip, causing him to groan as his veiny hands bunch your dress up. Pulling back, ropes of saliva connect your lips. He smirks and sits on his haunches, straddling your hips as he tugs off your mini dress.

Throwing it into the dark recesses of his room, he gazes down at you hungrily. The deep red lace leaves nothing to his imagination, especially since your nipples are hard. Your blonde licks his lips like a starving hound before meeting your eyes.

He chuckles, “Went all out f’me, huh?” You nod enthusiastically as you paw at his shirt. Catching your wrists, he brings them to his lips and leaves searing kisses there. He then lets go and yanks off his shirt, chucking it aside as he leans back down. His toned arms cage you in, the moonlight glinting on their rippling contours and illuminating his happy trail. You giggle as he ensnares your lips in another breathtaking kiss.

Shamelessly, you run your hands all over his bare chest, moaning as he sucks on your tongue. As you pinch his stiff nipples, he curses against your lips and buckles, lowering to his elbows and grinding his hips against yours. You dip your head back, breaking your sloppy kiss with a smirk.

You pant, “Kats, do you want to have sex with me?” His eyes widen at your words, and his jaw slackens.

He mutters, “Well, yea. Thought that was pretty fuckin’ obvious.”

You grin, “Okay, good. I read that it’s important to ask for consent before hav—” You don’t get to finish before his lips are on yours again. One of his hands cups your cheek while the other keeps his full weight off you.

When your lover separates from you, his spit-soaked lips ghost yours as he rasps, “’N d’you wanna have sex with me?”

“Yes,” you giggle.

He mumbles into your mouth, “Good.” You moan as his hard cock presses against your barely covered cunt, hitting your clit at that perfect angle. Your legs hook around his hips, feet resting in the dimples above his ass. Your hips buck in time with his grinds. Quickly, your lacy panties become soaked while you nibble on his lips. He trails kisses down your jaw and neck, leaving bite marks and hickeys that’ll be there for the next week.

You cry out as Katsuki gnaws on your earlobe before whispering, “Can already feel how wet you are f’me, doll.” His words send a rush of arousal dripping out of you as your nails dig into his shoulders. He smirks against your skin, and sucks a particularly brutal hickey beneath your ear. Your hands roam his upper back and clutch his nape as he kisses your collarbones.

You draw in a shaky breath as his thumbs run over your ribs, his big hands sliding up and palming your breasts through your bra. They’re so warm against your skin, making you melt into his touch.

Your boyfriend groans, “I love you in this, baby. But I’m gonna love ya even more out of it.” His rough hands slide around you, and long fingers unhook your bra with precision. He tugs it off you, drinking you in with his eyes once your tits spring free.

Wasting no time, he leans down and sucks on your erect nipple. Your back arches at the sudden contact, sending shivers coursing throughout your body. Tangling your hands back in his hair, you pull on his roots as his teeth graze your sensitive peak.

“Suki!” You moan. Biting your lip, you can feel his curve into a smirk against your breast.

In his conquest, Katsuki leaves hickeys and bite marks all over the fat of your breasts and on your tummy. Holding your hips firmly to stop you from squirming, he gazes up at you from between your thighs with low-lidded eyes.

You ruffle his blonde locks, mewling, “Come on, baby. Please.” His head dips, tongue licking up your lace-covered slit. A guttural moan claws out of your throat, white, hot need filling you like you pray his cum will. He bites the fabric and stretches it back with his teeth. Releasing it, the waistband snaps back against your lower tummy.

You whine, “Please, Suki! I need you.”

He chuckles shortly, “I can tell.” Katsuki cups your heat, his palm pressing into the centre of your slick while his fingers roam your clit. Your hips half-buck, still kept in place by his other hand.

He tuts, “Be patient, fishfreak.”

You exclaim, “I can’t! I really need you, baby!” With a smirk on his handsome face, he shakes his head lightly. Moving his forearm over your hips to keep you steady, he peels your sticky panties to the side. You moan loudly as his hot tongue laps at your juices, finally giving you what you’ve been desperate for.

Sweet relief intertwines with ecstasy, seeping into every cell of your body as he eats you out like the depraved man he is. He sucks at your clit harshly before switching to your delicate folds and then fucking you with his tongue. You can’t keep up with his ministrations; the pleasure is overwhelming. Sounds you swear aren’t yours ricochet off the bedroom walls, filling the suddenly humid air.

You whimper, “Suki, fuck— Fuck! That feels so good, baby,” as you wiggle your hips. His forearm presses down into you harder as he curls his tongue into that perfect spot of your gummy walls. The knot in your tummy tightens, almost tangible in your lustful daze. You’re so close, just a little more and—

“Suki! ‘M gonna cum! ‘M gonna cum!” You practically scream. The world around you seems to collapse and reform as your orgasm crashes down upon you. Your senses are pulled beneath a tide of pleasure, drowning out any thoughts you could possibly conceive in this moment.

Katsuki groans into your drooling pussy as you cum all over his face. Heavenly bliss is not only one-sided, and he swears he’s seeing those pearly gates as you clench your thighs around his head. There’s no other place he’d rather be than right here.

Calming down, it dawns upon you that this is only the beginning. You still have so much of tonight left. So much you want to do, but you’re exhausted already.

You smile lazily as your boyfriend snakes up your body and embraces you in his arms. He holds you through the aftershocks of your climax, keeping you tethered to this plane of existence. As you open your eyes, you see him gazing at you lovingly. You tilt your head back and kiss him gently, tasting your arousal coating his lips. But you don’t care. His grip on you tightens, his jeans chafing against your legs.

Breaking the kiss, you slide your hand down to his belt and tug on it while giving him pouty lips. He chuckles softly, nudging your forehead with his as he shifts and starts unbuckling his belt. Pulling off his pants and underwear, he manhandles you on top of him. You steady yourself by placing your hands on his shoulders, your ruined panties grazing his hard length.

He smirks, “D’you want ‘em on or off, baby? Yer call.” You grind your soaking cunt against him, moaning pathetically at the friction. His hands grip your hips, groans tumbling from his pink lips.

“Hah— let’s get your money’s worth, yea?” You tease. Your lover nods, his eyes glued to you pushing your panties to the side before pumping his leaking cock a few times. You slip it in, whining and chewing on your lower lip at the stretch. It takes every shred of Katsuki’s strength not to thrust up into you right now. You’re clenching him so tightly, it’s godsent.

He breathes out, “Just relax, babe.”

“’M trying,” you whine. He helps you slide all the way down and holds you close to his chest as you adjust to his size.

You whimper in his ear, “I don’t know if I can take it, Suki.”

He kisses your cheek tenderly and reassures you, “I know you can, love. We were made for each other, yea?” Gradually sitting upright, you nod. Katsuki's hands slip down to your thighs, thumbs brushing over your scar as you start moving up and down.

It’s slow at first, lots of soft mewls and whines from you as your boyfriend does his best to talk you through it. But after a bit, the stretch doesn’t burn so much. And it starts to feel good. Really good.

You throw your head back as your bounce on his cock, your palms on his lower abs while you moan. Curse after curse falls from Katsuki’s lips as he resists the urge to buck up into you.

Until he can’t resist anymore.

You nearly scream as he clutches your hips and starts fucking you. Your skin slapping together rings through the room, intercutting your whimpers and his groans.

“God— ‘M sorry. Couldn’t help— Ah— myself, love,” he groans.

“Mhmm,” you moan, the sound choppy from his thrusts forcing the air out of your lungs.

The moonlight captures your connected bodies, the sweat dripping from your brow, and heady kisses. Grabbing his jaw, you part his lips and spit in his mouth. The territorial gesture has your boyfriend’s eyes bulging out of their sockets. You grin and shut his mouth, watching cockily as his Adam’s apple bobs, swallowing your saliva.

He rasps, “S’that how you like it, baby?” You nod, bottom lip between your teeth, when he flips you two over. Straightening up, he maneuvers your ankles over his shoulders before leaning back down and planting his hands on either side of your head.

“Suki!” You squeal as he starts pounding you harder than before. His laboured breaths mingle with yours in the short distance between your lips. Your foreheads meet as you gaze down.

It’s trance-like, watching his cock slide in and out of you. You moan and rest your head back, feeling his entire length deep inside before he draws back out. Catching that wild look in his eyes, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull into a sloppy, tongue-riddled kiss. Your flexibility reaches new heights as Katsuki holds you to him by the back of your head.

He grunts into your mouth, “So close, doll— Fuck!— Tell me yer close, too.”

“Mhmm.” His thrusts become sharper while his tip repeatedly hits your g-spot. The pleasure is blinding, accumulating until you feel it begin to spill over. You scream and moan his name as you cum, your body convulsing from stimulation beneath him.

With a few more thrusts, Katsuki fills you with his load. It’s searing, like molten, as you swear it spews into the pit of your tummy. His head droops and rests in the crook of your neck as he ruts into your slower, eventually stopping deep inside of you. You two lie there, a tangled mess of slick, sweat, and limbs as your orgasms fizzle out.

You’re still moaning softly as he kisses your neck and sits back. Drawing out of you, Katsuki’s breath catches as his cum drips out of you. The gushing sound is lewd as white trickles out of your hole and down your ass cheek.

He groans, “Fuck, babe. Gimme a sec—” Standing up, he disappears for a minute. Returning, he wipes you up with a damp towel before folding it and patting away the sweat coating your upper lip and forehead. You catch his wrist and pull it to your lips like he did earlier that night, placing a tender kiss there. Letting go of him, your boyfriend cleans himself up and chucks the towel on his bedside table.

He draws you into his arms and cuddles with you, letting you come down from your high and gather your strength before round two. You giggle as he sweetly kisses your brow, cheeks, and nose, leaving your lips for last. And as you lie there together, you realise that for once, you’re the same temperature.

In Katsuki, you’ve found a love that transcends life’s greatest barriers. In you, he’s found a reason to look forward to every new day. And he intends to tell you that with his body all night long, and somehow, with his words and actions, too, for the rest of your lives.

masterlist

images are not mine

star's final words: 1) sorry if this is the worst smut you've ever read. i was so excited to write it at the start, i had nothing at the end. 2) thank you all so much for reading! i really appreciate all of your support along the way. it hasn't gone unnoticed <3