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solxamber · 1 month ago

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You Try to Sleep on the Couch after an Argument with: Housewardens

Other Parts: Vice-Housewardens; First Years ; Cater, Floyd, Silver, Rollo

Riddle Rosehearts

The house was quiet, save for the occasional creak of wood and the rustle of fabric as you flopped onto the couch with all the grace of a cat forcibly denied its favorite sunny spot.

The argument still hung in the air, an unspoken tension that neither you nor Riddle were willing to breach—at least not yet. He wasn’t wrong, not entirely, but he wasn’t right either. The impasse was as thick as the silence between you.

Determined to make a statement, you yanked the blanket off the couch arm and cocooned yourself in it, defiantly turning your back to the door. No way were you crawling back to bed tonight. Your pride wouldn’t let you. Let him stew in his perfectly fluffed, oversized bed.

Meanwhile, in his room, Riddle’s impeccable composure was fraying at the edges. He lay stiff as a board under his duvet, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers to all his mistakes. His pillows seemed unusually hard, the blankets too suffocating, and no matter how he adjusted, something felt... wrong.

It didn’t take him long to figure out the culprit: you weren’t there.

He groaned softly into the darkness. Guilt clawed at his insides, sharp and relentless, each tick of the clock making it harder to bear. He’d handled things poorly—he could admit that, now that the heat of the argument had ebbed. And worse, he couldn’t bear the thought of you being upset, out there on the couch, all because of his stubbornness.

With a heavy sigh and an even heavier heart, he threw off his blanket and shuffled into the living room. His breath caught when he saw you.

There you were, fast asleep, your cheek smushed against the arm of the couch, one arm dangling off the side. The sight was far too adorable for the emotional train wreck he’d become. His guilt doubled.

Riddle knelt by the couch quietly, determined not to wake you. But as he crouched there, the exhaustion hit him—of the argument, the guilt, the restless tossing and turning. Maybe just sitting here would suffice. He wouldn’t disturb you.

A few minutes turned into an hour. Before he knew it, he’d slumped sideways against the couch, head lolling onto his arms, fast asleep in what had to be the most uncomfortable position imaginable.

When you stirred awake, the morning light was peeking through the curtains. Groggily, you rubbed your eyes, the previous night’s anger feeling like a distant shadow. That was when you noticed him—his normally pristine figure curled up on the floor, head resting uncomfortably close to your dangling hand.

Your chest ached at the sight. The idiot. The sweet, guilty idiot.

You reached out, brushing your fingers lightly against his hair. “Riddle,” you whispered. “Hey… wake up.”

He stirred, blinking up at you with sleep-clouded eyes, disoriented but instantly softening when he saw your face. Without a word, he shifted closer, arms wrapping around your middle as he buried his face against your stomach.

“Don’t go,” he mumbles, voice thick and quiet.

You freeze but quickly recover, leaning into his embrace. “I wasn’t going anywhere.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, voice muffled by your blanket. “I didn’t mean for it to get so out of hand.”

Your throat tightened, and you found yourself carding your fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry too,” you whispered. “Let’s not fight like that again.”

For a moment, the two of you just stayed like that, wrapped up in quiet forgiveness. When he finally looked up at you, there was a hesitant, hopeful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Will you come back to bed now?” he asked softly.

“Only if you promise to use it too. No more couch-floor accommodations,” you teased, pinching his cheek lightly.

“Deal,” he murmured, and together, you made your way back—closer than before, warmth filling the space where anger once was.

Leona Kingscholar

The argument had been sharp, biting, and the kind of fight where you both refused to back down. Storming out of the bedroom felt dramatic enough to match the vibe, so you grabbed a blanket, stomped to the living room, and threw yourself onto the couch with the weight of your indignation. “Fine,” you muttered into the cushions. “Let him have the stupid bed. I don’t care.”

And at the time, you didn't. You were replaying his snarky remarks and cursing his stubborn attitude. But the couch was lumpy, the blanket too short, and sleep came grudgingly after what felt like hours of stewing.

When you finally woke, disoriented and achy, something felt...off. For starters, you weren’t on the couch anymore. You were in the bed, wrapped snugly in the comforter that still carried Leona’s scent.

Blinking against the sunlight, you sat up, confusion clouding your thoughts. At the foot of the bed was the blanket you’d dragged out last night, now neatly folded like some taunting symbol of Leona’s existence.

And Leona himself? Missing.

You slid out of bed and wandered to the living room, where the answer to your mystery lay sprawled across the couch. The sight of him, however, made your irritation waver.

Leona was far too large for the couch. His long legs hung over the edge at weird angles, and one arm was slung over his face to block the light filtering through the curtains. He looked wildly uncomfortable, but his usual arrogance softened in sleep, his face peaceful and unguarded.

It didn’t take a genius to piece it together. He must have carried you to bed sometime in the night, only to exile himself to the lumpy couch. The guy could be maddeningly stubborn, but this... this unexpected gesture had you torn between wanting to yell at him or simply kissing him awake.

Ultimately, you decided to settle for the middle ground.

Crouching next to the couch, you reached out and brushed the stray strands of hair from his face. Before you could withdraw, one eye cracked open, and a lazy grin spread across his lips.

“Caught ya,” he drawled, voice rough from sleep.

You raised an eyebrow. “You moved me to the bed, didn’t you?”

He huffed, clearly uninterested in owning up to the sentimentality of it. “Couldn’t leave you out there whining in your sleep.”

“I wasn’t whining!” you protested, even though your cheeks were burning.

“Sure you weren’t,” he replied smoothly, grabbing your wrist before you could retreat. With a sharp tug, he pulled you down, practically pinning you against him. “Don’t see the big deal. You’re mine, aren’t ya? ‘Course I’m gonna take care of you.”

The casual way he said it didn’t make it any less sincere.

You sighed, melting into his warmth despite yourself. “I hate how sweet you can be when I’m trying to stay mad at you.”

His smirk widened, and he tucked you closer, burying his face in your hair. “Didn’t mean to piss you off,” he murmured against your temple. “But you’re not leaving this couch till we make up. Deal?”

You rolled your eyes, but your voice softened. “Deal.”

As the tension melted away and his arms tightened around you, the couch didn’t seem quite so lumpy anymore. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad place to be.

Azul Ashengrotto

The argument had been tense, the kind where you both said things you probably shouldn’t have. Frustrated and too stubborn to stay in the same space as Azul, you grabbed a pillow and marched out to the couch. He’d barely tried to stop you, his pride seemingly keeping him rooted in the bedroom.

But pride was a fickle thing, and now you were left trying to fall asleep on the stiff cushions. Every creak of the floorboards made you feel a little guilty, knowing exactly who it was.

You didn’t even need to look; you could feel Azul’s presence lingering in the doorway, his usual composure clearly absent. The sound of shuffling footsteps returned to the bedroom, and you thought maybe he’d finally leave you alone—only to hear those same footsteps inch closer again a minute later.

"Azul, I know you're there," you muttered, cracking an eye open and turning toward the doorway. Sure enough, there he was, peeking out. His glasses caught the faint glow of the hallway light, and he immediately froze like he’d been caught stealing treasure.

“I-I wasn’t...” he started, before trailing off, clearly scrambling for an excuse.

You sighed and sat up, your frustration ebbing in the face of how uncharacteristically sheepish he looked. This was Azul Ashengrotto, the calculating businessman who could sell ice to Yetis—and yet he couldn’t even apologize without peering at you like a child who’d been scolded.

“If you’re just going to lurk there all night, we’re both going to lose sleep,” you said, finally beckoning him over with a wave.

Azul hesitated for a fraction of a second before his composure cracked, and he shuffled toward the couch. “I didn’t mean for things to escalate...” he started, sitting next to you, his head ducked low, voice soft.

You smirked despite yourself. “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed, you know that?”

He bristled, his dignity rallying as he cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. “I am not—”

“You’re very cute,” you interrupted, and the smallest flicker of a pout crossed his lips.

Azul looked away, a hint of color dusting his pale cheeks. “You’re the worst.”

“And you still love me,” you countered, pulling him down beside you. “Truce?”

He glanced at you, the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips. “Truce.”

Apologies came in murmured exchanges after that, both of you acknowledging where you’d gone wrong. You knew you’d both let pride get in the way—typical for two people as headstrong as yourselves.

Eventually, Azul’s head rested on your shoulder, his warm weight grounding you. You leaned back against the couch, and despite its discomfort, it felt perfect with him there.

“You know,” you whispered, running a hand gently through his hair, “for a guy who’s made half of Twisted Wonderland sign contracts, you really can’t stand your ground for the life of you.”

Azul huffed, turning his face into your shoulder to hide. “Do you want me to apologize again?”

You chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Nope. I think I’ll just enjoy this.”

And with that, the two of you finally let the tension of the argument melt away, falling asleep together on the couch in an imperfect, perfectly “you and Azul” sort of peace.

Kalim Al-Asim

The argument had been uncharacteristically heated—rare for someone as sunny and easygoing as Kalim—but even he had limits, and so did you. When your stubborn streak flared, it ended with you grabbing a blanket and storming off to the couch.

“No, Kalim, I’m fine. You sleep in the bed, I’ll sleep here,” you snapped, cutting off his attempts to follow you. His face fell, but for once, he didn’t argue, retreating to the bedroom with a defeated slump of his shoulders.

You burrowed into the couch cushions, determined to stay mad, but as sleep started to claim you, the anger dulled into annoyance. It didn’t matter. He started it, you thought stubbornly, clutching the blanket tighter.

A soft rustle of fabric woke you, tugging you from the edges of sleep. Blinking groggily, you turned your head to see Kalim crouched beside the couch, carefully tucking another blanket over you. He had his tongue poking out slightly in concentration, his touch so gentle that it was clear he didn’t want to wake you.

“What are you doing?” you mumbled, voice hoarse with sleep.

Kalim flinched, looking at you like a startled puppy caught raiding the kitchen. “Oh, I—uh—I just thought you might be cold, so I…”

He trailed off, clearly expecting you to brush him off again. Instead, you sighed, your irritation melting as you realized just how ridiculous he looked, trying to coddle you even while you were angry at him.

“Come here,” you said, sitting up and pulling the blanket back a bit.

“What? No, I don’t want to—”

“Kalim.”

His protest crumbled immediately, and he slid onto the couch beside you, tucking his legs up awkwardly. You wrapped the blanket over both of you, and after a moment of stunned hesitation, Kalim relaxed into the embrace, resting his head against your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice small and earnest. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You sighed, tilting your head to rest on his. “I’m sorry too. I overreacted.”

He perked up slightly at that, his usual cheer trying to peek through. “So… does this mean you won’t sleep out here alone again?”

“You’re lucky I’m even letting you under this blanket, Asim,” you teased, though your smile softened the words.

Kalim beamed, his arms wrapping snugly around your middle. “I knew you couldn’t stay mad at me forever!”

You rolled your eyes fondly, leaning back into the cushions. The couch wasn’t exactly built for two people, but the warmth of his presence made it easy to ignore. Slowly, you both drifted to sleep, Kalim murmuring sweet nothings even as his breaths evened out.

Maybe next time, you thought sleepily, you’d just let him win.

“You can have your perfectly fluffed pillows and skincare routine in peace,” you muttered, tucking yourself in with a spiteful sense of triumph.

Vil Schoenheit

The argument left both of you simmering in silence, which for Vil was a rarity. Instead of his usual icy composure, he seemed genuinely rattled. You, however, weren’t in the mood to care. Grabbing a blanket with theatrical flair, you stomped to the couch.

Once comfortably cocooned, you scrolled on your phone, trying to drown out the lingering annoyance. That’s when you heard it—sharp, purposeful footsteps marching toward you.

Before you could react, Vil appeared like a vengeful storm god, looking every bit as flawless as a deity would while furious. With a huff that could make kingdoms tremble, he reached for your arm and began dragging you back to the bedroom.

“Vil, what are you—let me go! I’m fine out here!” you protested, but his grip was firm, his annoyance palpable.

Once you were unceremoniously deposited by the bed, he turned to you, pointing at your neatly made side. “You are sleeping there,” he declared.

You folded your arms. “I’m sleeping on the couch. Deal with it.”

He tilted his head, his expression a dangerous blend of frustration and disbelief. “Absolutely not. You’ve ruined my entire evening, and now you expect me to suffer further by sleeping alone?”

“Ruined? Seriously?” you shot back.

“Yes! I require my beauty sleep, and I can’t possibly get it knowing you’re out there, sulking on a couch. It’s impossible to relax without you next to me—so you, are going to have to take responsibility!”

The sheer audacity of his statement left you blinking. It was so dramatic and entirely Vil that you couldn’t help it—you laughed. Not a little chuckle, but a full-bodied, slightly wheezing laugh that made you clutch your sides.

Vil crossed his arms, arching an offended brow. “I fail to see what’s funny.”

“You,” you said between giggles. “This whole ‘it’s your fault I can’t sleep because I love you’ nonsense. You’re ridiculous.”

He didn’t deny it. Instead, he sighed, and once your laughter subsided, he gestured to the bed again, this time more softly. “Please. Don’t make me sleep without you.”

You relented, sliding under the blankets. As you settled in, Vil switched off the lights, the room going still.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly after a moment. His tone was sincere, lacking the sharp edges from earlier.

You shifted closer to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him gently against you. “I’m sorry too.”

Vil let out a contented hum, nestling into your hold. With your body heat mingling and the earlier tension dissipating, it didn’t take long for both of you to fall asleep—together, as it should be.

Sleep came in patches, your mind replaying the fight in a loop. At some point, the dull ache in your bladder forced you to stumble toward the bathroom. On your way back, you froze, hearing quiet, panicked murmurs drifting from Idia’s room.

Idia Shroud

The argument had been rough—sharp words, bitter edges, the kind of fight that left your chest heavy. It didn’t matter how much Idia stammered his way through an apology or tried to explain his side; you weren’t ready to hear it yet. So, in an act of frustrated finality, you grabbed a blanket and retreated to the couch, refusing to spare him another glance.

“Ortho, what do I do? I think I really messed up this time,” his voice wavered, thick with worry. “They probably hate me now. Like, actual hate—no respawn, no restart. I mean, who else would put up with me? I’ve completely blown it.”

You sighed, anger ebbing as guilt trickled in. You hadn’t meant to push him that far, and his usual self-deprecating spiral sounded more frayed than usual.

Pushing the door open, you caught the tail end of Ortho’s voice. “Big Brother, you should—oh!” His robotic eyes darted to you, scanning the scene. A moment later, he gave a tiny thumbs-up and practically zoomed out of the room, leaving you and Idia alone.

Idia froze when he noticed you. His shoulders hunched as if he could shrink his already wiry frame. “I-I didn’t mean for you to hear that. Sorry for being pathetic. Again.”

Rolling your eyes fondly, you stepped forward and opened your arms. “Come here, you dramatic dork.”

His eyes widened, hesitation etched into every inch of his posture. When you didn’t move or drop your arms, he finally shuffled over, nervously slipping into your embrace. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him securely, and his entire body seemed to deflate as tension drained out of him.

“I thought you weren’t coming back,” he admitted, voice muffled against your shoulder.

You huffed softly, rubbing his back. “Idia, I wasn’t leaving. Just... needed space to cool off. And honestly, hearing you lose your mind over it made it hard to stay mad.”

“Cool. Cool, cool, cool,” he mumbled, the words tumbling in an embarrassed rush. “Um, does this mean...?”

“It means I still love you,” you interrupted gently.

His grip on you tightened for a moment before he pulled back, pink dusting his cheeks and his hair glowing pink at the ends. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice so soft you almost missed it.

“I’m sorry too,” you replied, kissing his cheek and earning a startled squeak.

Together, you made your way back to bed. As you settled under the blankets, his fingers tangled hesitantly with yours. The argument seemed miles away now, replaced by the steady warmth of simply being with him.

“I’ll try to be better,” he murmured into the quiet.

“You’re already enough, Idia,” you replied, squeezing his hand.

And as you drifted off to sleep, you felt his thumb rubbing gentle circles against your knuckles, grounding both of you in the quiet comfort of reconciliation.

Malleus stood frozen for a moment, processing your declaration, and you could feel his pout even with your back turned. "You do not need to sleep on the couch," he finally said.

Malleus Draconia

The argument left both of you tense, and you were too mad to deal with Malleus' brooding silence. Grabbing a blanket, you stormed off toward the couch, refusing to even glance at him. "I'm sleeping on the couch," you announced. "Goodnight."

"I'm not changing my mind," you shot back, tossing the blanket onto the couch for emphasis.

There was a brief, sulking pause. Then, he went quiet—suspiciously quiet. You peeked over your shoulder just in time to catch him crossing his arms with a look of smug triumph spreading across his face.

“Malleus—”

Before you could finish the thought, a flash of green lightning struck the couch, reducing it to a pile of ash with alarming precision. You stood there, jaw dropping as the faint smell of charred upholstery wafted in the air.

"Well," Malleus said, ever so matter-of-factly, "it seems the couch is… out of commission. A most unfortunate turn of events."

You turned to him, dumbfounded. "Did you seriously just smite your own couch?"

He looked at you expectantly, his lips pressed into an overly calm smile. "The bed is still available," he offered, gesturing toward the bedroom as though that solved everything.

Your anger reignited—if that was even possible after witnessing such sheer audacity. Without a word, you dropped your blanket onto the floor, flopping down dramatically as if making it your personal mission to out-stubborn a dragon fae.

He stared at you in bewilderment, clearly expecting a different outcome. For a long moment, he didn’t move, as though trying to process your act of defiance. Then, with an audible sigh, he finally caved.

“Alright,” he said softly, crouching to your level. His eyes held a rare vulnerability. “I… overreacted. I apologize for upsetting you.”

You bit back a smirk, pretending to be unimpressed even as you felt your resolve softening. "I wasn’t thrilled about it, yeah."

Malleus tilted his head, something of a pout returning to his expression. “Will you come back to bed, then? The floor hardly befits someone so precious to me.”

“Only if you promise not to zap anything else," you teased, finally relenting as you reached out to take his offered hand.

He helped you up gently, his grip firm but careful, as though he feared breaking you. “I cannot promise to never act rashly in defense of my love,” he murmured, leading you back to the room.

Settling into the bed together, you couldn’t resist poking at him one last time. “You really destroyed your own couch just to keep me near you, huh? You know they make couple’s therapy for this, right?”

He chuckled softly, pulling you close. “I would smite an entire castle if it meant you stayed by my side.”

“Noted,” you said, rolling your eyes, though you couldn’t hide the warmth in your chest. As you both drifted off, tangled in the sheets, you couldn’t help but think how absurdly lucky you were to be loved by someone so dramatic—and so utterly devoted.

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sinner-as-saint · 6 months ago

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scary? my god, you're divine

Hitman/Mob!Bucky x Reader

Run-through: Your marriage to Bucky Barnes was crucial in stopping the rivalry that had been getting rather violent recently between the two families. You agreed to it. But there was one little problem. Although people knew of Bucky as being a ruthless, fiercely loyal, and feared hitman, no one had ever seen his face. In the rare occasions when he’d been seen out during assignments, it was rumoured that he always wore some sort of mask which covered most of his face. So you ended up marrying a man, and had no idea what he looked like. But surely that wouldn’t be an issue. It’s not like his one touch would get you addicted. Who cared what he looked like? It’s not like you could grow to love someone like him anyway… right?

Themes: arranged marriage, age gap (reader is in her mid twenties, bucky’s in his late thirties), mentions of violence and death, hitman!Bucky, smut, fluff, explicit language, virgin!reader, HEA

Something woke you up in the middle of the night.

And you’d been staring at the dark ceiling above your bed for the past few minutes now. What had woken you up? It could’ve been the strong winds hitting the large Georgian windows. Or perhaps it was the soft ticking of the nearby clock. Or maybe even the weight of all the incessant thoughts running through your head.

Gods, you thought, what a day.

It had started out like any other. Your father was pacing around, worried and barking orders on the phone, trying to find a way to put a stop to this chaos that was quickly forming into a full war between him and his number one rival. Small attacks had turned to frequent drive-bys, threats had turned into taking turns and blowing up each other’s warehouses and clubs. And it would only get worse and worse.

But this morning, as he watched you come downstairs and into the dining room for breakfast, something in his eyes was different. And you could tell what was coming. You had been thinking about this for days. So when he sat you down and discussed how you could do your part in helping to put an end to all of this.

“It’s only a matter of time before he sends his son, his favourite weapon after us all,” Your father sounded defeated. “And none of us would survive him. No one ever does. You know that.”

You nodded, understanding what he meant. “I know.”

The son of your father’s rival, Bucky Barnes, was a name which could make even powerful men like your father tremble in fear. He was like a ghost. No one ever saw him. No one knew what he looked like. Those who had seen him claimed that he always wore a muzzle-like mask to conceal his identity. He was known for being his father’s most prized weapon. They say he never misses, that his aim is and has always been as sure as Eros’ arrows. He was like an evil Cupid.

“The marriage would only be on paper of course, you don’t have to live with him.” Your father explained, seeming desolated, “But you being married to him would make us family, and…” He trailed off, sighing.

But you knew what he meant. Family meant everything in this society. If your family and the rival’s were joined to each other by marriage, all attacks would cease. Because keeping family safe was everyone’s number one priority, even in this line of work.

So this was all up to you now. Your family’s safety, the safety of people who worked with and for your father, all the allies, and friends, and acquaintances. It was a heavy weight to carry.

“I’ll do it.”

Things happened so quickly after that. Phone calls were had, arrangements and deals were made, and by the afternoon, a sheet of paper was brought to you. That’s it. No groom, no fancy shit. Just a piece of paper on which Bucky Barnes had already signed. And with your signature added next to his, you two were now forever husband and wife by law.

It was weird, being married to a man you had never seen before. He was just a name. Granted, a name with immense magnitude in the society, but still just a name. No face to go with it.

By the evening, your things were packed. It was an order by your new husband. He wanted his new bride in his home, and things were so freshly mended that neither you nor your father wanted to argue. So Bucky sent cars and a bunch of his soldiers to escort you to his house. It was not unexpected that he was so absent from all this. Bucky Barnes had a reputation of living in the shadows. He was so rarely seen.

Bucky’s house was not too far from your family home. In fact, the closer you got to your new home, the more you realised that despite everything, you did not mind this as much as you thought you would.

Your husband’s home was this stunning piece of architecture. A lavish Georgian-style mansion. Beige stone, carved details and mouldings around the many windows and main entrance. Dark shingles on the roof, well-manicured lawn, a long driveway giving it a sense of both elegance and exclusivity. The mansion sat on a beautiful, seemingly endless estate. Lush and green. It was a testament to the wealth and the power of its owner.

You were politely led inside the home by one of the many staff members who took care of the house. And the interior was just as breathtaking. Luxurious, with the right amount of vintage accents.

“We did what we could with the limited time we had to prepare a room for you.” The kind lady had said to you. She also mentioned that this room would be entirely yours. Bucky apparently had his own on the other side of the mansion.

You murmured that it was alright, and when she finally showed you to the room they had ready for you, you were pleasantly impressed. The layout, the colour theme, the decor, all of it was to your liking. You even had a personal little balcony which looked over the endless green backyard.

That night you dined alone, which was not a surprise. Everyone knew Bucky Barnes was a busy man, and he was apparently above trivial things like dining with his new wife. But the silence was welcomed. After dinner you found yourself back in your bedroom, and soon in bed with a book.

Well, maybe this was your new life now. Grand mansion with an impressive library. Solo dinners and kind staff members. A giant, dreamy bedroom all for you. Dare you say, it wasn’t too bad.

–

But here you were now, unable to fall back asleep after some mysterious thing woke you up. You sighed, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. You couldn’t even blame your new surroundings for your inability to sleep. Everything here was so quiet, and comfortable. Even this new bed felt like laying on the fluffiest cloud. Perhaps you could read some more–

You froze when you heard it.

Someone breathing. Someone else’s breaths. A soft exhale, but it was enough to make your heart race in panic. It was the middle of the night. And there was someone in this dark room with you.

Slowly, you tried to reach for the lamp on your bedside table to turn it on, but then you heard a voice say, “Don’t.”

A smooth, relaxed, male voice. Sounding like it came from one corner of the room. It could only be one man, couldn’t it?

“Bucky?” You questioned, for some reasons pulling the covers up to your chin as if he was not a man but a ghost.

A pause, then he said, like he was gently teasing you, “Hello, wife. Can’t sleep?”

You blinked a few times to adjust to the darkness better. You strained your eyes until you could see the silhouette of a man in the corner of the room. He was sitting in one of the sofas near the unlit fireplace, quiet, still like a marble statue.

There was almost no light coming into the room. The thick curtains allowed very little moonlight in, and it was hard to see. But you couldn’t ignore that large silhouette now that you’d noticed him. Something near him was shiny, almost metal like, you couldn’t tell what it was.

“Do you always lurk around in the shadows like a ghost?” You asked, wondering where the hell you found the confidence to talk to one of the finest hitmen like this. It’s not like he would shoot you if he didn’t like you. A small voice said. Would he?

A chuckle. Deep, and careless. A boyish sound.

“It’s my house,” He responded in that same gentle but teasing tone, “I lurk wherever I please.”

Well, he did have a point there.

“Well then,” You said in a casual tone, “If you’re done lurking and spying on me, I’d like to go back to bed.”

A soft scoff. Then he said, “I’ve watched you toss and turn for the past half an hour. I’d say you’re having trouble turning your brain off.”

Half an hour?!

“Wouldn’t you?” You retorted, keeping your voice calm and steady. “If you were forced to marry someone who’s so mysterious that no one’s ever seen them before, wouldn’t you have some trouble turning your brain off?”

“Ah.” He got up, and you could tell by the sound of his footsteps that he was approaching the bed, “No one forced you to marry me. A suggestion was made and you agreed to it.”

You replied quickly, “The alternative was watching everyone I love and myself be murdered by you, so semantics.”

Another chuckle as he stopped at the edge of the bed, so close to you. You refused to move. You tilted your head up but could still only see his silhouette. He spoke in that teasing tone again, “They said you were smart, and beautiful. Guess they forgot to mention you were bratty too.”

You frowned. “What?”

Silence. Then he began moving away from your bed and towards the door. “Good night, wife.”

“Good night,” You muttered, slightly annoyed and confused, “Ghost.”

You heard his soft chuckle right as he shut the door behind him and left you all alone again in the dark. You didn’t dare turn the lamp on even after he left.

—

“Is Bucky ever home?”

You asked one of the staff members at breakfast the next morning. The lady smiled at you and answered, “He keeps to himself. We rarely ever know if he’s home or not. He works at odd hours, you see? Besides, our job is to take care of the house. We clean, we make the meals and leave them in the fridge, we get our paychecks each month. Everyone is happy. We don’t pry.”

You nodded, sipping on some tea. “So… are you one of the people who don’t know what he looks like?”

“Oh no. I saw him recently.” She said, smiling.

“How recent?” You asked.

“A couple of months ago. He’s a busy man, he’s rarely ever home.”

Unbelievable.

“Doesn’t it feel like you’re employed by a ghost?”

She smiled again, refilled your cup and said, “Oh, we’re used to Mr. Barnes. Sure, sometimes it feels like the house is way too empty. But look, now you’re here! We get to take proper care of someone for once.”

She was so cheery and kind that you couldn’t help but smile at her words. How on earth did a man that grim manage to have the best staff members in the whole world?

—

The following night, Bucky came to see you again.

You woke up upon hearing the door of your bedroom opening. You sat up again, leaning against the headboard. You didn’t reach for the lamp on your bedside table this time. Instead you said, “Lurking again, I see.”

“Oh yes,” He answered, taking a seat on the same sofa by the dark fireplace. “How was your day, wife?” He asked, as if this was the most normal way to have a conversation.

“Good.” You said, “I spoke with your staff members. They say they barely ever see you at home.”

He sighed, “I barely ever am at home.”

You rolled your eyes even though you knew he couldn’t see it. He was too… intangible. Faceless. There was nothing you knew about him aside from his profession. And not knowing was starting to annoy you.

“Why can’t I see you?” You asked. “I mean it’s not fair. I married you. I’ll eventually see you someday.”

He was silent for a moment. Then asked, “Will you?”

“Well, yes.”

“What for?” There was that teasing tone again. So subtle. But it was there.

Your face burned. “Well… we’re married.” You stated the obvious. “And it won’t be long till our families start asking for, you know, grandbabies.”

“Babies can be made in the dark.” His smooth voice felt like a gentle caress. Like the finest, cool silk sliding over your warm body…

Oh no. You can’t like his voice. Not yet.

“That’s not what I–,” You sighed, “Why are you so against showing your face? Are you ugly?”

He chuckled then. Loudly, if you could see him you’d surely see his shoulders shaking. “You think too much, wife.” He got up again, ready to leave. “Good night.”

You sighed, defeated, and listened to the sounds of him leaving the room. Then almost angrily whispered, “Good night, husband.”

—

“It’s because he’s ugly, isn’t it?” You asked two of the staff members one morning while they set the table for your breakfast. “That’s why he doesn’t show his face?”

The two ladies chuckled to themselves, and one of them said, “No he isn’t.” She sounded confident too.

“Have you seen his face? Like properly?”

They both nodded.

“And? You don’t find it weird that he doesn’t show his face?” You questioned. “He refuses to let me see him. He only comes to talk to me in the dark. Like some messed up Eros.” You whispered the last part to yourself.

One of the ladies said, gently, “Give him time. He’s not… terrible.”

—

“Your staff speaks highly of you.” You said to him when he came to see you that night. Again, sat in that corner like a ghost whose only purpose was to haunt your bedroom specifically.

“Do they?”

“Yes,” You made yourself comfortable, leaning against the headboard like you had the habit of doing. “Do you pay them to sing your praises?”

He chuckled. “Is it that hard to believe that I’m not some sort of monster?”

You sighed. “If not then why can’t I see you?”

“Not yet.” He said.

“Why?”

“Because I said so.” He replied, and by the sounds of it, he stood up. Surely ready to leave. “Now, is there anything you need?”

You tried to see if you could tell where he was standing but the room was too dark. However, it seemed like, judging by the sound of footsteps, that he’d gotten closer to the end of your bed. “There’s nothing to do around the house. The ladies take care of everything. I appreciate the library, but…”

He was quiet, like he was thinking. Then said, “I’ll see to it.”

“I’m assuming you won’t let me go back to work in my family’s companies.” You could tell he wouldn’t.

“No,” He said, as expected. “You’re my wife now. I’m well equipped to provide for you and see to your needs for the rest of our lives. But if you have any hobbies, please, indulge away.”

Something about his calm tone made you confess your little secret, “I like to paint. I’ve always wanted to be an artist.”

You didn’t know why you were telling him all this. Perhaps the dark helped you open up better. Maybe the fact that you didn’t know him made it easier to talk. Like how people tend to prefer texting over calls. Him being so invisible made it so much more effortless.

You continued, “I always wonder what it must be like to have an exhibition of my works.” You chuckled. “I know it sounds vain but… I’ve always wanted to let my mind and soul leak all over canvases, and share it with the world. I think it’s such a brave thing when people do that.”

He was quiet for a few seconds, then spoke in that teasing tone, “Painting, huh?”

You rolled your eyes. “You don’t get to make fun of me, ghost.”

He chuckled. “Get some sleep, wife.”

And then he left.

—

The following morning, you woke up to two surprises.

The first one was waiting for you at the breakfast table. You noticed the box on the floor immediately. It was partially opened, and had a note stuck to it.

The note read: ‘Since there’s nothing to do around the house…’ written in a messy handwriting. Surely Bucky’s.

You opened the box and in there, on a folded blanket, was a sleeping, fluffy little puppy. A black lab it seemed. With a pink collar around her neck. You gasped as you gently picked it up and couldn’t resist bringing it up to your face. Puppies always smelt so good.

The little one yawned and let out some cute noises as you held her up to look at her properly. By now the two ladies whom you saw frequently around the house walked up to you and one of them said, “He left something else for you.”

You followed the ladies, new puppy in hand, and they led you to what seemed like a newly built studio. It was in an area of the mansion where you didn’t go very often. And as you walked in, you gasped in surprise for the second time that morning.

It was located on the ground floor. A bright and spacious space. The beige walls felt like a giant blank canvas in itself. The large Georgian windows allowed the perfect amount of light in. And everything in the room was neatly organised. Art supplies, paints, canvases, palettes, easels.

Oh, it was perfect.

The ladies left you to explore on your own, saying something about bringing you breakfast in here. But you were distracted by the bright yellow sticky note on one of the easels. You walked up to it and it read: ‘For your mind and soul to leak all over. Paint me something. I’ll consider it a wedding gift.’

You couldn’t help the smile on your face as you read and re-read the note left by your mysterious husband. You whispered to your sleeping puppy, “Maybe our ghost isn’t so bad, huh?”

Hours went by.

The ladies brought you and the puppy your meals, a bed for the pup, snacks for you, all while you were busy letting your creativity flow as much as possible.

The first few canvases were horrible according to you. You hadn’t picked up a paintbrush in so long so it felt like day one all over again. But gradually, over the next few canvases, you could see what your brain was trying to create.

The blank canvas soon turned into flowy shapes. Curves, facial features, hands. Entwining bodies. Two of them. And the colour purple, lots of it. It didn’t make too much sense at first, but the more you worked on it the more you realised what you were painting.

It was your version of ‘The Abduction of Psyche’. How fitting.

By the time you were done and happy with it, your back was aching from sitting on that stool all day. It was almost time for dinner. The sun had set. The puppy was awake so you held her up to show her the canvas and asked, “You think our ghost will like it?”

She let out the tiniest, softest howl.

“Yeah, I think so too.”

You left to shower and have dinner. Then once it was time for bed you asked one of the staff members, “Does Bucky have some kind of an office?”

She replied saying yes he does, and that she could show you where it was. You grabbed the not yet dry canvas and carefully carried it all the way to where Bucky’s office was. The lady again left you all by yourself to explore.

At first you didn’t want to spend too much time in there. It was Bucky’s space after all. But then you thought, if he was comfortable walking into your bedroom at odd times during the night, why shouldn’t you check out his office?

So you did. You left the canvas where it could dry without any problem and where Bucky would see it upon entering the room. Then you began exploring. The room was not what you were expecting for someone like Bucky. You thought it would be less… old school.

He had a vintage looking typewriter on his desk for gods’ sake. Not one he used of course, but it added layers to his character you thought. Dark wooden furniture, comfortable looking chairs, more bookshelves filled with cloth-bound books. It was… cosy.

So cosy in fact that you grabbed a book and made yourself comfortable on one of the chairs. You’d read for an hour or so then head off to bed, you thought.

But soon, you drifted off to sleep. Right there. In Bucky’s office.

You woke up and felt something soft and fluffy moving around on your lap. You opened your eyes and quickly realised you weren’t in bed. The room was dark. With very little light coming in from the outside. There were no curtains in this room, but also it was situated in an area of the mansion where very little moonlight came in.

Before you could panic though, a voice spoke up from not too far away, “You’ve been busy today, I see.”

Ah, Bucky. And fuck. You’d fallen asleep in his office.

You refused to feel embarrassed. So you asked, “Did you like your wedding gift?”

“Yes.” He replied, and gauging by the sound you could tell he was sitting at his desk, in the darkest corner of the room. “I’ll hang it in my office.”

You smiled in the dark, feeling a little proud of yourself. “And where’s my wedding gift?”

“In your lap.”

Fair.

“What should we name her?” You asked, reaching to caress your puppy who let out an adorable grunt. “Hedone? Donnie, for short?”

He let out a chuckle. “You are really leaning into this whole Eros-Psyche thing, huh?”

You shrugged. “Well, I wouldn’t have to if you’d just show me your face. But you keep choosing not to, so deal with it.”

A pause. Then he asked, “You like your new studio?”

That made you sit up straighter. “I love it. Thank you.” Then you added, “My family always thought painting was a waste of time. They said it kept my head in the clouds too much. That it was… pointless.”

He was quick to say, “It’s not. Besides, your hobbies don’t have to make sense to anyone else but yourself. And I’ve seen the other canvases you left in the studio. They’re good.”

You turned to face the dark corner he was in. “You think?”

“Yes,” He said. “We can hold an exhibition if you want. Let me know when you’re ready.”

You let out a surprised chuckle. And when he didn’t laugh you realised he was serious. “Bucky, it's not so easy.” You explained calmly. “There’s so much work that goes into it, there needs to be some cohesion to the art pieces. There’s marketing, there’s research, there’s…” You exhaled, “There’s a lot of work to be done. Art exhibitions aren’t as easy or quick as you think it is.”

He replied, “Leave all that to me. Just let me know when you want to hold one.”

Just like that?

“I… okay.”

You felt warm in a way you’d never felt before. No one had ever taken your interests so seriously before. You’d never even been able to discuss this freely about your hobbies. And here Bucky was, ready to listen and interact with it.

You got up to leave because this was… a lot to process. “Well then. Good night, Bucky.”

A soft scoff. “Think I liked it more when you called me a ghost.”

You smiled as you approached the door, puppy in hand and amazed at how well you were able to navigate in the dark. “Night, ghost.”

He gave you a satisfied hum, then, “Good night, wife.”

—

It was bizarre to admit but you’d gotten used to those conversations in the dark with your husband. Days went by quickly given how engrossed you were with painting. Especially with the thought of a potential exhibition now in the back of your mind. Gods, that would be a dream.

And while your days consisted of painting, playing and training your puppy, exploring more and more of the grounds and your new home, making quick trips to the stores to get more supplies, catching up with your friends who were still trying to grasp the fact that you got married so quickly, getting to know the household staff and the guards better, your night consisted of waiting and fighting your sleep until Bucky came to talk to you.

It was always short conversations. Filled with easy banter and teasing tones, sarcastic comments and you asking each and every night if he was in the mood to show his face. Bucky always said no. And you always sent him off with a ‘good night, ghost’.

You had gotten used to your ghost. As had your puppy. She would bark happily each time Bucky would enter your bedroom door at night. She’d run to him for playtime and cuddles as he sat in his dark corner and spoke with you until you fell asleep.

Bucky would often leave you some kind of a note, for you to read in the morning. At the breakfast table, or in your studio. Sometimes he would leave compliments and comments on your dry canvases. Eventually, you stopped fighting the smiles which formed on your face as you read his notes.

But all of it only made you want to see him more. Not that it would change anything. Bucky had quickly become… a friend, you’d say. A confidant if you will. He had become a habit. Part of your routine.

And then one night, he didn’t come to see you.

You waited. He usually came around midnight. It was well past 2 a.m. and he never came.

At some point you went downstairs, pretending as if you just needed some water. One of the guards caught you trying to peek out into the driveway from the kitchen window.

“Boss is not home yet, ma’am.” He said.

You acted like you didn’t care. But still asked, “He does this often?”

“Sometimes.”

You nodded. You took your drink and with your puppy in your arms you walked back upstairs, passing by the many guards who were on duty inside the house at nighttime.

“It’s alright, he’s probably just busy.” You whispered to the sleeping pup as you made your way up. “Or maybe he’s hurt and tending to his wounds somewhere else.” You felt a gentle pinch in your chest at the thought of Bucky hurt and alone out there. So you forced yourself to think of something else. Something way worse. “Or maybe he’s with someone else.” You scoffed, nuzzling the soft fur of your pup, “This marriage means nothing to him anyway. But that’s alright, we don’t need him. I’ve got you. We’ve got each other. Don’t we?”

Safe to say, you went to bed slightly annoyed that night. And in denial too because you refused to admit that you missed him.

–

There was a note waiting for you in your studio the next morning.

It read: ‘No I did not spend the night with someone else. I’ll explain later. See you tonight, wife.’

Huh. Looks like the guards have really good ears.

Well, whatever. It’s not like you were impatiently waiting for night to come just so you could talk to your ghost of a husband. Right?

Except you were though. So much that you couldn’t paint a decent thing. You were easily giving up on each canvas, and leaving a trail of unfinished work the more time went on.

Eventually you sighed and left the studio. You tried reading but that wasn’t happening either. So you did the only thing you knew would take your mind off things. You asked the ladies to show you where everything was kept in the kitchen and you got to baking.

Which you did until it was time for bed. Your mood was off, and it was all because of a faceless man. And that somehow annoyed you even more.

You grabbed a plate of the mini muffins you’d made earlier and made your way upstairs. Your puppy had just gotten used to the stairs so she happily followed you everywhere you went now.

You proceeded to sit in bed, and eat your muffins angrily and forced yourself to try to sleep.

You woke up sometime later. And you just knew who was in the room with you.

Except he wasn’t in his usual spot.

He was standing by the windows which faced your bed this time, with his back to you. The curtains were pulled, the moonlight came and there was his dark silhouette. And… you frowned as you noticed the shiny metal arm.

“You’re home.” You said.

Bucky turned his head to the side, “I am.” He said.

You took a second or two to admire the side profile. With the moonlight shining all around his silhouette he looked like a fallen angel of sorts. “You didn’t come home last night.”

“I was out working,” He said.

“Maiming and killing?”

“You know me so well.”

“Is that a… metal arm?” You questioned.

“It is.”

“Were you hurt?”

“I was.”

You sighed again. “Is it always going to be bland answers and mystery with you?”

“Get used to it.” He said in that teasing tone.

You got out of bed as quietly as you could. “I think I liked you better without the attitude, when you sat in the corner like a ghost.” You took some steps away from the bed, approaching the giant windows. The room was rather spacious so it would take some more steps to get close to him. If you’d only–

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do.” He warned, but remained in the same spot.

You groaned. “Don’t you think this is getting tiring? I mean, I’m married to a man I’ve never seen before. In fact, no one has ever seen you. Why? What are you hiding?” You added, sounding defeated.

Bucky lowered his head, which only accentuated how broad his shoulders really were. He sighed. “Do you know how much trouble could’ve been avoided if only Psyche trusted Eros?”

You rolled your eyes. “I think she had her reasons. A mysterious, faceless lover who only shows up in the dark and hides in the shadows is bound to raise some doubts. Don’t you think so?”

He chuckled. You blinked and he’d turned around to face you. But despite that, you couldn’t see his face at all. Even though he was inches away.

He was quiet. Observing you with interest. The moonlight allowed him to see all of you, and he just… stared for a moment or two. A shiver ran down your back. An unfamiliar, but pleasant shiver.

Without a word said, Bucky reached out and gently touched the thin strap of your silky night dress resting on your shoulder. His metal finger gliding along your skin and making you gasp at his cold touch.

“What’s this?” He asked in his usual teasing tone. “Trying to tempt me with this excuse of a night dress, wife?”

Fuck. Had his voice dropped lower?

Fuck! He was so close to you. You didn’t even notice that your heart had begun racing. Your breaths had deepened. Shit. Why was this so hot?!

“Are you? Tempted?” You asked with a steady voice, without thinking obviously. You just needed to say something so he wouldn’t notice the way you were basically panting after him like a thirsty dog.

He chuckled. But remained quiet.

So you said, “Thought so.” You sounded smug but you were feeling the complete opposite.

Bucky scoffed in that arrogant way he often did. It was insane how easily you were able to pick up on his mannerism when you hadn’t even known him for that long. “Is that what you think? That I don’t want to sleep with you?”

Oh.

Oh this was bad. Because now your brain was making up hot, steamy scenes in your head. Scenes involving you and your faceless, mysterious husband in the dark. Entwining bodies on soft bed sheets. Fuck, you should paint that. No, what?

“Then why haven’t you?” You found yourself asking.

Okay then, bold as fuck it is. You’d gone past the point of no return now. Guess it was time for this conversation.

Bucky’s fingers remained on your shoulder, tracing the thin strap there. And you couldn’t see it, but you could hear the smirk in his voice when he asked, “You want me to?” His metal hand dropped to your waist and before you could fully process it, he pulled you closer, leaned in to whisper into your ear, “You want my hands all over you, wife?”

You could feel his slight stubble against your skin as he spoke. His lips brushing against your ear, making you gasp and tremble. Your hands found their way to his shoulders. And oh, he was pulling you even closer. Your chest pressing against his. The cool material of his suit felt amazing against your warm skin.

“Look at you,” He cooed into your ear. “Is this what you want? Hmm?” He placed both his hands on your waist, pulling you into him. His lips moved lower, brushing against your neck as he spoke. “You like how rough my hands feel?” He moved his hands up and down your sides. “Do you know how many people I’ve hurt with these hands?” He chuckled when he heard the tiniest moan leave your mouth. “You’re so soft and warm, aren’t you worried what these hands might do to you?”

He nuzzled your neck, hands roaming all over your sides and back and squeezing your butt. You became so pliant under his touch. Tilting your head back to allow him to kiss all over your neck, pressing your chest more and more against his like you couldn’t get enough. The layers of clothing, you wanted them gone.

With a shaky voice you murmured, “I can’t tell if you’re trying to scare me or turn me on.”

He laughed. And it was the best sound you’d ever heard.

“You’re sick in that pretty head, huh?” He teased. “That beautiful brain is filled with filthy, dirty, dark thoughts, isn’t it?” His metal hand reached up and carefully wrapped around your throat.

You gasped as he squeezed just a little bit. Those dirty thoughts he spoke about really started to fill your head.

“Are you just all talk or–,”

He cut you off by dragging you all the way to your bed, still holding you by the throat.

The back of your knees hit the edge of the bed and he gave you a slight push, ending with you falling onto your bed on your back. You looked up at him, hovering above you, his lower body pressing into yours.

“Do you just run that mouth?,” He asked, supporting himself with one hand while the metal one remained wrapped around your throat, his voice low and menacing but in a way that made your legs part on their own so his hips settled in between them. Your bodies fit together like the most perfect puzzle pieces. “Or do you know how to take it like a brat as well?”

You felt the need to let him know then. “I don’t know,” You said, sounding both breathless and bratty. “I’ve never had to take it.”

He paused for a moment. Then asked in subtle surprise, “What do you mean?” Even his grip around your throat loosened completely.

You squirmed in slight embarrassment but that only caused your hips to grind against his and for a moment there both of you let out a strained moan. Fuck. The tension between the two of you was almost physical now. Even in the dark, even with Bucky being nothing more than just a shadow above you.

“I, uh…” You cleared your throat, still feeling his cold fingers all over your skin, “I’ve never been with anyone before.”

He was quiet. As if thinking. You tried your hardest but you couldn’t see any of his facial features. You knew he had a slight stubble because you’d felt it earlier. But aside from that, you knew nothing. Not even his eye colour.

“You want us to stop?” He asked, shifting his body slightly as if he was ready to pull away if you asked him to.

“No,” You answered way too quickly. Then you got bold again and let your hands find their way back to his shoulders. You pulled him down, closer to you just a little and said, “This is okay.”

His fingers moved up, from your neck to your mouth. “Yeah? You want this, huh?” He mumbled, tracing your mouth with his fingers. You shivered under his touch. “You’ve been a whiny little brat lately, haven’t you, wife? Pouting and all just because I wouldn’t show myself to you.” He whispered, leaning in to just brush his lips against yours. You gasped at the sensation of his soft lips rubbing against yours. Bucky chuckled at your reaction. “Don’t think my staff doesn’t report back to me. I’ve been well aware of all the times you asked the ladies to give you details about me.”

Now that made you squirm in embarrassment. Still you said, sounding a little annoyed at being caught. “Can you blame me?”

“Can’t you just trust me?” He argued.

The danger and authority in his tone had your thighs clenching together to try and alleviate the torturous pain in between your legs. You were almost certain you had never been this turned on and annoyed at the same damn time before. You sighed in frustration. “This isn’t fair.”

“No, it isn’t,” He said, pulling away and began undressing you to your pleasant surprise. “Deal with it.”

Oh fuck.

Fuck… You had to hold back from whimpering each time his hands rubbed against your skin. He took his time in sliding the straps of your night dress down your shoulders, dragging the silky fabric down your body, leaving you more and more naked under him.

You shivered once he left your night dress bunched around your waist carelessly. It wasn’t just because of the slightly cold air. It was because even though you couldn’t see him, you could tell he was staring right at you.

You spoke in a hushed voice, not daring to speak loud in fear that it might break whatever spell you were under. “So you get to see me naked all you want, but I can’t see your face?”

He chuckled. “You want me to leave this room right now? Leave you here all wet and squirming? Or do you want me to take care of it and make you come? Huh?”

That shut you up really quickly.

“I thought so.” He sounded smug again when he said that. “I should spank you for the brat you are. But since it’s your first time… I’ll be nice.”

His hands touched you everywhere, your thighs, your stomach, your sides, your chest, your neck… everywhere. He left you gasping and trembling under him.

“Please.” You caught yourself whispering.

Bucky leaned down, his soft mouth brushing against your cheek as he said, “Please what?”

You squirmed, “Touch me, please.”

He chuckled. You felt his warm breath against your skin as he kissed his way down your naked body. “Look at you,” He murmured, lips brushing against your stomach, “You’re so eager already.”

You heard the faint chuckle which left his mouth the moment he noticed your legs spread apart for him naturally. Your face felt like it was burning but fuck, you were too turned on to even be properly embarrassed. Also, being in complete darkness helped.

Damn. You were really getting intimate with your husband whom you hadn’t even seen yet. And somehow that fact was making you want this even more.

But that mystery stopped being an issue the moment Bucky leaned in and kissed your wet folds, his tongue slowly circling around your throbbing clit and licking down, parting your wet folds with ease.

He poked at your entrance with his tongue and your body felt hotter than before. Back arching off the bed as you let out a soft moan at the foreign feeling. Fuck he felt good. You whimpered as you felt his tongue stroke your most sensitive parts. Your immediate reaction was to pull your hips back from the overwhelmingly good sensation his mouth was causing. And that made him grip your thighs tighter, keeping them pinned to the bed.

“Stop moving.” He ordered and the authority in his voice made you tremble.

You whined as you felt his strong arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping you in place and close to his mouth. The metal hand on your warm skin made you shiver and tremble so much that you were thankful for the darkness.

The small amount of moonlight which came in allowed you to only see the silhouette of his broad shoulders, and his head moving slowly, sensually in between your legs. Fuck… somehow the mystery only made it hotter.

Oh you were fucked in the head for real.

And oh, Bucky was a fucking tease. Once he noticed how easily you cried out and moaned for him, he slowed down and began kissing around your clit just to purposely mess with you. He kissed your thighs, purposely avoiding touching where he knew you needed him the most. He kissed down all the way to your core, and gently bit your skin around your inner thighs.

“Bucky, please!” You cried out, hand reaching for his hair. When you managed to grab a fistful of his soft hair, you gave it a gentle tug. “Stop teasing me.”

“You don’t get to give me orders, wife.” He said, sounding all proud and mighty. “I could just walk out of here and leave you like this. Naked and squirming.”

“Please,” You begged again. You could feel your arousal trickling out of you.

A scoff. Then he leaned in again. You whined and whimpered under him, with your legs wrapped around his head. Fingers in his hair, massaging his scalp instinctively as he flicked, and sucked, and teasing your clit as much as he could.

“You’ve been a brat because you wanted your husband’s attention so badly, huh?” He taunted. “Is that what you wanted? Just my attention?” He chuckled. “You’re as calm as a happy kitten now, aren’t you?”

His stubble rubbed against your sensitive skin, and the friction burned a little but it was the kind of pain you kept wanting more of. You wanted more of him.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good,” You murmured, throwing your head back, moaning as he kept teasing your entrance with the tip of his tongue.

“Come for me, wife.” His hands wrapped around your thighs, securing you in his grip as he pushed his face further into you, making you cry out loud.

You couldn’t even hold on for much longer, and ended up coming undone all over his tongue. Heart racing, legs trembling in his grip as you came. Your moans were soft and incessant.

Fuck… that felt amazing.

You had barely gotten your heart to stop racing, and Bucky was already standing up and in the dark you couldn’t see very well but it did look like he was moving away from the bed.

“You’re leaving?” You asked, unable to stop yourself from sounding a little upset at his departure.

All he said was, “Good night, wife. See you tomorrow.”

You scoffed after he shut the door behind him, leaving you in darkness yet again. “Ghost.”

—

That night ended up being the first of many.

Your days consisted of painting, and finally finding a flow in most of your pieces. Perhaps if you’re able to make a decent collection, you could start thinking about the exhibition seriously, you thought. When you weren’t painting you were either training your rapidly growing puppy, or baking. You’d begun taking your puppy out for walks around the mansion, consequently doing some more exploring of the grounds.

After all that, each night you’d get in bed and wait for Bucky. It became part of your routine. And each night with him was different. He’d spend his time touching you slowly until you were purring for him like a kitten. Kissing you all over your body in the dark. Making you come all over his tongue and fingers. Kissing you until you moaned and pulled him closer just to feel his weight pressing down on you.

But he would always leave after making you come. And you two never actually fucked. Neither would he let you make him come.

On nights when he wouldn’t make it home, you’d worry yourself to sleep. But then each morning you’d find a note from him either in your studio or the breakfast table. He would always say some cheesy shit. And he would always promise to come see you later that night.

On nights when you two didn’t engage in anything sexual, it was still just as fulfilling. Bucky would tell you things about his work, his past, his family. You learnt that he was over a decade older than you, and teased him about being an old man until he pinned you to the bed and tickled you until you couldn’t breathe.

You learnt that he liked to keep to himself and stay as far away from his family as possible. He liked peace and quiet, which would explain his lovely home being here away from most people.

The more you learned about him, the easier it was to grow fond of him. But the more you grew fond of him, the greedier you got. You wanted more. More of his time, his touch, his attention, and most of all, you wanted to see him.

The mystery, while hot as fuck, was killing you.

—

One night, things changed.

Bucky came into your room as usual. He’d gotten bolder lately, he wouldn’t sit in the corner like a ghost anymore, instead he would find his way to your bed and only leave that bed after making you come hard.

Tonight started out the same way.

You felt his hands all over you as he pulled you closer to him under the covers. You giggled as he bit and licked that one sensitive spot on your neck. Your fingers had a habit of finding themselves in his hair. It was insane how easily you’d gotten used to being with him in the dark. How easily you could find his mouth with your own. How easily you’d find your way into his arms.

It was weirdly comforting. His warmth, his voice, his touch.

“Tell me about your day,” He murmured, kissing your neck while his hands grabbed you and caressed you wherever he could reach.

You squealed when you felt his metal fingers wandering dangerously close to your clit. Then said, “It went pretty well. I went out to buy some supplies, made a new friend at the store, I went to see my father but he wasn’t home. I took our dog for a walk, I painted…,” You gasped when his mouth trailed down till he took a nipple into his warm mouth, while he slid two fingers inside you gently. “Oh fuck…” You whined.

He kissed his way up to your mouth again and said, “You sound so good when you moan for me, wife.” His lips brushed against yours.

He was so close. And it was dark. And you wanted so desperately to see him.

He moved his fingers expertly in and out of you. Making sure to brush against your most sensitive spots each time, turning you into a whimpering mess under him. He gave you a gentle kiss, swallowing your moans as he brought you closer to the edge.

You whimpered and whined, then in the moment you just blurted out, “Can I please see you now?”

Bucky stopped. He pulled away from you, making you whimper again as he got up and got out of your bed.

In the dark it took a while for you to figure out where he was, whether he was still nearby or already making his way out the door. But he was here, standing near the bed.

“We talked about this.” He said, sounding grave and disappointed.

“But it’s been so long.” You argued. “I trust you.”

He let out a loud exhale and said, “Then trust me when I say, it’s better this way.”

You let out a sigh. “You can’t keep me in the dark forever, Bucky. Literally!”

“Yes I can. I will.” He said arrogantly. That tone of his bothered you. “It’s better this way.” He repeated, but it sounded a lot like he was trying to convince himself instead of you.

“Oh screw you!” You said with enough bitterness to make a grown man flinch. “If you won’t let me see you then stop coming into my bedroom. I don’t want to see you unless you agree to let go of this weird persona.”

“Fine.”

—

That night was the last time you heard from Bucky.

He didn’t come home the following day. Nor the one after that.

And no one knew where he went.

You could tell something was wrong when you began noticing that the guards were talking in hushed voices whenever you were around. You noticed that the amount of security around the house doubled. That’s when you began to worry.

By the third night, the entire house was filled with this almost tangible tension, worry, and fear. The house staff wouldn’t talk to you as much. The guards were always in and out of the house. The head of security advised you to not wander too far away from the house while you roam the grounds.

You noticed the guards would follow you whenever you left the property. Be it when you left to visit your father at your old house or when you went out to buy supplies.

Then you worried some more. But no one had answers to your questions. Nobody knew where he went. Whether he’s away for an assignment or if he’s simply choosing to be away from home.

You tried your hardest to pretend that you didn’t care. You were still a little angry. After all, why couldn’t you see what he looked like? You’d spend so much time with him in the dark, running your hands all over him, tracing the outline of his facial features, he never had an issue with that. But why couldn’t you see him?

You were angry, but also very much worried by the fourth day. You missed him, you realised. He had become such a habit, such a constant in your days. His sarcastic humour, his gentle hands, his comforting embrace, the way he left you notes in the morning, the way he took your art seriously.

Fuck. You sat up in bed one night, patting ‘his’ side of the bed softly. You missed him. Badly. You felt a pinch inside your chest which you had never felt before. It hurt. You wanted him home. You admitted to yourself with a painful sigh.

“Where are you?” You whispered, looking at the dark corner of your bedroom where he used to sit in silence like a ghost. “It’s okay if you want to stay in the dark forever.” You looked around the dark room which now without him seemed so much bigger and empty, “Just come home.”

—

The next morning, as you half-heartedly approached the kitchen, you overheard something. And quickly realised you shouldn’t have heard it. It was the two ladies talking in hushed tones, the ones who usually served you your meals and often kept you company while you baked.

“...cannot tell her, she’ll be heartbroken.” One of them said gravely.

Sudden panic made your body freeze. You pressed your back against the nearest wall to keep yourself hidden while you processed those cryptic words. No, no, no. Is he hurt? Do they know something you don’t?

The other replied, “But she deserves to know. Even if it’s not confirmed yet. I mean, do you see how she smiles when she reads his notes? Clearly she had grown to care for him. She needs to know.”

The other argued, “I know, but I cannot imagine how hurt she will be when she hears about the rumours that her own father kidnapped her husband due to some past rivalry which was supposedly laid to rest after their wedding.”

“They’ve been looking for him for days now. It’s been too long, he should’ve been found by now.”

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!

No. This cannot be happening.

You carefully walked away from the kitchen. Thinking, processing, analysing.

If your father did it, it must’ve been for some shitty, arrogant reason. He probably just wanted to rub it in Bucky’s family’s face that he could still eliminate his biggest threat if he wanted to. To show that he could still get rid of them by holding their most precious weapon hostage. To toy with them by making them wait in anticipation. Your father had done it before. Not with Bucky, but other people. He usually never asked for ransom but he liked having his rivals beg him for mercy.

Shit. He’s had Bucky for days now.

You moved without thinking twice about it. For some reason, your brain knew exactly what to do even though your heart was still bothered by a multitude of emotions. It felt like you were on autopilot.

You rushed into Bucky’s office and grabbed a handgun from his desk drawer, checked if it was loaded. It was. You knew Bucky kept it there for safety, he had told you that one time when you two were in bed together.

You let out a frustrated sigh, then felt movement around your ankles. You looked down at your puppy and gave her a sad smile as you bent down to pet her. “I’m gonna go find daddy, okay? I’ll be home soon.” You left her with a kiss.

You rushed back downstairs and found a group of armed guards in the foyer near the front door. You didn’t have the time to explain it all to them, especially since you were driven by a gut feeling. Instead you asked, “Do you guys have a way of tracking my phone, or my car?”

One of them nodded. The rest frowned in confusion.

You tried to keep your calm as much as you could even though your heart was racing. “Okay, I’m gonna go to my father’s house. Don’t follow me yet, but I need some of you to come find me as soon as I begin driving away from there.”

Surprisingly, they just nodded and let you go.

The whole time you drove to your father’s house, it felt you were constantly having to force yourself to keep calm. After four days of having no idea where he was, and now as all the puzzle pieces fit together, it was hard to remain calm. You just wanted to get to him.

And while you drove, unanswered questions tormented you.

Was he hurt? Where was he being kept? Was he beaten up? Was he even conscious? Would this end badly? How far would your father take this? Would he hurt him?

Before you knew it, you were entering your father’s property. The guards let you in like they always did. You had to take a minute to breathe in your car before stepping out and going inside your old home.

Luckily your father was home.

You walked in and stopped in the middle of the foyer as you saw him making his way down the stairs. He slowed down when he noticed the glare you sent his way. And when he stopped in the middle of the grand staircase, with you still glaring at him, the guards who were scattered around the entrance noticed. You caught the way they silently got closer and closer, slowly reaching for their guns.

Good thing you’d brought your own.

The guards, as well as your father, froze in place the moment you pulled out Bucky’s gun and pointed it at the man responsible for all of this shit. No one made a single sound. No guard moved to even try to disarm you.

You looked at your hand, which was surprisingly steady as it held the gun. And there, on the side of the shiny metal, you spotted Bucky’s initials. Your heart throbbed in a painful way, but you refused to be emotional right now, even though you needed a good cry after having bottled up your feelings for the last few days.

You glared at your father, who was still shocked, and asked in a cold tone you’d never used before, “Where’s my husband?”

Your father frowned. “What do you think you’re doing?”

You repeated, “Where is he?”

Your father scoffed, “You’ll shoot your own father? Is this how I raised you?”

“And you’ll kidnap your own son-in-law? For what? To show that you’re still the shit?” You questioned in a slightly raised voice.

He sighed like he was disappointed, “You don’t know what–,”

You cut him off. “We had a deal, right? That these petty attacks would stop after the wedding? That’s why I got married, isn’t it? Because we’re supposed to keep family safe?”

He was quiet for a moment. Then began talking again, “If I could just get them to–,”

��Enough!” You sounded just as tired of his bullshit as you were. “Whatever plan you have, just stop!” Then it came spilling out of your mouth, “You were supposed to protect me. All of us,” You said, referring to your older siblings, “Instead you married each of us off in exchange for whatever or whoever was going to benefit you more.”

He argued, “If this works, you can come back home. Don’t you want that?”

“No,” You said, and realised you meant it. “This was never home.” You admitted. “He treats me better than my own family ever did. He doesn’t tell me that my art is a waste of time. He doesn’t keep me imprisoned inside his home. He doesn’t choose who I should mingle with and who I shouldn’t. He doesn’t force me to join family businesses because it’ll be good for his image.” You taunted your father. “And he’ll never sell me to the highest bidder.”

Your father made a sound like he was disgusted. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with him?”

You remained quiet. I care for him, you wanted to say, deeply. But that would be lying, wouldn’t it? Truth was… you did fall for him. His calm voice. His gentle but playful demeanour. His dark humour. His brilliant mind and sharp tongue, always ready to argue and debate. His gentle touch… you loved him.

“What I do and who I care for is none of your concern anymore.” You concluded, stepping forward and keeping the gun aimed at his face. “Now, where is my husband?”

The smirk on your father’s face was maddening. “You’ll never find him,” He said. “I’ve hidden him well.” He added.

You gave him a smirk as well. One which mirrored his.

“Oh don’t make me do this.” You cooed. “Did you forget all those times you got drunk and confessed all the bad things you did?” You began listing, “All those times you spilled all your little secrets. About our family businesses, about your allies, the lies and betrayal. The bodies that are buried on this very property. The skeletons in your closet.” You gave him a sick, sweet smile. “Imagine if all that information just magically ends up in the ears of your rivals, dad. Imagine the carnage.”

His smirk disappeared. “You would betray me by siding with them?” He asked in disbelief.

You were getting tired of this. So you lowered your gun and said, “I am one of them.”

You walked out without a single glance back at your father, but you could tell he had his jaws clenched in anger. He hated being outsmarted. But his mistake was underestimating you.

And as for Bucky’s location, well your father gave it away when he said ‘I’ve hidden him well.’

There was only one place he believed you knew nothing about since at the time that he told you about it, he was drunk out of his mind as he confessed more of his crimes: the rundown warehouse which he used as a hideout/storage for weapons and arms.

Your father had always referred to Bucky being a ‘weapon’ so it was only fitting that he would think to hide him there. Thinking no one would find him.

But you would.

As you drove to the warehouse, you hoped that the guards were tracking you as you had instructed them to. Because if Bucky was truly there, there was a high chance that there would be some guards, and that Bucky must be injured. And you’d need help getting him out of there.

Driving to the warehouse, you had silent tears streaming down your face. Not just out of sadness, but also frustration. Fuck, what had your life become?

The warehouse was a disaster, you realised as you approached it. Large, crumbling, windows boarded up with rotting wood, broken machinery scattered around the outside. It looked like it had been abandoned for decades. And it was exactly the type of structure no one would bother to look twice at. The perfect place to hide illegal things, and son-in-laws you hate.

There weren’t as many guards as you expected. Which would mean that Bucky was either chained and locked up like an animal, or that he was injured to the point where he was too weak to fight his way out of here.

Or both.

You shivered as you got out of your car. The few guards who were around noticed you and one of them began walking faster towards you the more you got closer to the entrance.

“Miss, you can’t be here. Your father explicitly said no one is allowed–,”

You scoffed and said, “Oh, I know what he said.” You kept walking. “What will you do? Shoot me?”

“Miss,” He tried again, “I can’t let you–,”

You turned towards him and placed the barrel of Bucky’s gun right under the guard’s chin. “You were saying?”

Then you heard it. A fleet of cars approaching. The guards heard it too. You heard them yelling at one another while the one in front of you remained frozen in place. You smirked at him and said, “Now go play with them.”

You had just enough time to duck and run inside before the gunshots began. You didn’t stop. The interior of the warehouse was just as dilapidated as the outside, and by the sound of it, there were quite some guards on the roof. Their heavy footsteps as they ran to duck and try to escape the bullets raining down on them echoed inside the empty warehouse.

It was fairly easy to spot Bucky. But fuck was it painful to see him that way.

He was chained to the wall, shackles around his wrists and ankles. His body slumped on the ground, his breaths ragged. You could tell he was tired. Perhaps tired of fighting against the chains. You couldn’t hold back your soft sob as you ran to him.

They had left his muzzle-like mask on him, covering the lower half of his face. The leather jacket and gloves he wore were covered in blood and dirt. A lot of blood. You knelt down in front of him and that’s when you noticed the bullet wound on his thigh. It looked fresh.

“Bucky?” You called, reaching a hand to touch his face. He was cold to the touch, but stirred at the sound of your voice. “Bucky, come on. Wake up. Please.” You sniffled and inched closer to him, “I’m here, I’m gonna get us out of here, okay?”

He let out a weak cough. You could barely hear it over the sound of the gunshots outside.

“Bucky,” You tried to get the chains and shackles off of him, “Come on, wake up. We need to go home.” Your own voice cracked as you felt the silent tears streaming down your face as you were unable to get the shackles off. “Please,” You begged.

Then as the gunshots outside faded away, you heard Bucky’s faint voice saying, “Use the gun.”

You turned to face him. “What?”

He spoke again, his voice raspier than usual and sounding muffled due to the mask. “Shoot at the chains.”

Your hands trembled just a little as you reached for the gun you had brought. His gun. And you said, “Okay, don’t move.”

You did. And only missed twice.

Breaking the chains left the shackles still around his wrists and ankles but that could be dealt with later. You were panicking, wondering how you’d get him out of here but the guards barged in just in time. And you let out a sigh of relief when they ran straight to Bucky and carefully picked him up.

As a couple of them managed to get Bucky in the backseat of your car, one of them let you know that there was a doctor and his assistants already waiting at home to tend to Bucky. Another one asked you what to do regarding the warehouse.

“Burn it.” You told him. “I’ll deal with my father later, right now we need to get Bucky home.”

On the drive home, Bucky kept trying to talk. But he was so weak he could barely get full sentences out.

“Weren’t you mad at me?” He asked.

You sniffled and said refused to answer that. Instead you said, “Try not to talk. You’ve been shot, we don’t know how much blood you’ve lost,” You rambled. “Let’s get you to the doctor, okay?”

“S’okay,” He mumbled, “It went through.”

That only hurt more. “Bucky please, you need to save energy, okay? We’re almost home.”

“They… shot me with my own gun.” He refused to keep quiet.

At first you thought his brain was being delirious and making him ramble. Because of the pain, exhaustion, thirst, hunger. But then a weak sound left his mouth. Still muffled by the mask because no one removed it, and it sounded a lot like a very weak, faint laugh.

“Eros got pierced by his own arrow after all.” He mumbled.

You held back a sob. Then muttered, “I hate you so much, Bucky Barnes.”

Another weak laugh. “No, you don’t, wife.”

Then he passed out cold.

—

The next few days which followed Bucky’s rescue went by so fast and so painfully. The medical team kept close watch on him for days. Bucky was in and out of consciousness a lot. All the meds and the exhaustion kept him constantly out cold.

The nurses and the house staff were constantly around him. But for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to go into his room. Not yet. You’d linger near the door and the doctors and the staff would constantly update you about his condition, but you never went in.

Mainly it was because of shame. At what your father had done to him. But also you were still making peace with and processing your own emotions and you couldn’t face him until you were fully ready. What was important was that he was rescued and safe in his home.

About a week later, the medical team finally left. And promised they would do frequent check ups and told you that Bucky needed a lot of rest.

And that night, you managed to find the courage to finally step inside Bucky’s bedroom. It was a lot like yours, just larger. The room was dark when you walked in. But the open curtains allowed some light in from the outside.

Okay. You spoke to yourself as you approached Bucky’s bed. It’s high time you find out who you married.

Your hands shook a little as you reached for the dim lamp on his bedside table. But you turned it on quickly before you could talk yourself out of it.

The golden light illuminated the room partly, and there he was. A little bruised, with a cut on his lip. His handsome face made you smile and tear up at the same time. You couldn’t hold back from reaching to touch his face softly, carefully. You ran your knuckles along his cheek and whispered, “There you are, ghost.”

He stirred. And soon, a pair of sparkling blue eyes look up at you. For a moment you panicked, wondering if he would be upset. But instead he said, “This is cheating.”

You let out a soft laugh and asked, “How are you feeling? You’ve been asleep for days.”

“I feel like beating your father up.” He mumbled.

“Oh, same.” You agreed. Then added, “I’m so sorry for what he did to you.”

Over the past few days, the guards had gathered what had truly happened the day Bucky went missing. Turns out, he did leave for an assignment but your father and his men had been keeping a close eye on him for days, and since the wedding was supposed to have ended all rivalry, Bucky had his guard down as he entered your father’s territory. And your father had the upper hand for once and took advantage of it. Bucky was cornered, outnumbered and taken. He was kept in that warehouse up until you found him.

“Don’t be,” Bucky whispered, reaching for your hand on your lap. He gave your hand a soft squeeze and said, “You saved me.”

You couldn’t look away from Bucky. It felt so intimate to finally be able to see his face. Then rather sheepishly, you asked, “Can I sleep here? I’ll be careful.” He was still injured and in pain, but you just wanted to be close to him. You needed to.

He smirked, “Come on.” You walked to the other side of the bed and slid under the covers, keeping some distance between you and him. He turned to look at you and said, “Want me to leave the light on?”

You nodded. And he did.

—

A lot changed after that.

Bucky was healing from his injury and was starting to walk again. Which meant that he was home a lot. He did ‘work’ but it mainly consisted of him ordering people around on the phone.

Him being at home meant that he followed you around as much as he physically could. He would spend time in your studio, sometimes he’d stay for hours and watch you finish your pieces. He also spent a lot more time with your dog, taking her on short walks and teaching her new tricks.

He’d stay with you in the kitchen while you baked. He’d go with you whenever you went shopping for supplies. Bucky became your shadow. And consequently, spending this much together made you feel closer than ever to him.

He became your best friend.

He also became a lot more… bold.

—

One night Bucky found you in his bathroom. After that night when you first slept in his bed, you hadn’t gone back to your bedroom. So now, most of your things slowly found their way into his space. Like your night time skin care products.

Bucky crept up behind you and wrapped his arms around you.

You met his eyes through the mirror and gave him a smile. “Your limp is nearly gone.” You announced, noticing the way he walked was so much better now.

He gave you a look which meant nothing but mischief, “And you know what that means?”

You could already tell where this was going. You immediately turned him down. “Bucky, we cannot. You’re still injured.”

“But it’s been weeks.” He said it like it was the ultimate torture. “Don’t you miss those nights we spent together? Hmm?” He whispered, leaning in to kiss your neck. He knew it was one of your weaknesses. “Remember how good it feels when I make you come?”

You sighed, letting him kiss you and hold you for a moment. “Buck… you’re still healing.”

“Come on, baby,” He cooed, nuzzling your neck, “I’ll make it so good. I promise I’ll tell you if it hurts.”

You almost gave in the moment he playfully bit your neck, his hands finding the belt of your robe and shamelessly undoing it before sliding in to touch your warm skin. “But,” You tried to find something even though all you wanted was to drag him to bed, “Your stitches…” Your words ended in a soft moan as his metal fingers found their way in between your legs, circling around your clit.

Bucky growled. Growled. Then said, “Fine, you get to be on top then.”

You froze, and let out a nervous chuckle. “But I…,” You opened your eyes and met his through the mirror. “I–,”

“Shh, it’s okay.” He reassured you, remembering the time you told him you’d never done anything with anyone before. “I know.” He gave you a sweet kiss on the cheek. “I’ll teach you.”

And he did. Patiently.

He took his time in undressing both of you and held your hand in his as he laid down and pulled you on top of him.

“I’m scared I’ll hurt you.” You murmured.

He gave you a reassuring smile. “You won’t, baby. Now come on.”

He watched as you carefully straddled him, settling comfortably around his waist. One hand holding his metal one tightly while the other remained splayed over his chest.

Bucky looked up at you with nothing but adoration and lust as he tugged on your hand, pulling you in for a kiss. You leaned down gently and pressed your mouth to his. His warm hand immediately rubbed up and down your side lovingly. He pulled away just a little and whispered against your mouth, “We’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with, okay?”

You nodded, already breathless.

“Tell me, baby. What do you want?”

You told him the one thing you desperately wanted. “I want to touch you.”

Bucky smirked and supported his upper body up on his elbows, with you still straddling his waist, your core pressing down on his crotch. “Go on then, touch me.” He murmured.

He watched you intently as you reached out and touched his face first. Bucky’s heart was racing, you could tell by the way he breathed, as your finger slowly trailed down his face, along his neck and down till his abs, so slowly that you could feel his muscles tensing underneath your touch.

You gave him a teasing smile when you noticed the effect you have on him, and how he couldn’t help but stare at your naked body.

“Don’t tease me,” He mumbled.

You chuckled and leaned in to give him a brief kiss before hesitantly wrapping your hand around his cock. Part of the reason why you kissed him while doing it was because you were worried about your lack of experience, so you did it to distract him.

But he caught it. And wrapped his own hand around yours, making you grip him tighter. You pulled away from the kiss and looked into his pretty eyes. Bucky was breathing heavily. You let his hand guide you as you gave him an experimental stroke, a gentle up and down movement.

He felt thick and hard, and big. You looked down for a quick minute as you let him continue guiding your hand, lazily stroking his cock, up and down. Your thumb rubbed his tip slowly, making him groan as you looked back up at him and kissed your way down his neck, around the base of his throat, making him gasp in pleasure.

“See?” He whispered, “You’re learning already.” He said as he slowly let go of your hand and let you touch him on your own.

You continued exploring this new feeling. He was completely fine with just being there and letting you take your time. And you did take your time, touching him everywhere you could, stroking him as slowly or as quickly as you wanted to. Until he was so close to the edge, eyes rolled to the back of his head, lips parted and occasional moans escaping his open mouth as pre cum started dripping down his cock.

Oh he was a sight to behold. But you were getting impatient, and you wanted him in you as soon as possible. So you stopped, earning a groan from him.

“I want you,” You said.

Bucky looked like he was barely able to hold back either. “Come on,” He held your hand again, pulled you in for a quick kiss as you straddled him properly. His hand reached down and aligned the tip of his cock to your hole, teasing you with it by sliding it up and down your slit a few times until you were whimpering. “Now sit on it baby come on,” He encouraged you as you began sinking down on him, gasping as his cock stretched you out. “You can do it.” He murmured, breathless as he watched his cock disappear inside you more and more. “That's it. All the way down, come on baby.”

You were a moaning mess by the time you sunk all the way down, impaling yourself down on his cock. Fuck. You had never felt so full before. So fucking full.

“You okay, baby?” He asked, holding you by your hips, moving you back and forth just a little bit to create some friction.

You nodded, moaning at the slight movement.

“Want me to help you move?” He asked, lips parted and he had that wild look in his eyes.

Fuck, he was beautiful.

“Yes, please,” You whined, placing your hands on his chest to brace yourself for what was coming.

He wasted no time. Bucky grabbed you by the hips and helped you move up and down his cock. Your wet warmth wrapped all around him, making him swear under his breath and groan at how good you felt.

You couldn’t look away from his ocean blue eyes while you rocked your hips against his. You moved against him perfectly, your walls gripping him tightly and feeling him twitch inside you.

“Look at you.” He cooed. “Look how well you're taking it.”

You couldn’t help but lean in to kiss his open mouth. He was so perfect. He was everything you had ever dreamt of, you realised.

His metal fingers moved to touch your clit while you rode his cock, teasing you and bringing you closer to that edge. It wouldn’t take much. You were so overwhelmed already.

“Bucky…” You whined, dragging your hands down and pressing both your palms against his toned abdomen, carefully avoiding touching him around his thigh area, where he was shot.

Bucky watched you, your breasts bouncing gently, lips parted, softly gasping as you got so, so close to the edge.

And he knew. So he quickened his pace, still moving you up and down his cock while he rubbed your throbbing clit.

“Baby, I’m gonna need you to come for me, okay?” His voice was low, barely even a whisper. His desperation was quite clear. He began to thrust his hips up even harder, matching your movements.

The air around you got hotter, and that look in his eyes made you want to live in this moment forever. Bucky was the most beautiful mess you’d ever seen. A sweaty, moaning mess under you, messy hair, swollen lips, and a throbbing cock.

You were sure you looked like a mess too as you felt your walls clench around him, gripping him and milking him perfectly.

“Come for me,” He whispered, “Come on, baby.”

You came without a warning, crying out loud and impaling yourself down on him one last time as you did. Bucky thrust up into you one last time and came undone as well, both of you breathing hard and fast.

You carefully got up from his lap and laid down beside him, body limp and slightly sore in between your legs.

You were still catching your breath as you asked, “Did I hurt you?” You sounded just as worried as you were.

Bucky chuckled. “I should be the one asking you that.”

You smiled and snuggled into his side, he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer.

“I’m fine, baby.” He said and kissed your forehead.

You both laid there in silence for a while.

Cuddling and relishing each other’s warmth, caressing each other’s skin.

You felt his fingers drawing random shapes on your back as you laid your head on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeats against your cheek. You felt the need to ask him, “Why were you so against showing yourself to me?”

He gave you a soft chuckle. “You just can’t let that go, huh?”

“Nope.”

He sighed, pulling you closer. “I was… afraid.”

You frowned. “Afraid of what?” You pulled away and looked up at him. “Why did you hide this pretty face from me?” You gave him a quick kiss on his chest as you waited for his answer.

He sighed again. “Everywhere I go, I… whenever people see me up close, it’s already too late. They don’t see a human anymore, they see death staring back at them.” He paused. You remained quiet. He continued. “I see it, you know? In their eyes. When they look at me and plead, or beg, or curse me.” A humourless laugh, then, “After some years of that, I began seeing it in the mirror as well. I saw the same thing they see. After years of brutality, and killing, and spilling blood,” A soft chuckle, “Years of being an evil Eros as you call it, I grew to hate my face.”

You felt tears forming at your waterline but you couldn’t look away from him. Not when he was being so brave and vulnerable.

He continued. “And then before our wedding, I looked you up.” He confessed, a little embarrassed. “And you were so beautiful.” He looked you right in the eyes and repeated, “You are so beautiful. I guess, I didn’t want you to look at me and see death, and ugly and all the other dark stuff. I didn’t want to see that look in your eyes, the same one I see in everyone. That look of fear and disgust.” He finally admitted, “So I thought, I’d just hide and be a ghost.”

“My ghost.” You corrected him, reaching out to cup his chin in your palm. “And I’m gonna need you to never stop haunting me.” You said, leaning in to leave a soft kiss on his lips. “I want you to always be in the shadows. Be with me, even in the dark.” You gave him a smile. “I look at you now and you know what I see? I see a man who treated me with respect. A man who wouldn’t touch me unless I asked for it. A man who gave me so much space for my creativity.” A faint smile, then you added, “You made me fall in love with art all over again, and now everything I paint, I paint with you in my mind.”

He gave you a smile which both broke and mended your heart.

“Oh Buck,” You cupped his gorgeous face with both hands and said, “You’re not death, or scary, or any other dark shit. You’re mine, and I love you.”

He pulled you in for a kiss so quickly you barely processed it. “And I love you.”

You giggled into the kiss and only pulled away when you were breathless. You kissed your way down his chin and nuzzled his neck, sighing in delight.

Bucky said, “I think I should retire.”

“Hmm,” You asked, “And what would you do in retirement?”

“Watch you paint, raise our dog, adopt some more animals, attend your art exhibitions, and eventually make some babies with you.” He listed it all so easily.

“Sounds like a plan.” You agreed.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #mob!bucky #marvel

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leveragehunters · 4 months ago

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CoPilot in MS Word

I opened Word yesterday to discover that it now contains CoPilot. It follows you as you type and if you have a personal Microsoft 365 account, you can't turn it off. You will be given 60 AI credits per month and you can't opt out of it.

The only way to banish it is to revert to an earlier version of Office. There is lot of conflicting information and overly complex guides out there, so I thought I'd share the simplest way I found.

How to revert back to an old version of Office that does not have CoPilot

This is fairly simple, thankfully, presuming everything is in the default locations. If not you'll need to adjust the below for where you have things saved.

Click the Windows Button and S to bring up the search box, then type cmd. It will bring up the command prompt as an option. Run it as an administrator.

Paste this into the box at the cursor: cd "\Program Files\Common Files\microsoft shared\ClickToRun"

Hit Enter

Then paste this into the box at the cursor: officec2rclient.exe /update user updatetoversion=16.0.17726.20160

Hit enter and wait while it downloads and installs.

VERY IMPORTANT. Once it's done, open Word, go to File, Account (bottom left), and you'll see a box on the right that says Microsoft 365 updates. Click the box and change the drop down to Disable Updates.

This will roll you back to build 17726.20160, from July 2024, which does not have CoPilot, and prevent it from being installed.

If you want a different build, you can see them all listed here. You will need to change the 17726.20160 at step 4 to whatever build number you want.

This is not a perfect fix, because while it removes CoPilot, it also stops you receiving security updates and bug fixes.

Switching from Office to LibreOffice

At this point, I'm giving up on Microsoft Office/Word. After trying a few different options, I've switched to LibreOffice.

You can download it here for free: https://www.libreoffice.org/

If you like the look of Word, these tutorials show you how to get that look:

www.howtogeek.com/788591/how-to-make-libreoffice-look-like-microsoft-office/

www.debugpoint.com/libreoffice-like-microsoft-office/

If you've been using Word for awhile, chances are you have a significant custom dictionary. You can add it to LibreOffice following these steps.

First, get your dictionary from Microsoft

Go to Manage your Microsoft 365 account: account.microsoft.com.

One you're logged in, scroll down to Privacy, click it and go to the Privacy dashboard.

Scroll down to Spelling and Text. Click into it and scroll past all the words to download your custom dictionary. It will save it as a CSV file.

Open the file you just downloaded and copy the words.

Open Notepad and paste in the words. Save it as a text file and give it a meaningful name (I went with FromWord).

Next, add it to LibreOffice

Open LibreOffice.

Go to Tools in the menu bar, then Options. It will open a new window.

Find Languages and Locales in the left menu, click it, then click on Writing aids.

You'll see User-defined dictionaries. Click New to the right of the box and give it a meaningful name (mine is FromWord).

Hit Apply, then Okay, then exit LibreOffice.

Open Windows Explorer and go to C:\Users\[YourUserName]\AppData\Roaming\LibreOffice\4\user\wordbook and you will see the new dictionary you created. (If you can't see the AppData folder, you will need to show hidden files by ticking the box in the View menu.)

Open it in Notepad by right clicking and choosing 'open with', then pick Notepad from the options.

Open the text file you created at step 5 in 'get your dictionary from Microsoft', copy the words and paste them into your new custom dictionary UNDER the dotted line.

Save and close.

Reopen LibreOffice. Go to Tools, Options, Languages and Locales, Writing aids and make sure the box next to the new dictionary is ticked.

If you use LIbreOffice on multiple machines, you'll need to do this for each machine.

Please note: this worked for me. If it doesn't work for you, check you've followed each step correctly, and try restarting your computer. If it still doesn't work, I can't provide tech support (sorry).

#fuck AI #fuck copilot #fuck Microsoft #Word #Microsoft Word #Libre Office #LibreOffice #fanfic #fic #enshittification #AI #copilot #microsoft copilot #writing #yesterday was a very frustrating day

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corkinavoid · 5 months ago

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DPxDC John Constantine's How To: Ghost Kids (pt.2)

[<- part 1]

"Oh, yeah," John jerks his head up like he just remembered the fact people are supposed to have names at all. He gestures to the kids, pointing to each of them as he introduces, "Daniel, Daniel, and Danielle."

This time, all three kids flip him off simultaneously. Bruce clears his throat, trying to figure out if Constantine is messing with him and, if so, in which parts. Since, so far, everything the man has said sounds like a poor attempt at pulling his leg.

"I don't think they like those," he cautiously says, and the kids whip their heads at him, nodding furiously. Bruce can't help but be just a little enamored with the way they behave.

"Of, sod off, at this point I don't care what they like," John straightens up with a dismissive, albeit weak, wave of his hands, and rubs his face, "They are menaces. Sometimes by accident, but mostly on purpose. Their grandfather thought it would be easier to handle them if they were not teenagers, and while I agreed with his reasoning at the time, I-" he glances at the kids, who all have displeased grimaces of various levels on their faces, "I have been made to reconsider. I swear that ancient bitch is laughing his ass off wherever he is now."

The kids suddenly grin. They are not very friendly, nor polite smiles - if anything, they look a bit nightmarish. An old grandfather's clock in his study makes a very loud ticking noise.

"See?" John whips his head to look at said clock, the expression on his face bordering on insane. His eye twitches.

If Bruce doesn't do anything now, he might become one of the very few people who managed to witness John Constantine, the Laughing Magician, have a meltdown. So he sighs and decides to solve the problems one at a time.

Which means that no matter how alarmed or suspicious he is, his first move would not be to interrogate either the man or the kids.

"You can sleep in one of the guest rooms, I trust you can find it on your own," he tells John, almost softly, as he catches the girl from slipping away from his lap, "Is there anything I need to know about children before you fall unconscious?"

John slumps with relief, so obviously that Bruce almost smiles. Hardships of raising - or, watching, for that matter - kids, he understands.

"Yes," he breathes out with an air of exhilaration and turns to the kids again, pointing to the middle child, "Danny is the original. He is from this dimension and timeline, that is. Dan," he turns his finger to the older boy, "is in the wrong timeline, he's Danny's future evil self redeemed into older bratty brother. Dani," he switches to the girl, "is Danny's clone, made by his arch-nemesis of a godfather. If she starts melting at any point, wake me up immediately. If any of them start floating, sprouting tentacles, speaking to walls in static, or glowing, don't."

Bruce looks down to the kids. So, definitely metas, that would explain the government trying to get them... Or, no, it wouldn't because he is fairly certain no government is going to blatantly ignore the Meta Protection Acts.

"Don't let them raise the dead, and if you give them food, make sure it doesn't have a face. If you find more than three of them, it means one of them has duplicated, don't worry, they will absorb it back later. Absolutely don't let them touch any guns," Constantine is backing down to the door as he speaks, his gaze flickering from the kids to Bruce and back every second. Like he is leaving a ticking bomb in Bruce's lap, and not three children. "Danny is, comparatively, the most responsible one, the other two are up for any dubious trouble they can get to at any moment. Oh, and their memories are wonky because of de-aging, they remember some things but not others, so if they say something particularly disturbing, it's most likely some random piece of knowledge they managed to keep."

Bruce raises an eyebrow. He did get the part about the kids being, well, abnormal in the matters of their origins, but the disjointed set of rules and advices doesn't help as much as Constantine probably thinks it does.

"Allergies, preferences, ages they were before?" He tries to get at least some more info down before John disappears through the door. Actually, maybe he should send someone to handcuff the man to the bed lest he disappears completely.

"None, but don't let them eat cutlery. Danny likes space, Dani has a thing for exploring, and Dan likes violence." The older kid stirs in Bruce's lap and says something in the direction of Constantine. No sound comes out, but the man seems to get what he's trying to say anyway, "Okay, yes, that was rude of me, sorry. Dan likes... exercise," he ends up with, and that placate the boy enough to slump down and cross his arms. John sighs, "They were seventeen, fourteen, and twenty respectively. Now," he snaps his fingers, and suddenly Bruce can hear the girl - Dani - humming a tune under her breath. So, he lifted the silence spell, it seems.

"Good fucking luck," John wishes to Bruce, earnestly, and all but vanishes away.

Bruce sighs and looks down to the kids.

"Are you hungry?" He tries, and all eyes are on him at once, attentive and unblinking.

"Fruitloops," Danny says, and while Bruce is positive that's the name for a cereal, he gets a feeling that's not what the kid meant.

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curryshesus · 8 months ago

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jeon jungkook fics that had me going feral

hi guys, here's a part 2 to my favorite jjk fics on tumblr! note that many of these fics contain 18+ content. you are responsible for the content you consume! as always, if you enjoyed any of these fics as much as i did, please take a moment to send some love to the authors! part 1 | other bts members

➺ cold nights & blurred lines - by @awrkive

summary: jungkook and you have been in a sexual relationship with each other for four months now, and it’s casual for the most part. but as time passes, you can’t help but feel that some of the lines suddenly got blurred in the process. is it a cliché to blur the lines with your fuck buddy? it definitely is. will you do something about it? both of your emotional constipation have a hard time saying yes.

➺ night crawlers - by @alphabetboyluvr

summary: jungkook’s always been good at running. track, field, red lights, shit outta luck. drugs, now, too. but he doesn’t expect to run into you. in your shared lecture halls, sure. maybe. but not down the back alleys of daerim at ass o’clock in the morning. there are only three types of women he ever sees in daerim: hookers, sugar-babies and addicts. you aren't any of those; you're a trust-fund baby who can get percocet on private repeat prescription, if you really want it. he's sure of it. so it then further begs the question: why the fuck are you here?

➺ this is how you fall in love - by @jeonqkooks

summary: after years of drinking and clubbing most days of the week and leaving every gig with a different girl on his arm, jungkook feels what it’s like to want someone with his entire being.

➺ the dilf installments - by @mercurygguk

summary: this series follows jungkook’s life as a divorced father. but wait, how exactly does one balance being a father, a boyfriend, a friend, and a respectable boss at the same time? read the installments below to find out!

➺ ultimatum - by @parkmuse

summary: your pervy, idiotic boyfriend just so happens to also be your friendly neighborhood Spider-man (in bed).

➺ a hero's journey - by @hansolmates

summary: jungkook and jisoo are the mightiest power couple. however, one drunken confession and that whole facade fades in an instant. you realize that maybe you need to break from your unvaried life for a bit and be the hero of your own love story

➺ tempest - by @kooktrash

summary: you’ve always considered your life to be more mundane than you would like to admit. it was a constant cycle of the same things over and over again that when you meet jeon jungkook at a bar, of all places, you didn’t expect to see just how much he would change your life and those around you. he’s got an air of mystery around him with his charming good looks and a violent past that you slowly begun to unravel when it feels like everything is going perfect.

➺ by its cover - by @gimmesumsuga

summary: the one where Jungkook makes a horrifically bad first impression.

➺ slow dancing - by @yoonia

summary: when your countdown appeared on your wrist right in the morning of your eighteenth birthday, you had thought that perhaps the universe was on your side, especially since the final seconds were already ticking so soon. You just never expected to have your first meeting with your soulmate to be the day when you had to let him go. But hope was not lost when you still found love without the bond, and Jungkook showed you that it was possible to find happiness beyond the system that was written for you. Except that the universe doesn’t seem to have enough of its game, when your past sacrifice comes back hitting you straight in the face, just when you had believed that you had written off the perfect ending to your bittersweet tale.

➺ e s p r e s s o - by @joonberriess

➺ hold me closer - by @ahundredtimesover

summary: when you're asked to look after your parents' house and meet them before they go on vacation, you, Jimin, and Jungkook take the trip to your hometown of Busan and relive memories of your youth. While your new relationship has you feeling like a lovesick teenager with all the affection that Jungkook shows you, you're still you - a professional trying to make it in the corporate world, and an eldest child trying not to disappoint her parents. And that turns out to be your undoing, as a little blunder causes a rift between you and Jungkook, resulting in a trip that you might as well have messed up… Not if your brother can help it, though.

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rafayelxsylusho · 22 days ago

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How do the LADS men fu¢k the jealousy out of you.🥼🪐

Caleb/Zayne

Sylus is next.....

TW: SMUT SMUT SMUT

NOTE: I'm a praise slut so if you like it drop a comment and if you don't you can also drop a comment!! ❤️❤️😊😊

CALEB🪐

You hear Caleb's phone ringing, the sound echoing through the empty apartment. After a few rings, a female voice answers. She doesn't sound pleased.

"Colonel Caleb's line. Who's calling?" Her tone is clipped and businesslike.

"Oh, um, hi. Is Caleb there? I mean, Colonel Caleb," you stammer, caught off guard. "It's y/n."

There's a pause, a beat of silence that stretches too long. Then the woman speaks again, her voice dripping with disdain.

"The colonel is currently unavailable. He's quite...busy at the moment. With matters of great importance" Her words are like barbs, each one sharp enough to make you wince. "I'm afraid he won't be able to take your call. You'll have to wait."

She hangs up abruptly, leaving you holding a dead line and a head full of questions. Busy? Unless...unless she meant something else entirely by 'busy'. A cold dread settles in your stomach as you ponder the possibilities, each one less palatable than the last. What is he doing? And with whom? The questions burn in your mind, eating away at your peace of mind. You tell yourself it doesn't matter but the sinking feeling persists

So you try a video call instead. You see the screen flicker to life, a face popping up that makes your heart seize in your chest. She's stunning, with high cheekbones, full lips curved into a smile, and eyes that glitter with a cold, calculating intelligence. Her blond hair is pulled back into a sleek bun, not a single strand out of place. She's beautiful, in a way that's almost too perfect to be real.

"Y/n," she says, her voice sounded annoyed. "I'm afraid the Colonel is...indisposed at the moment." Her gaze flicks to the side "He asked me to handle any...extraneous matters that might come up."

Your blood runs cold as you realize she's in Caleb's apartment. In his space. A wave of possessive fury rises up inside you, hot and all-consuming. Behind her, you catch a glimpse of a familiar wall, a painting you know hangs in Caleb's bedroom. The one he bought on a trip, the one he said reminded him of you. Seeing it there, behind her, makes your stomach churn with nausea.

"Will you let him know I called, please?" You ask, your voice dropping at the 'please'

"Oh, I'll be sure to tell him," she says, "Though I can't promise he'll call you back. He's...very busy at the moment."

She glances over her shoulder, towards the bedroom, and you catch a glimpse of Caleb's silhouette through the open door. He's facing away from the camera, but you'd know his broad shoulders and tall frame anywhere. The sight of him makes your heart clench, a pang of longing and desperation shooting through you.

Then she reaches out, and the screen goes black.

You're left staring at a lifeless screen, your heart pounding in your ears. The silence is deafening, the absence of him a yawning chasm in your chest. You feel it then, the first real flicker of fear. The cold, sickening certainty that he's slipping away from you, that you're losing him.

The hours tick by with agonizing slowness, each second stretching into an eternity as you wait for your phone to ring. You pace the length of your apartment, your eyes glued to the screen, willing it to light up with Caleb's name. But it remains stubbornly dark, mocking your desperate anticipation.

As the sun begins to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and red, a sense of dread starts to creep in, coiling around your heart like a serpent. He always calls. Always. No matter how busy he is, no matter what's happening in his life, he always finds a moment to hear your voice, to assure you that you're still the most important thing in his world.

As night falls, you find yourself curled up on the couch, staring at your phone as if it holds the answers to all your unspoken questions. The clock ticks on, the hands spinning with maddening speed, as the hours slip away and still...nothing.

You jerk awake, your heart leaping into your throat as the notification chimes pierce the early morning silence. For a disoriented moment, you think it might be a dream, a cruel trick of your desperate mind. But as you grab your phone with shaking hands, there it is. A message from Caleb.

Can I see you today?

The words are simple, a deceptively casual question.

Your fingers tremble as you type out a response, each word a battle as you try to keep the bitterness from your voice.

I'm afraid I'm busy today, and your friend mentioned you'd be rather tied up as well. No need to bother.

You hit send before you can second-guess yourself, a part of you hoping he'll insist, that he'll demand to see you no matter what.

With a heavy heart, you turn off your phone, shoving it into the depths of your backpack. You spend the rest of the day in a daze, your mind a tempest of unanswered questions and suppressed fears.

When you get off work you head to the familiar noodle shop, the warm aroma of the hot pot ingredients envelops you, a small comfort in the midst of your turbulent day. You place your order, the owner greeting you with a jovial smile, oblivious to the tempest raging inside you.

With your order in hand, you make your way back to your apartment, craving the solace of a hot meal and a chance to rest. The evening air is crisp, the chill of the night a stark contrast to the warmth of the hot pot nestled in your arms

Once you get home and as you step into your kitchen, the soft glow of the stove light illuminates the countertop as you set the bags down. The savory aroma begins to fill the small apartment, a brief moment of normalcy amidst the chaos in your mind.

Suddenly, a voice cuts through the silence, making you jump with a startled gasp. "You're late."

The voice is low, rough, and unmistakably familiar. It sends a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and a traitorous thrill. You know that voice. You know it better than your own.

You spin around, your heart pounding in your ears, to see Caleb sitting in the dark corner of the living room. He's draped across the couch, his tall frame taking up more space than seems possible. His silhouette is etched in shadow, but you can see the glint of his eyes as they watch you, following your every movement.

"Caleb," you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper. "What are you doing here? How did you...?" The words die on your lips as the reality of the situation sinks in. He's here. In your apartment. Uninvited. Unannounced. Just like before. Just like always.

He rises to his feet, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he has all the time in the world. As he steps into the faint light, you can see the weariness etched into his face, the dark circles under his eyes a testament to a sleepless night. But there's something else there too. A tension. A tightness to his jaw and a cold, hard glint in his eye that makes your blood run cold.

"I wanted to see you," he says, his voice a low, rough rumble. He takes a step closer, then another, until he's standing just a few feet away from you.

"But you said you were busy," he continues, his voice dropping to a dangerous murmur. "Funny, I don't see you working. I don't see you anywhere but here. With me." His eyes rake over your body, a slow, deliberate perusal that makes your skin prickle with goosebumps.

You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry as the desert. You try to speak, but the words catch in your throat, sticking like shards of glass. He's right. You were busy. Busy ignoring him. Busy trying to forget the way your heart ached for him. Busy trying to convince yourself that you didn't need him, that you could survive without his constant presence in your life.

"I...I didn't..." you start, but the words ring hollow even to your own ears. You look away, unable to meet his gaze, unable to confront the accusation in his eyes.

He takes another step closer, closing the distance between you until he's standing mere inches away. You can feel his breath on your face, hot and heavy, the scent of him filling your nostrils and making your head spin.

"Don't lie to me," he growls, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "I know you saw my messages. I know you ignored them. Just like you ignored my calls. My texts. My emails.

His hand comes up, his fingers curling around your chin as he forces you to look at him. His grip is firm, almost painful, a silent warning not to lie.

"I was told you were busy yesterday, I didn't want to interrupt your...activities"

Caleb's eyes flash with a sudden, fierce light at your emphasis on the word. His tall frame towers over your smaller one, his broad shoulders blocking out the dim light from the kitchen.

Caleb's eyes narrow, his gaze sharpening with a dangerous intensity. "Lila," he says, his voice a low, clipped response. "She mentioned something about me being...busy yesterday?" He is invading your personal space, his chest nearly brushing against yours.

"Tell me, Pipsqueak" he murmurs, his voice dropping to a low, threatening purr. "Is that really what you thought? That I was so...busy with her?" His hand comes up, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a gesture that's almost tender, almost loving...but with a underlying edge of possession that makes your heart race.

"You think I have time for anything else? For anyone else? When all I think about is you?" His thumb traces the curve of your bottom lip, the touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. "When all I wanted was to be here? With you?" His other hand comes to rest on your hip, his fingers digging into the soft flesh.

"I did have a meeting at my place," he confirms, his voice tight and clipped. "Lila was there as my assistant, taking notes and filing reports. It's her job to answer my calls, to make sure I'm not disturbed during important matters."

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he murmurs, "But she never mentioned a thing about you calling. I didn't know until now."

Caleb's eyes widen in mock surprise, a cruel smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Are you jealous?" he repeats, his voice dripping with disdain. "You think I didn't notice how you clammed up when I mentioned Lila? How you couldn't even look me in the eye?"

He throws his head back and laughs, a harsh, grating sound that echoes through the apartment. "Oh, y/n. My sweet, naive little girl. You really thought I didn't see the green monster rearing its ugly head? The way your pretty eyes flashed with anger"

He leans in, his face mere inches from yours, his eyes glinting with a wicked, triumphant light. "You can't hide anything from me, pipsqueak. I know you too well. I can read every thought, every feeling, every childish emotion that flits across that beautiful face of yours."

His hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip in a mocking, patronizing gesture. "But let's get one thing straight. I have bigger things to worry about, like your safety, things that don't involve playing nursemaid to a bratty little girl who can't control her own emotions."

He pulls back slightly, his eyes hard and cold as he stares down at you. "So don't give me that bullshit about ignoring me because you were jealous. I won't stand for it. I won't tolerate it. Not from you."

He crushes his lips against yours in a bruising kiss, pouring all of his anger, frustration, and dark desire into the forceful embrace.

He kisses you like he owns you, like he has every right to claim your mouth, your body, your very soul. His tongue pushes past your lips, invading, conquering, laying waste to any resistance you might have had.

You can feel the heat of his anger radiating off of him, the intensity of his emotion almost palpable. He's not just kissing you - he's devouring you, consuming you, determined to brand himself onto your very being.

He's not gentle. He's not tender. He's giving you a raw, brutal taste of the turmoil and anguish he's feeling, pouring all of his dark emotions into the violent kiss. It's a kiss that demands surrender, that insists on domination, that refuses to accept anything less than total submission.

When he finally pulls back, it's only to allow you a single, gasping breath before he's diving back in, his lips and tongue and teeth attacking your mouth with renewed fervor. He's not going to let you speak. He's not going to give you the chance to explain. He's going to silence you with his kiss, going to claim your mouth and make it his own until you have no choice but to submit to his will.

Caleb breaks the brutal kiss, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. He stares down at you, his eyes wild and fevered, a strand of saliva connecting your lips. His grip on your throat remains firm, his fingers digging into your skin with a possessive force that sends a thrill of fear and excitement down your spine.

"All I've ever wanted...since I was a kid...was you," he rasps, his voice a low, desperate growl. "No one else. No one could ever compare to you. You're mine. You've always been mine."

He leans in closer, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath coming in hot, ragged puffs against your skin. "I've loved you for so long...too long. I've watched you grow from a gangly, awkward girl into the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. And through it all...through every fucking moment...you've been mine."

His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, a mocking, patronizing gesture that makes your heart race. "And I must say...I do enjoy seeing you burn with jealousy. It's a rare and precious thing, to see my sweet, innocent little girl so consumed with possession and desire."

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "But I won't allow it. I won't tolerate such base, uncontrolled emotions from you so first...I think you need to learn a lesson in self-control. And I'm going to be the one to teach it to you. Starting....right....now."

Caleb's eyes darken with a hungry, possessive gleam as he stares down at you, his grip on your throat never wavering. "I want you naked," he commands, his voice a low, demanding growl. "Now."

He takes a step back, giving you just enough room to obey his order. His gaze rakes over your body, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he waits for you to comply.

When you hesitate, too stunned and frightened to move fast enough to suit him, Caleb's patience snaps. A low, dangerous growl rumbles in his chest as he steps forward once more, his hands coming up to the hem of your shirt.

"Fine. If you won't undress for me, then I'll undress you myself," he snarls, yanking your shirt up and over your head in one swift, rough motion.

With a harsh wrench, he pops open the button of your jeans and drags down the zipper, the metal teeth screaming in protest. His fingers hook into the waistband and he tugs sharply, dragging your jeans down your legs along with your panties.

You feel the cool air of the apartment against your now bare skin, raising goosebumps on every inch of your flesh. Caleb's eyes rake over you greedily, taking in every dip and curve, his gaze lingering on your most intimate places.

He reaches out, his fingers trailing over the swell of your breast, teasing the sensitive flesh. "Had you simply obeyed, perhaps I would have been gentler with you. But now..." His hand suddenly squeezes, hard enough to make you gasp. "Now I think you need to be punished for your defiance."

Caleb drags you by the hand into your shared bedroom, his grip tight and unyielding. He sits down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, and reaches down to undo his belt and pants. The leather strap clanks against the wooden floor as he pulls it free, the sound echoing in the tense, charged air of the room.

With a few deft movements, he undoes his fly, the zipper sliding down in a rush of movement. He reaches inside, pulling his hard, aching cock free from the confines of his pants and boxers. It springs up, thick and heavy, the swollen head already glistening with beads of precum.

He wraps a hand around the thick shaft, stroking it slowly as he looks up at you with a dark, hungry gaze. "Come here," he orders, his voice a low, demanding growl. "Get on your knees. Now."

Caleb watches intently as you slowly sink to your knees before him, his eyes burning into yours with an intense, possessive gaze. He takes in the sight of you, naked and vulnerable, kneeling submissively at his feet. A dark, wicked smile spreads across his face as he sees the way your lips, soft and full, part slightly in trepidation.

He reaches out, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. He traces the delicate curve, feeling the silken texture, before pressing down slightly, forcing your lip to dimple between his thumb and finger.

"Such pretty lips," he murmurs, his eyes glinting with a hungry, predatory light. "I love how they feel wrapped around my cock, how they stretch and strain as I fuck your mouth.

His grip tightens around his hard, throbbing shaft, stroking it slowly as he stares down at you with a dark, lust-filled gaze. "Open your mouth, y/n" he commands, his voice a low, demanding rasp. "Take me inside you. Show me how much you want it"

Caleb's heart races as he looks down at you, your eyes wide and upturned, gazing at him with a mix of fear, anticipation and reluctant desire. He's always been captivated by the way you look at him, the way your eyes seem to see right into his very soul. It's a look he's seen countless times before, ever since you were both young and innocent, playing in the sun-dappled rooms of your childhood home.

"God, I love the way you look at me," he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion and lust. "With those big, innocent eyes...like a doe caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. Helpless. Captivated. Unable to look away."

His breath hitches as he feels your soft, plump lips wrap around the swollen head of his cock. A low, moan escapes him, his fingers tightening reflexively in your hair as the slick heat of your mouth engulfs him. His hips jerk forward slightly, instinctively seeking more of that heavenly sensation, more of the tight, velvety caress of your lips and tongue.

"Fuuuck..." he growls, his voice strained with pleasure and a dark, possessive hunger. "Your mouth... So hot. So fucking perfect."

He stares down at you, his eyes glazed with lust as he watches you take him in. The sight of your lips stretched around his thick cock, the way your cheeks hollow as you begin to suck, it's almost too much for him to bear.

"More," he demands, his grip on your hair tightening as he tries to pull you further onto his shaft. "Take more of me pretty girl"

When you take him deeper, relaxing your throat and allowing more of his thick, pulsing shaft to slide past your stretched lips, Caleb throws his head back with an animalistic groan. His fingers tighten harshly in your hair, gripping the strands almost painfully as he fights the urge to thrust deep and hard, to bury himself to the hilt in the tight, clutching heat of your throat

He stares down at you, his eyes wild and fevered, taking in the obscene sight of your lips wrapped around his shaft, the way your throat bulges slightly with his girth. The image seared into his mind, a snapshot of pure, carnal bliss that he knows he'll never forget.

"That's it, baby. Take it all. Take every fucking inch of me," he growls, his voice strained with the effort of holding back, of not losing himself completely in the intensity of the moment.

But when Caleb feels your muscles contracting around his sensitive flesh, your throat working to swallow even as you suck him deeper, he can't hold back any longer. With a hoarse cry, he grips your hair tightly and yanks you off his cock, pulling you up and onto his lap in one swift, rough motion.

"Fuck, I can't...I need..." he pants, his eyes wild and desperate as he positions you to straddle his thick, muscular thighs. "I need to be inside you. I need to feel your tight little cunt squeezing around me as I fuck you raw."

He grinds against you, his shaft sliding between your slippery lips, teasing your aching clit with each pass. His eyes bore into yours, blazing with a feverish intensity that makes your heart race and your core clench with need.

Caleb's eyes darken with lust as he hears your needy, desperate pleas spilling from your lips. A feral grin spreads across his face, revealing his teeth in a way that's almost predatory in its intensity.

"That's my good girl," he purrs, his voice a low, approving rumble. "So eager. So hungry for my cock. I love hearing you beg for it, love seeing you so desperate and wanton."

Without warning, he surges his hips forward, driving his thick shaft deep into your soaked, needy cunt with one powerful thrust.

"Fuck, baby," he snarls, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass hard enough to leave bruises. "You're so fucking tight every single time."

As Caleb feels your tight sheath clenching around him, gripping his plundering shaft like a silken fist, he knows you're getting close. He can feel the telltale flutters, the way your walls start to ripple and quake around his invading length. But he won't let you find your release, not yet. Not until you learn to control your emotions.

With a low, commanding growl, he unleashes his Evol, the gravity manipulation that's as much a part of him as the blood in his veins. You feel a sudden, inexorable force pressing down on you, pinning you in place against his lap, your hips locked against his. No matter how you try to rock or grind, to bounce on his cock and chase your rapidly approaching climax, you're held fast by the invisible, unyielding pressure.

"No, no, no," he chides, his voice a dark, wicked rasp. "Not yet, little one. You don't get to come until I say you can come. Your pleasure belongs to me, and I'll give it to you when I know you already learned your lesson".

He starts to thrust harder, deeper, grinding his hips against yours with a force that steals your breath and sends jolts of electric pleasure shooting up your spine. The head of his cock kisses your cervix with each plunge, the sensation pushing you to the brink of what you can take.

With each powerful thrust of his hips, each deep grind of his pelvis against yours, he uses his Evol to pin you in place, holding your writhing form immobile. You're forced to take every inch of his throbbing, steel-hard cock, over and over, as he pounds into your core with a relentless, punishing rhythm.

Feeling your desperate, anguished tears rolling down your flushed cheeks, tasting the salt of them as they drip onto your trembling lips, Caleb leans in, his tongue darting out to lap at the glistening trail. He groans at the heady, intoxicating flavor, a dark, wicked sound that vibrates through his chest.

"Mmm, delicious," he purrs, his voice a low, sinful rasp. "The taste of your pleasure, your frustration, your need...it's fucking intoxicating. I could get addicted to it, to you."

"Please..." you gasp against his lips, your voice hoarse and breaking. "Please, I need...I can't...please let me..."

"No," he growls, pulling back just enough to stare into your tear-glazed eyes. "No begging. Not yet. You don't come until I say you can come, until I give you permission to shatter on my cock."

The pressure of his Evol increases, holding you immobile, trapping you in this torturous limbo of pleasure and denial.

"Feel it, baby," he rasps, his lips curling into a wicked smirk against your skin. "Feel the way your body is mine, every inch of it. Feel the way your cunt squeezes and clenches, begging for permission to let go. But you won't. Not until I allow it."

"Count them," he demands, his voice a low, wicked rasp. "Count every thrust, every inch of your my cock stretching and claiming your greedy little cunt. Let me hear you, pipsqueak. If you count to 10 without missing a number I will let you cum"

And you start counting.

"One," you gasp, your voice high and tight as you struggle to focus through the haze of your impending climax.

"That's it, baby," Caleb purrs, his voice a low, approving rumble.

"Two," you choke out, your lungs burning with the effort of dragging in much-needed air. Tears of frustration and overwhelming sensation stream down your cheeks, but you're determined to earn your release.

"That's my good girl"

"Three," you pant, your voice growing weaker, more strained with each passing second. Your thighs tremble and quake.

"Keep counting"

"Four," you whimper, feeling your climax building, your core clenching and rippling around his thickness.

"Good"

"Five," you choke out, your nails raking down his back, leaving red lines of passion and desperation in their wake.

"Fuck"

" Six," you gasp, your voice barely above a whisper, your lungs burning with the effort of drawing breath.

"Your pleasure belongs to me, your body belongs to me."

He leans in, capturing your lips in a brutal, dominating kiss. His tongue invades your mouth, conquering, possessing, swallowing your desperate cries of rapture. His hand tightens around your throat, squeezing just hard enough to make your head spin, your lungs scream for air.

" Seven," you choke out, your words garbled against his lips. Your nails claw at his chest, your body arching, writhing, trying to get closer, trying to escape. But there is no escape, only the relentless, punishing rhythm of his thrusts, the merciless pressure of his Evol pinning you in place.

"You got this pretty girl"

"Eight," you whimper, feeling your climax building to a crescendo, your core clenching and fluttering wildly around his thickness. You're so close, teetering on the very brink of oblivion, your every nerve ending screaming for release.

"Almost done"

"Nine," you pant, your voice breaking, shattering. Your body is no longer your own, it belongs to him, to serve his pleasure, his twisted desires. You're his to command, his to control, his to claim.

"Cum for me baby" he says, his evol no longer keeping you in place.

"Ten," you cry out, your voice raw, ragged, barely recognizable. In that moment, as the word leaves your lips, Caleb hilts himself inside you, grinding his pelvis against yours, his shaft pulsing and throbbing as he finds his own release. Scalding ropes of his seed paint your insides, marking you, claiming you from the inside out. Your body goes rigid, back arching, as your climax crashes over you with the force of a tidal wave. You scream your pleasure, a sound of pure, unadulterated rapture that echoes off the walls and bounces back to strike your own ears.

"Yes, fuck yes!" He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh, branding you, making you his. You can feel the dark, possessive satisfaction rolling off him in waves.

As the aftershocks of your shared climax slowly subside, Caleb lifts his head, his eyes blazing down into yours with a dark, almost feverish light. He looks at you like a man possessed, a man drunk on power and lust.

"When jealousy rears its ugly head again, when you feel that green-eyed monster threatening to consume you..." His voice drops to a low, warning growl. "...I want you to think of this moment. I want you to remember that you have nothing to be jealous about, that you are already more than enough for me."

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, his words a dark, sinful whisper. "Count to ten, just like you did for me tonight. Count each beat of your heart, each breath in your lungs, and remind yourself that every one of them belongs to me. That every inch of you, inside and out, is mine to cherish, mine to protect, mine to love...forever and always."

Zayne🥼

You stepped into Zayne's office, closing the door behind you. His gaze landed on you, a warm smile spreading across his face as he took in your presence. He leaned back in his leather chair, silver-framed glasses perched on his nose, making him look even more handsome and intelligent.

"Y/n, this is a pleasant surprise," Zayne said, standing up to greet you. He walked over and pulled you into a tight embrace, his muscular arms enveloping you. You could feel the strength in his lean body, honed by years of dedication to his craft.

"How are you holding up after yesterday's mission?" Zayne asked, concern etched in his voice. He knew the dangers you faced and always made sure to check on you afterwards. His hands gently caressed your back, offering comfort and support.

"I'm doing alright," you reassured him, nuzzling into his chest. "I just wanted to see you before your big meeting. I know how important it is and I wanted to wish you luck." You looked up at him, your eyes shining with admiration and love.

He leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, pouring his feelings into it.

Unable to resist the temptation, Zayne allowed his hand to slide down the side of your neck, his touch leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He squeezed your waist gently before pulling you flush against him, deepening the kiss with a low groan. You could feel his heart beating steadily against your chest, a comforting rhythm that always made you feel safe and cherished.

"Ahem, Doctor Zayne? Your meeting is about to start," a voice called out from the other side of the closed door, breaking the intimate moment.

He took a deep breath and nodded. "I'll be right there," he called out, his voice steady and professional despite the racing of his heart.

As you both stepped out of Zayne's office, the bustling atmosphere of the hospital enveloped you. Doctors, nurses, and staff hurried past, their footsteps echoing in the long, sterile corridors. Zayne walked beside you, his hand still clasped tightly in yours, a silent connection amidst the chaos.

Suddenly, Zayne's steps faltered, and he paused, his gaze fixed ahead. You felt him stop, and glancing up, you noticed his eyes narrow as he tried to recognize someone in the distance.

Zayne's eyes widened in recognition as the woman turned and began walking towards you both. His grip on your hand tightened reflexively, a mix of surprise and a hint of tension in his muscles.

You studied the woman as she approached, noticing the same look of shock and disbelief on her face, mirroring Zayne's expression. She was a striking figure, with long, dark hair and a confident, almost regal bearing. Her eyes, a piercing green, were locked onto Zayne, a gamut of emotions playing out across her elegant features.

"Zayne," she said, her voice carrying a slight tremble as she came to a stop a few feet away from you. "I can't believe it's really you." Her gaze flicked briefly to you, a flicker of curiosity and something else, something harder to define, flashing in her eyes before she turned her attention back to Zayne.

Zayne swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "Elena," he acknowledged softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He took a step forward, then paused, as if torn between closing the distance and maintaining the safety of the space between them.

The woman, Elena, took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with the action. "It's been what, five years? Six?" She shook her head slightly, as if disbelieving the passage of time. "You look... good," she added, a faint blush staining her cheeks.

Zayne was silent for a moment, as if struggling to find the right words. "You too," he finally managed, his voice still low and slightly rough with emotion. "What brings you back to Linkon City after all this time?"

Elena's gaze drifted to you again, lingering for a moment before she spoke. "I'm here for a meeting. I didn't expect to run into you, of all people." She paused, then continued, "But perhaps... it's fate. A chance to catch up on old times."

"Are you here for the cardiovascular meeting too?" asked Zayne

"No, I'm not here for that meeting," Elena replied, shaking her head. "My research focuses more on the long-term effects of cosmic radiation on human biology." She paused, then added, "Though I suppose our work does intersect in some areas. The strain on the cardiovascular system from extended space travel, for instance."

Zayne nodded slowly, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Ah, I see. That's... interesting." He seemed to be processing this new information.

"Elena, let me introduce you to y/n," Zayne said, his voice regaining some of its usual steadiness. "Y/n, this is Elenaa, an old... friend of mine. We knew each other back in med school."

You smiled and extended your hand in greeting, a friendly gesture. "Nice to meet you, Elena," you said warmly, despite the slight tension you could sense between them.

Elena's gaze lingered on you for a moment, a flicker of something akin to curiosity and perhaps a touch of wariness in her eyes. She took your hand, her grip firm and confident.

"The pleasure is mine," Elena replied, her smile polite but not quite reaching her eyes. Her tone was light, but there was an undercurrent of something more beneath the surface.

Elena turned to Zayne, a tentative smile playing on her lips. "Zayne, I was wondering... would you like to catch up properly later today? There's a charming dessert place nearby that I've been dying to try. After all these years, I remember you had quite the sweet tooth." Her eyes glinted with a mix of nostalgia and a hint of flirtation.

"Yes, I'd like that," Zayne replied, a note of resolve in his voice. "It's been a long time, and it would be good to catch up." He paused, then added, "Just let me finish up here and we'll meet you there around 8 pm?"

"Excellent, I'll make a reservation for us then. 8 pm it is." She glanced at you, her smile softening slightly. "And don't worry, I'll make sure to keep the medical jargon to a minimum," she teased gently, a hint of playfulness in her voice.

You jumped in, a slight wince at the mention of the upcoming dinner. "Actually, that's okay, Elena. I have some things I need to take care of around that time anyway," you said, hoping to sound casual and unassuming. "You two should go ahead and have a nice catch-up. I'm sure you have a lot to talk about after all these years."

Zayne looked at you, a mix of emotions flickering across his face. You could see a hint of something, a silent question perhaps. He seemed to be searching your face for something, a sign that you were truly okay with this arrangement.

Elena nodded, a satisfied smile on her face. "Wonderful, then it's a date," she said, her eyes lingering on Zayne for a moment before she turned to you. "I have to get going now" With that, she gave a small wave and walked away, her heels clicking on the tile floor.

"Doctor Zayne, the meeting is starting now. We need you in the conference room immediately."

Zayne closed his eyes briefly, a flicker of frustration crossing his face at the interruption. He opened them again to look at you, a look of apology in his expression.

"I'm sorry love, I have to go. But I'll see you back at my house later, alright? Wait for me there." He leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.

As the day wore on, you found it increasingly difficult to focus on your own tasks, your mind constantly drifting back to the encounter with Elena that morning. Questions and curiosities about her and her past with Zayne lingered, gnawing at the edges of your concentration.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the city, you found yourself sitting in your own apartment instead of waiting at Zayne's place as originally planned. The empty room seemed to echo with the questions and doubts that had been swirling in your mind all day.

You tried to distract yourself with mindless tasks, but your thoughts kept drifting back to the image of Zayne and Elena together, their shared history hanging heavily between them. The way she had looked at him, the history in their eyes... it was hard not to feel a pang of worry.

You stirred from your restless slumber on the couch as the sound of a firm knock on your apartment door echoed through the quiet space. For a moment, you were disoriented, unsure of where you were or what time it was. The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of the city lights filtering through the curtains.

Blinking away the lingering drowsiness, you glanced at the clock on the wall. It was well past midnight. You sat up slowly, your muscles stiff and aching from the makeshift bed on the sofa. The knock sounded again, more insistent this time.

As you unlocked the door and pulled it open, you found yourself face to face with Zayne. He stood there, his tall frame slightly hunched in the doorway, his hair slightly disheveled from the breeze outside.

The sight of him hit you like a punch to the chest. Relief, joy, and a lingering thread of uncertainty all swirled within you. He looked exhausted, his tie loosened and his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the definition of his forearms visible. But his eyes, those striking hazel eyes, were filled with a warm affection as they met yours.

"Y/n," he said softly, a note of concern in his voice. "I'm sorry for the late hour. I tried calling, but you didn't answer." He paused, as if debating whether to say more. "Are you alright? I was worried when I noticed you weren't back at my place."

"I decided to come back to my place in case you wanted to take someone else back to your house tonight" the words came out of your mouth without thinking.

He took a step back, his eyes searching yours with a mix of surprise and hurt. "What are you talking about, y/n?" he asked softly, a note of bewilderment in his voice. "Why would you think I would do something like that?"

He was silent for a moment, his gaze never leaving yours. Then, his expression softened, a look of understanding dawning in his eyes. "Ah, love," he murmured, shaking his head slightly. "Is this about Elena? Did you think..." He paused, then sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Zayne looked at you intently, his hazel eyes filled with a mix of surprise and gentle understanding. He took your hands in his, giving them a reassuring squeeze as he spoke.

"Y/n, are you jealous of Elena?" he asked softly, his voice low and filled with a note of concern. "Is that why you didn't come back to my place tonight?"

He was silent for a moment, searching your face for the answer. Then, he sighed, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand. "You don't need to be jealous, you know. There's nothing going on between Elena and me. We have history, yes, but that's all in the past."

"Elena and I dated for a few years during our time in med school," he explained, his voice taking on a slightly distant tone. "We were quite serious, or so I thought at the time. But as we graduated and pursued our careers, we realized that our paths were leading us in different directions"

You started to turn away, "What a coincidence, she is back now and maybe..." But before you could finish your sentence, Zayne pulled you back towards him, his strong arms wrapping around your waist. He tilted your chin up with his fingers, his intense hazel gaze locking with yours.

Then, he kissed you. It was a deep, passionate kiss, filled with a fierce intensity that stole your breath away. His lips moved demandingly against yours, a silent declaration of his desire and his love. One hand slid up to tangle in your hair, while the other pressed firmly against the small of your back, pulling you flush against his muscular frame.

Zayne kicked the front door shut with a firm thrust of his foot, the sound echoing through the apartment. Without breaking eye contact, he swept you up into his strong arms, carrying you effortlessly to the kitchen. He set you down on the counter, the cool granite a stark contrast to the heat radiating off his body.

Looming over you, Zayne placed his hands on either side of your hips, his fingers digging into the fabric of your clothes. His eyes, dark and intense, searched yours with an unreadable expression. "Why are you giving me that attitude, love?" he asked, his voice low and rough with barely restrained emotion. "You know you don't need to be jealous of Elena or anyone else. There's no one else for me but you." His grip tightened slightly, a silent emphasis on his words. "I thought I made that clear."

Zayne's voice dropped to a low, almost menacing tone as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Maybe I need to make it completely clear," he growled, his hands sliding up your sides, his fingers splaying across your ribcage. "Maybe I need to show you, in no uncertain terms, that you're the only one I want. The only one I crave."

He nipped at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin before he trailed his mouth down the column of your throat. His hands continued their upward journey, pushing your shirt out of the way to expose more of your skin to his hungry gaze.

His fingers found the clasp of your bra, and with a deft flick, he unhooked it, allowing the garment to fall away. He leaned back just enough to drink in the sight of your newly exposed flesh, his eyes darkening with unchecked desire.

Zayne stood before you, his intense gaze raking over your partially exposed body. He reached out, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your shorts. With a swift, decisive tug, he yanked them down your legs, leaving you in nothing but your underwear.

He stepped back, drinking in the sight of you seated on the counter, clad in only your lace panties. His eyes lingered on your curves, the swell of your breasts, the dip of your waist, the length of your bare thighs. He didn't touch you yet, maintaining a maddening distance even as the air between you crackled with tension.

Zayne loosened his tie with deft, practiced motions, the silk slipping through his fingers as he slid it from around his neck. He circled behind you, the heat of his body a brand against your bare skin. You felt the smooth, cool fabric brush against your wrist before he began to wrap it around, binding your hands behind your back with a tight, secure knot.

As he worked, his fingers lingered on your skin, tracing the delicate bones, the soft flesh. He leaned down, his lips finding the sensitive spot just below your ear. "You're mine," he murmured, his voice a dark, possessive rumble. "And I'm only yours. And I'm going to make sure you never forget it."

With your wrists secured, he circled back around to stand before you. He had shed his tie, his shirt now hanging open at the collar, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his muscular chest. His belt was next, the leather slipping through the loops until it hung loose around his hips.

Zayne's eyes flashed with a dangerous glint as he stood before you, his tall frame towering and imposing. He reached out, his fingers curling under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his intense gaze. "I won't hold you," he said, his voice a low, commanding growl. "You need to keep yourself straight, no matter what. We wouldn't want you to hit your pretty little head now, would we?"

Zayne disappeared into your bedroom, returning a moment later with a silk tie in a deep, rich shade of blue - one of the spare ties he kept at your place for emergencies. He stood before you once more, the tie dangling from his fingers as he took in your bound wrists and partially nude form.

Then, he lifted the tie, the cool silk brushing against your cheek as he slowly, teasingly dragged it across your skin. He brought it up to your eyes, his fingers grazing your lashes as he carefully, meticulously folded the fabric and placed it over your eyes.

You felt the tie wrap around the back of your head, the knot tightening with a soft tug. Darkness claimed your vision, your world narrowing to the sound of Zayne's breathing, the heat of his body, the scent of his cologne. Your heart raced in anticipation, your skin tingling with goosebumps.

As the blindfold blocked out the world, your other senses heightened tenfold. Each breath you took was ragged and shallow, your chest rising and falling with growing anticipation. The silence was deafening, broken only by the distant sound of traffic outside and the steady, rhythmic sound of Zayne's footsteps as he circled you like a predator stalking its prey.

His fingers grazed your shoulder, a feather-light touch that sent a jolt of electricity down your spine. You couldn't see him, but you could feel his presence, feel the heat radiating off his body as he drew closer. The air grew thick with tension, with the promise of what was to come.

Suddenly, you felt his hands on your hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh possessively. He yanked you to the edge of the counter, the cool granite a shocking contrast to the scorching heat of his body now pressed against yours. His breath was hot against your neck, his lips barely a hairsbreadth away from your skin. You could feel the rough stubble of his jaw, the firmness of his chest, the hard length of his arousal pressing insistently against your core.

Zayne's lips descended upon your bared breasts, his mouth hot and hungry against your sensitive skin. He kissed and nipped at the soft mounds, his teeth grazing the delicate flesh until he left a trail of marks in his wake. Each bite sent a jolt of sensation through you, pleasure and pain intertwined, stoking the fire building within your core.

He took his time, lavishing attention on every inch of your breasts save for the hardened peaks begging for his touch. His tongue swirled around the areola, teasing the edge before moving on, always keeping you on the precipice of where you needed him most. The anticipation was maddening, the emptiness between your thighs aching for his touch, his fill.

One hand slid down your stomach, his fingers splaying across your hipbone before dipping lower, skimming the waistband of your panties. Your breath hitched, anticipation coiling tighter in your core, your hips canting forward in a silent plea. But he denied you, his fingers merely tracing the lace edge, not dipping beneath to where you needed him most.

"Zayne..." you gasped, your voice a needy whimper. But he silenced you with a dark chuckle, the sound vibrating against your breast as he nipped at the tender underside.

Zayne paused his tormented ministrations, his lips trailing up from your breast to the column of your throat. He nipped at your racing pulse before murmuring hotly against your skin. "Lift your hips for me, baby. Lift them so I can remove these soaked panties that are no longer serving their purpose"

You lifted your hips, the movement causing your soaked panties to peel away from your slick, heated flesh, you couldn't help but gasp as it brushed against your aching clit. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure shooting up your spine, your back arching off the counter as you struggled to maintain your composure.

Zayne didn't miss your reaction, a dark chuckle rumbling from his chest as he slowly, torturously peeled the panties down your legs. He took his time, his fingers grazing your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Once he had tugged the garment past your feet, he tossed them carelessly aside, his eyes never leaving your face as he drank in your expression of need and desperation.

"There," he murmured, his voice a low, approving growl. "Much better. Now I can see all of you, taste all of you." His fingers trailed up your inner thigh, his touch feather-light and teasing as he drew closer and closer to your dripping core. "Spread your legs for me. Let me see your pretty little pussy, swollen and ready for my touch."

You spread your legs, the cool granite of the counter a shocking contrast to the scorching heat radiating from your exposed, aching core. A breathy moan escaped your lips at the sensation, your body trembling with anticipation and need. The cool air hit your dripping folds, making you shudder and clench around the emptiness inside you.

Zayne's eyes darkened as he took in the sight of your glistening, swollen flesh, the proof of your desire coating your thighs. He leaned in closer, his breath hot and heavy against your sensitive skin. "Fuck," he growled, his voice rough with unchecked desire. "Look at you, spread out and dripping for me."

He paused, his fingers hovering just above your dripping entrance, not quite touching, not giving you the relief you craved. "Is this what you want, my love?" he asked, his tone a sinful purr. "Do you want me to plunge my fingers into your tight, wet heat? To stroke and tease and curl them just right until you're writhing and begging for more?" His thumb brushed over your clit, a feather-light touch that made you jerk and gasp. "Or do you want something else? Something harder, something thicker, something that will stretch you wide and fill you completely?"

Zayne's lips curled into a wicked smirk against your thigh as he murmured, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "Or maybe you want something softer, something that can lick you in all the right places until you're trembling and crying out in ecstasy. Something that can tease and taste and savor every drop of your sweet nectar until you're drowning in pleasure and begging for more."

Without warning, he leaned in, his tongue delving between your slick folds in one long, slow lick. He groaned at the first taste of you, the sound vibrating against your sensitive flesh and sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he feasted on your dripping sex, his tongue swirling and flicking and stroking in ways that made you see stars.

Zayne continued his relentless teasing, his tongue exploring every inch of your dripping sex except for the one place you needed it most. He licked along your slit, his tongue delving deep to taste your essence before dragging slowly up to your hood. He circled your entrance, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh as he denied you the direct contact you craved.

His hands slid up your stomach, palming the soft swells of your breasts, all the while, his tongue continued its maddening dance, licking and tasting and stroking everywhere but your throbbing clit.

"Zayne, please," you gasped, your hips bucking desperately against his face, seeking that elusive friction, that perfect touch. But he was merciless, his grip on your hips tightening as he held you in place, preventing you from chasing your pleasure.

He dipped his tongue inside your entrance, fucking you with the slick muscle, his nose pressing against your clit as he drove you closer to the edge. But just as quickly, he pulled back, leaving you empty and aching, your walls clenching around nothing.

"Zayne, please," you whimpered, tears of frustration pricking at the corners of your eyes behind the blindfold. "I need...I need..." But you couldn't even form the words, too lost in the haze of sensation and desire.

Zayne pulled back slightly, a dark chuckle rumbling through his chest as he took in your desperate, incoherent state. "Tsk tsk, You silly girl, can't even form a proper sentence?" he taunted, his voice a low, mocking murmur against your dripping sex.

Zayne paid no heed to the dampness spreading across the frames of his glasses, the evidence of your arousal smearing across the lenses. In fact, he seemed to revel in it, in the depravity of the act, in the knowledge that he had reduced you to such a state of desperate, aching need. He licked his lips, savoring the taste, before diving back in for more.

Zayne continued his relentless teasing, his tongue swirling around your aching clit, never quite touching it directly. Each flick and lick sent bolts of electricity shooting through your body, your back arching as you cried out in frustration. He could feel your thighs trembling, your hips bucking desperately against his face as you sought more friction, more pressure, more of anything to finally push you over the edge.

Zayne abruptly pulled his mouth away, leaving your dripping sex empty and aching. Before you could form any words, he gripped your hips tightly and in one swift, powerful thrust, he impaled you on his thick, hard cock.

You gasped and arched your back as you were suddenly filled and stretched wide around his impressive girth. He didn't give you any time to adjust, instead setting a relentless, pounding pace as he fucked into you with deep, powerful strokes.

Zayne unleashed his evol abilities just as you needed him to. Suddenly, you felt an intense, tingling coldness grip your nipple, his powers allowing him to pinch and roll the sensitive bud between his icy fingers. The contrast of the frigid temperature against your heated skin sent a shockwave of sensation straight to your core.

At the same time, he pressed his thumb firmly against your clit, rubbing the aching nub in tight, rapid circles. The combined stimulation of his cock pounding into you and his evol-enhanced touch on your most sensitive spots pushed you rapidly towards the brink of ecstasy.

Your climax hits you like a tidal wave, crashing over you with a force that stole your breath and your voice. You couldn't hold onto him, your wrists still bound tightly behind you, but your body convulsed and trembled beneath his as the intense pleasure consumed you. No words could describe the overwhelming sensation, no name could be screamed as your walls clamped down around his pistoning cock like a vice. All you could do was let out a primal scream of pure ecstasy that echoed in your ears as your orgasm ripped through every fiber of your being. Your eyes rolled back behind the blindfold, your toes curled, and your back arched almost painfully as you surrendered to the pure, unadulterated bliss of your release.

As you slowly floated down from the highest high of your life, you became vaguely aware of Zayne's movements. He had slowed his thrusts, his own release having passed unnoticed in the haze of your overwhelming orgasm. With gentle care, he carefully withdrew from your still fluttering depths, a mix of your combined releases trickling down your thighs.

Before you could open your eyes, you felt the soft brush of silk against your skin as Zayne tenderly removed the blindfold from your face. The sudden rush of light made you blink rapidly, your vision slowly coming back into focus. As your eyes adjusted, you found yourself staring into Zayne's intense, hazel gaze filled with a mix of satisfaction, affection, and a hint of the dark, primal desire that had driven him moments before.

Gently, almost reverently, Zayne leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your eyelids, his lips brushing away the tears of pleasure that had gathered there. His fingers trailed down to your wrists, carefully untying the silk ties that had bound them. He massaged the slight ache from your joints with a tender touch, his thumbs circling the delicate skin in soothing motions.

"I want this," he whispered, his voice low and filled with emotion. "I want us, together like this, for the rest of our lives. I want to wake up every morning next to your beautiful face and fall asleep every night with your body pressed against mine. I want to face whatever challenges come our way, hand in hand and heart to heart."

He paused, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from your cheek with a tender touch. "You're not just my lover, my partner in passion. You're my best friend, my confidante, my soulmate. And I promise to cherish you, to protect you, to stand by your side through every joy and every trial. I want this, y/n - I want you, forever and always."

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pellucid-constellations · 1 month ago

Text

Creature Fear

And if had been clean, if there had been no strings between you, this would have been easy. But, with Azriel, you had never expected the strings to disappear. They would always be there—at least, they would for you.

An angsty piece inspired by Creature Fear by Bon Iver (2.3k words)

With another kick slamming into the muscle along the Shadowsinger’s thigh, you heaved in a breath that assaulted your lungs. It burned and tasted of iron as you panted, but that was simply the natural flow of training.

This was fine.

Everything was fine.

You weren’t picturing Azriel with his hands on her waist, swaying to the rhythm of a song you couldn’t recall. You weren’t replaying how his lips touched her ear or how his fingers tilted her jaw to the side. No part of your brain was rehashing the smile she sent him, an expression given just moments before he led her out of Rita’s.

No, you weren’t thinking of the events the night prior as you swung at the man before you.

He ducked—a pity, really.

“Something on your mind?” Azriel asked, words rushed as he moved around your attempted hits.

You grunted. “No. I’m training. That’s why you dragged me out here.”

“Right.”

Another jab at his face. He dodged it. You used your leg to sweep at his ankles.

“Are you even going to try?” you goaded, frustration creeping into your tone.

Azriel hopped back in the ring, but when you only followed his escape, he released an impatient sigh and grabbed at your shoulders, flipping you until your back met the ground with a soft groan.

“What’s the matter?” he huffed out above you. “You’re antsy. Your moves are sloppy and you really seem to want to hit me.”

“I have hit you.”

“Y/n,” Azriel warned.

You ticked your jaw to the side, still out of breath as his chest pressed to yours. This was not an unusual position for the two of you. In fact, it was a position you had found yourself in just last week, only there was far less anger and far more pillows. And it had been dark—quite romantic if anyone had asked you, but no one was asking you.

Because the relationship between you and the Shadowsinger was not public knowledge, and it certainly was not exclusive. No strings, Azriel had said against your mouth when you had come together the first time. And then it was we’re just blowing off steam and only one more time and we can’t tell anyone. It was unclear why Azriel needed a concrete reason to sleep with you each time he did it, but the underlying message was clear: you were not in a relationship.

It was just sex.

And sure, that was fine the first time—maybe even the second and third. But you had been lying to yourself when you agreed to the arrangement in between heavy breaths and rushed fingers. Azriel was not something you could do halfway, and you knew that from the start. You’d been half in love with him from the moment you met him. This had only been the nail in the coffin.

“Get off of me,” you demanded with forearms pressing into Azriel’s chest.

He was unrelenting. “No. Tell me what’s wrong with you.”

“Nothing’s wrong. You’re crushing my ribs. Get off.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well, luckily, believing me has nothing to do with your ability to get off of me.”

Azriel traced his eyes along each dip and high point of your face with a scrutinizing gaze before he finally heaved himself up, landing in a seat beside you. You sucked in a dramatic breath and propped yourself up on your palms.

“Is it something to do with the information Rhys is having you decode?” Azriel asked, tucking his knee in the crook of his elbow.

The side of your mouth twitched as heat licked up your throat. “No. Azriel, I told you everything’s fine. I was just trying something new Cassian wanted me to practice.”

“Cassian wanted you to practice being reckless and untrained?”

“That was incredibly rude.”

Azriel breathed out a semblance of a laugh. You heard his wings shift as you kept your eyes trained on the floor, but that reprieve was short-lived as a hand met the curve of your jaw. Azriel pressed at the skin there until your gaze was level with his, and then he continued his search.

You humored him—for a moment—allowing your friend to furrow his brows at the distance you were trying to create between the two of you.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Azriel, noth—”

“Stop lying to me,” he interrupted, sliding his hand back until his fingers wove into the hair at the base of your neck. “I know you. Something’s wrong.”

Your chest was beginning to feel fuzzy and the heat in your throat had melted into a blissful warmth. It was always so easy to be around Azriel, and it would be just as easy to lean forward and whisper that against his lips. Since that line had been crossed all those months ago, you had been tempted to take what you wanted several times.

But those liberties were only afforded to you in the dark aperture that was Azriel’s room. He only touched you like this when no one else was around, saving the gentleness of his fingers in the public eye for strangers in pleasure halls and nightclubs.

You were nothing like the girl he took home the night before. She had probably woken with him wrapped in orange morning light when you were always scampering away in the bleak blues and greys that made up the middle of the night. She was probably soft and delicate and not training for battle at the crack of dawn.

No, to Azriel, you were only a friend and you were convenient.

You knocked his hand away. “I told you I’m fine, Azriel. I’m just having an off day. Leave it alone.”

Azriel, who had flinched when the back of your hand met his arm, opened his mouth to speak without sound to follow. You were already on your feet by the time he could have formulated a response.

You hadn’t spoken to him in three days.

Three days of avoiding every room he frequented. Three days of avoiding his shadows as they attempted to beckon you to the training ring, the kitchens, and the balcony where he would inevitably get you to go into town with him. Three days of driving yourself insane.

This was always going to end poorly, but you hadn’t expected you to feel so angry. Hurt, yes, but anger was not something typically in your repertoire—especially not associated with Azriel.

The way he touched that woman played on a loop in your mind, reminding you how it had been so easy for him to do that in front of so many eyes. That, unlike you, there was no shame accompanied by his lazy fingers. He had touched you with those same hands, with that same tenderness, just the morning after—but no one was around to see it.

It did hurt, but it was also infuriating.

Maybe the angry heat was just a placeholder for the pain, something easier to digest, but you didn’t care to parse out the origin.

On the fourth day of stewing in your frustration, you were ending the night in bed with a candle and a book you could hardly focus on, reading and then rereading the same page as your jaw sat sewn together.

The knock on your door was unexpected and unwelcomed

You didn’t have it in you to speak to him.

You opened the door despite that.

The man on the other side looked shocked for a moment, blinking as the wind from your arrival hit his eyes, and then he looked restless, bringing his hands up as if you were about to slam the door in his face.

“Can I come in?” he asked, eyes darting over your shoulder to your bedroom and then back to you. “I know you’re avoiding me. I miss you. Let me come in.”

“I’m not—”

“Please, y/n.”

His tone, rushed and panicked, made your brows come together. You opened the door a fraction wider to let him in. He stepped forward three times and then remained in place as you turned to close the door behind you. When you turned to face him once more, your senses were overwhelmed.

Your back was pressed to the wood and familiar hands pressed divots into the skin of your waist. Azriel was kissing you—not hurried as he usually was when you met for these reasons, but almost savoring the feel of you against him. In your shock, your hands had landed on his chest, fisting his sweater between your fingers. Having him here, like this, distracted you for a moment.

It felt natural.

It was good.

When Azriel deepened the kiss, you snapped back to your anger, remembering the sly way he had guided that woman out of Rita’s. You flattened your palms against his chest and pushed, hard. The Shadowsinger stumbled back with wild eyes, and it was then you saw the state of him. His rumpled clothes and the way his hair stood up as if he’d been running his fingers through it. The rings he typically wore were each missing from his fingers and he was completely unarmed, not even the Truthteller strapped at his hip.

“I—I shouldn’t have done that,” Azriel spoke, clearing his throat as he ran his hand along his jaw. “You’re angry at me. I came in here to ask—I wanted to make it right. I didn’t mean to—”

“Azriel, stop. I’m not angry at you.” A lie. You were angry at him, but there were no grounds to be. You straightened out your posture and fixed your nightgown where he had wrinkled it with his fingers. “We don’t… do it this way. I come to your room.”

“I haven’t seen you in four days,” Azriel reasoned. “I miss you. I said that.”

You ground your teeth together, unable to look him in the eye. “I’m sure I’m not the only woman in Velaris that could warm your bed.”

Azriel stuttered over his words before replying, “That’s not what I meant. You’re—You are my friend and I miss you because you have gone to lengths to avoid me. I would like to know why.”

Your gaze flashed up at the crack in his voice. He stood with his palms open to you, his arms hanging by his sides.

“Friends don’t do what we were doing. Things are different between us now, Azriel.”

“They don’t have to be. We agreed—no strings.”

Anger grew and festered. They don’t have to change because he wouldn’t want them to. He would want a woman like the one at the pleasure hall. He would want anyone but you.

You crossed your arms over your chest, feeling equal parts unfair and justified. “Because the world works exactly how you want it to, doesn’t it, Azriel?”

He paused, his pleading expressed now dumbfounded. “What?”

“You just get to have your pick of women each night and if none of them work out you know I’ll be waiting at home for you? That your friend will be available if all of the women you’ll actually acknowledge in front of our family aren’t interested?”

“No, I—”

“I’m not some backup plan, Azirel. What, no one else available tonight? Did you happen to round on the Archeron sisters as well? I’m last again, right?”

As the words spewed from your mouth, you knew you would come to regret them. Azriel looked more and more confused and affronted at each accusation you made, but this was easier than crying and professing your love. Azriel had said no strings attached, and if you couldn’t avoid love, he would have to deal with anger. That was an easier string to sever.

“We’re stopping this, if that wasn’t obvious.”

Azriel’s breath seemed to escape his lungs in one fell swoop. He took a step forward and shook his head. “Is this about that night at Rita’s? Y/n, I would never have—”

“No, you said no strings, right?” you bit out. “So you’re allowed to do whatever and whoever you want. This has nothing to do with that. I’m just… I’m just done.”

Gods, you weren’t making sense. Why had he kissed you when he walked in? You felt like you were going to cry and that was not something you wanted to do in front of him. “Okay, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Azriel almost begged. He looked ruined and so tired. “We can go back to how it was before.” The prospect seemed to pain him. “Just��tell me how to fix this between us. I can’t… lose you. Not to this.”

“There’s nothing to fix,” you lied. “Let’s just—let’s just stop.”

“Okay. Okay, we can stop and—”

“And you need to get out.”

Azriel blinked at you, brows furrowed. “But we still—Y/n, I want to talk about this.”

There was an incongruence in the way he was looking at you. If it had just been about sex, this would have been simple, clean. For you, it would have hurt, but for Azriel, it would have been a small variable being removed. But he was looking at you as if the world was ending, and you couldn't comprehend that.

He had been holding another woman earlier this week.

His hands twitched now.

He needed to leave before you cried.

“Get out, Azriel.”

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel angst

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pseudowho · 3 months ago

Text

When you moved in with Nanami Kento, despite having spent countless days and nights there prior, he insisted upon orienting you to the penthouse.

"The rubbish is collected on Tuesdays, unless there's a public holiday, in which case it's collected on Wednesday," Kento droned, as if he'd rehearsed his lines in advance.

You followed him, pulling a suitcase behind you with a fixed expression of earnest interest. You pursed your lips, trying not to laugh every time he turned his back to you, before schooling your expression again the second he looked back.

"Okay, Kento. Wednesday, got it. Anyway, I thought we could order some takeout, and celebrate--"

"No." He snipped, turning back to you with narrowed eyes, "Tuesday, unless there's a public holiday, in which case--"

"--it's collected Wednesday. Okay. I hear you."

Kento narrowed his eyes a little more. You stood to attention. A heartbeat passed.

"Good." Kento looked down, ticking something off his list, and you felt yourself wither and die with equal parts adoration and exasperation.

"Next, fire safety."

"Oh, god--"

"Pardon?"

"Oh, god, I love fire safety!"

"Good. We have lots to cover. First of all, the designated fire exits are marked on the map, here, here, and here."

"This, er...this laminated one?"

"Yes. I have one too."

"Oh, we match~<3"

"It's important that we're both adhering to the same protocol."

As Kento continued, highlighting fire doors, and escape routes, and emergency contact details, your mind began to wander. His voice, while deep and smooth, ran monotonous when left to run for too long, and your eyelids drooped, your arm sagging on your suitcase handle, and--

"Are you listening?"

"Me? God, yes, I love...water based fire extinguishers. I use them on everything."

Kento prickled, a shiver rippling up his beige suit from toe to shoulder, "I certainly hope not, water can only be used on wood fires, or--"

"--or my flaming hot pussy, because this is really getting my engine goi--"

"--I feel like you're not taking fire safety seriously."

"Kento...please--"

"Because it excites me when fire safety is taken seriously."

When Kento turned his back again, you turned too, dropping your suitcase and dragging your palms down your face, a silently screaming oil-paint figure on a bridge.

"Regarding bathroom etiquette," Kento toned, his voice flat, as you thudded your head once against the drywall. By the time he leaned around the corner to look at you, you smiled, bright and attentive.

"What was that noise?"

"I...jumped. Out of...excitement."

Another silence. Another narrowing of the eyes.

"Good," Kento pipped, "as I was saying, regarding bathroom etiquette, I hope you're not one of those reprobates that squeezes from the middle of the tube--"

"Oh, no, I prefer to suck it straight from the tube--"

"--I beg your pardon--"

"--Kento, are you anxious?" Kento froze with his back to you. The toothpaste lid squeezed off with force in his hand, clattering across the bathroom floor. A slow coil of toothpaste squeezed out of the tube, to slug down his clenched fist.

You crept closer, and slipped a hand under Kento's suit jacket to his lower back, and stroked it. You felt the tautness in the muscles beneath his shirt, as rigid as a door of oak.

"Are you anxious about me moving in?" You repeated, your voice soft. Kento swallowed, hard.

"How...how could you tell?"

You sighed. When you turned Kento to face you, he could hardly maintain eye contact, looking anywhere but at you. You could see the worry beneath his thin facade.

"Nothing's going to change," you whispered, cupping his cheeks in your palms, "and if it does change, it'll change for the better. And I can't wait. I can't wait for...for every late night, and every early morning. I can't wait for every hug, and every argument, and every day off where we can just wake up in each other's arms, and say good morning instead of texting each other good morning."

Kento melted into your touch, his palm rising to cup yours against his cheek. His voice was tight, exerting control in what little way he could.

"I'm just determined to get this right. You're everything to me, and if I got this wrong I'd never forgive myself."

"There's nothing to get wrong. Or, if there is, it doesn't matter, because we know we're safe together. We'll forgive each other. Alright?"

Kento sighed through his nose, pressing a kiss to your palm. "Just tell me one thing."

"What is it?"

"...do you really not know which fire extinguisher to use for an electrical fire--"

"You are joking, Kento."

"I never joke about fire safety."

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karinasbaby · 6 months ago

Text

ENHA HYUNG LINE — YOUR GIRLFRIEND’S DADDY ! (they all have daddy kinks. sorry.) part 1 !!

P. enha hyung line + jungwon x fem!reader (17+) | W. unprotected sex, infidelity (but it’s valid), mentions of cheating, lots of pet names, cervix & womb fucking, enha r jealous & feral, breeding kink, biting & marking, other members from diff kpop groups being assholes & getting fucked over (this is just fiction don’t come at me), lots of other filthy shit i forgot | WC. 12k (idek how that happened) | A,N. this one has been in the drafts since july. and i just finished it up while waiting for my doctor’s appointment, enjoy!

IN WHICH the hyung line (+ jungwon) get addicted to a pussy that doesn’t belong to them in the first place ?!

♡ PS this part contains heeseung, jake & jungwon !! <3

✷ LEE HEESEUNG ⋆ 이희승

the one thing that always stood out about heeseung, a striking trait that he carried was his exceptional ability to hide his emotions.

though this odd trait of his did have its own pros and cons that appeared and made themselves pretty evident throughout his life, heeseung still thought this was a good characteristic about himself.

it helped a lot to hide his emotions when he lied, when he tried to make an excuse as to why he forgot to do his homework. when asked from his friends if he was feeling down and the list went on. to put things short, he was the exact opposite of an open book that was easily read.

but heeseung started to slowly doubt this speciality of his, especially when it came to his bestfriend. and his little sister, you.

jeno has always been a great friend of heeseung, their small age gap making the two feel comfortable with one another immediately after meeting. the friendship had a click of some sort, almost making them feel like they’ve known each other for decades when they’ve only been friends for a handful amount of months.

and heeseung wasn’t stopping his grateful and happy emotions to spill out whenever he was with jeno, the kind hearted guy that he always saw as a solid, constant figure in his life and future.

the issue came for heeseung when you, jeno’s cute little sister that he always seemed to eye for a bit too long, got into a relationship.

your first relationship at that.

jeno, as your older brother was rightfully protective, giving you advice every chance he could after checking up on you and your boyfriend, soobin. whom always rubbed jeno the wrong way. but he didn’t have the courage to point it out to you and potentially break your heart, it was a risk he could never take.

but if there was someone that was even more concerned and even more protective— overly protective even, than jeno. it was heeseung.

there was something about soobin that always seemed to just not settle with heeseung. he couldn’t tell if it was his weirdly ‘forgetful memory’ as you liked to call it, or the way his eyes were constantly glued to his phone whenever you four decided to hang out. not giving you a singular ounce of the attention you deserved.

his behaviour towards you, his own girlfriend, was dry. cold. dismissive. and he couldn’t tell if jeno was purposefully turning a blind eye into this, but it was so clearly hurting you.

especially with the way your shoulders would visibly slump whenever you would excitedly tell soobin about an a new event that happened during your lecture, an interest that had your eyes sparkling while he would just nod mindlessly along to your words. vision obstructed and glued onto his stupid phone screen that irritated heeseung to no end. he could see the disappointment rising in you when soobin would pay you no attention. so passive in his responses, so visible that he did not care.

and it was angering heeseung so tremendously. setting him off like a ticking bomb that would explode at the guy any second but he kept holding himself back.

for the sake of jeno. for the sake of you. after all, he was just a friend.

and he couldn’t tell if soobin’s attitude towards you angered him more, or the fact that he was always going to be stuck under the ‘friend’ title in your life.

heeseung had developed feelings for you way before you got into a relationship with soobin, might even be a mere month after jeno introduced you to him. he had always had his eyes lingering on you. a soft, gentle glint in them whenever your presence was surrounding him in any way.

he believed that it was just him forming a soft spot for you in his heart in the beginning, but as time passed by, especially after soobin ruined everything in heeseung’s opinion, his feelings grew. becoming a solidified fact for heeseung instead of a mere reverie that he cooed about in his head.

yet for the longest time, he knew he had to keep his emotions hidden again. falling back into his old routine of covering, blanketing his feelings. hiding and cowering away in fear of your brother finding out and the dear connection that heeseung held so close to his heart ending.

so he bit his tongue. holding back any words, any opinions, any thoughts and of course any emotions that were related to you and soobin. swallowing back his anger that swirled sombrely in the pit of his stomach. though no one was taking notice of his hatred towards soobin, it was only growing more and more day by day.

like a foul stench that would blind your senses, an evil beast that festered malignantly. his distaste towards soobin became a hardened feeling. a prominent one that settled in the front of his chest. growing and branching between his ribs to only pulse in hatred whenever he saw the guy.

he wasn’t sure how long he’ll be able to hide these feelings though.

because not only was he now dealing with the fact that he had to fight himself back from punching soobin everytime he saw him, he also had his own completely opposite emotions that bloomed like the breathtaking petals of a flower when graced by spring sunlight, his undying and thriving pure love for you.

it made his heart ache in dull pain when he saw the damage soobin was causing to you. his own insides ripping apart whenever you would come crying onto jeno’s shoulder because of another argument with your jerk of a boyfriend, he was growing tired. almost as tired as you were becoming from holding his shaking fists back from marking soobin’s god forsaken face. tired from actually capturing his tongue between his teeth before vile words spilled past his lips towards him.

he was so tired with this routine. so sickened of the way you were struggling and struggling. stuck in a bubble of anguish and pain formed by soobin that no one was able to pop.

but heeseung always carried a needle around, for safe measures.

the rainy day you decided to frantically knock on his door, your sobs echoing in his house when you buried your face into his chest because you actually found another girl’s number in the same phone that soobin had his eyes stuck on. was the day that heeseung finally snapped.

fuck all of this.

fuck soobin. fuck jeno. fuck both of their feelings. he had you, who so clearly needed a massive amount of attention, of care and love to pour all over your fresh wound that ached in heeseung’s embrace. he felt his heart shattering into the tiniest pieces when you sobbed in his hold. the desperate grip your fingers had on his arms pulling at his insides as he felt his own tears aligning his waterline.

he hated to see you like this. so heartbroken and devastated over a guy that didn’t even deserve you one bit. he would’ve never treated you like soobin. not even for a single second. heeseung would’ve treated you so much better if only you had looked at him the way he’s always been looking at you for the past months.

if only you took notice of the longing in his eyes. the yearn that clawed at his heartstrings whenever he saw you in front of him. right within arm’s reach but so so far away.

but that didn’t matter anymore. you were finally away from soobin, that fucker was out of your life and you were in heeseung’s arms. heeseung’s embrace that felt so warm, so welcoming as you fit perfectly in his hold. so right.

so you stayed, feeling the safety and comfort that seeped through your body in heeseung’s presence. a peace of mind that you’ve never felt with anyone, not even with your own brother. that lulled you into calmness, heeseung’s gentle touch that brushed against the skin of your face and neck when he would tenderly caress you as he whispered sweet, calming words to your ear that made the raging storm inside of you sizzle down.

the hurt, the pain and all the agony was pushed aside. stuffed inside of a box discarded into the back of your brain. your head throbbed in pain at the excessive amount of crying you did in heeseung’s arms. a pulsing ache that travelled from the back of your skull to the end of your spine as you sniffled quietly in his arms.

“feeling better, precious?” he whispered quietly, voice barely audible. so soft and delicate as if he was scared that any unexpected move or sound will scare you. make you cower away in fear. he knew how to speak to you. how to touch you and handle you just the right way.

so affectionate, calm and delicate when handling you. touch as soft as a baby bird’s feather as if you were made of glass, the most precious material that could break and crumble with the slightest incorrect move.

he made you feel so seen, so understood and cared for. you weren’t too much for him as soobin claimed you to be. not attention seeking or annoying at all.

“not really..” you closed your eyes, wet lashes heavy with tear droplets that didn’t have the chance to roll down your face, he looked at you. in his eyes an unfamiliar glow. unable to pinpoint or understand exactly what he was feeling, all he knew was that he wanted you close to him.

“what can i do to make you feel better, pearl?” the new petname that rolled off his tongue so easily had your heart leaping in your chest, you opened your eyes. glossy vision landing on his own expectant one, he was implying something with his words. both of you aware of the sharp edge in his tone, an invitation that he had slipped towards you. waiting for you to pick it up and accept.

“make me forget about him..” your warm breath fanned over his face, the feeling of finally having you so close made his head spin. a carnal, hidden urge in him awakening after being discarded and thrown away for so long. stuffed deep inside of him for months, a crippling desire. a wicked desire to have you, has surged forward again.

his emotions, feelings, thoughts everything about you that were invalidated by his rational side. concealed in the name of his morals and beliefs that he’s wrong. he shouldn’t desire a taken woman, shouldn’t look at his own best friend’s little sister wrongly, were all springing back to life. enlivened at your mere presence. your mere existence and attendance in his hold. and heeseung was no longer holding himself back.

he didn’t care if what he was going to be doing aligned with his stupid morals and beliefs anymore. didn’t care if you were to wake up tomorrow regretting everything. didn’t care if he wasn’t going to be able to look at jeno in the eye again. he was finally given a taste of you.

not a whisper of you, not a piece of you, you were entirely served on a silver platter for him only to devour. to ravish. to feast on with ardour. to finally satisfy and satiate the hunger that always ached in his stomach for you.

you were finally here. between his fingertips. within arm’s reach, looking at him. staring into his eyes and not only looking at the devoted shine in them directed towards you, you were reciprocating it.

“yeah? that’s what you want, pretty?” he leaned down, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. you closed your eyes at the intimacy. a warmth spreading inside of you before settling into your core. dripping. that’s what you were. absolutely soaked.

“i want you.” you spoke, hit with an unknown urge to only speak the truth. removing each and every filter from your mind and mouth as you let your tongue speak whatever your brain formed at that current moment. and you wanted heeseung.

and who was he to deny you of that?

your sultry eyes that looked at him in pure lust asking him that? he was gone. your vixen like manners wrapping him in a chokehold. he was such a weak man for you. determined on pleasing you to the best of his ability, make you lose count on the amounts of times he’ll push you towards your high just so you can think about him and how good your pretty little cunt feels.

and so heeseung started, laying you on your stomach atop his satin sheets with your hands behind you, restrained by his fastened belt around your wrists while you squirmed on his bed. long, thick fingers that worked past your sopping entrance. leaking mushy walls tightened around his digits as if welcoming them for being inside of your needy pussy. fuck you were drenched.

“what a greedy cunt.. sucking my fingers in like this, wonder how long you’ve been waiting for this, pearl.” he laughed behind you, busy taking in the way your slick was drizzling down his palm, the way your puffy swollen folds swallowed in his long fingers entirely. the wet sounds from his abuse against your sweet spot was the cherry on top for him.

he was so fucking hard in his pants. his briefs feeling unbearably tight. heeseung breathed out short huffs of breaths, working his way to stretch your tight pussy open before fucking you on his length that he was sure you couldn’t take.

especially not with the way you were moaning and thrashing in his bed just from his fingers.

but who could blame you? he felt so good. his elongated fingers brushing against all of your sweet spots so deliciously. you could only imagine how mouth watering his cock would feel when he finally decides to fuck you like you’ve always dreamed of.

you couldn’t deny the attraction you’ve held for heeseung. the twinge at your heart that hoped to tug you towards him, an unknown pull that always made you stay up late at night thinking about heeseung. wondering about heeseung. dreaming about heeseung.

and for the longest time, it made you feel so guilty. so ashamed of the fact that you were thinking of your friend more than your own boyfriend. yet at the same time you heard a tiny voice in your head justifying your actions, a small part of you knew that your boyfriend was really anything but a boyfriend.

you did notice his passive behaviour. his curt responses and cold attitude towards you. but did you actually have the courage to confront soobin about it? to bring it up as an actual issue that was clearly building a separating wall between you two in your relationship? of course no. you decided to turn into a blind eye and hold faith in false beliefs that maybe, just maybe soobin will change one day.

except that day never came. it was never going to.

and the rational, logical part of you knew this. knew this so so well that it decided to give up on soobin long before your heart realised the change in your desire. the change in your mind, the way your thoughts quickly turned from being clouded with soobin, to being thundered with your beloved friend heeseung.

you didn’t even realise you had such a drastic change of heart. only coming to the chilling notion of how when you were with soobin, heeseung roamed your mind. when you were talking to jeno. heeseung was filling the back of your head. when soobin was trying to make dry love that lacked any sense of passion with you, you were left to fend for yourself with your fingers, and heeseung in your brain. heeseung on your thoughts, the whisper of ‘heeseung’ on your tongue when you finally reached the climax soobin couldn’t bring you to.

and in the beginning you were scared, terrified even of the thumping in your chest that you were sure anyone could hear if they stepped close enough to you when you were around heeseung. scared of the way your eyes would stray too far away from soobin and remain stuck on heeseung for too long. scared of the way you were only staying in your current relationship not out of love, but out of attachment to soobin when you yearned for heeseung.

hence why the only relief that you found in your love life was in your dreams. your unconscious daydreams that would conjure up a love story, a love vessel that branched between you and heeseung. every night with no fail.

yet you didn’t have to worry about this anymore. no longer tied emotionally to the false, unrealistic images and feelings that only existed in your head about heeseung. not when you had him currently groaning out praises to you, showering you with so much love and attention that you missed out on as he fucked you through your first orgasm on his fingers.

“such a good girl for me.. cumming around my fingers so well. my obedient little girl.” he trailed kisses from the back of your thighs, wet smacks of his lips against your skin till he reached your shoulder, where he traced his long tongue along your neck. “think you’re ready for me, precious?” he whispered lustfully into your ear. and god did he sound so much better. so much hotter than in your dreams.

voice almost gruff, an entire octave lower than his usual tone as he pressed his warm body against yours. brushing the exposed, leaking head of his cock and separating your oozing lower lips after discarding himself from his clothes. he was so menacing. teasing you so much when all your body ached for was to be filled up to the brim with his length.

“so needy for me.. look at your cunt trying to suck me in, pearl.” he hissed, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the sight of the same hole that he just fucked open with his fingers gaping at him. dribbling more of your syrupy nectar down your inner thighs as if to seduce him. winking at him when you tightened around nothing just to entice him further. making a wave of thrill pass through his body just so he would fill you up.

and well, heeseung was a very weak, weak man when it came to you.

he pushed the head of his cock in. the two of you hissing in sync, your pretty plump lips falling in an ‘o’ shape while he bit on his lower lip, your gushing walls wrapped around him so tightly the first time he sunk his cock in you. as if greeting him, their new owner before moulding into his shape.

if heeseung stared at your form any longer, he would’ve came inside of you already, ruining both of your fun. but goodness was seeing you twitching in his bed, plush thighs pushed to the sides so he can stuff his cock inside of you so fully while your arms shook and jerked around his own belt was a divine sight. one he quickly imprinted onto his brain to always go back to whenever needed.

but something told him that that wasn’t going to happen, he doesn’t need to depend on his memory anymore. he felt like he was going to be able to experience the real deal after this.

he pushed his hips forward, thrusting in and brushing right against your g-spot that had you whining his name almost automatically. “found it..” he smirked in victory, “that’s your weak spot isn’t it, pearl?” leaning down just a bit to inch closer to your ear, “your sweet sweet spot, baby.” you felt tears aligning your eyes. glossing over when he continued to nudge his hips against your spot. the one corner in your walls that had you seeing stars.

legs already shaking under him, you mewled his name so adorably. each huff and puff of air past your glistening lips made his heart skip a beat. he was growing even more obsessed with you than he already was. “y-yes seung.. that’s— oh my god.. that’s it!” you whined and sobbed for him.

heeseung sucked a deep breath in, lips kissing his teeth as his body felt like it was lit ablaze. so many months of daydreaming about this current moment that he was in right now paid off. you felt so hot. so pliant. so malleable under him. body reacting to each touch of his so sweetly, like your body recognised his as its other half before either of you did.

“such a good- haah shit.. such a good pussy.. sucking me in so well. you feel fuckin’ divine, pretty.” his eyes rolled into the back of his head from the way your cunt just kept gushing and sputtering out wetness before wrapping around his cock and sucking him back in deep. so so deep he was bruising your insides.

“j-just for you daddy..” a broken, quiet sentence that was almost unheard. almost went unnoticed. but heeseung was so glad he caught it. as the second that endearing name fell past your parted lips, he felt an entire electric shock shoot through his spine.

his mind was reeling, breaths growing uneven as your voice played like a broken record in his head, so pretty. so small. so frail and so delicate. as sensitive and precious as an actual pearl you were. heeseung was sinking in so much deeper in love than he already was with you.

“yeah, little girl? daddy’s making you feel good, isn’t he?” he was so careful. each move of his made solely for the purpose of pleasing you. of pushing you closer and closer to your peak of pleasure. and before you realised it, your climax broke down upon you like a dam. tears rolling down your cheeks and onto heeseung’s pillowcases as he fucked you through your high.

god did it feel so relieving. so alleviating to have someone put your pleasure first, to push you to your pleasure first. to care for you, think about you and make love to you for you. it was so different. so delicious you couldn’t help but ravish in the ecstasy of it all. your first ever experience of pure, arrant love.

it wasn’t only heeseung that was getting high off of the pleasure of experiencing you for the first time, your mind was also reeling from experiencing such pleasure for the first time. “s’good daddy.. too good! you feel so warm.” hicupping and babbling on as heeseung only continued to thrust in more harshly.

he felt so feverish, the temperature of his body rising while his room turned steamier. it was almost as if he could no longer breathe. not that his mind registered that feeling in the first place, the only thing he could process was the way your pussy was trying to suck him back in more and more and more.

he leaned forward, allowing his hot exhales of breath to fan against your ear. hand sneaking between your shaking thighs and circling around your clit. “you can give daddy another one, can’t you pearl?” he whimpered next to your ear. his eyelids droopy as he held back on his own climax.

he rolled his hips in circular motion against yours, no longer thrusting his leaking cock in and out and only pressing his mushroom shaped tip onto your cervix, the sensation of him so close, so deep and so hot on top and inside of you made your eyes roll to the back of your head, his movements incessant as he worked and guided your body towards another release.

“f-fuck..” sobbing under heeseung as he coaxed another orgasm out of you, he cooed besides your ear as his hands quickly unclasped his belt from around your wrists, making your hands grip desperately onto the sheets while his laced around your shaking legs, tongue peeking out to lick against your tears as he felt relief in his chest at the sight of you crying from pure pleasure and not over your ex.

the feeling of being so intimately connected to you, having you entrust him with your body and pleasure made his head reel. you being so close to him was a dream come true for heeseung. and now that he had you in tears underneath him, he was never going to be able to let go of this moment.

every second of this night has already been engraved in his head. every emotion and every fast thump of his heart tattooed itself on his memory, and it made him feel so good. so accomplished, he felt complete.

he buried his face in your neck, relishing in the way your body was shivering because of him, the goosebumps that aligned your skin because of his touch, relishing in the feeling of having you around him in every way. “you feel so good, princess..” he drunkenly spoke, his orgasm creeping up on him as he continued to grind against you.

“wrapped around daddy so well, pearl.” he groaned, every sniffle and whimper that left your mouth due to his lewd words went straight to his throbbing cock, he felt like he was seconds away from releasing and filling you up entirely. the thought alone making his jaw clench in delirium.

“want daddy to fill you up, baby?” he whispered, his smirk evident in his whisper. luring you slowly into his trap that seemed so effective with the way you whimpered for him and tightened around him more. so pleased, ecstatic and needy of the mere idea.

“p-please, daddy! please fill me up.. give me your babies..” you begged, weaker hands wrapped around his forearms to keep him in place while your cunt squeezed around him, gushing around his cock just to urge him to not pull out and fill you up instead.

and fuck heeseung was losing it.

your words almost awakening something animalistic in him, a noxious urge to truly fill you up, give you his babies and keep you just for himself only. in that exact moment, all the worries from heeseung’s shoulders evaporated.

your brother no longer mattered, soobin no longer mattered, he himself didn’t matter anymore. he only needed to have you stuck with him for eternity. by his side forever, and you were asking him to do exactly that. asking him so desperately. how could he refuse?

after all, heeseung was a very weak man when it came to you.

“gonna take all of daddy’s babies, pearl?” he chuckled, sweat rolling off of his temples as the coil in his stomach tightened further, the feeling making his voice crack at the end. you nodded frantically under him, nails digging into his skin yet the pain made him hiss in pleasure.

“please give it to me..” you moaned as you felt another release wash over you, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks while heeseung bit your skin at the overwhelming waves of ecstaty that crashed on him. “i’m your good girl, daddy aren’t i? i deserve it.. please.” fuck you sounded so starved. the mere longing in your voice, you calling yourself his good girl made him lose his mind.

and before heeseung could even realise it, he was pumping you full with his warm ropes of cum, both of you groaning in vehement, blinding euphoria while he peppered kisses around your neck and jaw. “of course you’re my good girl, baby fuuuck— you’re my prettiest girl.” his own legs started to shake in pleasure as he rode out his high.

keeping himself so deep inside of you, pushing his load deeper with each slight thrust while he stayed above you. whispering praise after praise for you just to show you how much he truly loves you. heeseung was ready to die for you.

and once his high subsided, he carefully laid next to you, moving you gently to your side and staying rooted deep inside of you before covering both of your bodies with his blanket.

he placed a loving kiss to your temple, arms wrapped protectively around your weak and spent body. “sleep well, pearl.” he spoke, “don’t think about anything, daddy’s here.” you felt the way his hold tightened around you.

you felt too fatigued to reply, instead tilting your head just enough to kiss his hand that was close to your neck, the small gesture carrying your love for the man behind you, making his heart thunder in his chest as you fell asleep, feeling so protected and loved for the first time in so long.

★ SIM JAEYUN ⋆⋆⋆ 심재윤

sim jaeyun was great at many things. acing his physics exams, being the best captain for his university’s football team and being an absolute sweetheart to his teachers and friends.

the only thing that sim jaeyun sometimes lacked in was his ability to give a fuck. especially when it came to his childhood friend, his one sided enemy and shameless copycat.

lee anton, who’s also a close family friend of jake. has been living in his shadow ever since the two could even walk. countless comparisons between the two young boys drew a very fat, drastic line that only distanced them from one another without their parents’ realisation.

sure, anton and jake might’ve sat next to each other at family dinners, passed each other tissues or salt, but the second they were outside of the dining room or the house that pushed them to be in the same vicinity? it was over.

their so called ‘friendship’ was only a show the two of them had unspokenly agreed on in order to not have their families pry into their lives. and for the longest time, it worked.

jake didn’t care. jake couldn’t even bring himself to care about anything anton related while that clearly wasn’t the case for anton.

call it his insecurities or doubts towards everything, he always watched jaeyun from the sidelines with a glint in his eyes that not even he could decipher, whether it was admiration or envy. the only thing anton was sure he felt towards jake, was resentment.

years and years of all of his actions getting nitpicked and compared to jake’s made him only strive to be more. to be better than jake. to reach heights and places the older one could only dream of. but at the same time his dreams only stayed as that, dreams.

because jake— he was untouchable. a dude that had everything and anything really. he was perfect in every aspect. excellent grades, respected by all the sport coaches, admired by every teacher and fawned over by every girl.

and it sickened anton.

because he had multiple things that now he had to improve on, he couldn’t find the one singular thing that jake didn’t have that he could snatch. the one thing he could reach and claim before his enemy could even think about it. he had to figure out a way to make jake jealous, to pay for all of these years of one sided rivalry that only made anton almost lose his sanity.

and so he did.

he found exactly what would set jake off. the only way to turn the tables around and have jake eyeing him from the sidelines.

his crush. anton managed to date you, jake’s obsession and love that no one except his close circle of friends knew about. he had you wrapped around his finger.

you see now as mentioned before, jake didn’t care. he didn’t care what other opinions people had on him, who were getting compared to him or who he was getting compared to himself. he was content and happy in being present in his own bubble, surrounded by his own people he knew he could trust. and well just lived his life.

except he couldn’t do that anymore. not when anton, who was determined to climb up towards jake’s level by also becoming the co-captain of the university’s football team— walked around the halls with his arm wrapped around your waist and lips close to your ear as he whispered a stupid joke that made you laugh. right. in front. of jake.

jake was livid.

for the longest time in his life, he never felt the need to reach his hands out towards something that didn’t come for him first. his eyes never strayed too far away from things that were already meant for him. as difficult as this was to hear for others, jake was simply gifted in many factors in life.

he didn’t try too hard to study and ace all his tests. he was just very intelligent and paid a great amount of attention in his lectures, it wasn’t his fault that he was ridiculously handsome that (as cliche as this sounds) girls fangirled over him when he would pass by the halls. and it really didn’t cost a lot to not be an asshole to others.

so for jake to feel the need to have. the crave to own. the urge to desire something that he wasn’t already divinely gifted? was making him pissed.

he wasn’t even sure himself when his crush on you started, or how it developed to be something that gnawed at his heartstrings everyday. when the smart student of his physics class turned from someone that he only used to admire during his lectures into someone he thought about before falling asleep everynight. what he did know though was the fact that he wanted you.

and was jake someone that didn’t get what he wanted? pfft of course no.

that’s why he had you— anton’s beloved girlfriend who he seemed to forget multiple dates with because he spent too much time ogling jake— clenching down on his leaking length that thrusted past your sopping hole.

“f-fuck! jake— shit! he’s going to hear us!” you mewled his name, body feeling excessively warm, heart thundering against your chest in both anxiety and excitement at the thought of being caught with jake, sweat rolled down both of your bodies while you desperately clawed at jake’s open locker.

jake was currently balls deep inside of you in the football team’s locker room.

where anton was just a hallway away, calling out your name since he had to apologise for missing your fourth date this week.

“scared of letting that asshole hear us? haah— i have no idea why you’re still- fuck.. with him when you have me, angel girl.” he breathed out heavily next to your ear, eyes closing in pleasure as he thrusted into your walls that only seemed to suck him in further and further. he was feeling so ecstatic. so high on your touch and presence that he was holding himself back from filling you up entirely.

you pushed your hips back, actions completely contradicting your own words as you kept tightening around jake with each whiny moan that fell past his bitten lips, “you know i can’t leave him..” you whined, head pressing against the lockers while jake leaned down, hovering his chest above your back.

“why is that, baby? is he remembering all your dates? shit- is he buying you all the jewellery you deserve, angel? i-is he fucking you as good as i am right now?” he bit against the shell of your ear, voice growing desperate, needy, ravenous just to hear you say the words he wants to hear. his satisfaction bubbling in his stomach when you shook your head to everything he groaned to you, denying each and every action that jake would’ve done for you in a heartbeat.

“no! no no he doesn’t— hmm he d-doesn’t- fuck! only you do!” you thrashed under his hold, hips jerking forward from his grip as your abdomen only tightened and tightened further. you felt so good. the stretch of his thick cock splitting you open burned so well. you loved having him so deep inside of you, leaking tip of his dick pressing and kissing all over your sweet spots that had stars spinning around your head.

he laughed breathlessly behind you, reveling in your praises and the way each word was only a further push into his inflated ego, he already knew all of this. he knew how shitty anton was treating you as he was too busy trying to make him jealous. he knew every and each move anton was trying to pull but none of it was going to work.

as he was too busy to study jake’s reactions to even realise that he had his own girlfriend cumming around his enemy’s cock so prettily. falling apart in jake’s embrace as jake only cooed and encouraged you even more. to cum more. to make a mess over his cock. to claim him as yours just as badly as he wanted to claim you as his.

and that’s exactly what you did, with the way his cock kept bullying its way back inside of your walls that continued to milk him for all he’s worth. relishing in the feeling of his hot cum filling you up with warm and thick ropes of his load, you continued to do what he wanted. forming a sheen ring of your combined juices around the base of his cock.

jake kept fucking into you, whispering words after words of praise hotly into your ear while your eyes rolled into the back of your skull. his hand let go of your hip to push in between your sticky inner thighs, fingers working deftly in rubbing circular motions onto your throbbing clit that only pulsed in need under his touch. “telling me to stop.. when she’s sucking me in this well.” he groaned, breaths getting caught in his throat as he felt hot white pleasure spreading all over his body.

“asking me to not fuck you… only thinking about your stupid boyfriend what about her then?” he slapped against your cunt, the wet sounds of his fingers landing on your wet, glistening skin had your mind reeling. “always so selfish not thinking about her.. oh but i always do. i can’t get this pretty cunt out of my head baby.” he shivered behind you, getting lost in the way you kept sucking him in due to his words.

the two of your bodies were moulding into one at this point, your flimsy panties that were pushed to the side with your skirt pushed upwards and jake’s shorts that were pooling by his ankles were the last of your concerns, him fucking you this good and this deep in the public space of your locker’s room was also discarded into the back of your head that was getting gradually fucked into subspace.

your senses heightened, only processing the feeling of jake’s swollen, pulsing tip kissing and pushing against your throbbing cervix that begged to be filled up with his cum over and over again, filled up to the brim as many times as jake could give to you till the two of your bodies gave out.

“you don’t actually want me to s-stop do you, baby?” his voice became shaky, matching your own shaky breathes as he bit against the exposed skin of your neck and shoulders. his hips began to grind against yours, thick swollen balls pressed against the curve of your ass as he barely pulled out an inch or two before stuffing you full of his cock. “t-think about her, princess.” he starts to slap against your pussy again, gentle wet slaps that echo embarrassingly loud in the empty locker’s room.

“telling me to pull out when she’s so greedy f’me?” he moans, chest heaving in deep gulps of breath as he kept holding his orgasm back, reminding himself to not cum before you again. “tell me baby, will he ever breed this pretty little cunt like i’m about to right now?” his hand that was gripping your hip dug his fingers into your plush skin further, leaving indents of his sharp nails behind while you mewled in pained pleasure at the sensation.

you loved it when he marked you, admiring all his marks whenever anton wasn’t home and hiding them away from his eyes, it made you feel excited. a rush of joy sparking in your stomach at the thought of these marks being a secret only you and jake knew about.

“n-no no.. he won’t, jakey he c-can’t!” you hiccuped, his favourite pet name spilling out while you felt your used, swollen pussy aching in pain and need. you felt so wasted, so febrile as your cunt only spasmed around him needily no matter how sore you already were feeling. and jake loved it so much when your body began to respond to him, reacting to every touch and contact made by him and he knew each response like the back of his hand.

he doubted if anton knew how to get your body like this too. flushed and burning in his hold, saturated pussy walls milking and squeezing him, salty droplets of sweat that dribbled down the back of your neck that he had no problem licking up. there was no way anton knew your body like he did.

he knew exactly which buttons to push and which parts to pull, just like how he knew that thrusting his hips so deep to the point where your cervix felt bruised while sneaking one of his hands under your shirt to tug at your hardened nipple and slither his other hand to wrap around your neck, pressing lightly just to make your head spin will have you unraveling again on his throbbing cock.

“there you go princess..” he breathed out, his own eyes rolling to the back of his head as your walls calmped down on him. cunt wrapping around his thick cock like a vice as you creamed and made a mess over his dick just how he liked it. “feels good, angel?” he spoke against the skin of your neck, hands now moving to grip onto his own locker door to stabilise himself. you nodded dumbly to his words. eyes closed as electrifying waves of euphoria twitched along your body.

“good baby.. so so good t’me.. you can take more can’t you now? my pretty girl?” he spoke over the approaching yells of anton, your name spilling past his lips as his eyes darted everywhere in the halls to find your figure. though he didn’t know why his feet led him into the hallway of the football team’s locker room, he just decided to not wonder about it too much.

and you might’ve not been able to hear him over the incessant ringing in your ears as you came down from your high that jake fucked you dumb towards but oh he heard it so clearly. the tone of desperation in his voice was like music to jake’s ears. this right here, was his chance. and he was going to take it no matter what happens.

“think you can take a bit more, princess?” he began to move his hips again, nasty, loud and squelching wet noises echoing in the locker’s room as he pulled in and out allowing a glistening, clear mixed with white mixture of both of your arousals to dribble past your inner thighs, he looked down at the sight of his veiny cock glistening in your syrupy juices. the locker room’s lights reflecting off your pretty stuffed cunt and his thick cock that disappeared between your dripping folds. god he could cum right now if he wanted to. but he still held back.

his hand moved onto your lower back, pressing slightly to bend you down more. deepening the arch of your back to make his cock slip past your drizzling folds, each thrust of his against your hips almost splattering your filthy wetness over your ass cheeks and his pelvis. he pulled his hips slightly back before ramming them forward again. the ridiculously wet noise in combination with your sinful moan made his muscles tighten.

his abs flexing as he lifted his shirt, tugging the hem of it between his teeth to allow the gushing combination of your juices to climb up his stomach, revelling in the way your pussy spurted out more cum, more squirt and more of your sweet syrupy nectar combined with his own on his skin. in a way he felt like you were marking him, rightfully staining your own territory and it made him feral.

“baby?” the distant yells of anton became closer and closer. the stupid pet name that he dared to call you made jake scoff. his jealousy, envy and all nastily negative emotions that swirlied within him made him fuck you harder. harsher. his length pulling at your walls, tugging against your sweet spots making you sob and wail his name, jake’s name in the locker’s room.

“who’s fucking you this good, princess?” he growled, drool dribbling past the corner of his lips as sweat rolled down his temples, the salty droplets finding purchase on his glowing skin before falling atop your shining one. “y-you! jakey.. fuck! oh my god- you you you!” you babbled on, if jake’s mouth was covered in drool yours was a mess. you salivated more and more as he bullied his cock inside of you, marking and moulding your insides to only fit his length. only recognise his dick and veins that decorated his cock.

“what’s my name baby? say it. yell it. scream it, princess. let them all hear who you belong to.” his shaking hand turned to land a harsh slap against your right ass cheek, palm burning at the aggressive contact of your soft skin with his making you cry even more under him. face almost pressed against the cool metal of the locker, pearly tears falling freely onto the wet puddle that the two of you had formed on the floor right between your legs.

“jakey!” you gasped loudly, vision blurry with both overstimulated pleasure and your own tears. a hot pounding forming in the back of your head as jake continued to fuck you stupid on his thick inches that dragged along your creaming walls, clenching and clamping down on him in cadence to his thrusts.

“that’s not my name, princess.” he frustratedly groaned, he was almost able to hear anton’s foot steps as they approached the locker’s room where he had you bent over and sucking in his cock like the perfect slut for him that you were. the slut that anton didn’t even know existed but jake had memorised like the back of his hand.

“d-daddy!” you choked out, swallowing back sobs as another orgasm washed over you, cumming so hard around jake’s cock while he continued to fuck into you, each squirt of your sopping pussy only encouraged him to push back into your cunt. “pushing me out now, is she?” he moaned, head thrown back in pleasure at the added pressure of your cunt both pushing him out and sucking him back in. making his head reel in ecstasy.

“say my name, baby. say it. who owns this fucking pussy?” he thrusted back, attempting to piston his mushroom tip against your sweet spots to make you see stars. “you do, daddy! you do!” mewling under him as your own nails began to dig into your skin. jake felt so much euphoria rushing deep in his veins at your words. the sound of your whiny voice mewling and moaning so sweetly for him while your body squirmed under his hold made him so happy. he had you exactly where he wanted.

at the best position for anton to see right when he walks past the door of the locker’s room.

“am i fucking this pretty cunt good, princess? want me to fill your cheating pussy up? knock you up so you have no choice but to stay with me and not your asshole of a boyfriend, hm?” he egged you on, knowing so so well that anton heard everything. the loud screech of his sneakers against floor of the hallway telling him everything he needed to know and god jake was on cloud fucking nine right now.

“gonna let me breed you? make you pregnant with my baby. have you all round and pretty carrying my baby so you’re mine forever.” he leaned down to kiss against your neck, his balls squeezing more tightly as he finally let go. allowing all the cum stored in them to push against your pretty cervix and womb. filling you up with his hot ropes of cum, knocking you up just how he wanted.

jake didn’t even mind the shocked gasp the fell past anton’s lips at the sight, too high. too drunk and wasted on the feeling of the way your pussy was sucking him in as he triggered another orgasm from you because of his own, he hummed at the feeling, soft whimpers falling past his lips while he held you close to him. god he was cumming so so much. filling you up to the brim so well you could feel his cum flooding your insides, filling up your swollen pussy and uterus so well. there was no way it didn’t take.

your drool was dribbling past your chin as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, jake grinding up against your ass to ride both of your highs out, his hand pressed against the bloated bulge in your lower stomach while broken sobs and whispers of his name made it to his ears. your body was so weak. so used and so utterly exhausted from the continuous fucking and breeding. “feeling tired, mama?” he whispered lustfully against your ear, peeking one eye towards the locker room’s door just in time to catch the faint sight of anton’s sneakers quickly disappearing behind the walls.

he smiled, satisfaction and happiness bubbling in his insides at the thought of finally having you. with no worries or concerns of anton. he felt so joyous. so relieved that you no longer had to deal with that asshole. he finally had you all to himself.

he kept his softening cock buried inside of you, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you impossibly closer before nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. you felt so soft, so nice and warm in his hands when you moved your hand back to tug at his neck, you turned your head back and connected your lips to his.

and just that action alone had jake’s heart bursting with love, he finally had you wrapped around his finger just how you had him for the longest time.

☆ YANG JUNGWON ⟡ 양정원

for yang jungwon, life had always been on easy mode. as if playing an easier, more smoother game of life with less bumps and obstacles in his path. everything almost moulded to his liking and every unfavourable decision changed for the sweethearted guy.

his life was nothing short than average— he was a remarkably good student, great president of his class. trusted tremendously by the teachers, very dearly loved by all animals— well okay maybe his life wasn’t that average.

but he just liked to believe that it was fate, or luck, one of those two didn’t matter which one but he did know that there was some other higher power that played an important role in all of his life events. as surely there was a reasoning behind every single thing that happens in his world.. or maybe not somethings are just meant to be the way the are.

much like his confusing rivalry with his number one public enemy, the guy that he would actually have no problem with killing if he could, haruto.

the hatred, dislike and absolute loath the two shared against each other was a mystery to not only the people surrounding them, but to their own selves as well. jungwon couldn’t pinpoint exactly when his relationship with haruto had began to bend incorrectly but as far as he remembers— it’s always been like that.

the two couldn’t stand each other to stay in the same room. throwing nasty glares at one another before turning their heads to spew hateful words. “this fucking asshole” “this stupid bastard” and their friends were used to it. no matter how many times they attempted to understand, to really know the reason as to just why there was so much ill dislike between them— they just couldn’t reach anything.

“because he’s a cocky son of a bi—“ “yeah okay i think that’s enough.” jungwon got cut off by his younger friend ni-ki when asked about his unexpected distaste towards haruto, no one bothered to figure out the weird and unexplained hostility between the two boys after that.

and for the longest time, with no interaction points between the two. everything seemed to be fine. both of their hearts calming down from beating so much hatred, mouths empty from nasty words and a calm and collected peace of mind for all parties.

but that didn’t last that long.

you see, jungwon wasn’t the best when it came to maintaining relationships— not in a cheating or unloyal kind of way. he just didn’t feel like he was reciprocating the same amount of effort and dedication he was receiving in a relationship, hence most of the ones he’s went through had reached their demise before they were able to fully bloom.

blame it on his busy schedule and duty filled routines, he just sometimes couldn’t push an entire romantic relationship to handle and be apart of into his life at certain periods.

something that haruto was clearly able to do. and god he did not let anyone hear the end of it, especially jungwon.

the problem wasn’t the fact that jungwon couldn’t keep a relationship anymore. jungwon had always wanted to be in one, to be loved and appreciated and doted on by someone he wholeheartedly trusted and saw a future with. he wasn’t afraid to love either. it was just the time factor that he wasn’t sure about giving. not the satisfactory amount for a lover atleast.

but for haruto to rub all of this into his face when he sat at a lunch table with his arm slinged around your hips as you gazed at him with hearts in your eyes? was a bit too much.

“that’s why you can’t keep a fucking relationship!” this sentence coming from haruto during another argument a mere two days later after seeing you two in the cafeteria? oh jungwon was fuming.

this was it. if haruto was so concerned about jungwon being unable to keep a relationship, why not just snatch away his?

which explains how you currently landed in this situation, laying sideways on his bed. one of his hands gently held your leg, keeping an open entrance for him to plunge his cock back inside of your wetness. he felt so ecstatic. so deep as he shoved his thick inches inside of your gummy walls. length exploring and massaging your insides so wonderfully you couldn’t help but moan so prettily for him, small praises tumbling past your lips. you were so dizzy in pleasure.

“feels good, precious?” he would mumble behind you, his own eyelids shut tightly at the feeling of your tight walls sucking him in greedily. a ravenous grip around the base of his cock that had him seeing stars. “s’good won.. f-fuck.. t’ feels amazing..” you huffed, pearly droplets of sweat shimmering prettily over your body as he rolled his hips up against your ass.

his thrusts were short, not too much power behind him as he was so drunk off of your pussy already. they were just right. pushing and kneading against your sweet spots so deliciously and making you bite you lower lip harsh enough to draw a metallic taste into your mouth. he was stuffing you so well. fucking you so good you couldn’t even think about anything else.

especially not the date with haruto you were supposed to be on like right now.

and jungwon knew about it. he knew so well exactly what haruto was planning to do on this date, which flowers he was buying and to which restaurant he wanted to take you to make up for the fact that he was an actual asshole just like jungwon had always known.

because what sane man would be mean to you? no matter how many times you tried to hide it from everyone’s eyes, jungwon knows that you’re not happy in your relationship with haruto. hell— he even got into a relationship to make him jealous in the first place. it wasn’t out of love or whatever lie he was feeding you.

no one except jungwon knew about the disgusting and degrading comments and names haruto would make about you. about his horrible manners and actions that would only make you question the whole purpose of this relationship, because love— what was known as the basis for every relationship, was clearly missing in this one.

but you were too attached to realise that, too used to being around haruto to consider anyone else. so what if he was rude to you? atleast he was your boyfriend. or well.. that was until jungwon walked into the picture, more like waltzed into your life.

“you feel so good around me, doll. milking my cock with this pretty cunt— fuuuck you’re so good to me.” he praised you on and on. mouth and tongue never getting tired from showering you with compliments, something drastically different from you were used to and it felt so nice. different, but a welcomed different.

you shyed away adorably from him, whimpering in his hold as tears sprung into your eyes from both the sensitivity of your cunt and your heart, he felt the way your walls tightened around him at his words. the feeling paired with your body turning warmer and your cute mewls made him coo in your ear. how cute can someone be?

he couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that haruto had actually managed to score you. to date you out of all people. such a sweet souled woman that only deserved praise, love and affection. all things that jungwon couldn’t help but shower you with as you laid under him, taking his cock so well like a good girl. seriously how could haruto not treat you right?

though questioning haruto did become something jungwon gave up on ages ago. the only point he took away from that was if haruto is wrong about something, then there’s a very high chance that jungwon’s right.

and haruto was so so wrong about degrading you. treating you so poorly when all you needed were a few soft whispers of how well you were doing, what a pretty girl you were as you took his big cock in so sweetly to get you to glow more. to flourish right before his eyes when you bucked your hips back against his. eyes shutting in ecstasy while butterflies fluttered in your stomach. feeling so loved and appreciated in the arms of a man you knew would never hurt you.

jungwon was enamoured by you. drowning completely in adoration and love for you. you were so warm in his embrace, body so pliant and responsive to his every move. almost like you were made for his touch. made to allow his fingertips to burn along your skin as they trailed from your waist down to your leg.

so needy, so so desperate to feel him all over you. and he felt the same way. the urge to press his skin against yours, cover your body with his and mould both of them into one you couldn’t tell apart where he was ending and where you were starting, everything felt so hot. so warm so electrictifying as he fucked you open on his cock in a way you’ve never felt before.

“p-please.. leave him for me bunny..” he stuttered out, throat closing up when your walls clamped down on him at the sound of his voice so distant, an entire pitch higher and so debauched in you. you shook your head mindlessly at his words, unable to agree to them, haruto still held a small precious spot in your heart. you were still attached.

“you know he doesn’t deserve you, precious..” his chest heaved in heavy gulps of air, his own waterline aligning with tears as he desperately clawed at your body as if he was almost panicked at the thought of you not leaving. begging you to leave his own enemy and become his. he wanted you so bad. to call you his so bad. to claim you, to please you and to treat you the way you deserve to be treated.

and he could tell you wanted him just as badly. if your body language was anything to go by, he would think you were in love with him already. you were so good to him. felt so incredible around him he couldn’t help but feel his body floating in utter euphoria, pure ecstasy with you.

“i c-can’t.. i can’t do that won.. s’too mean..” you hiccuped, tears rushing down your pretty face making him coo, he slithered his other hand down your waist, middle and ring finger teasing your throbbing clit that pulsed with need. you were so close to the edge of your climax your eyes rolled back when he began to rub slow circles on your aching bud. almost matching them along with the rolls of his hips against yours.

he was fucking you so well. so good. teetering on the edge of complete pleasure as his heavy balls pressed against the wet curve of your ass with every motion. the sound so lewd and sinful it made your head spin with each smack! smack! everything felt too good. too much.

“don’t you think him not fucking this pretty cunt good is too mean, bun?” he laughed breathlessly, eyelids fluttering shut when his raging hot tip that leaked tremendous amounts of pre nudged against your cervix, you sobbed out incoherent words. mind turning into a puddle of mush in your skull as you were unable to process or think about anything other than jungwon’s dick fucking you open like this.

he nudged his nose against your ear, hand and hips picking up in speed to ram inside of your snug cunt that only seemed to suck him in further. sticky, glistening ropes of arousal connected his hips and pelvis to your ass cheeks that were covered in a white mess. you had lost count about the amount of times you’ve creamed on him now, and jungwon didn’t mind at all.

with your hot breaths fanning against one another, warm, sweaty bodies moving in cadence and your insides feeling so sensitive and sore, neither of you were able to pick up the echoing sound of your phone ringing on the bedside table. the call coming from none other than haruto.

“come to me pretty bunny.. leave him and- haah— shit.. come to me.” he moaned by your ear, finger incessant in rubbing against your clit and to coax out another orgasm out of you and another and another.

you were feeling so delirious at this point. having jungwon— a guy that your heart soared for fucking you and dragging out so many highs out of you while begging you to leave your asshole of a boyfriend was so.. intense. it was so much. way too much for your brain to comprehend.

“you know i-i can treat you better right?… so much better than him..” he whined, so lost on you, so gone and drunk on the flavour of you atop his senses. overtaking his every thought, his every idea, his entire brain and whole heart completely. and he loved it. as if hexed by a spell you casted upon him, he relished in it.

and you revelled in his attention, his love that he continued to rain on you, possessed by his presence and enchanted entirely. as if stuck under his hypnosis, the movements of his body against yours, his whispers of sweet words, sweet promises and dirty nasty things he would do to you if you were his had you hexed so so deep into his own spell. tangled in a passion dedicated to him and formed by him only.

you nodded in a lucid manner to his words, eyes droopy as they opened and closed with your vision blurry. you could barely pick up the way you were unraveling around his length again. gummy walls clamping down around the base of his cock for the nth time in the past few hours as you came so hard.

“just like that bun… cumming around my cock so good doll.. needy cunt sucking me in so so well.” he spoke deliriously, his own consciousness slipping away before he finally heard your ringtone. the thought of it being haruto made his inside twinge in excitement. his hand moved imperceptibly, wrapping his fingers around the device while you were still lost in your stupor of pleasure.

he glanced at the small screen and couldn’t help the wide cheshire grin that spread across his features at the sight of ‘haruto ♡’ this was it.

he quickly answered the call, lowering the volume to not have you hear his worries and apologies that instantly began to spill out the speaker. you were so caught up in your own high, eyes closed as jungwon kept rocking his hips against yours making you get stuck on subspace as he remained restless. not taking a second to stop and trapping you in a constant state of ecstasy. and you were loving every second of it.

“feeling good, baby bunny?” he asked loudly, unnoticeably switching the phone to his other hand that kept holding your leg up and lowering the speaker right against your cunt. making the wet smacking sounds, the slaps of his heavy balls against your ass echo in haruto’s ears as he felt his heart drop.

that voice. was too familiar for his liking.

“s’good won.. shit— feels s’good..” you babbled on, soft hands gripping roughly at his ruined bedsheets as there was almost a puddle forming between the two of your bodies, more cum more wetness more arousal seeping out of your fucked hole when jungwon would pull slightly out. a mere inch that will make his cum leak outside of your gummy walls before squeezing himself back in and god the sound was so filthy. so nasty as it echoed for all three of you.

“who’s making you feel this good, hm? tell me who’s filling up this pretty little greedy cunt, bun?” he bit against your ear, licking the shell of it sensually as the need and urge to devour you was just worsening with every second. he needed to feel you everywhere, taste you everywhere and touch you everywhere.

“you are— fuck! you’re making me feel so good.” you mewled under his hold. writhing in complete pleasure and ecstasy as he kept pushing his cock between your puffy and glistening folds. “what’s my name, my pretty bunny?” he whispered lewdly into your ear, his mere voice almost acting like an aphrodisiac for you. making you more needier and wetter for him.

“daddy! ngh daddy you feel s’good!” gasping his favourite name for him so loudly, unaware of the fact that haruto choked on his own spit at how slutty you sounded. voice almost an entire pitch higher and voracious. he felt his own pants tightening at the filthy sounds filling his ears. you never sounded like this with him hell— your room never sounded like this when you were with him.

“good girl.. such a good obedient little bunny for me, screaming her daddy’s name like the good bunny she is..” he kissed along your skin lovingly, dropping the phone onto the bed without a care if haruto had hung up or not, you were right in front of him and he wasn’t able to not give you his full attention. not when you sounded so slutty and needy for him.

he wrapped his arms around your waist, relishing in the way your cunt tightened and tightened around his cock as another orgasm washed over you, you sobbed his name, pretty little tears falling along his stained bedsheets as he switched the position.

he gently laid down your aching leg, the soreness of your body making you wince with the combined pleasure before he situated himself onto his knees. holding your thighs open just enough to see your ruined gaping hole leaking in front of him. the sight making his pulsating cock twitch before he pushed it back inside of you.

the two of you groaned in pleasure, both of you way past being gone. you were completely cock drunk while he was entirely pussy drunk. his mind spun with the way you still tried to suck him deeper, tight mushy walls milking his length and greedily clamping down on him. “f-fuck i’m s’close bun.. gonna let me cum inside of your slutty pussy, hm?” he breathed out. sweat rolling from his temples down his chest and even reaching his glistening, muscular thighs.

you buried your head against the pillow, mind completely high and lost on the way jungwon kept fucking you into subspace. nodding against the wet pillowcases as jungwon was almost about to push past your cervix. “that’s my girl.. my pretty little bunny letting me breed her pussy like this.” he groaned, his abdomen tightening further before he finally released the cum stored in his heavy balls that slapped noisily onto your inner thighs.

hot, long spurts of his cum webbed along your insides, filling you up to the brim and pressing right against your cervix. your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt your lower stomach almost bloating with his cum. he was releasing so so much. warm cum making your insides turn hotter as he kept fucking it back inside of you.

his groans and moans, whispers of your name and how good you felt barely reached your ringing ears, hell he couldn’t even hear his own words himself. his ears popping as he finally released the final spurts of his unusually prolonged and intense release before he dropped on top of you. caging your body beneath his.

he cracked one eye open, moving to look at the phone screen that just now closed as haruto finally hung up from the call. he noticed the way you were trying to catch your breath, slipping in and out of consciousness and took this as an opportunity to open your phone.

memorising your password as haruto’s stupid birthday, he quickly went through your home screen to find your messages. where he could already spot multiple notifications from his enemy.

haruto ♡: you fucking bitch

haruto ♡: how dare you fuck my own enemy out of everyone else

haruto ♡: i should’ve never trusted a whore like you

jungwon felt his eye twitching at the way he was texting you. anger rising up like along with the fatigue in his body before he tapped onto your keyboard

my love ♥︎: never text this number again you stupid asshole.

read

haruto ♡ is typing…

and before he could text another nasty message, he blocked his number for good.

now discarding your phone back onto the bedside table, he turned towards you littering your shoulders and exposed skin with affectionate kisses before whispering how much he loved you into your ears.

and at the end of the day, jungwon still took the one thing haruto kept teasing him for and shoving in his face. his beloved girlfriend.

a,note. yay :D ! quick karinasbaby comeback while i’m busy w uni, hopefully ill be able to post more soon if not pls know that im trying my hardest 😞 hope u enjoyed !!! ♡

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