#Shit I'm not even tagging this one no one deserves to see this

[just-here-for-the-moment]

She Comes First (Part I)

This was started as part of @wannab-urs DMAMC fic challenge, but I just did not finish the fic on time (sad trombone)... so here's Part I (the buildup) and I'll post Part II (the payoff) as soon as it's finished.

Please go check out the rest of the DMAMC tags for more delicious fics!! This has been a really fun fic challenge, and I'm still happy with everything I've written so far.

Word count: 10,299 (nobody look at me!) Rating: Explicit, for 18+ only legally (but really ages 35+ only for the vibes, this is adult shit) Outline: alternating dual POV; Frankie “Catfish” Morales x domme!fem!Reader insert (Reader insert is 40+, able-bodied, has boobs and a pussy, wears corporate/business clothes to work, and wears pumps/heels) but otherwise is a total blank slate (no physical description, not white-coded, no blushing, no descriptions of hair or skin) Warnings: Femdom; Frankie is brand new to SSC (safe/sane/consensual) BDSM; characters drink alcohol; curse words and vulgar language (all the good stuff you expect from one of my smutfics); eventual smut; lots and lots and lots of talking about BDSM limits (but I tried to make it hot). 

You settle yourself at the bar, resting your feet on the brass crossbar of the leatherette stool, sinking against the low backrest with a sigh as you wave down the bartender. 

What a week… Fuck the clients and their demands, and your boss’s caving every time they snap their fingers. A drink to start, and then some well-deserved Friday night play. 

Hopefully there will be at least one interesting man tonight, someone you can invite to a hotel room and use as the finest form of stress release. Someone who can be a good boy, who can obey your orders and give you pleasure that you’ll return tenfold when he earns it. 

You look up, using the large mirror above the bar to scan the room behind you, taking advantage of the fact that it’s tilted at an angle, giving you a view not only of people walking behind you, but also the booths and their occupants. You can stare for as long as you like—no one really ever notices anyway, engrossed in their own good time. 

Of course, there’s always one guy who wants to catch your eye, come over and sit next to you and seduce you (ick) but you can see that type coming from a mile away, and they’re not who you’re interested in. Finance or tech bros, ties loose and eyes too shiny with whatever top-shelf shit they’ve imbibed too much of before you even walked in. 

As the bartender places your drink in front of you, you catch the reflection of a booth full of men behind you and a few feet to your left. A young one, very blond and muscled and wearing a white sleeveless T-shirt seated next to another, darker blonde man in a sedate navy blue polo, a short, trimmed beard giving him a corporate look. The two seats opposite them are occupied by a shorter man in a black shirt, his dark curls shot through with gray, and the fourth man is different, a little taller and a lot broader than the others, wearing a mesh baseball cap.

He’s wide through the shoulders, arms straining beneath a soft chambray denim shirt, even softer-looking curls escaping from beneath the brim of his hat. He’s smiling and even laughing at moments, but he’s much quieter than the other three, especially the rowdy one you’ve nicknamed Muscles and the smirking dark-haired man seated next to the wall. You see all four of them raise their beer glasses to toast to something, but their laughter is gone, replaced by somber expressions. The shortest one, the smirky one, mouths an “Amen” but you can’t hear it over the din of the bar. 

You consider the group, carefully scanning each of them for tells, little hints that any of them might be of interest, might be a good time for the evening. 

The youngest one—he’s too ebullient, too boisterous for what you want to give. He wouldn’t pay attention, wouldn’t follow instructions and be a good boy. And definitely not the smirker in the black shirt; he’s handsome and he knows it. He’d be a brat, try to wrest control from you, make it a challenge that he’s leading. The other blond, the quieter one; he’s handsome enough, but something about the set of his jaw and the way he carries himself when he strides up to the bar to order another round—that power, that inner peace—this is not his thing, you can tell. And that leaves…

Baseball cap. Soft, kind eyes and a strong nose, plush lips just beneath a patchy little mustache. A little sad, much quieter than the others and much larger. He’s a big boy, all broad shoulders and work-strong arms under that soft blue shirt, his sleeves rolled up his forearms for comfort, but giving a show of how strong he must be. A physique crafted by hard work and daily routines, entirely different from the sweat-slick muscles of the younger blond. That one must be a gym rat or a boxer or something, self-focused when he flexes his bicep at the short, dark one in the black shirt and gets a smirk and a “Fuck you” in return, a playful slap that glances off his elbow as he cackles and lowers his arm.

Baseball cap laughs and shakes his head, eyes flicking to his heavy glass stein, two-thirds full of golden, bubbling liquid, still working on his first drink when Polo Shirt returns with a tray of three beers for himself and the others. He’s savoring, sipping where the others quaff, holding a palm out and shaking his head with an emphatic “No,” that you can read on his lips in the mirror after the younger blonde raises his arms and shouts, “Shots!” loud enough for you to hear it over the crowd. 

Baseball cap is enjoying himself, taking it slow, licking his lips after each sip of beer. It must be his reward for a Friday night, a work week well-done, a rare treat on a night out with the guys. You can tell he’s comfortable with them. It’s not the quiet nervousness of someone awkward, someone new who’s trying to fit in with a louder crowd. These are his friends, and they take him as he is, even when he’s got his eyes down, trailing a blunt fingernail over the graffiti marks on the solid wood table instead of joining in the jovial conversation. 

He lifts his eyes and suddenly they’re locked on yours in the mirror, dark and rich, eyes you could drown in if that was your thing. He flicks his gaze away for a moment and you blink—and there he is again, a little shy after another nanosecond of eye contact, flicking his eyes away and then looking down, taking a sip of his beer with the same focus he probably used for final exams in school. His eyes find yours in the mirror once more and this time you smile, gentle and soft, just a curve up at the corners of your mouth. Baseball cap’s dark eyes go wide for a moment before he swallows hard and looks back down at his beer.

Bingo. 

He’s the one. The shy ones, the gentle giants, the big guys with kind eyes—they’re your favorite. Much more relaxed in middle age than the college boys you sometimes play with, the eager ones who are so distracted by their nerves that they can hardly follow direction. You know that you fulfill some kind of mommy kink or older woman fantasy for them—and you don’t mind, because you know the rules on both sides of the game. But the eager young things get tiresome after a while, and it starts to feel like you’ve signed up to teach, rather than to enjoy yourself. 

You let them down gently but firmly, with a kiss and a reassuring pat—letting them know that they did good, but it’s just not going to turn into a long-term relationship, and maybe they should share those fantasies with a woman their own age. You tell them to look for someone serious, a girl who scares them a little, who they would never normally approach for a date. You know that there are plenty of young women at their university who would jump at the chance to boss them around in bed, and that there’s a girl for each one of those young, eager boys—a stressed-out hard sciences major who just wants to exercise a little control in her own life, and she’ll eagerly wield all manner of paddles and punishments if they ask her sweetly to dominate them. 

You’re tired, too, of the single men who have been in the scene long enough to know what they want��and what they want always seems to be a collar, a lifelong promise of devotion on both sides, and you just aren’t in the market for that. The usual circles of people in this town who are looking for some casual weekend play have gotten stale. They’re mostly couples in long-term relationships—and god, you know it’s selfish, but you don’t want to share. You want someone entirely focused on you, who won’t be thinking about what their own domme might do to them later, who will eagerly come when you call instead of having to ask permission from someone else to go on a playdate. 

And that leaves… fresh meat, new men. Men who you screen very carefully before you start a casual hookup. Men who look like they’ll be a good little pet in bed, if they can follow instructions, if they can shed any of the hang ups they have and go all-in with you for a night or a weekend. Men who have a deeply-buried desire to cede control, who have maybe never voiced it to a woman in their entire life, but who need it just as desperately as they need air. 

They’re just looking for someone to call it out of them, to give them the words they don’t have yet to describe what they’re longing for, what they ache for deep down when they’re fisting their cocks in the shower and replaying scenes from their favorite porn videos in their head. The whips, the restraints, the high heels and the stern voice of their favorite porn star dominatrix. The way she pulls the male actor’s hair when she tilts his head back and spits in his mouth, towering over him as he kneels before her, his hands behind his back and his cock as hard as iron and she hasn’t even looked at it yet, let alone touched it. Those are the men you need, the ones who have desired this for years, but have always been too shy or embarrassed or scared to ask for it. 

And if Baseball Cap fits that mold, you’ll gladly take him home for the night. You could do so much for him, let those desires out of the little box that he’s buried them in, tell him it’s okay to ask for what he wants, put his desires first for once, instead of always trailing behind his more extroverted friends. And, hey, if you shoot your shot and he’s not into that, there are plenty of other subby little fish in the sea. But he looks delicious, and you want to hook him with a lure he doesn’t even know exists right now. 

You decide to play a game, to see if you can get his attention and keep it. 

He’s so sweet, glancing up at you in the mirror when he thinks you’ve turned your gaze away, only to find that your eyes are still scanning him, gently assessing him, an appreciative little smile on your lips. Then he ducks his head and goes back to his beer.

His cheeks go pink after the second round of this game, his ears after the fourth or fifth, starting flushed and then blazing red. He’s a cutie, shy and growing more bashful by the second as his friends catch wind of what he’s looking at and start to rib him for it. 

Muscles cranes his neck over to look, his playful eyes wide as he sees you in the mirror. He turns back to Baseball Cap with a shit-eating grin and says something that makes Baseball Cap hide his face behind his hand. Polo shirt goes for casual, turning his gaze to the bartender as if he’s gauging how busy the line for drinks might be before he slides his eyes over you without a change in expression. 

Smirky gives you a big grin and a very flirty wink in the mirror and you drop your smile, raising one eyebrow with a shake of your head. Not you, Smirky.

You shift your gaze to look at the reflection of his friend, making sure that Smirky can see your eyes trailing from his work-worn boots to his hips, all the way up his arms to the top of his well-loved baseball cap. Smirky gets the message and elbows Baseball Cap, leaning down to murmur something in his ear that makes Baseball Cap sit up with a start, shaking his head and pulling on his earlobe in nervousness. 

Smirky elbows him again, hard, and you’re delighted when Baseball Cap turns back to look at you and catches your eyes in the mirror, bashful hope written all over his face, the shyness dropping away bit by bit as his interest grows. You smile again, tilting your head at the empty stool next to you at the bar and he turns back to his friends, eyebrows raised for help, seeking guidance. 

Good boy, you think… What a good boy, asking for help when you need it, opening up to the idea of coming over here, seeing what the pretty lady wants with you. 

He looks back at the mirror, sees you still looking, then takes a larger gulp of beer before rubbing his hands nervously on his denim-clad thighs. He braces his legs and then slides out of the booth, turning his back to you for a moment to look at his friends for a final bit of guidance. 

All three shout, “Go!” to him in unison, you can hear it over the din, and just as he turns to approach you… a slimeball slides into the seat next to you, wrapping one arm over the back of your barstool as if he has any right to your personal space or attention. 

Your heart falls when Baseball Cap takes in the scene, his hope fading to disappointment as he looks away and then strides off to the restroom, as if that was his plan all along. 

“Wha’s a pretty little thing like you doing here all alone, sweetheart?”

You take a sip of your drink and swivel toward him, knocking his arm off the back of your chair with a scowl. 

“Not interested. Please leave.”

Slimeball’s confused expression slides over his face slower than it should, a clue to how inebriated he already is. This was going to be irritating, the drunk ones always making more trouble than you want. Not that any man took rejection well… you could count on one hand the number of men who had taken your “No, thank you,” gracefully and apologized for bothering you before disappearing back to mind their own beeswax. 

“What d’ya mean? I’m just trying to make a little conversation, s’all.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Baseball Cap’s three friends start to slide out of the booth. Trouble-stoppers, good guys, you can tell. You’re grateful for their presence, even if you can handle this sort of thing entirely yourself… just in case it gets ugly. They stay standing near their table, watching carefully and taking their cues from you instead of rushing in to white knight the situation—and that’s even better than just being willing to step in. They seem like men who care about and respect women, green flags all around. 

“But you shouldn’t have to drink alone, pretty girl. M’just tryna save you from a boring night.”

You narrow your eyes at Slimeball and lower your chin, scowling at him like you’re an angry bull facing off a threat, and then… oh no, here comes Baseball Cap back from the restroom, stopping abruptly when he sees his friends focused on you, watching intently as Slimeball tries to put his hand on your thigh. If looks could kill, Slimeball would have a hole in the back of his head right now. 

In the corner of your vision Baseball Cap looks pissed off, but you sense it’s not uncontrolled anger. He’s quiet in the way he settles his body, one hand waving his friends back into their seats while the other hangs at his side, making a loose fist and releasing it, over and over. Not immediately springing into action, not itching to start something ugly in the crowded bar, but prepared just in case—the rest of his body still, taut, alert… ready. 

You slap Slimeball’s hand off your knee, then you raise your volume and lower your pitch, making your voice deep and loud, hoping the sound will carry to Baseball Cap and his friends, letting them know you’re okay and can handle it. 

“I said ‘no’ and I meant it. Leave. Now.” 

Fortunately Slimeball takes the hint, his face dropping into a disgruntled pout: he’s just a little boy who thinks the world owes him something, that women are vending machines that he can put kindness or attention or flirting tokens into and get guaranteed sex in return. A little boy whose Mommy didn’t say “no” enough, a boy who never learned that women are human beings, and that every man who is lucky enough to walk the Earth was born of a woman and he better damn well respect his origins.

“Fuck you, you fucking bitch.” The waft of his pathetic liquor breath hits you and you turn back to your own drink, making a show of being entirely unbothered. 

“Slut,” spits Slimeball as he moves to dismount the stool and almost slides to the floor. 

Ah, a classic, the final paradoxical rebuke from many a damaged man—you won’t put out for him, so you must be a slut, secretly fucking every other man in the bar and withholding your public favors only from him.

Slimeball turns and lurches toward the back hall, heading for the men’s room, or maybe the exit to the alley where he can vomit and regret his life choices—you don’t care which. You shake your head to yourself and look up in the mirror. 

Baseball Cap is sliding back into the booth, and when he looks at you again, there’s a small smile and a nod, acknowledgement that you’re capable of handling jerks and idiots by yourself. He tunes into the conversation his friends are having, and he looks like he’s lost interest in answering your call from before, no longer riding the wave of brimming courage he had built up just a few minutes ago. 

You sip the last of your drink and ponder your next move. Maybe it was time to be more bold, more direct, except… now Smirky is needling his friend, talking intently to Baseball Cap, but only succeeding in making him more and more defiant, his head shaking so hard it seems like his hat might come right off. Muscles joins the pile-on, while Polo Shirt puts one hand out across the table, entreating Baseball Cap in a gentler way. 

He shakes his head again, and Smirky shoves him, launching Baseball Cap halfway out of the booth, making him stumble a bit until he rights himself and stands up. He moves to sit down again, but Smirky slides across the seat and blocks him, staring up at him stubbornly with a stern, “Go,” that you can lip read in the mirror. 

Baseball Cap sighs and wipes his broad hand down his face, then reaches up and lifts the cap a few inches to sweep his hair back before he squares it on his head and takes a first, hesitant, step toward you. 

You watch in the mirror as he approaches, long legs clad in faded denim, moving slowly but smoothly toward you. Good boy.

Baseball Cap sidles up to you at the bar and you turn to him, smiling so that it reaches your eyes, so that he knows that he’s welcome to approach you, that you’re eager to talk with him. He’s much broader up close, and his eyes are so soft. A sudden image pops into your mind: your legs thrown over those shoulders, his face buried between your legs while you grip his hair, and you feel electricity begin to tingle in your core. 

He clears his throat and swallows, eyebrows knitted slightly, his plush lips parting with a quick flick of his tongue as he takes a deep breath.

Oh, he’s precious, so nervous and hopeful. Eager boy. This is going to be so much fun. 

“Hi, I’m—” his voice goes scratchy and he clears his throat to try again. “I’m Frankie.”

He puts his hand out and you grip it firmly. 

“Nice to meet you, Frankie. I was hoping you would come over and talk to me.”

He smiles, some of the tension leaving his shoulders, but not much. Still unsure of himself, uncertain of what this might be after getting a front-row seat to your swift handling of the other man’s unwelcome advances. His brown eyes go crinkly at the corners when he smiles, and you guess he’s probably forty, give or take a few years. 

Excellent. A man who has some years under his belt, who won’t be afraid to have an adult conversation with you, someone on your level for once. Fully grown, experienced, handsome. A man. 

“So, do you live around here, or-”

You put a hand up and cut him off. You don’t want Frankie to try to charm you, to make small talk because he thinks he has to. You smile as warmly as you can so that he doesn’t think you’re upset.

“Actually, Frankie, I’d like to skip the small talk and tell you that I want to have sex with you. Is it alright with you if we just talk about what I’m interested in doing? See if you’re open to it?”

Frankie’s jaw drops, his beautiful mouth opening an inch or so, and it makes you want to bite his dimpled lower lip, make him speechless again and again, reduce him to a quivering, happy puddle.

You hold his eyes, watching the gears turn quickly as he snaps his mouth shut and blushes furiously, trying to recover from the shock.

“I—um, yeah… I mean yes. Yes, please.” He smiles and ducks his head, then meets your eyes again as he relaxes totally, all nerves gone now. “I’d like that. Thank you for being so direct.”

Your heart sings. What a polite guy, respectful and eager and appreciative.

“You’re welcome. So you’re up for talking a little more?”

He nods, perfect white teeth showing in his soft smile. 

You hope he’ll be receptive to your next command, another little screening tool of yours. Small commands, reasonable things, before you pull the curtain back all the way and tell Frankie exactly what he can expect if he decides he wants to go further.

“In that case, go tell your friends they can take off without you.” 

You tilt your head in their direction, and Frankie grins, all happiness and dimples, now that he knows he doesn’t have to wade through the usual chit-chat and awkward “getting to know you” questions. He doesn’t have to try, he doesn’t have to calculate the odds of striking out, or figure out a way to rebuild his confidence if this falls apart.

You know that simple, direct commands can bring relief, remove the stress of having to make decisions and weigh consequences. It’s a gift to the right man when you flip the gender-norm tables and show your strength and your assertiveness, let him know that happiness and gratification are just on the other side of following directions.

And Frankie seems to be receptive to it.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You smile, watching in the mirror as Frankie lopes back to the booth, stands with his back to the bar and hooks a thumb over his shoulder to indicate to his friends that he’s ditching them. The butterflies between your legs flutter harder.

Muscles exclaims “Whoo!” like his favorite team just scored a touchdown, and you chuckle to yourself as you see Smirky pass a folded twenty-dollar bill across the table to Polo Shirt.

Frankie returns to sit in the empty stool next to you. You raise your hand, signaling to the bartender for a refill while Frankie peruses the menu to see what else they have on tap. Within thirty seconds his friends are standing up to leave, and since Frankie has his back to them he can’t see Smirky approaching with a mischievous look on his face. 

You look over Frankie’s shoulder at Smirky and shake your head once, firm, mouthing a stern, “No” at him. And thank god he’s not stupid, he just makes a little moue, a pout of disapointment but pairs it with a nod, understanding that his intrusion would not be welcome.

Smirky follows Muscles and Polo Shirt to the front door, and then they’re gone and you’re finally, blessedly alone with Frankie.

And now the real fun can begin.

Frankie can’t believe his good luck. His head is still spinning from your bold and direct manner, not to mention your sparkling eyes and winning smile. He can’t remember the last time a woman knocked him off-center this fast, and he welcomes it. 

Frankie trails his eyes over the bar menu, wondering why more women don’t just… say what they want. He could have saved so much time, skipped so many bad dates and hookups if he’d met a woman like you decades ago. He settles on a lager, and after he places his order with the bartender, you touch the back of his hand softly, just a graze, and he turns his eyes back to you.

You’re so… intense is what Frankie wants to think, but that word has negative connotations. And you’re definitely not a negative experience, you’re just so specific and present in the moment—direct—and the more Frankie thinks about it, the more he likes it.

“There’s a booth that just opened up in the corner,” you nod your head toward it. “I’m going to go sit down. Please bring the drinks over when they’re ready?”

Frankie nods, eager to please. “You got it.”

You smile, and Frankie feels like he’s just done something good, something that makes you happy. He’s surprised to find that he wants to do it again and again, and as you slide off the bar stool, he reaches his hand out to help you down, get you steady on your feet so that you don’t wobble in your office heels.

“What a gentleman,” you say. You shoot him another warm, soft smile, and Frankie swears his heart is going to explode with pride.

Fuck, you’re gorgeous. Frankie is so fucking thankful that he came over to talk to you. (He’ll never tell Santi it was his shove that finally did it—his ego is already big enough, the asshole.) But Frankie is already counting his lucky stars as he watches you walk away, hips swaying gently, mesmerizing him until he’s startled by the bartender plunking two glasses down in front of him.

Frankie opens a tab (hoping he’ll have much more time with you this evening), and carries the drinks over to you as carefully as he can. He sets them on the table and then pauses, a thought occurring to him.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” Frankie tries to keep his voice even, steady, but it seems to want to crack and go higher, his heart fluttering in his chest with the hope that he can do more for you.

He doesn’t know why. You’ve already told him what you want—to talk more about having sex with him—so it’s not like he needs to court you or gain favor. But something about you, about your assertiveness, makes Frankie want to please you. You’re clearly a very strong woman, you know what you want (and heaven knows Frankie is still wondering why you want him), and that strong personality of yours is calling to him like a siren song.

You shake your head. “No, but thank you. Sit down.”

That smile again, your sparkling and curious eyes… you’re intoxicating. Frankie tries to hide his disappointment, but he’s hoping that later there will be something else he can do for you, get for you, hell—make for you that will please you again.

“So…” you take a sip of your drink and meet Frankie’s gaze as your eyes sharpen. Not mean, just intelligent and direct. No bullshit.

It’s a breath of fresh fucking air as far as Frankie is concerned, and he feels just as floaty as he did back on that frozen mountain in Colombia, where the air was thin and ice cold. He smiles and waits, his instincts telling him that you’re about to blow his mind, and he won’t interrupt you while you’re in the middle of it.

“I wanted to talk with you more, Frankie, because what I’m looking for is very specific.”

Frankie swallows a sudden lump, worrying that he’s not what you’re looking for. It’s the result of damaged confidence born of too many conversations with girls whose wide eyes suddenly turn to Benny when he walks by. And far too many bored and disinterested women who get Frankie as their consolation prize when Santi hooks up with their best friend, and the happy couple (for the night) shoves their two wingmen together out of pity. Are you about to dismiss him?

But no, that couldn’t be right, because you had asked him to stay, invited him specifically to talk about sex. You’d already chosen him. And that thought cheers Frankie immensely. He thought he had read your signals correctly, he just wasn’t absolutely sure, so he talked himself out of coming over to you about nine different times. But now… now there is nothing to misread. You chose him, invited him, selected him. He’s wanted.

Frankie takes a deep breath, raising his eyebrows and nodding to you, holding your eyes with his own even though yours are almost too pretty to look directly into. But he wants you to know that he’s listening, taking you seriously.

You smile again, mysterious and secretive, and Frankie’s gaze flicks to your mouth as you open it to speak again. Whatever it is that you’re looking for, whatever specific thing you need, he’s determined to give it to you.

He wonders for a moment whether that’s crazy, whether he’s too far gone already for you when you’re still basically a stranger. And then he suddenly realizes he doesn’t even know your name! But Frankie knows, feels it with a conviction that he hasn’t felt in many years that he’ll be what you want, do what you need, twist himself into any shape that you’re seeking.

As long as you keep looking at him with those sharp eyes, that discerning smile. As long as you let Frankie stay in your orbit, he’ll be whatever kind of “specific” you demand.

You cock an eyebrow, “What do you know about dominant and submissive relationships?”

Frankie blushes, ducks his head and takes a sip of his beer, collecting himself. Your direct and plain language is doing things to him, and he wants to answer you just as frankly and matter-of-fact as you deserve.

“Ah, um… I know about them, a little bit about them, but I’ve never been in one. Does that answer your question?” Frankie hopes it does, and he feels a sweep of relief when you nod.

“It does.”

You smile again and Frankie can’t tear himself away from your eyes. He wants to make them sparkle like that every day. He smiles back at you and feels… happy, proud. He did it right, answered you correctly, and he wants to do it again.

You sip your drink, and Frankie watches you flick your tongue across your lower lip to catch an errant drop. He’s mesmerized, could watch you do that over and over again. 

You continue, “And from what you know, would you be interested in that dynamic? In taking part in a sexual relationship with one partner being dominant and the other partner taking a submissive role?”

Frankie feels his ears turn red. He’s never been one to be “mean” in bed, to do anything that might hurt his partner, and now he’s not sure if this is the right answer or not, but what the hell—

“I’ve never really thought about it. Everyone kinda knows about it from that book that came out, but I just— I honestly don’t think it would turn me on to tie a woman up…” Frankie trails off. Was that the right answer? Are you going to be upset?

He’s reassured by your chuckle and the way that you lean closer, grasping the back of his hand with your soft one, giving him a quick squeeze and a pat before you let go to take another sip of your drink.

“Good. Okay, that’s good for me to know.”

Frankie wonders where this is going, because if it turns out that he’s not what you’re looking for… he might just swear off dating altogether, become a monk and go live out the rest of his life somewhere remote, somewhere that would wipe the stain of utter disappointment from his psyche.

“I’m actually not looking for someone to tie me up,” you smile.

And Frankie is relieved again, happy to continue the conversation as long as you’ll keep smiling at him like that. He relaxes his shoulders, trying to drain the tension built up from the rollercoaster of unease and happiness that he’s been riding for the past thirty minutes. He wishes he was cooler, more like Pope, more outgoing like Benny, as self-assured as Will—then maybe he would stop psyching himself out and just be able to go with the flow.

“And I’m not necessarily looking for someone that I can tie up, but I do like being in charge.” You wink at him, and Frankie feels something warm behind his sternum. Interesting.

“Would you be open to that, Frankie? Would you like me to be in charge of you?”

His cock immediately stirs at that, and Frankie swallows hard. Images of you standing over him in a vinyl bustier and stiletto-heeled boots suddenly flash through his brain.

A blindfold. Handcuffs. Spankings.

Frankie feels lightheaded, all of his blood rushing south as he opens his suddenly-dry mouth and closes it again, blinking rapidly to try to come up with something that isn’t just heavy breathing and awkward noises.

He nods, having no clue about where this idea has been all his life. Of course you would be in charge, you’re so perfect for it.

A parade of ex-girlfriends marches through his mind, and now it’s like a spotlight is shining on his memories, showing everything in crystal clear detail. Frankie recognizes that his favorite women, the ones he had fallen madly in love with throughout his life—they were the strong ones, the bossy ones—all the way back to his first crush in elementary school.

A girl named Maria with long, straight black hair in a ponytail had chased him around the playground, taunting him with threats of a kiss. Frankie had been embarrassed when he tripped and fell, the other kids laughing at him, one boy shouting that he had brought the dreaded curse of ‘girl cooties’ upon himself. But when the girl kneeled over him, blocking out the sun, she was backlit perfectly and looked just like Frankie had imagined an angel would. She kissed his cheek with a loud smack, Frankie’s heart did a flip, and he wondered why her strawberry lip gloss suddenly smelled so good.

When she ran off to find another victim, disappointment flooded his chest. Frankie had felt the phantom kiss lingering on his skin for days, wondering if and when he could get her to chase him again. Whether he could earn another kiss, another brush with sweetness.

“Yeah—” Frankie’s voice cracks again, and he swallows hard.  “I—fuck, yes. Sorry for my language, I just… how did you know?”

Your mouth turns up and your eyes flash amusement, but he can tell you’re not laughing at him, you’re just pleased with his answer. And there goes that warm sensation flooding his guts again, his heart beating just a tad more rapidly at the images that are now somersaulting through his brain.

You, fully in charge, dressed for a day at the office. Frankie on his knees in front of you, naked and vulnerable. Your soft hand cradling his jaw. Your firm voice calling him a ‘good boy,’ telling him he’s done well, telling him you’re proud of him.

Frankie bites his lip, huffing out a breath to calm his racing thoughts.

“Well, I’ve been doing this for a while, and I’m not shy about asking for what I want,” you smile.

You shrug. “It’s not like I’m psychic. If you’d said ‘no’ there would be no hard feelings on my part. I’d simply pay for your beer and send you on your way.”

Frankie chuckles and shakes his head, full of wonderment at how perfect you are. How you seemed to read him so well and pull him in, make him want to do things for you, serve you, be whatever you need him to be. It doesn’t feel manipulative—it feels like it’s meant to be. Fated. Predestined. And Frankie wants to follow you wherever you’re about to lead him.

“So,” Frankie grins. “Where do we start?”

You chuckle at Frankie’s eagerness and squeeze his hand before walking him through the basics. Testing. Contraception. The ins and outs of the arrangement you’re looking for. You introduce him to a confidential online sexual preferences quiz, guiding him through how the website will take his answers, compare them to yours, and the list of results will only show things that you both agree on. You’ll build out your domme/sub agreement from that list, and you also make it very clear to Frankie that he’s in charge.

He quirks an eyebrow at that. “Me? I thought… I guess I don’t understand. Can you explain that?”

You smile at him, so proud of this man for speaking up already and telling you what he needs. He’s so good already, and while you came here tonight with the intention of picking up a casual fuck who might be interested in a scolding and a spanking, you’ve pivoted to introducing Frankie to the bigger picture, walking him deeper into the forest, showing him the possibilities of long-term involvement. 

You don’t want to move to the bedroom too quickly, Frankie’s going to need a deeper understanding before you start linking his sexual desire to the dynamics of this kind of relationship. Ground rules first, build that anticipation, then you can start connecting wires in his brain and making sparks.

“I get it, it can be confusing if you’re just learning.” You take a sip of your drink, catching how Frankie’s eyes drop to your mouth, and the throbbing between your legs gets a little louder. “But I’m proud of you for asking. It’s a good sign that you want to learn more before jumping in with both feet.” You wink at him, and his reaction is note-perfect. 

He sits up straighter in the booth, smiling like he just won a prize. You couldn’t have planned this better, and you thank your lucky stars that the Universe saw fit to send this man into your life tonight. 

You lean forward and rest both elbows on the table, crossing your forearms in front of you. “While the dominant partner is ‘in charge’ during a scene, the sub actually holds all of the power in the relationship. You decide when you’re ready, you decide when you’re done, and you ask for what you want. I get your consent for every single thing that we do, and you get to turn your brain off and enjoy it.”

Frankie flushes pink again, and you reach out and take both of his big, work-worn hands in yours. “You’re doing so well for me already, Frankie. I like how you ask for what you need, and that’s a really good quality in a submissive. It’s not just about taking orders; you have to speak up for what you want at every turn.”

He gulps hard, his eyes brightening as he opens his plush mouth. “I don’t—I don’t mean to sound rude, but what do you get out of it?”

“Me? I like taking care of my subs. I like making sure that you feel good, that you get exactly what you need, and I like seeing the effects that a good domme/sub relationship has on the rest of your life.”

“What do you mean?” Frankie knits his brows and tilts his head a fraction, and his great big brown eyes put you in mind of an eager little puppy. The electricity buzzing through your core increases, and you have to stuff it down before you break all your rules and drag him to the nearest hotel. 

Control, you remind yourself. Dommes like you stay in control, both of the scene and of themselves. Breaking rules only confuses a sub, and more than anything, submissives need consistency. You’ll (hopefully) get a chance to make him make those big puppy eyes again soon, as long as you stay in control.

“Well, a good, healthy dynamic between a dominant and their sub builds trust, and when you have trust—something you can rely on—it carries over into the rest of your life. For me, it provides a sense of control that I may not have in other areas of my life, and it makes me feel good to make you feel good. Those good feelings lift me up for days afterwards. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Frankie nods, encouraging you to go on.

“And for a sub, a rock-solid relationship with a dom can increase your confidence, build good discipline, and give you an outlet for all the other stress in your life. And I think you would agree that self-esteem, good habits and routines, and stress relief are all really important in life. Subs just get theirs from a different place than most people.”

Frankie nods thoughtfully, then licks his lips and ventures a question, his eyes flicking down to the table, nervous. “And what—what if I, um… how do I know if I’m any good at it? What if I do it wrong?”

You squeeze his hands, make sure he’s looking at you while you smile reassuringly. “You can’t screw it up, Frankie. You’re in charge, remember? There’s no secret test, there’s no hidden ‘gotcha’ moment. It’s all about what you want and how much you want to try. There won’t be a pop quiz or a grade on this, trust me.”

Frankie swallows hard and looks skeptical for a moment, then nods again. “I trust you.” 

He smiles and squeezes your hand before leaning back.

After making sure that Frankie has digested all of the important information and that you’ve gotten his number, you tell him firmly to go home, sleep on it, and only fill out the online quiz tomorrow, if and when he’s ready. You shoot him a text so he has your number, and as he’s opening it, his mouth twitches and his eyes dance with amusement. A dimple appears in Frankie’s cheek, and you chuckle. 

“What’s going on in that head of yours, handsome?” 

Frankie flicks his gaze to yours and you nearly crumple at the sight of his crow’s feet, the adorable crinkles highlighting just how much his smile reaches his eyes. “Just—I mean, I realized I said yes to all of this without even knowing your name. So what do I call you? What name should I put in my contacts?”

“Missy.”

Frankie nods. “I like that. Is that short for anything?”

You grin, “It’s short for ‘Mistress’.”

Frankie blushes, hot and fast, and you see the shiver that runs through him, his broad shoulders quivering as he sits up a little straighter. He smiles softly and types rapidly, then slips his phone into his pocket. 

“And Frankie?” you add. “If you change your mind that’s entirely okay. You haven’t committed to anything tonight, and I really won’t have any hard feelings if you decide that this isn’t for you after all.”

“I’ll text you either way,” he says with a serious nod, and you know he means it. Then he stands up out of the booth, gives you a quick handshake, and heads for the door. You clock the new spring in his step, the way his shoulders are squared and steady, no more nerves or self-doubt weighing him down. 

He’s gorgeous, and you know that even if he does decline, that you’ve at least infused Frankie with some confidence that he can take with him the next time he goes out to a bar. 

But, god, you hope he says yes.

Frankie gulps, then looks around behind him as if he isn’t alone, as if there were anyone standing behind him who could see and judge what he’s doing. 

He shakes his head and huffs a laugh at himself. He’s a grown man on the far side of forty, and he’s hunched over his laptop in his own home trying to hide the half-chub he’s got going in his boxers like a teenager. He presses the flat of his palm down against his cotton-clad arousal, trying to stave off the throbbing long enough to finish this damn quiz. 

But it’s not his fault, everything he reads sends images of you pinballing around in his brain. Every. Single. Question makes him want to stop and rub one out, just to have the mental clarity to continue. But you had said ‘no touching,’ and damn if Frankie was going to fuck up and disobey the very first order that you gave him.

“Okay,” Frankie murmurs, “Question five: Give partner an erotic massage? Yes, fuck yes…” The mere thought of getting his slick, oily hands on you, feeling the warmth of your skin under his palms, being asked—no, being allowed to touch you and bring you pleasure makes him weak. Shit…

He takes a deep breath and swears he can still smell your perfume from the bar invading his senses. The urge to reach his hand down into his boxers and give himself a firm grip is overwhelming now, and he’s still got dozens of questions to go. His lower belly churns with desire, and he’s so horny it almost hurts.

He loves this. Then he hates how much he loves it. It’s sweet, exquisite torture, and Frankie is giddy, nearly nauseated at how excited it makes him.

His eyes had popped open at 5:30 in the morning, the way they always did after so many years of active duty. No alarm except the morning wood that was raging in his underwear, barely able to get it to go down enough to pee. He had woken to thoughts of you, memories of the bar last night, of the way you had taken control of the conversation and opened his eyes to something that he hadn’t even known was possible.

Frankie had done his best to distract himself, doing laundry and dishes, taking a quick jog and doing 200 push-ups and then showering, filling the hours until closer to 8:00, a decent time when he could text you. His thumb hovered over the ‘send’ arrow, still unsure of the text he was about to blast into the ether, two words he’d finally crafted after a dozen drafts, each sounding more pathetic than the last.

His heart palpitated as the words flew to your phone, and he breathed a huge sigh of relief when his sparse, direct, “I’m in,” was met with a simple, “Good boy,” and a few short instructions. 

Take the quiz. Answer honestly. Don’t touch yourself.

Frankie’s eyes had nearly bugged out of his head at the last one, and he briefly thought about pushing back, but he realized this was his first real opportunity to show you how good he could be, how well he could listen. There was no way he was going to disappoint you if he could help it.

He shot off his reply breathlessly, “Yes ma’am,” and bit his lip as he waited for a response. All he got was a “thumbs up” appended to his text, but he reasoned that any response was good, although he did feel a little foolish. What had he expected? A novel? Gushing praise?

Frankie shook his head, reminding himself to temper his expectations. 

He races through questions eight, nine… twelve… fifteen. All “no.” No, he does not want to tie you up, spank you, or use degrading language with you. He doesn’t want to do any of the dominant actions himself, he knows this. 

But question sixteen arrests him in place, and suddenly he can barely breathe. Have partner use restraints on you? makes his tongue swell in his mouth, and his cock twitches violently as it steals more blood from his brain. He can’t click the “yes” button fast enough. Questions seventeen through twenty-four are all “yes,” because they are the opposite of the previous questions. 

Yes, he wants you to spank him with your hand, yes he wants you to tell him what to do in the bedroom, and YES, he wants you to call him pet names. 

Have partner use a belt/flogger/paddle on you? and, Have partner call you degrading names? both get a “maybe” but they make him salivate all the same.

Frankie grips himself through the black cotton of his boxer-briefs, and he wonders if this is going against the “no touching yourself” rule… but he also can’t proceed with the rest of this questionnaire without doing something to try to tamp down his raging erection. Just a quick squeeze, strangle the fuck out of his goddamn traitorous cock for a few seconds, and maybe he won’t pass out.

Frankie tries to remember the last time he was this turned on, but nothing since puberty has even come close to this. The anticipation, the mental imagery, the sheer desire that you’ve ignited in him is practically cruel, and he thinks about asking if he can see you tonight. And if that’s pathetic… well, then he’ll embrace being pathetic, because he needs to see you again more than he needs his pride.

He steels himself against the throbbing in his groin and finishes the questions.

Your phone chimes with an incoming text, and you nearly throw your knife down on the cutting board in your haste to grab your phone from the dining room table. You expel a few curse words at your foolishness. No need to cause a kitchen accident just because you’re eager to see if it’s Frankie. 

“Down, girl,” you scold yourself, and you grimace at how unlike you this is. 

What the hell is wrong with you? You’re the domme, you’re in control of yourself, and you’re not ever this wound-up over a guy. Frankie is a very handsome, very broad guy, but a guy nonetheless. Guys are playthings, scene partners, subs. Guys are people, too, but at most you get sexual satisfaction from them and give them some, along with spectacular aftercare. There’s no feelings involved. Not since… not since you realized that you prefer being the dominant one, not since Nick—

You refuse to go there. Ancient history, old enough to buy itself a drink at a bar by now. Feelings aren’t part of the deal, not since forever ago, and you refuse to examine why there’s a little flutter in your tummy when you pick up your phone to see that Frankie has checked in, a quick, “Done!” accompanied by his unique code for the online sexual compatibility quiz.

You bite your lip and wonder if you should text back… but you wouldn’t even know what to say, so you give his text a thumbs-up, then watch as three little bubbles appear, then disappear, then appear again. What’s Frankie up to? Is he changing his mind? Your stomach sours at the mere thought of it.

The bubbles disappear again and don’t re-appear, so you sigh and force yourself to finish chopping the vegetables you were working on and shove them in the fridge to cook for dinner later. During cleanup, you realize you’ve had one ear out for the phone this whole time, and you shake your head at yourself. 

This isn’t a high school crush. He texted what he needed to and that’s it. Stop being silly.

You dry your hands on a kitchen towel and grab your phone, settling into the couch with your back against the arm rest and your feet propped up on a pillow. You catch an anticipatory grin spreading across your face at the thought that you’re about to see inside of Frankie’s head. 

You enter his unique user code, and you know that you’ve used this online quiz enough times that you’ll fly through the questions. At the end of your answers, the app will generate a list consisting of everything that you and Frankie matched on and email you both. A single “no” is a veto, and that item won’t appear, but everything that’s a “yes” for both of you, or a “yes” for one and a “maybe” for the other will land in your email inbox in just a few moments.

Your heart thuds as you refresh your email for the third time. Is the website taking longer, or does it just feel like it because you’re giddy with anticipation? Where is that stupid email? 

Just as you clench your teeth and growl, the email appears, and your heart suddenly clogs your throat. You wriggle to sit up straighter on the couch, and you’re almost afraid to open the message. Will he be into what you’re into? Will you only match on three things? What if this is a mistake, and Frankie’s just not ready for this kind of arrangement? 

You breathe, sucking in air as slowly as you can, and then out twice as slow. Your eyes water as you stare at the subject line, and you tap your phone screen before you can talk yourself out of it. 

And there it is… 

He’s perfect. You knew it, had felt it in your bones last night at the bar. You didn’t want to believe it, to place so much trust in something that might fall through, but here it is in front of you. Frankie is your perfect match. You couldn’t have designed a better sub if you tried. He’s into everything that you could want, and now you’re drooling at the possibilities.

You arch an eyebrow at a few of his answers. Frankie’s apparently an adventurous boy, and he’s checked off a few questions that surprise you, things that you wouldn’t have thought he’d be ready to try. But those can come later. 

Right now, you’ve got an aching throb building in your core, and you sigh and plop your phone down on your stomach, wondering if it’s too soon to text Frankie and ask him to meet you somewhere. And just as you’re trying to figure out how to phrase it without sounding too desperate, your phone pings.

You pick it up to see the notification, and a wide grin spreads across your face. It’s from Frankie, and you swipe hurriedly to open the text, your heart fluttering as you read it once, then again, and again. 

I don’t want to sound too eager, trying to stay cool here. But I would really love to see you again. Soon.

You sigh, bite your lip, and try to stop the butterflies that are exploding in your gut. You know this isn’t normal, and you can already tell that these feelings—this crush you have on the tall, broad, eager man—are nothing but a recipe for disaster. But you can’t bring yourself to deny it… 

You’ve got it bad for Frankie, and you’re typing out an equally eager response before you can stop yourself.

Frankie paces, trying to ignore both his erection and the nerves that are shredding his stomach. He refuses to stare at his phone and wait to see if you’ll respond to his desperate, pathetic message… so he just treads a path from the kitchen, to the living room, to his bedroom, and back. Frankie keeps his eyes pinned to the ceiling or the walls. Anywhere but down, to avoid the sight of his fucking ridiculous hard-on.

Don’t be a dumbass, Morales. She’ll text you when she texts you. You just gotta—

His head buzzes when he suddenly remembers the second half of the quiz process—the email showing what you matched him on—and he practically runs back to his laptop, stubbing his toe on the coffee table, landing awkwardly in his rolling chair and nearly tumbling out of it. His fingers shake, fumbling to open his email program, looking to see if the results are there, and oh, shit… there it is, top of the inbox. A detonator that could blow his whole world wide open.

Frankie’s heart races in his throat, and he’s suddenly scared of what he’ll see if he clicks to open the email. 

Does she…? Will she want…? What if…?

He gulps, and his pupils blow wide when he sees that you’ve matched him on nearly everything that he’s been fantasizing about for the past twelve hours since he left you at the bar. Fuck.

He leans back in his computer chair to give his cock some breathing room, and his eyes scan the list as his hand drifts across his stomach to his—no!

“Fuuuck,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Off-limits, Morales. Don’t fuck this up.”

Frankie shakes his head as if that will clear the tumbling swoops of desire that are still torturing him. He breathes deeply, counting to four on each inhale and exhale, until he feels clear enough to proceed with reading the list. But he knows it’s futile, knows he won’t feel anything close to calm until he sees you again, and he hopes against hope that you’ll agree to meet up with him soon. 

And, shit, was that message too much? What if that turns you off? But what if you say yes?

And just as he’s trying to talk himself out of his worries, Frankie’s phone pings in the other room. *** The hotel bar is dark, buzzing with chatter as Frankie navigates his way between tables and guests. He dodges a few servers and busboys who are tidying up after a jubilant group of what he assumes are work conference attendees, based on their lanyards with plastic badges dangling from the ends.

It’s a few minutes before 5:00, and Frankie is still nervous, but at least his hard-on has gone away. He’d spent the entire day distracting himself with the tiniest of errands, the flimsiest excuses to get out of the house, whatever it took so that he wouldn’t spend his afternoon drooling at the list of quiz results or grinning like an idiot at your response to his pathetic, overeager text. 

How about tonight? 5:00? And a map to the hotel bar linked just below it. 

He’d responded with a cool, collected, “See you then” and then ran to his room to fret over what to wear. Frankie’s wardrobe wasn’t extensive, so at least the torture had been brief, and he’d settled on a new-ish pair of black jeans and the tropical-print shirt that Santi had ragged him about for years. 

“You look like you’re modeling for a men’s cologne sold at a gas station, pendejo.” 

Frankie rolled his eyes at the memories of Pope’s playful insults, then spent the intervening hours cleaning his Jeep inside and out, returning library books, and shopping for groceries before heading home to start getting ready. 

But the nerves had stuck around, and somehow Frankie’s hand slipped while attempting to trim his scruff, resulting in a patch so uneven that he’d had to shave the whole thing off. He’d cursed at himself, but then reasoned that if a clean-shaven face and a too-wild shirt were enough to turn you off after everything so far, maybe he wasn’t the guy for you after all. He’d polished his least beat-up pair of work boots and then hit the road, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel the whole way, his stomach half eager butterflies and half churning knots. 

But when he catches your eye across the room, everything settles. You wave at Frankie from your perch on a high stool, tucked into a table in the corner, and when you smile his whole world stills. There’s nothing else in Frankie’s mind but you. No more clattering of glassware, no more tipsy strangers talking too loudly, no more bodies blocking his path to you. Frankie feels like he’s floating as he crosses the last few steps to your table, and his heart leaps as you slide off your chair to greet him with a hug.

He folds you into his embrace, and when he catches a whiff of your perfume, something in Frankie melts. He wants to propose marriage right then and there… or at least pledge himself to you like some kind of knight in a fairy tale. You’ve been the focus of nearly all his waking thoughts for almost 24 hours, and even a few of his sleeping ones. 

He’s not sure what’s coming next, but he’s all in, and he can’t even find it in himself to care if this goes bad or he ends up brokenhearted. Whatever you want to give him, Frankie will take with open arms, and he only hopes that he can give you back everything that you deserve.

[floralscented]

to the anon that asked if i've seen this, i don't know how anyone expected me to, because i am normal, and do not search my user to see if anything mentions me, and i was not even properly tagged in this alleged explanation & apology to me.

and to the person posting this, if you were really sorry, i want to know why you didn't tag me to see this explanation. unless of course you're arty, STILL, and believe that i have blocked your anons & therefore your ip is blocked and cant mention me. or, the other simpler theory, is that you drafted this on your main account where you are blocked (and for some reason, so am i? explain this.) and forgot to take the / out of my user. i want to know why an anon had to tell me that i was being apologized to; an anon that is more than likely this account, more than likely arty herself, once again trying to paint herself as a victim.

i do not believe this. these stories do not line up with the experiences that i have had. in the text message screenshots that arty posted, she said she was done with the friend, and now suddenly she's met up to demand an apology for me from this person, where i was not tagged, but also my new user was listed?

also, the self awareness & tattling on yourself while still refusing to take any accountability for your actions is insane. "i hate people being more successful than me." because my acct, by the graces of god, somehow blew up in the three months (happy anniversary to me today! what a way to celebrate!) that i've been here, and you were mad that my stuff was blowing up whereas yours was... not, to the degree of mine, a newbie who didn't deserve it? i was the one who told dahlia to khs. oh, so the messages i got sent saying you weren't the one saying this, were a lie? so the time you blamed your word for word copying of my work on the fact you also got one, was just you sending yourself one to get pity points? you forget, arty, that i'm not as stupid as you think i am, and i have been on the receiving end of this for so long that i remember things.

how could bots she already had made coincidentally line up with what people were asking for in the server, or talking about? how could you, a hacker, learn how to make them in exactly arty's style to keep up with the server's discussions? and how did you just suddenly, allegedly, overnight teach yourself how to format entire posts just for the purpose of posting her shit because you were... jealous of her? none of it makes any logical sense.

this is genuinely terrifying. it's terrifying to log on here when i do, and to worry that you, arty, are still talking about me. that you, arty, are still monitoring every move i make. it is terrifying that i have been here for 3 months and 2 of them have been spent trying to defend myself and protect myself from you, who will both not take accountability and not leave me alone when i've asked thousands of times.

it's crazy how quickly your narrative shifted from pleading for people to believe you to downright pinning it all on ME. saying that I am the one who keeps bringing this up, i am the one who won't let it go, because i let your terrible response from two days ago go and was planning on keeping it that way. you are the one who won't let it go, and won't just leave me be.

i hope the self projection extends to mean that you are genuinely seeking help, and i hope one day you can find it in yourself to realize your mistakes, just as much as i hope that they haunt you for the way you've been haunting & stalking me.

this apology is not accepted, because there is no accountability, and i know that this is still, as it never is, the end of this battle that you keep dragging on, and forcing me to address, and then pinning it on me saying that i won't let it go.

leave me alone.

my name is ellie. I’m 24, I live in london, and I’m the person who had masqueraded as @artyandink from the 31st of november to the 17th of december. I have been on tumblr the past few weeks, and I am the one who stalked dahlia’s accounts after making my own. after everything, arty met with me in person and told me to tell everyone the truth.

I have been arty’s irl friend since sixth form in secondary school, when she let me be her friend since I was a transfer student. we both went to separate universities, but we still kept in touch by meeting almost every weekend. on november 30th arty got a call saying that her grandfather had a heart attack and was supposed to go in surgery for a heart bypass, so arty took the first flight to india. she’d mentioned her password to her socials, so I went and logged in to her accounts after she mentioned on a reblog that she wouldn’t be on her account because she had to take an emergency flight.

I logged into her discord, instagram and tumblr accounts including her microsoft and started acting like her. I checked her drafts and through the information I got from the discord channel, I changed the look of her posts and gave them gradient text as well as copying the aesthetic of others. I messaged people on discord pretending to be her, and for fun I copied @/floralscented and blamed it on ‘autism’ and ‘depression’, also acting like I was in arty’s place and had everything she did, like her boyfriend and things about her life that I already knew after being friends with her for seven years.

I was the one who sent an anonymous ask to dahlia telling her to khs. I was the one who sent the anonymous asks shit-talking arty and trying to get them to drop her. after that didn’t work, I created the persona of dani thinking that they’d like her more than arty. it didn’t work, so I got removed from the discord server and everyone thought arty was a psycho.

when she came back from india on the 10th of december she needed to take a week to rest, but she was still tired as she was calling her family every day to check on her grandfather. when she logged back on she found almost all of the fics she had in her drafts posted, bots on her c.ai that were previously planned in her word document posted, along with ones that were set to private. everyone thought she was a psycho and when she found out it was me because she knew how I texted and got paranoid with people she texted me asking why I did it.

I did it for fun. I did it because I hate people being more successful than me. I hated the fact that arty went to a better university, had more friends, a better life so I did the same thing on tumblr and discord for her instagram account as well and sent people horrible messages that she only saw when she came back.

I’m sorry for hurting dahlia, kari, oct, breezy, jemma and lastly arty. I made it impossible for her to talk to anyone she didn’t already know on here. I’m sorry for acting like a psycho, and I’m now receiving psychiatric help for what I did to her, and this is why I’m exposing what I did. I’m the psycho, I’m the insane one, I’m the stalker.

[bullborn]

Yeah no I'm not finishing this. Here's the Lorde matirnity photoshoot.

[kyliafanfiction]

I sometimes feel like characters who do truly monstrous things while also having been victims of some pretty insane shit themselves are sort of an exercise in empathy. Or at least, should be seen as such.

Like, in real life, if a person who has been horribly broken by their experiences and failed by society than proceeds to rape someone - it's hard to feel the justifiable sympathy/empathy for that person (without excusing their rape, never do that) because well, you can look at this actual human person they hurt, or worse, and it feels gross and disrespectful to the rape victim.

And this is understandable. (And applies to more than just rapists/rape victims of course, that's just the most visceral one and thus picked for that reason)

But a fictional rape victim is... fictional. You can't 'disrespect' their trauma, and while obviously rape/whatever else is real, and people may related to the rape victim and thus see your comments about the rapist also being a victim as somehow being about their experience...

Well, it's not.

Because the rapist here, didn't actually hurt a real person. Fictional characters are objects. They're objects that often grab us by the throat and refuse to leave our fucking heads, yes, but they're objects. They are tools used by writers to tell a story, and readers to tell a story.

And one of the things fictional characters are good for is allowing us to consider experiences we never had, and imagine ourselves in other circumstances and lives. (Also just fun and fascinating and interesting to watch their stories).

It's very easy to feel for the rape victim in fiction, and rightly so. That's Level 1 Empathy there. Granted, some people IRL fail that, but that's not really what we're talking about here.

Advanced Empathy, hard Empathy is feeling for the rapist. Not for the rape, of course, even if they feel guilt about it, but if someone really was failed on multiple levels and was broken and damaged and went through the sort of psychological wringer that would leave most of us here on tumblr catatonic - they do deserve the same Empathy any human (any person) who went through all that.

Even after they also do the bad thing, critically they still deserve Empathy. And that is fucking hard. I very often have a hard time feeling bad for truly awful people who also deserve empathy and sympathy, real and even fictional (despite all this, yeah, I'm not perfect on this) for what they (separately) went through.

It also becomes even harder when what they went through is utterly bound up with what they did. How what they went through and experiences is in part responsible for what they did - because they still made a choice. The circumstances may have left them not in their right mind, may have left them feeling without choice, may have driven them to things they normally might not think of or do, but they still chose to do that bad thing. And that's not okay. They still hurt someone.

And yet - one cannot remove the action from the circumstances. So you can still feel empathy, and elucidate all the factors and circumstances as to what led up to their choices and why, and it doesn't change that they did the horrible thing. The rape, or the murders, or whatever.

But circling back - with a fictional character... they didn't hurt a real person. There's no one who is real that suffered. The things the character did IRL are bad because they hurt real people.

So you're not being disrespectful to the victim by feeling that empathy, or sympathy. By exploring the things that they were a victim for. Even by wanting to focus on those things - fictional characters should be compelling in all their aspects, if they're written well.

And yet, of course, if you do that empathy and do talk about what the bad person went through and all that context, people come at you. They call you evil, just as bad as the (again, fictional) character, or they say that you're treading dangerously close to the arguments people use to defend the real people who do these things in real life. Or you're disrespecting all the victims of these crimes IRL. Especially of course, if the person coming at you has a reason this comes close to home.

But again - fictional.

In an ideal world, we'd all feel sympathy and empathy when it's called for, regardless of what the person did. Even the worst most monstrous people deserve human treatment in prison. And if you don't have empathy, that's hard. Even if you do have empathy, that's hard.

So if you look at a fictional character (who doesn't hurt a real person by virtue of being fictional) that does horrible, vile things, but went through so much, and you still can't empathize or sympathize with them... I mean, it doesn't make you a bad person, not even close, this is still fiction, and there's people I should empathize with in fiction that I don't, but...

It's still a failure of your ability to be empathetic. And we're all humans. We're all failing at that, among other things, all the time. But... it's good to be aware of that. at least?

At the very least, bear that in mind when other people are talking about that context, and that victimization. And please, for the love of god, don't fucking pretend that the victimization didn't happen, that this person who did do terrible things (in fiction) suddenly didn't also (in fiction) experience awful shit, as if doing a bad thing erases all the bad things done to you.

Again - it doesn't necessarily make you a bad person, but like... the horrible state of prisons in our society is a real, actual problem. The way we as a society dehumanize people who do bad things is a real actual problem for a lot of reasons (not least because it creates an incentive for authority that wants to dehumanize a person or a group to expand the definition of 'did bad things' to make their dehumanization now acceptable, among other things).

So yeah. Fictional character who suffers but than also makes others suffer - that's a useful exercise in Empathy. And doing that doesn't make you or anyone else a bad person, or actually defending the sorts of crimes, IRL or Fictional, that this character did. Contextualizing is not whitewashing, empathy is not erasing, and humanizing is not disrespecting the victim(s).

So yeah, they fictional character did bad things. But there's more to them than that. And you can say but and talk about what comes after but without disrespecting the fictional victim. Because the fictional victim... is just as fictional. Just as not real.

Is it possible for this to end up being taken too far? Yes. But that's a reason to be mindful of yourself when it comes to real people, not to never do it. And when it comes to fictional people - again, fictional. Nobody was actually, really hurt.

(I really do want to make clear, before people read the tags, that this applies to all crimes these sorts of characters do, rape was just picked as the one to use as the example.)

[gremzon]

I might have OCD actually

[wildwolf-fandoms]

Growling biting hissing screaming Tumblr dot com doesn't have a real fandom for Requiem For A Dream crying screaming throwing up

Tw: caps and drug mentioned

WHENEVER I OPEN THE TAG FOR THIS MOVIE IT'S ALL ABOUT MARIAM AND HARRY'S LOVE FOR EACH OTHER AND GIF/SCREENSHOTS ABOUT THEIR LOVE AND ITS SOOO FRUSTRATING

Like it's nice that people can relate to their love but THIS MOVIE IS ABOUT HOW DRUGS RUINED THEIR LIVES. WHY DO I HAVE TO OPEN YOUTUBE AND GOOGLE TO SEE DISCUSSIONS ABOUT IT???!! WHY CANT WE TALK ABOUT THE WAY SHOTS ARE DONE AND HOW ACTORS KILLED IT AND HOW SAD THEIR LIVES HAVE BECAME AND HOW NEITHER SARAH NOR HARRY KNOWS HOW TERRIBLE EACH OTHER BECAME BECAUSE OF DRUGS???

Sarah, if she even has consciousness at this point, is probably thinking at least her dear, handsome son is studying at a great university and doing better than her; while Harry could only wish that his dear mother is doing much better than how him and his friends are doing.

AND WHAT ABOUT SARAH'S NEIGHBOURS?? THEY SUGGESTED THE FAKE/BAD DOCTOR TO HER, SO SHE CAN LOOSE WEIGHT FASTER! THEY WERE CLEARLY HORRIFIED TO SEE HER GET OUT OF HER HOUSE TOWARDS THE END OF THE MOVIE BECAUSE SARAH WAS HORRIBLE?? WHAT ABOUT THE GUILT OF KILLING YOUR CLOSE FRİEND UNINTENTIONALLY??

AND MARIAM LITERALLY GAVE HER BODY TO PAY THE BILLS AND TYSON GOT LOCKED UP IN PRISON FOR THE REST OF HIS LIFE AND HARRY LOST HIS ARM AND SARAH FUCKING DIED (?) AND AAAA

Why the fans (?) here are not talking about the characters and events of this movie instead of posting the same sex/love scene between Marian and Harry 74747th time???? Their love is just the part of this movie, but it's not what it is about!!!

[arashi-no-saxlphone]

Every time I watch an Axl vod on the new patch (of which there are VERY few) I actually do understand why they gutted Axl now

You guys are so dogshit at the matchup it's fucking EMBARRASSING

[iceeericeee]

I wonder how many tags i can add on to this

[elaeomyxa]

Incredibly strange that I'm having emotions when the sun is still out but it truly is funny that I'm having a crisis over. Not Liking Someone

[sneak-a-cat]

holy fucking jesus christ holy shit ok. so. i’ve been making ideas for 2 main fics for the past three months, planning everything out researching stuff writing down my ideas for it (its going really well tbh i have 9 chapters planned for the first one i came up with), but sometimes i will have ideas that do not fit in either of those so they go in another google doc and then i don’t forget them. So i come up with another idea that is literally just a new canon divergence idea, i’m like “oh genius lets write that down,” and then it spirals out of control and all of a sudden this has happened

and, don’t get me wrong: this is insane...

However: it makes so much fucking sense in my head in this context, i cobbled together like 3 headcanons people have for why ted is the way he is and i slapped on some of my own, my brain ran away from me discussing how this would affect his and karens relationship, then it evolved and i made this in a fucking library, silently crying with laughter because what in the ever loving fuck have i made, 

[buckyalpine]

40s Sergeant Barnes with a nurse and a Sergeant kink (and breeding and house wife kink, virginity loss). This was supposed to be a pure smutty drabble but then I got in my feelings and added some fluff and angst but I promise Bucky is still a dirty, nasty little fuck in this. Just with a sweeter ending. The one he deserves.

Listen just imagine what a cute, sexy menace Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes would be just waking up from an injury when his eyes flutter open to the pretty nurse he’s been eyeing from the day he started. You’re not a shy, dainty little thing, nope. Not at all.

You bark out orders like a drill Sergeant and one glare from you is all it takes to get everyone in line and on task without a second thought. Even his superiors are scared of you, biting their tongue when you stitch them up and send them on their way before running off to your next patient.

Bucky was in love.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes” he rasps, throwing you a charming smirk while you roll your eyes in response, shaking your head. "How'd I get so lucky, got a my little angel tendin' to me"

“I see your injury hasn’t stopped hurt that mouth of yours Sergeant" You quirk an eyebrow while he playfully huffs as you change the dressing covering a gash on his abdomen. You swab the area clean and he doesn't flinch even though you know it must burn like hell, his muscles tensed while he continues to watch you with heart eyes. "Now you know I'm not your little angel, I got 20 other men to fix up, you better be out of this bed as soon as you're all healed up"

“C’mon sugar, you're breakin' my heart" Bucky gives you a little pout with those perfect lips and you catch the twinkle in his eye as he looks over your form with complete admiration. He loved your sassy, take no shit attitude and it's taking everything in him to calm himself down so he doesn't get a hard on right there in front of you.

"You'd tell that to a cat with three legs if it was in a nurses outfit" You try your best to not give into his flirty comments and puppy eyes, knowing damn well he's a heart breaker but he makes it so difficult when he continues to woo you with his boyish charm.

He can't help but chase after you; catching the way your eyes always dart around with anxiety when his group returns from an operation, relief flooding them when you finally spot him. He loves your indifferent attitude, patting him down to make sure he's uninjured but your furrowed brows and the tiny pout on your lips give away that you're worried.

How can he just let you go. Every time you check over him, he needs you closer.

So much closer.

-

"Ms. y/l/n, Sergeant Barnes is requesting you in his tent, he says it's urgent"

You shake your head looking over at the time, quietly making your way over to the tent he's stationed at, thankful that a number of troops were sleeping so you wouldn't be seen as you quickly slip inside.

“And what hurts now” you sass with your hands on your hips seeing the soldier in perfect health, doing your best to assess him without letting him know.

"Always checkin' over me" Bucky chuckles, seeing what you're doing; his words making your cheeks heat up, "Knew you cared about me sugar"

"Well what am I doin' here" You give him an unconvincing huff, struggling to keep your voice steady, refusing to meet his eyes, keeping your gaze on his silver dog tags instead. It doesn't help that he's handsome as hell with a light dusting of scruff covering his cheeks. Bucky's never seen you flustered before and it evokes something in him, all the blood in his body rushing south seeing your fingers twitch.

All he wanted to do was kiss you but now-

“Help your Sergeant out doll” He whispers, taking another step forward till his chest brushes against yours, his hand coming to tilt your chin up, "Will you?"

You gasp feeling his hardness press against your thigh, your heart fluttering wildly as his thumb traces your lips, any semblance of control you had slipping away feeling the warmth of his skin.

“Y-yes Sergeant Barnes”

His lips press against yours, soft and sweet, a stark contrast to the way his body was screaming for him to pick you up and toss you onto his cot.

"Sweet like sugar" He lets his hands fall to your waist, pulling you flush against his body while your arms drape on top of his shoulders. You stand on your toes chasing more of his lips and he chuckles at the needy whine you let out when he pulls away for air.

Now let's say your first night together was actually quite tame. He kisses you again and you swoon when he repeatedly checks in with you before going any further. His hand slips under your skirt, letting his fingers toy with places no on else has touched. With each night, he needs you more and more until he can't hold off any longer and neither can you.

-

You sneak into his tent and this time he doesn't hesitate to undress you completely, not when he needs you bare with nothing separating you both. You feel your heart race as he lies on top of you, draping a thin sheet over himself when you shiver at the chill night air. You feel his body heat instantly warm you up, his heavy cock resting between your soaked folds.

"Are you sure, sugar?" He asks, his hand cupping your cheek and stroking your skin.

"Please Sergeant" You whisper and the way you say his title makes his cock twitch. There's something so different about you when you're in his bed, a sweet little bunny giving herself to him completely. It drives him feral with a need to make you feel good, make you cry for his cock and his cock only, to keep you nice and full of him.

You don't look twice at anyone else and here you are completely naked in his tent with your tight little virgin cunt, your legs spread open so he can put his dick in you; there was no way he was ever going to let you go.

"You tell me if it's too much, alright?" His lips tickle your neck as kisses your skin while rubbing his heavy cock through your folds, coating it in your slick, "Breathe for me"

He slips his tags into your mouth as he starts to press in, the initial sting making you bite down hard onto the metal feeling a mix of pleasure and pain. You whine at the way he stretches you open, your thighs squeezing around his waist, nails digging into his shoulders.

"Shhh, that's it love, doin' so good for me so good for your Sergeant, look how you're takin' all of me baby" He looks down to where you're both connected as he continues to slowly push himself in till hes fully sheathed inside you. He gives you time to adjust, slipping his tags out of your lips and letting his tongue lace with yours instead, his balls already throbbing with how tightly you were squeezing his cock.

"Please-Sergeant" your heels press into his ass desperate for him to move, gasping when he starts to slowly roll his hips, barely pulling out.

"I got you love-don't worry" Bucky moves as slowly as he could not wanting to hurt you, taking just as much care of you as you had with him countless of times.

But he can only keep up at that pace for so long. Your muffled whines and moans don't help the way his mind is already spiraling. His pretty little nurse all spread out just for him, taking his raw, bare cock in her soaking pussy, squeezing him so tight, he was only a few strokes from cumming.

If it were up to him he would've proposed on the spot, thinking about making love to you on your wedding night, seeing you all shy and sweet wrapped up in soft white lace. If you were his wife, he'd take you apart every which way, not giving a fuck about traditions, taking you right on the dining room table.

You'd be the prettiest little thing for him to come home to, such a good wife all dirty just for her husband. Only he'd know the way your mouth would slobber all over his cock like your life depended on it. The way you'd moan at the taste of his cum. Bucky's eyes rolled back at the thought of you with nothing but some heels and a string of pearls he'd put around your neck while he stuffed you with cum and emptied his balls in you.

"S-Sergeant-I-oh god" You whimpered feeling his cock grow harder, your pussy pulling him right back in, feeling the coil low in your belly pull tighter and tighter as he hit that spot.

Meanwhile Bucky's jaw clenched as he felt his balls pull tight to his body, the tip leaking steadily in your pussy. His mind spiraled into places he didn't think would exist before he met you, rogue thoughts he only entertained when he had his dick in his hand. The harder he fucked you the more he thought about how gorgeous you'd look with a swollen belly.

Fuck, imagine if he got you pregnant right then and there. That nurses uniform would no longer fit you. Everyone would know he knocked you up, your perfectly round tummy carrying Sergeant James Barnes' baby, breasts heavy with milk, God, he wasn't going to last-

“Gonna let your Sergeant pump you full of cum?” He pants, letting his hands grip onto your hips like his life depends on it, the wiry hair at the base of his cock rubbing against your clit.

“Yes!!” You sob, biting down onto his shoulder to keep your cries down while he continues to fuck you into oblivion. You don't understand how such filth can spew from that pink, pouty little mouth of his. "Please-please-need-youI-I'm gonna-"

"M'yours sweet girl, m'all yours, go on, cum for me love, cum on my cock, it's all yours" He gazed into your eyes, cooing at your parted lips and sweat slicked skin. It didn't take long for you to shatter around him his lips smashing against yours to swallow your moans.

"Want your cum Sergeant" You beg , desperate to have him claim you from the inside.

"Oh fuck baby, y-you can't say that, m-gonna, oh fuckkk" Your words throw Bucky right off the edge as he lets out a deep groan stilling his hips and shooting endless ropes of his spend into you. You both lay in comfortable silence, your fingers playing with his hair; his usual kempt brown locks now disheveled .

“Y’know m’gonna marry you” his scruffy cheek nuzzles into your neck as he continues to stay deep inside you as his cock softens, “after all this is over. Gonna put a ring on that finger”

His words send a different wave of emotions over you, feeling more safe than ever, clinging onto him as tightly as possible. You let a whimper slip out and he pulls away from your neck with an expression of concern.

“What is it love” Bucky coos, wiping away the tears that slip you, stroking your cheek while you bite back a sniffle.

“Do you mean it? After this is all over?” You weren't sure what Bucky would want-there was still a war going on. Anything could happen. Perhaps this was just to keep his bed warm. Something to keep him calm, you were just someone to-

"Of course sugar" Bucky presses a firm kiss to your forehead, silencing the thoughts that tried to run wild. "You're mine"

-

And of course he gets his happy ending. Because when it's all over, he gets the ring for the girl he loves. He's on one knee, proposing to you with the sweetest words. He treats you like a princess on your wedding night, making love all night long until the sun is up.

There isn't a surface in the house he's left untouched. Nothing makes him more feral than moaning for his pretty wife, constantly taking her hand and wrapping it around his cock, watching that diamond glint with each stroke.

It doesn't take long for you to feel a little squeamish, knowing all the tell tale signs.

The day you tell him he's going to be a dad is one of the happiest days of his life. There isn't a single night that goes by where he isn't nuzzling his face into your tummy, talking to your little one.

Everything was perfecttt.

[i2sunric]

𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 (p.sh)

“fucking all the time is wrong when you're not mine, baby"

PAIRING: boyfriend's best friend!sunghoon x reader (f)

SUMMARY: just like eva did in the garden of eden, you fell under the serpent's court and now are under his spell. you knew you shouldn't betray your boyfriend, jake, like that when he was (not) so right for you, but seeing that he spent more time out for work made you seek the love and affection you needed, and who if not sunghoon could give you what you deserved?

WARNINGS: cheating (don’t like, don’t read). unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), they fuck everywhere and i mean it, toxic, creampie, masturbating, pussy eating, fighting, kissing, jealousy, doggy, missionary, rough blowjob, angst if u squint? jake is a toxic bf, sunghoon low-key corrupts reader, reader is designed with a weak personality. lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

(RE)PUBLISHED: 6th August 2024

WC: 13.6k

TAGLIST: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin (oneshot) @mitmit01 @lilyuwon @whoslai @simhinata @ihrtantn @deobitifull @heeswif3y @skylalyla @lanapaz @run2min @rizz00 @yeorns @rayofsunshineeee @kim2005bomi @lhspeachie @star4rin @nyxtwixx @skipiuki @camprock101 @acolytees @hoonsdrnkdzd @jjklvr9 @sophi-ee @iamliacamila @nctislifue @dengenej @yorukoshii @nshmrarki BOLDS COULD NOT BE TAGGED

a/n: before some loser tries to throw shit at this i have to say that no, cheating is NOT hot and this is purely fictional. this isn’t the only fiction with cheating as a trope and it comes from a project that IS supposed to have heavy and bothering themes, mostly because it comes as inspiration from a song (go listen to it, daniel di angelo ‘GET YOU BETTER’) that gives me toxic vibes. anw, LIKE & REBLOG please and lmk your thoughts (again) on this fic <3

“Again?” You asked with a deep frown after hearing that your boyfriend had yet to go to another work trip, despite having just returned from one “I know baby, what can I do? They need me.” He said it as if you were complaining already.

But could he blame you? You had spent two summer weeks alone and bored without Jake and now you had to go through another couple of weeks.

“Why you? They have other workers.” You commented, raising a brow.

Jake sighed and walked closer to you “Because I’m good, aren’t you proud of me?” You looked away and murmured “Of course i’m proud of you.”

Jake noticed your sudden change of mood and turned you to look at him “Come on, I'll be back before you even realise it.”

You rolled your eyes at his statement, something that Jake did not like “Don’t be selfish, I need to work to have money.”

“I'm not being selfish,” You reminded, tone cold. “I just miss my boyfriend who’d rather be miles away from me.” You snapped, stepping back and crossing your arms to your chest.

Those words had been left unspoken on your tongue for too long to be able to hold them back anymore.

“We both know that’s not true.” He hissed, rubbing his temples “Do we?” You scoffed

Jake clicked his tongue, “Listen, I'm just asking you to understand.”

You frowned again at him “I understand Jake, I've always done it!” Your voice raised out of frustration “So why can’t you understand me?”

“You?” His frown matched yours, a few wrinkles appearing on his forehead “What is there to understand about a needy and clingy girl?”

As soon as those words left his mouth your eyes saddened. Were you really being that whiney? So many questions formed inside your head while Jake regretted ever speaking.

You were just being honest, that’s what Jake always wanted from you; honesty, to voice out your feelings, so why was he mad at you?

“Taking many short distance flights is also not good for your body…” You murmured, bitter tears running down your cheeks, your gaze locked on the ground

Jake’s face softened, realising that you weren’t complaining— you were worried for him “Baby I—“

You shook your head “Save it.” And walked away, disappearing in the bedroom. Jake ran a hand through his hair in frustration, leaving you to cool down.

However you both were two stubborn beings so, instead of resolving it, you laid on opposite sides of the bed with heavy hearts, hoping the night to wash the annoying feelings away.

Heleft early in the morning, without a single message or a note and not even a kiss on your shoulder.

Whenever he had a flight in the night or early morning to catch and you would still be asleep, he used to kiss you softly on the shoulder, but this time he hadn’t.

Had you been too harsh with him the day before? Were you really being selfish?

You glanced at the clock and noticed you had already slept the morning away so you decided to get something done.

You stretched your limbs and exited the bed, doing your usual routine and some chores as well, trying your best not to think about jake. If he wanted to stay mad, so be it.

When you were cleaning the living room’s floor you heard your doorbell ring, so you went to open the door.

In front of you a tall man with a sheepish grin stood, waving his hand “Hi, Y/N.” He greeted warmly

“Hi, Sunghoon.” You said back, stepping aside to let him enter. you closed the door behind your back and walked him to the living room “What’s the occasion?” You asked, smiling

Sunghoon looked around the house “Is Jake home?” You shook your head in reply “He’s on a work trip.”

Sunghoon’s eyes widened “Again?” He asked and you couldn’t help but chuckle, you two had the same reaction to the news of Jake's departure “Again.” You nodded

“Aw, man.” He sighed, “I haven’t seen him in forever since he changed job.” You wanted to reply that you too hadn’t seen him since he decided to pick a job that required to travel around the world, but Sunghoon didn’t need to know that.

Sunghoon tilted his head, looking you up and down “So, home alone?” You smiled sadly “unfortunately.”

He gave you a wide smile, one that showed his two fangs “I took a couple of weeks off work because I had to go on vacation but the hotel shut down,” He seemed to debate whether to continue, but then added “I can keep you company.”

You blinked faintly at his offer, you two weren’t really close, you never really hung out apart from Jake’s friend group so it’d be awkward.

However , loneliness made you desperate so you just smiled in return “why not?”

Little did you know that Sunghoon had another plan in store for you.

⪩⪨

“Good morning, Y/N.” Sunghoon greeted a few days later, entering your house with his awkward yet comforting demeanour.

“Morning.” You said back, guiding him to the kitchen and placing down the casket of fruits he had brought you “You didn’t have to..”

“Dot’t be silly, it’s a pleasure.” Sunghoon smiled, sitting on a chair “Can i help you with anything?”

You quickly shook your head “No, no,” You took a pear and showed it to him “I'll cut this so we can eat and chat?” “Sounds good.”

It had become a small occurence that you’d sit together and talk about anything. You two had got to know each other, and you realised you had a completely different prejudice of him.

At first, you thought he was cold and awkward, but he actually was very soft spoken and kind. your heart always felt content when you were with him, but you chose to ignore that detail.

It was probably just because Jake hadn’t replied to your texts since he left the country, your heart was just pulling tricks on you.

You placed a small plate on the table with the pieces of pear and began to talk with him, laughing at a story of his dog scaring Jake's family dog, despite being a lot smaller.

“Layla and Jake are so alike,” You commented, chuckling “Indeed, I see no difference between them. like an owner like a pet." Sunghoon replied, taking a bite of the pear.

A small drop of the fruit’s juice rolled down his cheek, reaching his jawline. You had never paid attention to his features so closely, but he was so attractive. His jaw was sharp, you thought that if you ran your finger on it, it’d cut.

His skin was pale, porcelain-like and his eyes were so dark in contrast, his eyebrows thick and hair that seemed so fluffy.

Before the drop could fall down, you quickly extended yourself and dried it with your thumb, making both of you stop in your tracks. Sunghoon ‘s deep eyes widened and you pulled away “I—I’m sorry..” you stuttered, embarrassed

But Sunghoon didn’t seem to mind “It’s alright, thank you.” He reassured, resuming to tell his story. You try to shake the awkward feeling but get sidetracked when your phone screen lit up.

You quickly took it, hopeful that it was finally a message from your boyfriend, but your face fell when you realised it was just a notification from YouTube.

You sighed and looked so gloomy, like a whole storm fell over your shoulders, Sunghoon blinked faintly “Are you ok?”

You didn’t want to annoy him with your problems, you two had just started to be friends, but you just needed someone.

All your friends were busy working or living their adulthood somewhere, while you had been inside that house too much it felt almost sickish.

You sighed “It’s just that Jake and I had a small argument, right before he left.” Sunghoon’s eyes were so attentive you felt exposed, so kind and gentle.

“Is that so?” He asked, letting you know that he was listening “Yes,” You breathed out “We said harsh things and now he won’t even reply to my texts.”

Sunghoon’s jaw clenched at your admission, How could Jake ever ghost you? He could be mad all he wanted, but he was on the other side of the earth, for Christ’s sake, he could at least reply to your texts just like he did to Sunghoon a few hours before.

Seeing you so sorrowful made his heart ache; he wouldn’t admit it out loud but he had always found you attractive, since the first day he saw you on campus.

Screw his introverted personality, he never tried to speak to you, only admired from afar.

However, when he learnt that his best friend had found a girlfriend and the so-called girlfriend was you, he couldn’t help but blame himself.

Especially since jake was treating you like you weren’t worth anything.

You were worth it, you were everything Sunghoon dreamt of— if only you knew how better he could get you. good for him, he had two weeks to prove you so.

⪩⪨

“You just didn’t strike me as someone who likes doing grocery shopping.” You commented, putting milk inside the cart Sunghoon was gently pushing for you

Truth to be told, Sunghoon hated grocery shopping. He’d rather starve himself than get out of bed to buy himself food, which was why his friend Jay and his mother would often bring him food or just something enough to survive.

But it was for you and you needed to eat to be healthy, he could do an exception.

“I don’t have anything better to do, do I?” He said, chuckling at the sight of you trying to take a bag of chips which was on the top shelf, clearly too high for you.

You felt his figure hovering over you, the warmth of his body surrounding yours, his chest caressing your back as he took the chip for you.

That movement lasted no longer than five seconds but to you, it felt as if time had stopped.

You snapped out of your trance at the sound of the bag of chips being thrown inside the cart and Sunghoon moving forward.

You failed to notice the smirk on his lips, but the man was quick to hide it before his undercover was caught.

“What’s left on your list?” He asked, scanning the cart’s contents to see if he mentally remembered

“Uh—“ You quickly took the grocery list that was crumpled inside your pocket and cleared your throat “Just… donuts.” You said quietly.

You weren’t usually one to overeat, but since your heart was upset, your stomach was the same and you craved junk food.

You waited for Sunghoon to make a comment over it, to call you ‘gross’ the same way Jake once did when he saw you putting a bag of chips — the same type Sunghoon helped you take — inside the cart. You waited for it, but nothing came.

Instead, Sunghoon pushed the cart a little further in the lane until he reached the snacks section and eyed the shelves “There’s strawberry, brown chocolate and oreo.” He turned toward you and looked genuinely interested in your choice.

“Which one do you want?” You blinked faintly, unsure on how to handle that situation. He raised a brow, awaiting your answer “Strawberry.” You murmured.

“Strawberry it is.” He took the donuts and placed them in the cart “Do you want something?” You asked, reaching for him with a smile.

“Me?” You nodded in reply “Yes, take something you like, I’ll sugar mama you.” You joked nudging his shoulder.

Sunghoon stayed silent a few beats, “No.” He said sternly, “I’ll buy this for you.” He pointed to the food you wanted to purchase.

Your brows furrowed “What?” Sunghoon smiled, a wicked grin creeping on his lips “I’ll sugar daddy you.”

It seemed like you had hurt his pride trying to say you’d pay for his food, but you still didn’t want him to spend money on you, so you shook your head “That’s not necessary.”

“I insist.” He took another small cartoon of donuts and placed it in the cart, hurrying away before you could talk back. You reached him again “No, Sunghoon.”

“Yes, Y/N.” He kept taking useless things from the shelves and you kept putting them back, this went on for almost two whole lanes until you placed yourself in front of the cart.

Sunghoon tilted his head “What?” You narrowed your eyes, clearly upset. Seeing your change of mood made Sunghoon freeze. Did he overdo it?

He let out a small sigh “Alright, I’ll stop adding things.” You nodded satisfactorily, placing yourself back by his side.

“But I’ll pay.” Your head snapped back to him and Sunghoon chuckled “It’s the least I can do, you invite me to your house and I pay for your groceries, it’s even.”

Arguing with Sunghoon seemed to be a losing battle, so you just nodded your head and smiled back at him “Okay, thank you.”

“Anything for you.” They were just three words, but they were the most sincere you’ve ever heard.

After paying for your groceries, you two made your way towards the parking lot, you walked in front of a window, a crimson short dress on a mannequin.

You stopped to glance at it for a few seconds, your eyes sparkling. Sunghoon noticed you stopping and took a few steps back “Like it?” He asked, smiling at you

You were so stunned you just nodded in reply, eyes still glued to the dress. It seemed so perfect, sleeveless and not too short but not too long as well. You could see strings on the back, leaving it a little exposed.

“You want to try it?” At his question you snapped out of thoughts, turning to face Sunghoon (who was also a rather nice view).

“No, no, we should go home.” Sunghoon frowned at your reply “But you like it.”

You sighed softly and chuckled “Yes, but that doesn’t mean I should try it.” He eyed the dress and then you, studying you from head to toe “Even if I want to see you in it?”

His words took you by surprise and you widened your eyes “W-what?” He smirked, his fangs showing from the corner of his lips “Let’s enter.” He took your hand and dragged you inside the shop.

He sat on a small sofa in front of the dressing room, patiently waiting for you to try that dress on.

The way your eyes seemed to light up made him want to buy you anything if it meant to see your pretty face smile and be bright.

He knew you were still shaken from your argument with Jake, and by the fact that the bastard was obviously ghosting you, and he’d do anything to take that sorrow away from you.

“Ready?” He asked after a few minutes of not hearing anything from you.

You carefully opened the curtain and lord if he didn’t get an erection on the spot.

Seeing that tiny dress hugging your perfect curves, the shy blush on your cheeks and still that perfect smile on your lips “It’s so beautiful.” You commented

“Give me a twirl.” He asked and you complied, twirling gracefully “You’re beautiful.” Your smile lit up the whole room, you nodded in reply “I think it’s pretty nice.”

Sunghoon stood up and walked toward you, his arms raising and taking your hair away from your back.

The proximity between you two made your breath hitch once again. You could smell his manly cologne and the fabric softener of his hoodie.

“This should be tied.” He murmured in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. His breath hit your skin, so warm. You closed your eyes, waiting for him to finish tying the lace behind your back.

He placed your hair back where they were and placed one strand behind your ear. He pulled away satisfied and smiled “Now, that’s even better.”

You looked at yourself in the mirror of the dressing room and Sunghoon brought his hands on your shoulder. He leaned beside your ear and whispered huskily “Let me buy it for you.”

Your brows shot up and you quickly shook your head “I can’t let you do that.” Sunghoon gave you a mesmerising smile from the mirror “Why not?”

“Because you already paid for the groceries.” Sunghoon tsked at your reasoning “And?”

“And it’d be too much if you also bought this dress. Besides, I don’t even have a reason to wear it.”

“We’ll make one.” You felt a sudden rush of coldness when his breath left your skin and he stepped away “It’s settled, I’ll buy it.”

You turned around, “But—“ He brought a finger to your lips “Sh, I said I’d sugar daddy you and I always keep my word.”

⪩⪨

Y/N: Please Jake, can you reply to me?

Y/N: It’s been five days, at least let me know you’re fine.

You sighed and dropped the phone on the mattress beside you, tired of reading ‘delivered’ beside your messages. Had you crossed the line when you argued? Personally, you thought what Jake said was far worse, but you were ready to forgive him if only he swallowed his pride.

You bit your bottom lip, your body craving to be touched and screaming for release.

Not only had you and Jake not spent time together, but it had also been more than a month since you last had sex.

You tried to ignore your primal urges, however your hips unconsciously moved back and forth, trying to soothe the aching feeling between your legs.

Your breath got heavier as you let your palm wander under your nightgown, touching, trying to turn yourself on.

You bit your bottom lip, your hand reaching down to touch your clit, circling it with your fingers; using your slick to wet it more.

You slid one digit inside of you, fingering yourself for what seems like ten minutes, trying to find that one spot that makes your head spin— it didn’t feel good.

You decided to try and squeeze your breasts, fingering yourself at a fast speed… nothing seemed to work out.

Frustrated, you pulled your fingers out and curled yourself in a small ball, checking your phone just to see that again, Jake had not texted you.

At that moment, a new message popped on your screen.

Sunghoon: Hey Y/N, movie night tomorrow?

You unconsciously smiled and replied with a positive answer, feeling strangely giddy at the thought of having another plan with him.

Y/N: Sounds good.

It didn’t take much for him to text you back, only a few seconds needed.

Sunghoon: Awesome. Tomorrow @ 9pm?

Y/N: Yup. I’ll make sure to do some pop corns.

Sunghoon: Haha ok

You turned off the lights, placed the phone back on the bedside table and tucked yourself under the covers, ready to fall asleep when it buzzed again.

You took it, the screen light too bright for your poor eyes. You narrowed them, trying to read the new messages

Sunghoon: What are you doing now?

Your cheeks flushed at the thought of what you had been doing before he texted you.

Y/N: About to sleep

Sunghoon: Aw :(

Y/N: Why the sad face?

Sunghoon chuckled at your innocence and kind self. He bit his bottom lip and leaned back on the chair, typing his reply.

Sunghoon: I was playing a game and wanted some company.

Y/N: I’m not really sleepy

His eyebrows raised, he thought you’d just turn him off.

Maybe his plan was working.

Sunghoon: Can I call you?

You jolted up, sitting on the bed and looking around in panic.

Y/N: Voice call?

Sunghoon: Anything you want, x

The way Sunghoon was treating you wasn’t the way you treated fiends, but you decided not to overthink it much. Sunghoon’s contact name flashed on your screen as he called you.

You cleared your throat and tapped on the green button.

“Hey,” His voice came out as hoarse from the other line “Hi.” You whispered back, hugging your knees to your chest and fidgeting with the sheets

You could hear some keyboard tapping and asked “What are you playing?” Sunghoon chuckled “League of Legends.”

You hummed “I’ve never played.” Sunghoon let out a sound of disbelief “Never? Jake never let you play with him?”

Jake would always complain when you ever interrupted his gaming nights with friends, “No.” You replied simply.

“Shoot!” He exclaimed from the other line, making you jump in surprise and gasp “Sorry about that— I didn’t mean to startle you.” He was quick to apologise.

“It’s okay,” You reassured, not wanting him to feel guilty about that. “So, how was your day?”

You two started talking about everything and anything, laughing and just enjoying each other's company.

You hadn’t even realised you had fallen asleep, your light snores and deep breaths probably became Sunghoon’s favourite sounds.

Because he never hung up, not until you woke up the next morning and did it yourself.

⪩⪨

Something didn’t feel quite right that day, you let Sunghoon inside your apartment and the two of you prepared the living room for the movie night… but he had something different. Perhaps, the other night something changed between you two.

Maybe it was his not-combed hair, all fluffy and wild, or the white tee he was wearing that showed the shadow of his muscles and abs— or maybe the grey sweats he was wearing. You gulped down, it was you, you were the one off.

Not cumming for so much time did tricks to your brain.

You decided to ignore it and you two sat side by side, but still keeping distance “What movie do you wanna watch?”

Sunghoon asked, lazily eating a pop corn while scrolling through Netflix “Cause I had one in mind, but we can watch something else if you want.”

You hummed “What did you have in mind?” Your voice was softer and quieter, making Sunghoon feel goosebumps all over his skin.

Oh, the effect you had on him.

He took one pillow and sneakingly placed it on his laps, hoping it wasn’t obvious that he was trying to cover his growing bulge.

“How to lose a guy in ten days?” He asked, faking innocence when you widened your eyes and physically squeaked “I love that movie!”

“Is that so?” Sunghoon asked but he already knew the answer. you had said that one day when you were having a group hang out with the others.

He remembered, actually, he remembered every detail of you— even the ones you may think of stupid.

“Then, let’s watch it.” He said and clicked play, the movie beginning peacefully.

It all went alright until Sunghoon’s knee got closer and closer, touching yours.

He acted oblivious, focusing on the scene unfolding in front of him but he was painfully aware of you.

Maybe it was also because of your exposed thighs, the shorts hugging your legs so perfectly, making him almost drool. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

Seeing that you didn’t reject his touch, Sunghoon grew a little bolder and placed his hand on your thigh, caressing it.

An alarm inside your conscience screamed danger! stop! but something told you that his touch was safe, soothing and so attractive.

Your mind went to Jake, how he would react if he ever saw your best friend touching your thigh, too close to where he shouldn’t be touching.

Nonetheless, Jake was so far away and Sunghoon so close to you, his hand slowly creeping closer to where you ached, where you just needed him.

Your breath hitched and your stiff state made sunghoon smirk sly. his plan was working smoothly.

His hand squeezed the flesh beside your thigh as your gaze was still fixed on the tv; however your attention was all on the coldness of his fingers, the way they felt on your skin.

“Sunghoon.” You wanted to say sternly but only a small whisper left your lips “Hmm?” He hummed, his dark eyes back on you

You gulped down and turned your head to meet his face, you glanced at the hand on your thigh and shook your head “You should stop.”

“Stop?” Sunghoon asked, his voice teasing and soft “It seems to me that you are enjoying my touch.”

Deny was what your brain told you to do but his hand moved even closer, resting just below the hem on your shorts.

Your hesitation made Sunghoon’s smirk turn more cunning, “What is on your mind?” He asked, his position shifting so his whole body was facing yours, the pillow falling on the floor.

You didn’t move a bit.

“That it’s weird…” You murmured “What you’re doing.”

“Yeah?” He cooed “And why do you think that?” He asked and his finger tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, making a small tint of blush appear on your cheeks

You weren’t naïve, you knew what Sunghoon was hinting at with his actions and words.

You knew it, yet you didn’t want it to stop.

“Because Jake wouldn’t like it.” At your words, Sunghoon’s smirk fell.

You were loyal and that was admirable, but it was only because his best friend made a move on you first, before he built the courage to talk to you.

Though Jake wasn’t treating you like you deserved, like Sunghoon would.

“Don’t think about him,” He said, his voice harsher than he intended to “Think about me.”

You watched him with hooded eyes as his hand that was tucking the small strand of hair behind your ear slowly slid down your shoulder.

Your heart was pounding so hard you could feel it in your throat and your breath heavier than before.

“This is wrong.” You whispered, unable to voice out the coherent thoughts forming in your brain with his hands touching you ever so gently “we shouldn’t do this.”

Sunghoon gave you a smile that was meant to be reassuring even if it was just victorious.

He knew you’d give in to him, sooner or later.

“It's wrong only if Jake finds out.” He looked down at your body, the way your nipples hardened and their outline could be seen from the shirt, he licked his bottom lip “Besides, don’t act like you don’t want it to happen as well.”

Silence filled the room except for the sound of the long forgotten movie, Sunghoon could sense your hesitation and your pretty brain overthinking, so he let out a small sigh “I’ll try something, you can tell me to stop if you don’t want to.” He said but remained still, waiting for your permission

“Try what?” You asked, your voice so soft and quiet it made his cock harden inside his sweats

“This.'' His voice sounded more like a growl, Sunghoon cupped the back of your neck while his other hand hooked around your waist, bringing you close; his lips connected to your neck, leaving wet kisses all over.

You instantly closed your eyes and a shaky breath left your lips, Sunghoon took it as a clue to add more pressure and suck small spots, careful not to do anything sudden.

One of your hands raised and placed on his forearm, feeling the muscle of his arm, Sunghoon smirked on your skin and detached himself just enough to talk “Do you want to stop?”

You sighed softly and grasped his hair with your other hand, bringing his mouth down on your neck “Keep going.” You said and sunghoon felt as if he was the luckiest man on earth.

His kisses grew hungrier, not leaving even a single spot untouched by his lips. one hand grasped your hair back, bringing it back to have more room while the other groped your breasts from outside the shirt.

You squeezed your thighs together, trying to find relief. “N-no marks.” you said as he sucked a spot for too long, he pulled away and bit his bottom lip, repressing a chuckle “Too late.”

Before you could reply, his lips found yours in a heated and desperate kiss, it was so wrong but it felt too right to stop.

You let your hands slip under his shirt and roam freely, feeling his sculpted chest under your palms, earning a deep groan from sunghoon.

His tongue slipped inside your mouth, he was the one in control of the kiss but you didn’t mind. You just craved to be taken care of.

He pulled away from you and began to lift your shirt up, too eager to feel your whole body— to make you his even if you didn’t belong to him.

He threw the shirt on the floor and widened his eyes as he saw your naked upper body.

Sunghoon stared in trance at you, but it made you feel self conscious and your arms wrapped around your chest.

Sunghoon frowned, taking your hands away “Never,” He murmured, kissing your lips once more “Never cover yourself from me, understand?” You nodded in response “Yes, Hoon.”

He squeezed your tit and lowered his lips to the other one, sucking on your abused nipple “Such pretty tits.” He commented and you unconsciously grind on the sofa, the wetness of your pussy glistening your panties.

He left one breast to pay attention to the other, sucking and flicking his tongue on it, making you whine “Mhhh.. Hoon.” You encouraged him to continue

Sunghoon smirked and looked at you, moving your hips while your eyes were closed and your mouth slightly opened, soft whimpers exiting it.

“Lay down, princess.” He ordered and you complied. His voice was so low and demanding you thought you’d do anything he asked without contemplating anything. Maybe he truly did a spell on you.

His fingers hooked under the hem of your shorts and he looked at your eyes, waiting for your approval. “Don’t ask,”

You said, trusting him and knowing he’d stop if you ever asked, but Aunghoon pecked your lips “Are you sure you want this?” He asked, because no matter how hard he wanted you, he’d never force himself on you.

You nodded, your mind hazy and you body in need to be touched “Yes— I need you, Hoon.” Your soft pleading made blood rush straight to his cock, the visible bulge pocking through his pants.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He groaned and pulled your shorts down, discarding them on the floor “You’ll be the death of me.” He stared at your body like you were a sculpture to admire at a museum, his hand tracing your curves.

“My gorgeous baby,” Sunghoon noticed the wet patch on your panties and smirked widely “So wet for me? We haven’t even started.” He cooed as he tucked the hem down, leaving you completely bare in front of him.

With one finger he gathered your juices and took his digit inside his mouth, humming in approval “Tastes good, so fucking good.”

At such a sight you couldn’t help but let out a small whine “Hoon..” You murmured and his attention immediately snapped back at you “Yes, baby?”

You moved your hips closer to him “Touch me please.” And how could he say no when you asked so politely?

“Want me to touch you?” His finger went down and played with your clit, making you arch your back “Want me to make you feel good, s’that what you want baby?”

He cooed, one finger slipping inside your needy and wet hole, your walls squeezing around it “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

He frowned, working his finger in and out your hole while you moaned under him “Does jake even touch you, uh?” He scoffed

He added another finger, keeping your legs opened with his other hand.

The movements of his fingers inside of you made you see stars, he was so skilled it almost made you forget you had a boyfriend that should do such filthy things to your body.

Not that you cared at that moment, and neither did Sunghoon.

Your hips moved back and forth to match his digits, deep inside of you.

He curled them and caressed your g-spot, making you squeeze your eyes and pant heavily “Faster.” You asked “Please Sunghoon— feels s’good.” His fingers moved faster and faster, the knot in your stomach about to snap when he abruptly pulled away.

You opened your eyes and whined, looking at him with a huge frown which made Sunghoon smile.

You were so cute like that, face all flushed in desperate need to cum “Don’t worry.” He reassured, pulling his sweat and boxers away “Just wanted you to cum all over my cock.”

You smiled but it soon transformed into a huge jaw drop as you saw how big and fat his cock was. it pulsed, angry red and thick, up on his stomach.

Sunghoon chuckled at your reaction, “Too big for you?” He asked, taking your chin in his hands and bringing your face slightly closer to him “Jake isn’t as big as me, is he?”

“That’s… never gonna fit.” You whispered, embarrassed “We’ll see that.” He pulled your head down on the sofa again and he fisted his shaft, your juices that still coated his fingers acting as lube.

He pressed the tip of his dick by your entrance, teasing it “Hurry.” You whined

Sunghoon smirked “Such a needy girl,” He scowled at you and pushed his cock into you in one deep thrust, making you gasp. you felt so stretched, your walls hugging his member, making his eyes roll back “Shit, princess,” He panted “You’re really so tight,” he pushed himself deeper, already bottoming out.

You whined in a mixture of pain and pleasure, gripping the sofa beneath you, Sunghoon noticed you and connected your lips with his, trying to distract you “Relax,” He cooed, one of his hands caressing your forehead with his thumb “It’s all good, you’re doing so well.”

His sweet words made you instantly relax, you looked at him through your teary eyes and he smiled warmly, pecking your lips once more.

He started moving inside of you, slowly at first and when the pain subdued to pleasure, you moaned “S’deep,” You breathed out, gripping his arm.

Sunghoon couldn’t hold back anymore, his hips started moving faster, your skin slapping together as he tsked “Bet he can’t fuck you like i do,”

He circled your clit with his free hand, while his other snuck around your neck, adding small pressure, just enough to make your mind hazy.

He groaned, trying his best not to cum right there as he heard your sweet moans, your tits moving back and forth alongside your body as he pushed his cock so deep he could see the shadow his bulge in your stomach.

“I’m the only one who can fuck you like you deserve,” He kept saying nonsense while you laid under him, the knot in your stomach about to snap.

You nodded at his statement, not registering his words at all “Hoon— s’close, i’m close.” You said, your voice cracked and quiet.

“I know baby,” He circled your clit faster “Can feel you squeeze me— fuck— squeeze my cock.” He threw his head back to move the bangs sticking to his sweaty forehead, revealing an image of every girl’s erotic dream.

He felt your walls squeezing his cock, signalling that you were about to fall apart and so he hurried his movements “Don’t cum yet,” He ordered but you shook your head, unable to resist anymore as you came, your orgasm hitting like a crashing wave, making your body squirm underneath him.

Sunghoon slowed his thrusts but never faltered, he helped you ride out of your high until you were able to open your eyes again, your breath so heavy.

He kissed your lips, holding your chin in his fingers while he resumed his speed, trying to reach his own release

You moaned louder, probably even your neighbours could hear you but Sunghoon pushed you to overstimulation, “Gonna cum, just a little more baby.” He panted, gripping both your hips and rutting inside of you until he pulled out and came all over your chest and body, shots of white seed painting you.

You spread it all over yourself, waiting for him to calm down as the realisation of what you had just done hit both of you.

You exchanged no words but Sunghoon carefully scooped your figure from the sofa and carried you bridal style to the bathroom, making you sit as he prepared you a warm bath.

“Hoon..” you murmured, guilt eating you alive. Sunghoon turned around and saw the state you were in.

Ignoring the hard-on he had again at the sight of you all dirty in his cum, he pressed a featherlight kiss on your forehead “Don’t overthink it,” He said gently “it’ll be alright if he doesn’t know, and you can keep a secret, can’t you?”

Sunghoon asked and you nodded “That’s a good girl.” He pecked your lips but you brought him into a deeper kiss and before you knew, his tongue was inside your mouth again.

He reluctantly pulled away, shaking his head, feeling like he’d be taking advantage of you.

Sunghoon closed the tab of the bath and helped you in, despite your legs that were like jelly, you felt refreshed and happier.

He let go of your hand but you didn’t, keeping it secured in yours. He looked at you with a puzzled expression.

“Get inside.” You beckoned to the bath and he shook his head again “I’ll take a shower later.”

You pouted “Let’s save water.” Your eyes were so soft and glossy he couldn’t help but comply and he entered the bathtub with you.

Nedless to say, you found yourself on his laps, needy grinding against his hard cock as you two made out with the warm water around you both.

Maybe you could do more than that while Jake was away.

⪩⪨

The next morning you woke up to a strange sensation between your thighs, it felt hot but also good, waves of pleasure rushing through your body.

You slowly opened your eyes and looked down, seeing a ruffled head buried between your legs, two strong hands pinning you down the bed.

“Hoon..” You breathed out, your mind still hazy and eyes too heavy to keep open.

Sunghoon momentarily detached himself from your cunt, your wetness coating his chin “Mh, hey princess.” He smiled as if he wasn’t eating you out for breakfast “Just relax, let me take care of you.”

You already weak heart melted at his statement and you just nodded, resting your head back on the pillow while Sunghoon flicked his tongue on your tongue, stimulating it with his fingers as well.

You closed your eyes and placed one hand behind sunghoon’s head, grasping his hair, trying to bring him closer, needing him closer.

The phone on your bedside table started ringing, making you take it and frustratedly checking who was ruining your moment.

You would’ve jerked away if it wasn’t for Sunghoon’s grip at the sight of Jake’s contact name “It’s Jake.” You half-whispered, half-screamed, trying to pull Sunghoon’s head away from your pussy.

He reluctantly let go and nodded “Answer.” Though his tone said that was the last thing he wanted you to do. With shaky hands, you took the call and placed the phone beside your ear “Hello?”

“Y/N, hi… it’s morning there, did I wake you up?” Jake’s voice seemed to foreign to your ears it felt strange at first; as you were about to reply, Sunghoon’s lips attached to your pussy once more, making you gasp.

“You good?” Jake asked from the other line, worry lacing his tone “All good!” You exclaimed, a little too high pitched.

No matter how hard you grasped Sunghoon’s hair, the man was not going to pull away from your pussy and the way he pinned you more down on the bed confirmed your thoughts.

Instead, you bit your bottom lip and tried your best not to give away the pleasure your boyfriend’s best friend was giving you. “Listen, I'm so sorry.” You frowned, confused “What are you sorry for?”

A whimper died down your throat when Jake answered “How I left things, I shouldn’t have ignored your texts..” He sighed softly “I was just mad, I needed some time alone, but it isn’t an excuse.”

No, it wasn’t, but you had forgotten about the fight thanks to Sunghoon’s magic bed skills, so you just shrugged it off.

“I understand.” You breathed out as Sunghoon inserted a finger into your sticky walls, fingering you while his tongue worked on your clit.

Jake sighed at your answer “I said hurtful things to you, can you forgive me?” You moved your hips, fucking yourself on sunghoon’s tongue, earning a hum of approval that sent waves through your body.

“Yes,” you replied, though you didn’t know if it was meant for Jake’s question or to incite Sunghoon in his act “Really?”

Jake’s voice sounded surprised, you usually took things personally, so why brush it all off? He wasn’t going to complain, though.

“How are things going there?” He asked “Alright,” You murmured, Sunghoon’s skilled tongue making you see stars.

“There?” You managed to ask without letting your voice shake when Sunghoon added a second digit inside of you, curling them like he had already memorised where your sweet spot was.

And he probably did.

“Well.” Jake chuckled “But I miss you so much,” You felt a pang of guilt, because since Sunghoon occupied your daily life, your mind had started to drift toward Jake less.

“Miss you too,” You whispered, your words making Sunghoon’s fingers move faster. You bit down on your fist to prevent yourself from making unwanted noises.

You heard a second voice from the other line but couldn’t quite understand what it said, and then Jake sighed sadly “I have to go baby, I'll text you when I finish this meeting.”

You hummed, your back arching “I love you.” Jake said sweetly and you answered with a quick “Me too.” Before hanging up, throwing the phone on the mattress.

You pulled sunghoon’s head away and pushed it on the bed, strangely he let you do it, not fighting you.

He laid on the bed while you crawled on top of him, hovering just above his face “You’re so hot when you’re pissed.” he teased, knowing that you would’ve been anxious about being discovered.

That was what added the thrill to Sunghoon, it would be boring otherwise.

“Shut up,” You shushed, lowering yourself on his lips and gripping his hair, pulling his lips on your pussy, the sweet sensation appearing again.

You bucked your hips down, riding his face while you moaned, trying to reach your orgasm.

Sunghoon’s tongue found your entrance, fucking your hole, drinking all your wetness like you were his last meal.

On other occasions you would've been scared of choking him, but with the pre-orgasm bliss, your selfishness appeared and you just worried about cumming.

His nose poked your clit, his tongue fucking in and out and his hums of approval to let you know that he was, at least, still breathing made you reach your high, legs shaking.

He helped you ride out of your orgasm, your breath still hard as you laid down on the bed again, chest raising up and down.

He sat up and kissed your lips, tasting your cum on his tongue “Morning, Y/N.” He murmured in a hoarse voice.

“Morning, Sunghoon.” It was the same thing you two had been telling each other for a week, only this time, it meant so much more.

⪩⪨

“Let me see them, come here.” He demanded as you two got home from your nail salon appointment, which he insisted on paying.

You smiled widely and walked closer to the sofa where he was sitting — or rather, manspreading — and happily showed him your pinkish nails.

“I love them.” You confessed, the small brush of Sunghoon’s thumb on your knuckles making your breath hitch “Pretty nails for a pretty girl.” He smirked when he noticed the effect he had on you.

Sunghoon was no innocent man, despite his shy appearance.

When he said he’d do anything for you, he meant it, even betray his best friend for you.

Maybe you didn’t want to dump him because Jake was, in fact, a good boyfriend if you didn’t count the bad moments you had together.

But Sunghoon was better than him, and he was planning on showing you.

He let go of your hand and patted his lap, beckoning you to sit on it.

Complying, you straddled him and wrapped your arms around his neck “But you didn’t have to pay for them.” You murmured, feeling guilty that he spent so much for you, along with the necklace and earrings he bought you as a gift

“Shhh,” He hushed you, pressing a finger on your lips, brushing his thumb over your bottom one.

“I want to spoil you baby, you deserve it.” His voice was barely a whisper, so deep and husky.

Your lips hitched with the urge you had to put them on his, kissing until you grew sick of it— but you couldn’t.

“Actually,” You mumbled and pulled away, just enough to resist your deepest thoughts “I don’t want to send you away, but Jake wanted to FaceTime me,” You gulped, fidgeting with his shirt

Sunghoon tilted his head, his hands securing around your waist, protectively keeping you close “So?”

“So, I thought it’d be better if he didn’t see you here.” You added, nodding at your own statement

Sunghoon frowned, “I can hide in the bathroom until you’re done.”

“Hoon— you’ve been sleeping here for four days..” His jaw ticked “Am I bothering you?”

You were quick to shake your head “No, never.” You bit your bottom lip, afraid to voice out your feelings since that useless argument you had with Jake

He sighed softly and took your chin in his fingers, making you look inside his eyes “What’s wrong, baby?” He asked, holding you so gently you thought you’d shatter right there and he’d be able to pick up all your pieces

“I—“ You shook your head, but Sunghoon’s grip tightened on your chin “Tell me.” He demanded, not harshly.

“I just… I don’t think Jake would like it if he knew about this and I feel so guilty.” Sunghoon felt his anger rise, because he wanted to tell you that your relationship was more off than on, he wanted to tell you to just break up with Jake and live with him, spend your day tucked under his protections so that no one could hurt you anymore.

But, you weren’t his and he couldn’t do anything about it… yet.

“What we’re doing isn’t bad, alright?” He tried to sooth your worry “We’re just two adults trying to satisfy each other’s needs,” Sunghoon licked his bottom lip, looking at your glossy and innocent eyes made his dick harden inside his jeans.

“And I want to take care of you..” He whispered, his hand slipping under your shirt, groping your breasts, earning a small whimper from you “Will you let me?”

Were the necklace and earrings he gave you cursed? Because no matter how much you knew this was wrong, you only craved for more.

“Yes,” You whispered, “I want to make you feel good too.” Sunghoon’s eyes softened, you were so cute and innocent and so his to ruin “Is that so, princess?” You nodded in response

“Want to make me feel good?” You hummed and Sunghoon got close to your ear, purring “Get on your knees.”

You complied right away, climbing down his laps and placing yourself between his legs “Need those pretty hands around my cock,” He said and you unzipped his jeans, palming his already hard length through the fabric

“Do you know how to give a blow?” He scoffed, almost being degrading “I bet Jake couldn’t even teach you properly.” Sunghoon caressed the side of your cheek and then his hand gripped your hair, pulling your head toward his hips “Hurry up, sweetheart.”

Not wanting to make him wait, you quickly pulled the hem of his boxers down and let them fall to his ankles.

His cock sprung free, veiny and thick, you let your tongue trace it, giving kitten licks to the tip.

Sunghoon groaned, holding your hair up to a semi-ponytail so they wouldn’t bother you.

You circled your tongue all over the tip, tasting his bittersweet precum.

“Stop teasing.” he warned, pulling your hair back and looking into your eyes, his tone softening, “Understood, baby?” You nodded in approval and took him whole inside your mouth in one swift movement, his long shaft hitting the back of your throat, making you gag.

He ard your slight gag but the sensation of your warm mouth wrapped around him was enough to cloud his mind. you bobbed your head back and forth, filthy sounds filling the room.

“Shit princess, you feel so good.” He groaned “Mh— could just cum right here.” His praising fuelled your confidence, so you gripped both his hips and moved your head faster, trying to provide him pleasure

You palmed his balls as well, gripping them gently as Sunghoon let out a low moan, throwing his head back on the headboard on the sofa.

You spied him from your eyelashes, he looked like the epitome of erotic: mouth hanging open, eyebrows furrowed and eyes squeezed shut.

He pushed your mouth further, trying to bottom out when your phone started ringing. You got distracted, looking to the side, about to pull away as you knew it was Jake.

“Don’t you dare.” Sunghoon groaned, standing up and pushing his cock deep inside your throat, you gagged, it being too big to fit.

You tried to push him away to catch your breath but Sunghoon didn’t seem to care. Only when he saw your teary eyes did he give you the chance to breathe.

You panted heavily, spit rolling down your cheeks and wetting your shirt.

Your ringtone started once again and Sunghoon watched you wild his eyes, he took your chin in his hands and raised a brow “You going to answer?”

Your eyes were glossy and the tip of your nose red, you shook your head in reply “That’s what I thought.” he smirked and yanked you by your hair, snatching them to push his fat cock inside your mouth once again.

The way you were just staring at him with those eyes made him grin, the sweat dripping down his forehead added a small spark to the whole situation.

Your phone rang once more and he let out an annoyed groan, taking it in his hands “Maybe I should just show your boyfriend what you’re doing right now, uh?” You panicked and shook your head, trying to pull away from him.

“Keep sucking,” he warned, maintaining his grip on your hair. He showed your phone screen to you, Jake’s contact name appearing before your eyes.

You murmured, trying to tell him not to do anything reckless but that only sent waves of pleasure to his length.

“Shit Y/N.” he panted, throwing your phone back on the sofa, not caring about its ringtone anymore.

“Always ruining the moment, that fucker.” He murmured, holding your head with both his hands and pushing his dick in and out your warm and went mouth

“I’m so close baby,” You nodded, dropping your arms on your side and letting him do what he needed to reach his high. His moans were low, more like growls which made the wetness between your legs grow more uncomfortable as time passed.

You liked when he acted so possessive, when he acted like you belonged to him.

You wished you did.

“Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.” He chanted, eyes rolling back “Such a good girl for me,” He groaned once more, pushing one last time, deeper until released his seed inside your mouth.

He took deep breaths, trying to calm down “Swallow.” Sunghoon ordered, his eyes so dark and red.

You gulped down and then stuck out your tongue to show him that no trace of his cum was left “Good girl.” He smiled, helping you up.

He helped you up and was about to pull your body closer when you shook your head “What’s wrong?” He asked, confused at your sudden coldness

You glanced at your phone on the sofa and smiled faintly “I think I should call Jake back.” You took it and bit your bottom lip, “I’ll be back later.”

You didn’t spare Sunghoon a glance and just disappeared in your bedroom, closing the door behind your back, leaving Sunghoon in the living room with the realisation that your heart still belonged to Jake.

⪩⪨

Jake was a total asshole. He had always known that, but realisation hit him the moment he saw you coming out of that room bawling your eyes out.

Despite not wanting to tell him, he had a feeling it meant Jake’s foul mouth said things he shouldn’t have.

And as he rocked you to sleep, whispering sweet nothings while gently caressing your body, he was more than determined to take you away.

What made it worse was that you took your time to clean the drool from your cheeks, combed your tangled hair and even put some mascara on to be pretty.

Jake didn’t even consider that, or didn’t try to think how happy you’d be to talk to him and harshly destroyed your mood.

The next morning you woke up feeling groggy, your eyes were puffy and tear stains lined down your cheeks.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and sighed, trying to fix the damage that was your appearance.

After washing your face and doing your needs, you exited the bathroom thinking you’d be alone and mentally preparing to make something for yourself to eat when you came across a tall male figure cooking.

You stopped in your tracks, eyes wide as you drank him in. Sunghoon was toasting something with the pan, his forearms flexing as he twisted the bread.

He was quietly humming a melody, quiet enough not to wake you up, the smell of caramel and first loves filling the air.

You felt a sudden peace of mind, dreaming about waking up like this every day, lazy sunday mornings spent in, cuddling and just being with each other.

Your dream was crushed when you remembered you actually had someone to do that with you, and he wasn’t Sunghoon.

You walked towards him and hugged his waist, your small arms wrapped around his toned torso. He stiffed for a second before realising it was you “Morning sleepyhead.”

“Morning Hoon.” You said back, snuggling your face closer to his back. He turned off the stove and turned around, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling your body closer

“Slept well?” Sunghoon asked, placing the palm of his hand on your cheek, his thumb giving it gentle strokes.

The way he talked and looked had you so weak and vulnerable and the only place you wanted to be in was the space between his arms, pressed in so close and so tight.

“Yes, thanks to you.” You gave him a sincere smile. His lips twitch up into a smile and you can feel the warmth of his gaze on your face.

He shook his head and placed a featherlight kiss on your head “I did nothing, really.” He did what Jake should’ve done, instead he chose to be the reason for your hurting.

You were about to answer when he held your waist tightly and placed you to sit on the kitchen counter, you blinked faintly in confusion. Sunghoon smiled and pecked your nose “Breakfast will be done soon.” He announced, winking at you.

He turned back to the stove and placed the toasts on a small plate; he walked to the fridge and took some jam along with butter.

You followed all his movements with your gaze, noticing how his muscles twitched at his every movement. He was wearing a t-shirt that was supposed to be Jake’s, though you had to admit it looked way better on Sunghoon. You shook your head, getting rid of those (not so) untrue allegations.

Sunghoon finished making the toasts and turned towards you, his fang smile so addictive. “Are you hungry?” He asked “I made toast and found strawberries in the fridge.”

“I think you’d like to eat something else.” You murmured, voice still hoarse from sleeping.

Sunghoon’s gaze darkened as he registered your words, placing himself between your legs “And what is it?” He questioned, face so close to yours you could feel his hot breath hitting your skin

With one hand you held yourself on the counter and wrapped the other around Sunghoon’s neck.

You two had only four more days together, and you chose to make the best of them.

You’d deal with Jake when he came back and could talk face to face.

“I have a perfect meal for you.” You smirked, looking down at your lower body. Sunghoon let out a soft sigh, his bulge already poking from his shorts “My favourite.”

His palm traced all the way from your breasts, down to your stomach and hem of the shorts.

He slipped one finger inside and cursed under his breath when he realised you were wearing no underwear

You chuckled at his reactions and Sunghoon attacked your lips with his, sucking on your bottom lip, making you squirm.

He squeezed your breasts and simultaneously played with your clit, touching you in only ways he could.

He detached his lips from yours and lowered himself, kneeling in front of you.

He kissed your clothed core, smelling the scent of you, so addicting.

You felt your pussy clench around nothing, the usual warm feeling building inside your body.

You looked down at Sunghoon with pleading eyes and he was more than happy to satisfy you “On it, baby.” He licked his lips as he pulled your shorts down, the cold air of the room hitting your sensitive skin, making you shiver.

Sunghoon placed kitten kisses all over your thighs, so close to where you needed him but not exactly there.

“Hoon.. please.” You whined, pulling him by his hair closer to your core. Sunghoon flicked his tongue on your clit, making you gasp out.

He continued to lick your pussy like a popsicle, his skilled tongue brushing against your shaven mound, making your head hazy.

Your breath grew heavy and you couldn’t help but throw your head back, desperately pushing Sunghoon closer, trying to find satisfaction.

Sunghoon rewarded your bravery by inserting one finger inside your hole, brushing it against your g-spot “Fuck— Hoon, yes” You moaned out

“Pussy tastes so good.” he purred, diving again between your thighs “All mine, this is all mine, got it?” in your blissful state you nodded your head in reply, bucking your hips to meet his movements

As Sunghoon’s fingers kept brushing against a certain spot that had your eyes roll back, you felt something snap inside of you and liquid spurred out of your pussy.

You widened your eyes, looking down at him with an apologetic look.

“I— I’m sorry.” You said, taking in the sight of said liquid dripping down Sunghoon’s chin and having wetted his shirt.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, seemed to be on cloud 9 “That was so hot, Y/N.” He said with sparkling eyes “Squirt on me again baby, please.”

He was really pussy drunk, drinking all your juices, fucking you with his tongue and fingers.

He raised himself on his feet and brought you into a sloppy and messy kiss, you could taste yourself on his lips.

His painful clothed bulge pressed against your core, rubbing against it.

Sunghoon made his shorts and boxers fall down to his ankles and rubbed his red tip on your wet folds, gathering your sweet juices.

He pushed his thick cock inside you and your breath hitched, its length still something you weren’t used to.

You propped yourself on your elbows and took deep breaths, trying to distract yourself from the burning stretch.

Sunghoon moved slowly, rubbing your clit to make you even wetter so that he could slip in and out without hurting you.

He held your face with one hand, his thumb inside your thumb while you sucked on it “You’re so dirty.” he smirked “My dirty girl.” He got close to your face and hurried his thrusts

“Tell me baby— shit— you mine, uh?” He asked, voice husky

“I’m not y-yours.” Ah, wrong answer. He stilled his movements, looking down at you with a raised brow “Not mine?” He scoffed, “Then you don’t deserve to cum.”

You felt him pull out and panicked, gripping his forearm desperately “No!” You exclaimed “Please Hoon.”

He gave one deep thrust, making you whimper “What did you say?” You blinked faintly “Please..” He shook his head “Nah ah.”

You sighed “I’m yours, Hoon.” His lips twitched into a sly smirk “Good girl.” Sunghoon praised as he gripped your waist.

You raised your top just enough to let your breasts run free and squeezed your nipple, stimulating your body.

Sunghoon joined you and squeezed the other one, bringing his lips down to circle it and send waves of pleasure through your body.

Sunghoon took hold of your hips, raising you from the counter while your hands were still gripping it, moving your lower body to meet his in quick and deep thrusts.

“Fuck, get down.” he helped you down the counter and manhandled you, turning you as he pleased.

He took your arms and hooked them around one of his, your back pressed against his chest.

Sunghoon entered your body once more, his movements so fast. You clenched around him, your moans so loud.

“You were made for me.” He groaned in your ear, kissing your shoulder “Mine to fuck, mine to own, mine to love.”

You felt the knot in your stomach tighten, crying out in pleasure “S-sunghoon.” He breathed out “I know baby,” the speed of his thrusts hurried, rutting inside of you as he hit the sweet spot “Cum for me.”

At his words your eyes rolled at the back of your head, mouth agape as you came apart on his cock.

He looked down, the white circle forming around his shaft, almost making him cum as well on spot.

Your legs started shaking, his thrusts never faltering even as you squirmed in his grip. He circled your clit with one hand, your eyes getting watery.

“Shh,” He soothed, letting go of your arms to make you stabilise yourself by gripping the counter; his hands grasped your hips, grip so tight it would probably leave marks by the next day as he thrusted inside of you, trying to reach his release.

“I’m gonna cum,” Sunghoon panted, the speed of his movements increasing even more “Inside—“ You choked out “Cum inside me.” Your words made him release his seed right there, coating your clenching walls with his warm cum.

He hugged your back, lips brushing against your shoulders as he fucked his cum right back into you, not wanting a single drop to fall out.

He raised from your figure but still not pulling out, turning your head by your chin and connecting your lips.

The kiss was sloppy and uncomfortable due to the position, but it held so many feelings it made you melt.

Sunghoon’s fingertips caressed your stomach, holding you close while gentle thrusts kept uniting your bodies “You begging me to cum inside really did something to me, pretty girl.” He chuckled, kissing your jawline.

“Fortunately,” You started, still out of breath “I’m on the pill. Sunghoon chuckled huskily, “I wouldn’t have minded even if you weren’t.”

He pulled out, drops of his cum running down your thighs. He turned you around and kissed you deeply once more “Let’s get you cleaned up, then we can eat.”

You gave him a weak smile, you were sticky and sweaty, probably your hair was also messed up, but Sunghoon still looked at you like you were the most beautiful person in the world. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”

He kissed the tip of your nose and chuckled “I’m taking you out for the night, so prepare that dress I bought you.” Euphoria took over your face as you nodded happily “Thank you, Hoon.”

“I already told you I’d do anything for you.”

⪩⪨

You were putting the earrings he had bought you, the crimson dress hugging your body.

You stood in front of the full-length mirror inside your room, trying your best not to poke another hole in your ear.

You felt a pair of strong arms wrapping around your waist, Sunghoon’s head snuggled in the crook of his neck. The familiar cologne filled your nostrils, bringing a sense of peacefulness inside you.

Sunghoon kissed the back of your shoulder, his arms bringing you to his body. You felt his erections pressing between your ass cheeks, making you chuckle “You’re gorgeous.” He whispered in your ear, his kisses raising toward your jaw

You let out a shaky breath as he started slowly grinding against your ass “Hoon… We have a reservation.” You cleared your throat, trying not to think at the wetness between your legs

“So?” His voice was so low it made you shiver in his embrace. His hands moved towards your breasts, squeezing them from outside the fabric of your dress. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

You shook your head “We’re going to be late.” He pressed your lower body even closer to his, rutting his clothes cock on your ass “Please baby…” He groaned, “I’m so hard it hurts.”

His eyes locked with your from the mirror and you couldn’t deny him when he looked so desperate for you.

You loved it, you loved the way he seemed to be so obsessed with you.

You nodded “Alright.” He didn’t waste time and flicked your skirt up, pushing his pants and boxers down and pushing your panties to the side. As his cock sprung free, you could feel it rubbing against you, so hot and hard.

He took your arms and held them in his hand, rubbing your folds with his shaft with the other. With one swift movement, he entered you, moving fast already.

Your moans were music to his ear and the sight of you rolling your eyes from the full-length mirror made his cock twitch inside of you.

Sunghoon groaned, sweat coating his forehead as he sped up, letting go of your arms to grip your hips and use your body as he pleased.

You put one hand behind his head and pressed yourself closer to him, your back tightly against his chest.

“My perfect girl,” He chanted, biting his bottom lip, trying his best not to cum just there “This pussy was made for me, uh?”

His heavy breath sent shivers through all your body, the sweet feeling of his dick bottoming out, hitting your cervix repeatedly made your legs shake.

“Close already?” He asked, the sound of skin slapping and the wet sounds from your cunt filling the room “Y-yes.” You managed to say, the feeling of euphoria approaching you.

“Fuck— me too.” He let out a few breaths, hurrying his speeds “Let’s cum together baby,” Sunghoon hugged your body from behind, spooning you while standing up as he rutted fast your abused pussy

“You’ll let me cum inside, right?” You nodded your head, “Please.” You breathed out “Want you to fill me up.”

Your words were enough for Sunghoon to empty his load inside of you, your own hand went down to circle your clit and you came right with him.

Your walls pulsed around him and his cock twitched, with slow and deep thrusts. He kissed the back of your shoulder, his breath calming down.

“You did amazing,” He whispered, pulling out and covering your folds with your underwear.

He pulled his pants and boxers up and pulled you by your waist, kissing you hungrily “Now, you’re going to dinner with my cum inside,” He murmured on your lips “And after we come home I’ll fuck it right back, filling you up again.”

You were still dazed from your orgasm, or maybe it was the spell he gave you, because all you could manage to do was nod blissfully. Sunghoon’s plan was indeed working.

⪩⪨

Saying that you two had been fucking like two rabbits was an understatement.

Sunghoon took you in the kitchen again, then on the sofa, in the bathtub and so many times in the bedroom.

Like now, you had the insane idea to blow him around three am, the day before Jake was coming home.

Nobody could blame you, though, because the way he was sleeping with his lips open, bare chested and hands ruffled turned you so on you wanted to give him the sloppiest and messiest head of his life. And so you did.

Sunghoon was now cuddling with you, his fingertips brushing against your sensitive skin, the quiet of the night too comfortable as you laid in his embrace.

His breath was even and soft, his body heat should’ve been bothering you since you were in July but it only made you seek more. Maybe it was the fact that the day before, it would be gone forever.

“Hoon?” you asked, tone gentle “Hmm?” he murmured sleepily, sniffling his head closer to your shoulder

You stayed silent for a couple of seconds, trying to gather your thoughts “When tomorrow comes, can you give me some time alone?”

Sunghoon frowned “What?” You gulped, looking down at him, smelling your shampoo scent in his hair. “I need some time to figure things out.”

Sunghoon was scared to feel hopeful by your words, he still said “Figure what?”

“My feelings.” You answered, sighing softly “It’s just that, I’ve never felt so happy like when I’m with you.” At those words, he raised his head, his tired dark eyes meeting yours

“With Jake, everything feels on autopilot, we just live our lives as if we were two roommates.” He caressed your shoulder, letting you know that he was with you, that he had got you

“But with you— you made me rediscover how love feels like, how it feels to be someone’s first choice.”

“Y/N..” He whispered, feeling a sudden urge to protect you “But I’m saying this after spending basically one month without my boyfriend.” Hearing you utter those two words felt like a punch in the stomach, even though you were just stating the truth.

Sunghoon had just been a replacement for you, something to fill the void created by Jake.

“I need to see it for myself if I really have no feelings left for him or if..” He interrupted you before you could finish “I understand.”

You blinked faintly, “You do?” Sunghoon nodded, a smile forming on his lips “Of course, I’ll wait for you and understand if you choose to be with Jake.”

Your eyes sparkled at his words, he was so gentle despite the fact that his heart was breaking.

But that wouldn’t happen, because as he held you close to him, he knew his spell had worked.

No matter how much you tried, you wouldn’t be able to get away from him.

“I’ll always be there for you.” No matter how many times he repeated it, you always felt the sincerity of his words.

⪩⪨

“I’m back.” Jake announced, entering the front door with his huge luggage “Y/N?” He asked, walking into the living room

“Hey,” You smiled, reaching him “Welcome back.” Jake smiled wrapped his arms around you “How is my love?” He asked rather happily

“Layla’s alright, I think.” Your answer sounded harsh, still not fully having forgiven him for the horrible things he said on FaceTime.

Jake frowned, knowing his sins “I’m so sorry, baby.” You sighed, pulling away from his embrace “I know.” You just said and took his luggage “I’ll put the dirty clothes in the laundry.”

Everything went smoothly, he had talked to you all about his journey, how awesome Los Angeles was, everyone was so kind and supportive towards him. And, not a single question on how you had been the past two weeks.

Shaking the feeling off and trying not to think about Sunghoon anytime Jake brushed his fingers against your skin, you successfully managed to get through three days.

What you told Sunghoon was true, your life went on autopilot when you were with Jake.

You woke up, went to work, did the chores and then went to sleep. You barely spoke to each other and the awkward silence in the house was always present.

“Baby?” He asked while you were cooking by the gas stoves, you hummed in response, not turning around.

“Since when did you buy all those jewellery and clothes?” He raised a brow, leaning against the counter “They’re pretty expensive, they’re from Pandora.”

“Oh?” You turned around and looked at the jewel case in his hands, trying to suppress a smile at the memory of Sunghoon buying you all the things you liked. Honestly, you wouldn’t even care if he had bought you diamonds or just paper rings, you’d take anything he’d give you.

“I liked them, so I bought them.” You shrugged, turning back to stir the soup inside the pot

“You’re so rich you can buy anything you want now?” He scoffed, placing the jewel case on the table and crossing his arms.

You stopped in your tracks, raising a brow “What?” Jake clicked his tongue “Did you pay the rent?” You nodded “Of course I did, last week.”

He let out a satisfied sound “What about the car insurance?” Now did you turn around and stared at him in disbelief “It’s your car, I’m not going to pay for you.”

Jake sighed “Come on baby, I’ve spent all my money on the trip.” You narrowed your eyes, dots collecting inside your brain “It’s a business trip, the company should’ve paid for you.”

Jake widened his eyes, stuttering “I— I meant the food and…” He trailed off. You weren’t going to buy it, you didn’t want to hear his excuses anymore.

“I don’t care, it’s your car. I don’t use it.” You informed, cleaning your hands in the apron and crossing them on your chest “But I’m your boyfriend.”

Your brows furrowed at his statement “Only when you want to.” Jake rolled his eyes “Here you go again.” He ran a hand through his hair “Could you stop being so over dramatic?”

“Oh, so now I’m over dramatic.” You said sarcastically “Yes! Yes you are.” He snapped

You didn’t flinch or look away this time, you weren’t going to show your weak side. Jake always took advantage of it, and you weren’t going to let him.

“Sunghoon was right.” You murmured and Jake’s head snapped back toward you “What?”

“You’re an asshole.” You narrowed your eyes but Jake just dismissed your “Yeah, ok. What about Sunghoon?”

“I’ve spent a lot of time with him lately,” Jake laughed at your statement, seeming genuinely thrilled at your information “You and that weirdo?”

Your mouth hung open “What did you say about him? He’s your best friend.”

Jake tsked, “That’s what he thinks. He was a loner and I just talked to him. He has stuck with me since then and I’m growing pretty sick of it.”

“How dare you talk about him like that?” Jake’s brow raised “Why do you care?”

“Because he is ten times better than you.” Jake chuckled again “Oh, he is? Baby, I’m better than him or you would’ve been his girlfriend by now.”

He leaned back against the counter “And what have you two been doing, eh? Reading books? Watching corny films? Playing table games?”

“Sex.” You replied, your tone monotone, having had enough of his bullshits. His chuckle died and he frowned, looking up at you.

“You heard me, I slept with Sunghoon.” His jaw dropped, anger building inside of him “So you just go around and act like a slut? Is that what you do when I’m not home?”

“Don’t you dare call me a slut.” You snapped, your voice raising for the first time in three years “You cheated on me, Y/N. When were you going to tell me?”

“I needed a few days to figure my feelings out, and thank you for making me realise how much of an asshole you are.”

Jake scoffed “You're the one who slept with another man when you’re supposed to be my girlfriend.”

“You’re right, and I’m sorry for cheating.” His face held some victorious feelings that quickly died as you added “Because I should’ve dumped you before.”

“And that’s what I’m doing right now, Sim Jaeyun, I’m breaking up with you.”

“You can’t do that.” His face filled with anger, but no regret could be found.

You were glad you opened your eyes before you were stuck with him “You’ve sucked my happiness out, you took the life out of me. Now I’m going to take it back.” You took off the apron, throwing it at his chest “I’ll come and get my things tomorrow.”

You heard him throwing other harsh words to you, but you didn’t care. You didn’t even wear your shoes, just ran out of your old apartment in slippers, towards the only place you knew would always have space for you.

⪩⪨

“Don’t shoot me!” Sunghoon was playing with his friends at a video game, the sound of keyboard taps filled the whole house along with his shouting.

It was strange his neighbours hadn’t come to complain already.

“At your back!” Jay informed him, Sunghoon was taking the aim to kill the enemy but his doorbell ringing distracted him, making his shoot pointless. “Shit man, I think it’s Miss Choi again.”

Jay snorted, “Alright, go deal with her.” The friends exchanged goodbyes and Sunghoon got up, the doorbell kept ringing, making Sunghoon groan

“Here, Here.” He sighed as he opened the door only to widen his eyes when he realised it was you in front of him— not his neighbour.

“Y/N—“ He couldn’t even finish saying your name when you threw yourself on him, lips meeting his. Sunghoon was taken aback at first but soon enough kissed you back, your lips touching and moving together.

You pulled away, panting heavily “What are you doing here?” He asked, taking in the sight of you.

Home clothes, slippers on and heavy breaths…

“Did you run here?” You took several deep breaths before speaking “I’m so sorry I made you wait.” Sunghoon blinked faintly at your sudden apologies

“Why are you—“ You shook your head “Please let me finish first.”

Sunghoon nodded slowly, waiting for you to continue. “When I first met Jake, I had never experienced love, so I thought what he did was normal…” You recalled in your mind all the times he and treated you unfairly for a span of three years and shivered

“But you made me realise how love actually feels, and I want to learn all the other forms it comes with.” You looked up at his eyes “He called you names and said he’d only been your friend for pity.”

You continued “I just wanted you to know that you are not pitiful, in fact, you're the best person I’ve ever met. Please, don’t listen to him.”

Sunghoon couldn’t care less about Jake’s opinion about him. But a small smile appeared on his face at the way you seemed to be so annoyed by the fact that he had insulted him.

“You defended me?” He asked softly, and you nodded as if it was the most obvious answer “I also dumped his unworthy ass.”

Sunghoon’s brows shot up in surprise and a smirk crept on his lips “That’s my girl.”

He brought his arms around your waist, pressing your body on his “I want to make it right, Sunghoon, I want to be happy and I want you.” You bit your bottom lip “If you want me too?”

Sunghoon chuckled and twirled you in the air, your giggles filling his usual lonely apartment “I’ve always wanted you, from the first day I saw you, I knew you were the one.”

His answer surprised you, “You liked me?” Sunghoon booped your nose, you looked so cute, all rebel wannabe just for your insecurities to stop you again “I think I love you.”

Your breath hitched, those words leaving his lips made you feel so warm on the inside, your heart skipping so many beats you weren’t sure it was still working “I think I love you too.”

Sunghoon kissed you deeply, his tongue entering your mouth as he claimed you, finally able to call you his.

You pulled away and chuckled, wrapping your arms around his neck.

You tilted your head, tone flirty “So.. You’ll let me stay for the night?” Sunghoon secured your waist in his grasp “I’ll let you stay forever.”

[musicrunsthroughmysoul]

I just noticed that Sleater-Kinney thanked Mike McCready in the credits on Path of Wellness and I can't help but think...well...urgh. I Do Not Trust That. I was intrigued the first time I noticed it, but then my stomach dropped when I realized that it was specifically for Path of Wellness.

[majinbangus]

will johnny ever punish simon(and how) for playing too rough with you and accidentally hurt you (yk some dog just like that) or doesnt listen to reader or makes reader upset????

follow up question if simon and reader do something and it upset him how will he handle it???

im in LOVE LOVE LOVEEEEEE with ur guard dog simon and owner johnny reader

i hope you have a good day and win the lottery ❤️

》 18+ i'm glad you're liking my guard dog!ghost series! sorry my answer got a little long but a short way of explaining Ghost's dynamic with reader when it comes to punishments is that he's technically submitting, but he's also not really submissive ygm? he'll go through his punishments, but energy is very much this post. that's what im tryna go for at least -> more here

Accidentally hurting you, Soap can forgive. Ghost is always extremely careful not to seriously hurt you. Yes, he'll be rough and leave you sore or with bruises sometimes, but he still behaves much like the scrupulous guard dog he is, listening to your every command and taking care to protect you from real harm.

As Soap likes too remind you, Ghost is very well trained already, and it's up to you to show him that you can take care of him just as Ghost takes care of you. In fact, Soap is a little harder on you if he catches you slacking, reminding you that a dog like Ghost deserves a responsible owner willing to take care of such a diligent dog.

However, in the rare event that Ghost doesn't do his duty as your guard dog and leaves your side, Soap will get upset, but he would actually leave the punishment up to you (since you're technically Ghost's primary owner. Soap is there to teach you how to be a good owner) and act as the enforcer for whatever punishment you see fit.

So if you wanna make Ghost sleep in a dog crate for a week, Soap will buy the crate and Ghost isn't allowed on the bed. If you want to keep Ghost on a leash until you regain trust in him, Soap is gonna do some leash training with Ghost.

For more sexual punishments, Ghost will be kept in a cock cage for a while so the most he can do is mindlessly rut against you, and Soap will be the one to hold the key to his cage. He'll only unlock Ghost if you say so, but he'll also encourage you to keep Ghost locked because he's a shit he wants you to be a firm dog owner and not give in to Ghost's dog brown eyes that you've developed a soft spot for. When that happens, Ghost might bare his teeth at Soap because he knows what he's doing, but won't do much more because he knows Soap would suggest a cock gag next, that fucker-

(also if you wanna spank Ghost, Soap is will enforce that too)

But these punishments are rare and far in between. Ghost is very disciplined, so they don't happen often, but when they do, Ghost will go through them like a good boy, knowing that he messed up. He'll regain your trust and be an even better dog for you.

Now if you and Simon do something that upset Soap, (like for example, exploring a dangerous alley willingly, even though Ghost told you not to go in, but went with you anyway because you told him the 'quiet' and 'heel' command) you'll get the brunt of the punishment since 'dog behavior is a reflection of your guidance, sweets.'

Ghost won't get a harsh punishment, but he'll have to stay leashed to his crate, watching Soap give you your punishment which could range from all sorts of things, but mostly, it'll be Soap treating you like a dog- a puppy- to show you how to be a good owner.

He'll make you wear a tail plug and have you crawl on all fours. Tell you commands like 'sit pretty' or 'bow' or 'come'. You're not allowed to talk, only bark, and If you can't follow his commands, the longer the punishment will go and the more intense it'll become. Hell, if he's feeling generous, he'll unleash Ghost and make him show you how to be a good dog, letting Ghost correct your behavior. They may even tag team you, and you'll be aching for days, but the lesson will definitely stick.

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

Mercy Kill | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hello! This was the fic that got the most votes in the poll I ran recently, so here it is. I'm glad yall picked this one, cause I was really excited to write it!

Also, there is something wrong and I cannot tag people properly right now for some reason. So, if you are on my tallest and happen upon this fic, I'm sorry! I don't know what the fuck is going on 😭

Word count: 10.6k

Warnings: PTSD, Hydra, blood, violence, minor reader injury, Bucky injury, angsty shit

“But if I could talk to him, if I could just see him-” you pled, “just for a minute! Please, he needs me and-”

But Bucky’s doctor remained steadfast. He crossed his arms over his chest and refused to move out of your way. Behind him sat the door to Bucky’s room, the door you hadn’t been allowed to enter for hours now. Bucky was only feet away, but you couldn’t get to him. Couldn’t check on him. Couldn’t hold his hand. 

Anxiety rendered your hands completely numb. The urgent need to see him, to take care of him, to reassure him vibrated inside your chest. Every second that passed, every second that Bucky sat alone in his room in the medbay filled you with dread. Bucky needed you. You always swore you’d be there for him no matter what. But no amount of begging could get you through that door. 

The mental image of him lying in his hospital bed all by himself threatened to make your throat close. Bucky didn’t like the medbay; his PTSD reared its ugly head each time he stepped foot in the white, sterile environment. He just couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom, of pain and suffering and agony. And he didn’t like doctors, didn’t trust them. Not after he suffered so severely at the hands of Hydra’s “medical” team. 

Every time he required treatment after a mission, he refused. He fought and clawed against the gloved hands that tried to guide him onto a gurney. And only when you calmly and kindly begged him to allow the doctors to take a look at him did he relent. But he held you tight as a vice grip the entire time. The sensation of your hand in his was the only thing that kept him grounded, kept him from spiraling. With you there by his side, he found a sliver of safety amongst the white coats that poked and prodded him. 

Today, however, was different. 

Things didn’t go as smoothly as you or Bucky had hoped. And your many calls for backup went unanswered. It looked like this would be the last mission for you and Bucky. Like you’d return home in matching body bags.

But just as he was overwhelmed by Hydra operatives, completely swarmed and swallowed by their agents- the backup team arrived. Hope bloomed anew as you heard their leader’s voice in your comm, announcing that they’d breach the door in the next few seconds. And they did. They helped you take down every last Hydra agent, freeing Bucky from their clutches. 

But before you could rush to his bloodied side, a few members of the backup team whisked him away. They loaded Bucky onto their jet and set off toward the compound, leaving you and the rest of their team behind. No one listened to your pleas, your desperate insistence. They assured you that Bucky would be fine, that they’d get him the medical care he needed. But he needed you, too. He needed you to sit with him, to hold his hand. 

No such luck. 

As you boarded the jet that brought you and Bucky to the mission site, you kicked yourself for not demanding that you accompany him. It felt like you failed him, like you couldn’t keep your word. He deserved better from you. He deserved to have his anchor there by his side when the flashbacks gripped him by the throat. But you swore to yourself that you’d visit him in the medbay as soon as you landed. That you’d sit by his bedside and hold his hand.

But you didn’t- you couldn’t.

“Our new policy says no visitors,” Bucky’s doctor said. 

“I’ll do whatever I have to do,” you insisted. “I’ll sign forms, I’ll wear a visitor’s badge, I’ll-”

“No exceptions.”

Even if Bucky’s hearing hadn’t gotten a boost from the serum, you were certain he ‘d be able to hear you fighting with his doctor.  

“This is ridiculous- since when?”  Passersby gave you judgmental sideways looks, but you paid them no mind. “Every doctor and nurse here knows that he needs me. That he isn’t comfortable around doctors- he has PTSD. Please, I always sit with him-”

“Not anymore.” The doctor nodded at a security guard who took you gruffly by the arm and escorted you out. 

It didn’t make any sense. Every hospital allowed visitors. And even though the medbay wasn’t exactly your standard general hospital, they operated by most of the same rules. The always allowed visitors- sometimes two at a time. Their patients needed to see family and friends- needed a support system. And you were Bucky’s. But they stole you from his side for something as insignificant as a policy change.

With your hopes of being there for Bucky dashed, you pulled out your phone; the screen blurred as tears welled in your eyes. Bucky’s number sat the very top of your ‘favorites’ list, just as it had since you became friends. With a shaking hand, you pressed ‘call’ and held the phone to your ear. It rang. And rang and rang and rang. Until finally, Bucky’s voicemail answered. 

“You’ve reached James Barnes. Leave a message.”

“Hey, Buck,” you sniffled. “I guess you might be sleeping. Um, I had it out with your doctor in the hall, but he wouldn’t let me see you. Something about a-” you rolled your eyes, “a policy change or something. So, just… just let them take care of you, okay? I know how you feel about doctors, I know you’re probably scared- but you need to let them treat you. You’re safe. I promise you, you’re safe here. And you can call or text me any time- we can facetime. Whatever you need. I’ll see you when you get out, okay? Call me.”

But he didn’t. 

Without Bucky around, your world didn’t fall into place the way it was supposed to. Everything around you felt off kilter. Disjointed. Like you’d been dropped into a universe in which you didn’t belong. Part of you was used to this feeling by now. Every time Bucky went off on a mission that didn’t include you, you found yourself in this same, fragmented reality.

But this version was far worse. Because Bucky wasn’t away, he was here; he was only a few floors away from you. But you couldn’t see him. And you knew, without a shadow of a doubt, just how uncomfortable he was. How scared and alone and miserable. He was hurt- he needed rest. But you were certain he wouldn’t get a wink of sleep in the medbay. Not with his near-pathological fear of medical treatment. 

Two days passed without you taking notice. Meetings came and went without your attendance. You missed training sessions and team dinners. None of it mattered, not without Bucky. He was all you thought about. All you cared about. Every absent thought, every passing notion revolved around him. He was in good hands in the medbay, you knew he was. But you couldn’t stop yourself from worrying about him. From spiraling.

Was he getting enough sleep? Was he allowing the doctors and nurses to care for him? Was he eating? Was he having panic attacks? You found yourself afflicted by the not knowing. By the unanswered questions. On any normal day, you knew about everything going on in Bucky’s life, every thought populating his mind. But now, you were adrift in a dark see of uncertainty. 

It didn’t help that your every attempt at contact with Bucky came up empty. Hundreds of texts went unanswered. A myriad of voicemails garnered no response. He was radio silent; it made you nauseous. He should’ve been able to text back, right? To, at the very least, give your messages a thumbs up or a heart? It was out of character- completelyunheard of- for him to not answer you. 

What if he was worse off than you thought? Was he physically incapable of even using his phone? Was he comatose? Was he dying? The possibilities were endless. Nauseating. Horrifying. Each scenario you imagined was far worse than the last. Far scarier. Far deadlier. And calls to the medbay offered no insight. You urged them to give you an update on his condition, to provide you with proof of life. But they refused.

You supposed that went against their new policy, too.

The anxiety, the worry, kept you wide awake. But even if you could sleep, you wouldn’t dare. Closing your eyes brought with it the possibility that you could miss correspondence from Bucky. Or his doctor. And you weren’t going to risk it. Hell, you even brought your phone with you into the shower. Just in case. It had been two days since you last saw Bucky. Since you last heard his voice. You wouldn’t dream of missing a call from him. 

Twice a day, you cleaned and redressed the stitches holding your side closed and appraised the butterfly stitches above your brow. Everything inside of you ached to trade places with Bucky. To swap your minor injuries for his.

He’d gotten the large brunt of the onslaught when the ambush descended on the two of you. He’d drowned in a sea of Hydra operatives as they stole his weapons and beat him within an inch of his life. He was strong, yes, but he was still only one man. And taking on throngs of Hydra’s mercenaries without a single weapon was difficult- even for him. You did your best to provide support from the sidelines, to take out as many of his attackers as you could. But it wasn’t enough. Not until the backup team arrived did the horde of Hydra agents fall.

 And now, Bucky was lying in a hospital bed. Without you. 

He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve to hurt anymore. To bleed. He didn’t deserve to be in this line of work. Every other week, his assignments involved Hydra. And every other week, he was forced to retraumatize himself. Forced to see things he never wanted to see again. Forced to come face to face with people who hurt him, tortured him, treated him like an object.

For him, you wished nothing but ease. Warmth. A soft, slow life filled with love and gentle hands and safety. He never should’ve been forced to continue this kind of work. To put himself in harm’s way. To sacrifice his mental health over and over again. Hadn’t he given enough? Hadn’t he suffered enough? He did everything he could to build back his body and mind. To recover from the horrors he endured. And yet, here he was, being forced to risk his progress and peace of mind, all for a world that hated him.

On the third day of Bucky’s absence, your body begged for sleep. For a respite from the worry. For a meal that didn’t consist of Doritos and Gatorade. But you didn’t have the energy or the attention required to assemble a decent lunch. When Bucky got out of the medbay, you told yourself, the two of you would have a nice dinner together. You’d share his bed with him as you often did. And you’d both find solace in the arms of the other.

“I’m guessing we’re not going to spin class?” 

Nat’s voice yanked you out of your spiral, scaring you half to death. She leaned against the wall nearest your bed, her arms crossed over her chest. How long had she been standing there?

Nat took in the scene before her. You laid sprawled out on your bed, resembling roadkill. Your head rested where your feet should’ve been, and your feet leaned against the headboard. Your arms were stretched wide against the bedspread like a dead starfish. And your gaze rested firmly on your phone, as though you were waiting for a call.

“What?” You eyed her for a moment before dropping your head back to your mattress. “I forgot about that. Sorry.”

“You need to get out of this room,” Nat gave your shoulder a gentle shake. “And you need to stop moping. Your life can’t come to a screeching halt because Bucky’s hurt.”

“I know…” But Bucky was your life- or at least, a very, very big part of it. 

She was right, though. You knew she was right. 

But it wasn’t just that he was hurt. It wasn’t just that he was alone. Of course, those were both massive, contributing factors. But it was the missing him. It was the not seeing him, the not talking to him. The not knowing if he was scared and panicked and lonely. The two of you were inseparable; being without him felt like losing a part of yourself. Like half of your heart was missing. 

An unsettling cold seemed to worm its way under your skin without Bucky around. The world was a darker, utterly freezing place. No number of sweatshirts or blankets could keep the chill from biting at your skin. No heating pad could stop the frequent shivers. Somehow, your insides fell to subzero, Siberian temperatures. But after a while, you didn’t care anymore. You stopped trying to rid your body of the piercing, bitter cold. Only Bucky could do that. And he wasn’t coming back to you any time soon.

“It just sucks,” you groaned. A small shiver rocketed up your spine.

“I know. But it’s not like he’s dead.”

“I’m talking about the whole policy change thing in the medbay. It’s bullshit. Bucky needs me,” you let out a frustrated huff. “I mean, when did they put that in place? And why? It doesn’t even make sense.”

Nat furrowed her brow, “policy change?”

“Yeah, the new rule that doesn’t allow any visitors,” 

“Oh. Right. That.” Nat threw her gaze to the window. Cleared her throat. “Well, I don’t know why they’d do that. But yeah, it sucks. Anyway,” she took a seat on your bed, “if you get changed, we can still make it to cycle. Maybe it’ll make you feel better?”

You shook your head against the mattress. “You should go without me. I haven’t slept at all the last few nights- I barely have the energy to breathe. I can’t even fathom taking a spin class right now.” 

It was the truth. You didn’t have it in you to spend an hour burning calories you desperately needed. To waste your limited energy on something so trivial. But if you were completely honest with Nat, you’d tell her that the class would force you to focus on something other than your phone. And if you missed a call or text from Bucky because of something as stupid as a workout class, you’d lose your mind.

“Okay, that’s fine,” Nat sighed. “We can-”

“Hey!” Hill leaned against your doorframe, dressed in her workout clothes. “Are you guys ready for class?”

Nat stood and took a few steps in maria’s direction. “Well, I am. But she’s not coming with us.”

A frown pulled Maria’s features downward, “What? Why not?”

“She wants to stay here and wallow about Barnes,” Nat told her. 

“They’re not letting me visit him in the medbay,” you groaned in Maria’s direction. “And I haven’t heard from him at all. So, I’m just-”

Confusion pulled Maria’s brows together. “But he got out of the medbay,” she said. “Yesterday.”

The energy you claimed not to have sprung forth all at once. In a matter of seconds, you were standing upright and crossing the room toward Maria; the quick nature of it all made you a little dizzy. 

“What do you mean he got out?”

She was shocked by your intensity, “Um, I mean, he was released-”

“Released to where?” you demanded. “Like, they transferred him to another hospital? Or-”

“No, released as in discharged,” she said. “They let him leave around six-thirty last night.”

Last night? If Bucky was released last night, why hadn’t he called? Why hadn’t he sent you a text or dropped by your room? Was he that depleted? That worse for wear? The suffocating worry rushed back in full force. But you didn’t care about the crushing weight on your chest or the restriction of your windpipe. Bucky was back. He was healed enough to be released. And he was right down the hall.

Before Nat and Maria could stop you, you took off like a bat out of hell. Clumsy steps carried you down the hall and sent you careening into passersby every few feet. They mumbled curses under their breath and told you watch where you were going, but you didn’t have it in you to care. Stopping wasn’t an option, not when Bucky was finally within reach once again.

As you screeched to a halt outside his door, you raised your fist to knock frantically against the wood. But before your knuckles could strike the door’s surface, you recoiled. There was a very substantial possibility that he was sleeping. He was hurt, after all. And he needed his rest. Instead of a boisterous, borderline-obnoxious knock, you opted to lightly tap the wood with your knuckles. If Bucky was awake, he’d hear it. 

But no answer came. After a few moments, you gave the door another gentle knock. Again, nothing. If he was asleep, there was no telling when you’d see him. He could be asleep for half the day, and you’d have to wait as long to reunite with him. Would it be too pushy to just let yourself in? Bucky was used to it by now- you both were. If one of you was already asleep, the other would often let themselves in and crawl into bed. It was just what you did; it was commonplace within your friendship. 

And though you didn’t want to disturb him, your selfish side won out. Your hand found the doorknob and gave it a slow turn- but it didn’t fully give way. It stopped after twisting only a few millimeters. Locked. 

“He needs to rest,” Nat called from down the hall. “I don’t think you should bother him- just let him sleep it off.”

Again, she was right.  

And so, with slumped shoulders and shattered hopes, you dragged yourself back to your room. Once you’d collapsed onto your bed, you snagged your phone from its resting place and fired off a few quick messages to Bucky.

“Hey, Hill said they released you from the medbay!”

“I just dropped by your room but got no answer. Call me when you wake up :)”

“I don’t wanna disturb you or anything, but I miss you, Buck.”

The hours inched by with no response from Bucky. You did your best to avoid staring at your phone, reminding yourself that a watched pot never boils. But you couldn’t help yourself. Every few seconds, you had to sneak a peek at the screen in search of Bucky’s name. And every time, you found yourself disappointed. Broken-hearted, really. 

Of course, this wasn’t the longest you’d ever gone without seeing Bucky. Many past missions stole him from your side for weeks at a time- sometimes even months. But the complete and utter lack of communication was new. No matter how dangerous a mission got, not matter how risky it was- you both still found a way to contact the other. Whether it was a short “I’m okay” text or a seconds-long phone call, a quick correspondence from the battlefield provided a reassurance that was desperately, desperately needed.

Sitting at home while your best friend faced life-threatening danger was never easy. When Bucky was away, you tore off every fingernail, biting them down until they bled. And anytime it was you on the frontlines while Bucky rode the bench, he started climbing the walls; he didn’t sleep, didn’t eat, until you got home. 

The two of you simply weren’t meant to be apart.

Without those reassuring texts, you felt yourself losing your mind. You did your best to hook your nails in, to fight and claw to retain your grip on your sanity. But you didn’t have it in you. And so, your nails fell by the wayside. In only a matter of minutes, your fingers were reduced to a bloody horror scene. Every cuticle was in tatters, every quick exposed. Your hands throbbed and stung, but you didn’t care. It didn’t matter. 

Four more days passed without word from Bucky. You texted. You knocked on his door. You called. You even slipped a note or two under his door. And still, nothing.

The worry slowly devoured you, one piece at a time. With your sanity long gone and your optimism dashed, nothing remained but pure, undiluted panic. And though you already decimated your nails, you gnawed at them anyway, digging your teeth into any free piece of flesh you could find. You wondered if this was how things were going to be forever. Would Bucky ever return to you? Or would you always feel this empty, aching void? 

On the seventh night without Bucky, you didn’t have it in you to even lay on your bed. You knew it would take what little life you had left to heave yourself up onto the mattress. And the effort simply wasn’t worth it. Had there ever before been anyone this pathetic? This broken and utterly hopeless? 

“What are you doing?” Nat loomed over you, taking in the scene. She found you lying face down on your bedroom floor, utterly despondent. “You didn’t want to lay in your bed? It’s almost midnight, you should-”

“I still haven’t heard from him,” you muttered into the carpet. “Why haven’t I heard from him?’

Nat knelt down next to you and gave your shoulder a tug, rolling you onto your back. 

“Hi,” she gave you a wave.

“Hi.” You didn’t wave back- you didn’t have the energy.

Nat gave you a long look. She noted your messy hair, your limp body, the dark circles under your eyes. “I’m not trying to be a dick here, but you don’t look so good.” 

“I don’t feel so good, either,” you shrugged. “I think I might be dying.”

Nat eyed you with pity. She knew how deeply you cared about Bucky. How much he meant to you. And she knew just how hard you were taking his injury and subsequent absence. For the past week, she hadn’t seen you eat anything other than a few chips here and there. She knew for certain you hadn’t gotten even a wink of sleep. And the bloody splotches where your nails used to be sent up a litany of red flags. 

“I’m so… I’m so worried about him, Nat,” tears trailed down your face. “This is so unlike him- we never go this long without speaking.”

Nat stoked your arm a bit, “I know.”

“What if he’s not okay? He could be dying, and we wouldn’t have any idea.”

She gave your hand a squeeze, “Come on, don’t think like that. I’m sure he’s alright-”

You shook your head, “I keep calling down to the medbay. I keep telling them that there’s something wrong- that they need to check on Bucky. But his doctor is…” you gave a frustrated huff. “He’s being weird. It’s like he’s being evasive, or something. I don’t know why he isn’t more worried- I don’t have any idea what’s going on.”

Nat let out a long, heavy sigh. She squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose for a long moment. This was the moment she’d hoped to avoid, the moment she dreaded all week. 

“Alright, um, I wasn’t supposed to say anything- I wasn’t supposed to tell you this. But…” She gave you another long, sympathetic look. “You’re very obviously not okay. And I think that, if I don’t tell you the truth, you might actually die-”

Suddenly, you bolted upright. “Tell me what?”

“Bucky’s fine.”

Your shoulder’s slumped forward and you ran a hand down your face. Nat had no proof to back up her claim. No evidence. “But how do you know-”

“Because I’ve gone to see him,” Nat said, just above a whisper. “Multiple times.”

The world came to a screeching halt. Nat was allowed to see him? But you weren’t? Of course, Nat and Bucky were friends. But they weren’t nearly as close and you and Bucky- hell, you didn’t think anyone had ever been as close as you and Bucky.  

Nat continued. “He’s a little banged up, but he’s alright. He’s just been hanging out in his room. Reading. Watching tv. That kind of stuff.”

The confirmation that Bucky was, in fact, okay helped you breathe a little easier. The pounding headache pulsating behind your eyes relented a bit, the knots in your stomach loosened ever so slightly. But you didn’t find ease. Not yet. 

“But why didn’t he-”

Nat didn’t want to say it. She didn’t wanna tear you apart and burn your world. She didn’t want to be your personal messenger of destruction. But one look at you and your pitiful, heartbroken form gave her the resolve to be honest. You deserved honesty. 

“Because he’s mad at you.”

It was the most preposterous thing Nat could’ve said. Not once over the course of your entire friendship had Bucky ever been mad at you. Sure, he pretended to be mad when you snuck a bite of his dessert or beat him at cards. But he never got mad at you for real. 

But, you told yourself, there’s a first time for everything. 

You knew you were capable of fucking up. Of committing transgressions against others. But for the life of you, you couldn’t think of a single thing that would make Bucky angry enough to completely ignore you like this. You racked your brain, shaking loose its contents in search of anything that might warrant the coldest shoulder you’d ever experienced. But you found nothing. 

It didn’t matter, though. If Bucky felt slighted, if he felt like you hurt him in some way- who were you to say that you hadn’t? Who were you to claim innocence?

“What? Why?” You looked to Nat for help. “What did I do?”

“Something about a broken promise,” Nat shrugged. “But that’s all I’ll say. This isn’t any of my business. And I-”

A long silence filled the room as you thought about this new revelation. Nat’s words allowed you to look back on the past week with a new perspective. You saw things in a new light, a new context.

“So, there wasn’t a policy change-”

Nat gave a somber shake of her head. “He just… he didn’t want to see you.”

And just like that, Nat gutted you. You could’ve sworn she ripped out your still-beating heart with her bare hands and splattered the carpet with your blood. 

He didn’t want to see you.

He didn’t want to see you.

The words reverberated inside your inside your skull. Their razor-sharp edges sliced into you time and time again, leaving you breathless and aching. Over the course of the last week, you thought you’d reached the deepest pit of despair, the darkest possible recesses of agony. But you were wrong. There were deeper and darker, more excruciating places- and you found yourself in the depths of the most miserable, agonizing one of all.

“I was able to visit him in the medbay. So was Sam,” she told you. “He wasn’t all alone like you thought. He had us there with him to make sure he was doing okay. I mean he still struggled- you’re definitely better at giving him peace of mind than I am- but…” 

Nat gave a shake of her head, clearing from her mind the image of Bucky having a massive panic attack in the medbay. His raspy inhales, his shaking hands, his wide, vacant eyes. Flashbacks plagued him each and every day down in the medbay. Medication didn’t touch his violent, soul-crushing episodes of PTSD. And Sam and Nat found themselves at a loss. 

They did their best to be there for him, to help him find ease and comfort. But there was something missing. And that something was you. Nat even suggested to Sam that they sneak you into Bucky’s room. She proposed that, just maybe, Bucky’s need for your reassurances would outweigh his anger. And maybe upon seeing you, he’d drop his grievances and allow you to help him wade through the dark, choppy waters. 

But super soldier senses be damned, Bucky overheard her idea; he vetoed it immediately.

“And his doctor seemed so unconcerned on the phone because he knows that Bucky’s fine- he checks on Bucky every day.” Nat let out a sigh of relief, as though she’d been holding her breath for days. “So, at the very least, you know Bucky’s okay. And now, you kind of know what’s going on. Do you want me to-”

Nat didn’t get to finish her sentence. Or maybe she did. You weren’t sure. Because before she could get the rest of the words out, you were gone. The panic coursing through your veins reinvigorated your depleted body, carrying you frantically in the direction of Bucky’s room. 

Your knuckles struck his door before your feet came to a stop. 

“Buck. Buck, it’s me-” you pounded on his door. “Can we please talk? I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Silence. 

Your knuckles stung against the wood, but you paid them no mind. “Please! I just want to- please, let me apologize.” 

No answer. 

“Buck, I’m…” Tears flowed freely down your cheeks. Your lungs burned from lack of oxygen. A crushing ache settled into every fiber of your being. And your strong knocks deflated into weak, pitiful pats. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so…”

He wasn’t going to answer. You knew he wasn’t. But some part of you didn’t want to accept it. Didn’t want to acknowledge that you’d lost Bucky- possibly forever. A tidal wave of weakness launched itself at you, robbing your body of the faux strength granted by the adrenaline. 

Your hands found purchase against the opposite wall and guided you clumsily to the floor. With your back propped against the wall and your knees tucked into your chest, you stared at Bucky’s door. Waiting. He couldn’t stay in his room forever. Eventually, he’d have to return to work or visit the kitchen. And when he did, you’d be ready.

Because no matter how grim it all seemed-no matter how soul-crushingly hopeless your situation- you had to try. Bucky was worth it. Your friendship was worth it. Of course, if he told you to fuck off and never speak to him again, it would hurt. It would destroy you. But at least you’d never have to wonder. If you didn’t try, the not-knowing, the what-ifs wouldn’t haunt you in the middle of the night. 

You didn’t care if the odds were egregiously stacked against you. If there was any chance at reconciliation, you were going to do everything in your power to make it happen. 

It didn’t matter if you had to wait hours, days, weeks- you’d be there. You’d sleep in the hall, eat in the hall. Whatever it took. You’d wait a lifetime. 

Lucky for you, a lifetime wasn’t required. Because after only four and a half hours, Bucky’s door opened. And for the first time in a week, you caught a glimpse of your best friend.

He was unshaven, his facial hair a little longer than normal. The gash on his forehead was almost completely healed. And the bruises that used to stain his cheek and jaw were nowhere to be seen. The knuckles of his right hand, though, retained their dark purples and inky blues. And the skin under his eyes matched; you knew instantly he hadn’t been sleeping. 

But he looked so good, so beautiful. They way his hair fell in his eyes. The worn sweatshirt- the sweatshirt you gave him. Had he always been this perfect? This breathtaking? Of course, he had. It was stupid of you to even ask.

Seeing him again was like being saved from drowning. Like the first gulp of air after being swept away by a rogue riptide. Your lungs filled to capacity for the first time in a week. Your muscles released their hardened knots. And the ever-encroaching sense of biting cold vanished. In its place grew the warmest, most comforting summer. 

Somehow, he didn’t even notice you sitting across hall. You knew he must’ve thought he’d waited you out. That you were long gone by now. But he clearly underestimated your stubbornness. Your determination. Your love for him. 

The door was only open wide enough to allow him to place a tray of used dishes on the floor. And in the few seconds it took for him to do so, you launched into action.

“Hey!”

Bucky’s head snapped up. He locked eyes with you for a moment. And in that moment, you could’ve sworn he looked happy to see you. Relieved to see you. 

His momentary pause gave you just enough time to rush to his door. You placed your hand along the frame, curling your fingers inside the jamb. If Bucky wanted to slam the door and shut you out, he’d have to crush your hand in the process. And no matter how angry he was with you, he’d never hurt you. 

He let out an exasperated huff at the site of your strategically place hand. This was exactly the kind of thing he used to applaud you for. The quick wit and sharp thinking that he so admired about you. 

“Buck, can we please talk?” you pled. “Whatever I did, whatever promise I broke-”

A sigh deflated his chest, “You talked to Nat.”

“I’m sorry, Buck. I’m so sorry,” the words fell frantically, wildly out of your mouth. “I’ve never been sorrier in my life. I’d never, ever want to hurt you-”

“That’s the problem.”

He said it so matter-of-factly, as though it made perfect sense. As though it made any sense at all.

You wiped a few stray tears from your cheek, “What does that mean?”

With a huff, Bucky encircled your wrist with his fingers and pulled you inside. He didn’t like the looks the passersby shot your direction. The way they ogled and whispered as though witnessing a car wreck on the highway. 

Finally, after the longest week of your life, Bucky granted you entry to your favorite place. He did so begrudgingly, but you didn’t care. This room felt more like home than anywhere else in the world. It wasn’t the furnishings or the design that you loved so much; both were rather sparse. It was the memories. The countless nights spent watching movies in Bucky’s bed. The laughter, the tears, the deep heart to heart talks. 

When Bucky first moved in, he didn’t leave this room for quite some time- not even for meals. And that was how you first got him to trust you. Every day, you gently knocked on his door and delivered breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert, and snacks. It was your way of welcoming him to the building, of making him feel comfortable in a new place with new people. And of course, you couldn’t let the soft-spoken man with the kind blue eyes starve to death.

It took him weeks- maybe months- to finally invite you in. And once he finally did, all bets were off. The two of you became inseparable from that moment on, spending nearly every night in this room, seeking the comforts of one another.

But this moment was nothing like those of the past. This was awkward. Cold. Quiet. The tension hanging in the air grew so thick, so heavy that you wondered if your lungs might actually collapse.  You waited for Bucky to speak first. And waited. And waited. And waited. But he didn’t say a word. He simply leaned against the wall, avoiding your eyeline. 

Finally, the uncomfortable, permeating silence pushed you to speak.

“I’m- I don’t understand what’s going on. I just know that I fucked up somehow. And I know-” you rolled your eyes at yourself. “I know I said this a million times already, but I’m sorry. Whatever I can do to fix this and make it up to you, I’ll do it. I’ll do anything.”

Bucky considered your words for a while, letting the silence drag on as he mulled over your sentiment. He knew you were serious, knew you meant what you said. But it was too late.

“You made me a promise,” he said. “And you broke it.” 

Truth be told, you’d made him a lot of promises over the course of your friendship. Promises to give him the pickle spear that came with your sandwich at the deli. To watch all of Game of Thrones with him without spoiling anything. To listen, to be open-minded, to never judge him for his past. You promised to always be there when the nightmares tore him to shreds and to be honest with him when he needed to hear the truth. You promised to be kind to him, to protect him. To remind him of his goodness when his demons called him a monster.

And above all else, you promised to never, ever hurt him. You took these promises upon yourself without Bucky even asking. And as far as you knew, you’d kept them all. 

“Which promise? I don’t-”

“What’s my worst fear?” Bucky asked. His tone calm, like he was asking you trivia questions about himself.  “The thing that scares me more than anything else? The thing that keeps me up at night and makes me sick to my stomach every time I think about it?”

And without skipping a beat, you answered, “Being taken by Hydra again.”

Your eyes opened wide. It was then that the puzzle pieces fell into place. 

A guttural sound burst from your lips. It was haunted and broken, like a wounded animal’s final cry of pain before surrender. It ripped through the room and echoed off the walls; Bucky flinched as the sound barreled into him. Your nose burned, warning you of oncoming tears. Both of your hands clapped firmly over your mouth in an attempt to muffle the sounds of sorrow and shame. The attempt was unsuccessful.

And the deepest, darkest pit of guilt opened inside your stomach. 

The promise. That promise.

“When I told you about that fear- my greatest fear,” Bucky continued. “I asked you to make me a promise. Do you-” his voice wavered ever so slightly. He did his damnedest to fight it, to build a blockade against the oncoming emotion. But his eyes grew glassy with tears, anyway. “Do you remember what that promise was?” 

Even with his enhanced senses, Bucky struggled to hear your thin, hollow whisper.

“That I’d kill you…” you rasped. “If you were ever at risk of being taken by Hydra again, I’d kill you.”

The memory of your latest mission with Bucky barreled into you like a train. 

He was overwhelmed- buried- by the deluge of Hydra operatives. They came at him from every possible angle, swarming him before he even had a chance to react. Even with his super-human strength, he was no match for the volume, the sheer barrage of assailants. Seconds after they descended upon him, his weapons were lost, ripped from his hands and thrown far out of reach. He didn’t have enough room to breathe, let alone fight. Knives plunged into his flesh, setting loose a river of crimson. And heavy batons pummeled his face and head, leaving him dizzy. No matter how hard he tried to resist, he felt them pulling him, dragging him toward a doorway. Toward an unknown, and certainly horrific, fate. But through it all, he managed to call to you- to scream to you- one phrase. 

“Do it!” he begged. “Do it! DO IT!” 

The pain, the sheer terror in his voice, sent a flurry of goosebumps rushing over your skin. The head trauma you received only moments before left you dazed, and the knife wound in your side made breathing almost impossible. Blood oozed down the side of your face and painted your vision red. But you found the wherewithal to aim and shoot- at everyone except Bucky.

“Oh, Buck, I’m…” you stumbled back a few paces, the sheer weight of your guilt knocking you off balance. Your back crashed against the nearest wall with a thud. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” Hot bile rose in the back of your throat, saliva coated the inside of your mouth. You forced greedy inhales through your nose, hoping to stave off the nausea. “I don’t know what to say…”

Bucky didn’t say a word. He didn’t move. You wondered if he was even breathing. He just stood there with a broken, tormented look on his face. He didn’t allow himself to blink, didn’t allow the tears gathering along his lash line to fall. He simply curled his metal fingers into a tight fist before spreading them wide again. Over and over and over again. It was a subconscious act, an anxious tendency he often displayed when his mind grew dark and uninhabitable. And, more often than not, it was your cue to step in. To rush to his side and save him from the torment. 

But you didn’t. You couldn’t. You were the last person he wanted to see- he’d made that abundantly clear. And even if he wanted to you hold his hand as you always did, you couldn’t move. The guilt weighed you down, turning your feet into blocks of cement.

“I know- I know I said that I’d do it, but I…” A fresh wave of tears crested over your lash line and flooded your cheeks. “I couldn’t.”

“You promised,” Bucky’s voice was so anguished, so despondent. “You swore to me that you could- that you would.”

“The backup team was in my ear,” your words dripped with deperation. “I heard them in my comm- I knew they were there, I knew they were only a few feet away-”

“But I didn’t!” he erupted. “My comm fell out- I had no idea they were there! I thought-” His voice splintered; his rage shattered, setting free a tsunami of despair. “I thought I was going back!” 

And finally, his tears broke through. They saturated his skin in seconds as they rolled down his cheeks and dripped into his beard. Shivers rippled up and down his body. Goosebumps covered his skin. The hair at the nape of his neck stood on end. Just the thought of being dragged back to Hydra doused him in a cold sweat.

His shaking hand swiped at the tear tracks dripping down his cheeks. He would’ve given anything for a hug from you. For your reassuring, comforting words. But he couldn’t find it in him to ask. Couldn’t find it in him to allow you so close. And so, he forced the tightness in his chest to relent, to accept the voracious inhales he pulled into his lungs. He couldn’t surrender to the panic attack looming on the horizon- not yet.

It was confusing, his need to touch you. His craving for your comforts. You’d betrayed him, hadn’t you? You’d broken your promise to him and almost fed him to Hydra’s meat grinder. But it wasn’t that black and white- he wasn’t sure it ever was. No, this situation lived deep in a gray area, never giving Bucky a cut and dry solution. And deep down, he knew it. He knew you never would have allowed him to be taken. He knew you had your reasons for leaving him alive. But anger was easier. Betrayal was easier. 

“I’m sorry, Buck. I know- I know for sure it’s not enough”, the shame dragged your eyes down to the floor. “But I’m so sorry.” 

What could you do, what could you possibly say to fix this? Nothing could ever make it okay. Nothing could ever heal what you did- or didn’t do.

“It was… it was selfish of me,” you admitted. “I just hoped you could hang on for a few more seconds until backup came in. Cause I- I wanted you to come home with me. That’s all I could think about. Just getting you home safe. I didn’t even consider k-” You couldn’t bring yourself to say the word. “Doing that to you. But it’s- I was wrong. I made you a promise. And I broke it. And if you ended up back at Hydra,” you took a deep breath. The truth was ugly, hard to swallow. It poked at your throat like a mouthful of push pins. “If you ended up back at Hydra, it would be my fault.”

Only silence followed. 

Bucky hated the heartbreak in your voice, the tears streaming down your face. He hated seeing you in pain. The urge to wrap you in a bearhug yanked at his muscles, desperately trying to drag him in your direction. But he couldn’t, could he? He was mad at you- he was supposed to be mad at you. Once again, the strange, conflicting emotions needled at him. All week long, he forced the gray area behind a wall and chose, instead, to live in the black and white. To lean into anger. To side with the demons calling you a traitor and a liar. 

But now that you were finally here, standing in front of him, the voices quieted. It was just the two of you, together. You weren’t the villain he’d painted you to be. You weren’t heartless. You weren’t evil. Hell, this whole thing would’ve been a lot easier if you were. And jus like that, Bucky found himself smack dab in the middle of the gray area he tried so desperately to fight.

“I understand why you’re mad, Buck. It’s-”

“I’m not. I- I was mad. Now, I’m just,,,” he gave a shake of his head. “I don’t know. There’s a lot going on inside my head.”

“I get it. And if you don’t,” you cleared your throat, fighting against the words that tasted so vile. “If you don’t want to be friends anymore, I get that, too. This was a- a really major breach of your trust. We always say that we have each other’s backs, but I didn’t…” You used the collar of your sweatshirt to wipe the tears running down your neck. “I didn’t have yours. So, if you want to be done with me after this, I-”

Bucky’s heart leapt into his throat. “No, that’s not what I want. I don’t want to cut you out of my life. I’m-” He gave a frustrated huff. “I’m just- I’m confused. Cause I genuinely wanted you to shoot me in the head back there. I wanted you to mercy kill me.” 

The words tore through you.

“But now,” Bucky raked a hand through his hair, “I’m glad you didn’t. Because everything turned out okay. And I’m here. With you. But I…” He dragged a shaky breath into his lungs. “I almost wasn’t. I was almost there. With them. Again.”

All you could do was nod. What were you supposed to say to that? Nothing you had to offer could assuage his deep-seated, stomach-turning terror. You could never understand what he went through. Could never imagine the horrors. And it never even crossed your mind to put a contingency plan in place for yourself. To ask your closest friend to kill you in order to save you. You’d never understand that level of desperation. 

“I don’t care about dying,” he shrugged. “I’m not scared of death anymore. I wished for- I prayed for death when I was-” he cleared his throat. “When I was there. I would’ve welcomed it.”

The mental image nearly brought you to your knees.

“I’m just scared of being their prisoner again. I’m scared of the torture, and the blood, and the-the…” His breathing grew shallow and erratic. His voice faltered. “The way they fucked with my mind.” Anxious tremors rendered his hands unsteady. And his attempts to wipe away the tears fell short. “And the killing, and the pain, and the-”

He was losing his battle against the fear. Against the spiral. It grabbed him by the ankles and yanked him downward, plunging him the darkest, most hopeless recesses of his mind. He found himself lost, adrift in the deepest, most sinister sea. The ice-cold waves crested over him endlessly, nearly drowning him with each thin breath he took.

But the sensation of your hand in his dragged him to shore. With the warmth of your touch, he found his way back. He returned to his body. He always knew you were his saving grace, his life preserver. 

But holding Bucky’s hand didn’t feel quite right. Not after what you did. Especially because, deep down, you knew this was partly selfish. Knew that you enjoyed the feeling of his fingers braided with yours. But who were you to relish in it? Who were you to make this about you, and your needs? 

And so, when he finally found his way back to the present, when he finally breathed evenly, you freed his hand from yours and gave him his space. 

“Thanks for that…” he ran a hand down his face, still recovering from his trip to hell. Still needing you. 

“Yeah. Of course- anytime.” You already missed his touch. But you refused to reach for him again- not unless he needed it. You pulled your sleeves over your hands and balled them into fists.

“I just- I’m never going back there. I can’t,” he said after a while. “And I get it- you didn’t want to kill me. I wouldn’t want to kill you, either. But I’d choose a bullet between the eyes over being their chew toy. Every single time. Cause it’s…” he absentmindedly let his hand drift to his face, to the scar the sat atop his cheek bone. The scar left behind by the device they used to wipe his mind over and over and over. “It’s worse than death.”

The vitriol burning in your chest smoldered and scalded your soul. You’d never hated anyone- never detested anyone- as much as you hated yourself. You were supposed to protect Bucky. You were supposed to be there for him. You were supposed to be the person he could trust no matter what. But you failed him. He was completely terrified. Retraumatized. All because of you.

Bucky rubbed at a hard, tense knot in his shoulder, “But you’re my best friend, and-”

“Exactly,” you scoffed. “You should be able to trust me. But you can’t. Cause I’m selfish.”

“I do trust you,” he said, almost immediately. There was something in his voice- offense, maybe? Like he took your self-flagellation personally. “You’re smart. You- you knew back up was down the hall. You knew I’d be okay. And now that I’m home, I know you made the right call. I was-” He pulled his vibranium hand into a right fist. “I was just really scared, you know?”

He flashed back to the moment the Hydra agents descended. To the moment the encapsulated him completely. He couldn’t fight, couldn’t move, couldn’t think. Bodies swarmed his vision. Voices deafened him. And the coppery smell of blood- his blood- filled his nostrils. He felt his boots sliding across the concrete floor. And deep down, he knew they planned to drag him out. To make him theirs once again. 

He shook his head, clearing the image from his mind.

“Um, what I was going to say,” he continued, “is that you’re my best friend, and I shouldn’t have iced you out. I shouldn’t have lied to you- I shouldn’t have made Nat lie to you.” He gave a heavy, remorseful sigh, “I should’ve talked to you. You deserved better from me.”

“No- no, you deserved better from me.” You couldn’t believe his ridiculous sentiment. “You shouldn’t be apologizing- you honestly should’ve kicked my ass for this.” 

If he’d wanted to hurt you, to make you bleed, to show you even a fraction of the pain Hydra put him through, you’d let him. He deserved some revenge, some retribution, against you. And if he wanted to act on it, you wouldn’t fight back. You’d sit perfectly still and quiet, allowing him to beat you black and blue. To drag a knife through your flesh. To break your bones and steal your will to live. 

But you knew he’d never do anything like that- and he’d never want to. He wouldn’t even slam your fingers in the door.

“I never want you to be scared like that ever again, Buck. I never want you to go through something like that- I should’ve…” Saying it didn’t seem right. The words had razor sharp edges that carved into your throat as you spoke. “I should’ve done what you asked. And if this ever happens again,” You paused, banishing the oncoming flood of emotion. “I’ll do- I’ll do what you asked me to do. What I promised you I’d do.”

The words kicked the floodgates wide open. Another wounded, rasping sound escaped from your throat. And the sheer volume of tears threatened to drown you. Promising to end Bucky’s life was hard, but something about this second round was worse. More painful, somehow. A weak, wobbling sensation made your knees unsteady. And your face fell into your hands. 

But Bucky was at your side in the blink of an eye. He rested his hands on your shoulder, unsure of how much physical contact to make after a week of silence and hurt. He let his thumbs sweep over your clavicles every few seconds, waiting for the storm to pass. And when the clouds finally parted, he gently pulled your palms from your face. 

He cradled one of your hands in both of his, ensuring that you couldn’t slip away this time. “I’m not asking that of you anymore- I can’t ask that of you.” He freed one of his hands for only a moment, and only to angle your chin upward. He needed your eyes to meet his, needed you to know that he was serious. “It’s not fair for me to put you in that position.”

“No, Buck, it’s- it’s fine,” your voice wavered. “I can-”

“I’ve been thinking a lot over the last week,” he shrugged, “cause I- I haven’t been sleeping…”

Of course, he hadn’t been sleeping. Of course, the nightmares returned in full force. He’d worked so hard to correct his sleep schedule, to find a way to get the rest he needed. It just so happened that the cure-all to his sleep-related woes was you. He trusted you. Knew he was safe with you. He felt at home with you. Sleep came easy with you by his side. 

But his recent assault by Hydra’s forces left him almost irreparably shaken. And his misguided anger pushed you from his side. Together, it was a recipe for sleepless, tormented nights full of flashbacks and panic attacks.

“I realized that I never should’ve put that on you- I never should’ve asked you to make me that stupid promise.” Bucky wanted to go back in time and throttle his past self. “And I shouldn’t have been mad at you. But I- I had a lot going on, you know?” He squeezed your hand tighter, as though searching for an anchor. “All of my old wounds were ripped open again and I was so fucking miserable and scared and…” He wasn’t proud of how he’d treated you. Wasn’t proud of the way he handled things. And though he was working hard in his therapy sessions, his coping mechanisms were still scant. “I needed to feel something other than fear. So, I chose anger. And I directed it at you.”  

“And that’s perfectly fine.” You tried to take a step in the opposite direction, to put some space between the two of you. You didn’t deserve to have him so close, to hold his hand. But he held firm. He wasn’t going to release your hand- not now, maybe not ever. “You asked me to make a promise- a big, important promise- and I broke it. You’re allowed to be upset with me-”

“But it wasn’t fair to you- none of this was fair to you.” He kicked himself for ever asking you for something so heavy. So burdensome. “I can’t imagine what it was like for you to make that promise. The way it must’ve hung over your head. If you asked that of me, I’d…” He squeezed your hand a little tighter, “It would eat me alive.”

And he was right- it had. 

Promising to kill him, in turn, killed you. It devoured you from the inside out, feasting on every moment of joy, every restful Sunday, every waking moment. Your promise to him came with sharp, jagged teeth that dug into your soul day in and day out. And while Bucky found peace in knowing that you may end his life one day, it brought you nothing but pain. Torture. Endless heartache. The darkest, heaviest storm clouds sat just above your head, shielding you from all sunlight, all warmth. 

While Bucky slept soundly next to you each night, you laid awake, wondering when it would happen. If it would happen. How it would happen. Your appetite vanished. Your stomach tied itself into knots. And on more than one occasion, your doctor had to increase the dosage of your anxiety medication. Because no matter how many pills you popped, the weight of your promise sat on your chest like lead.

Each time you and Bucky boarded the jet for a mission, you wondered if it would be the last time you ever saw him alive. If you’d be forced to kill him in only a few hours. 

And you knew, deep down, that if it was your bullet that sent Bucky to his grave, you’d never be able to live with yourself. That your very next bullet would find a home in your chest. 

This dark, heartbreaking promise directly contradicted the first- and most important promise- you’d ever made him. Late one night, back when the two of you first started spending time together, Bucky found himself at the bottom of a pit. His PTSD snatched the reigns and nearly drove him off a cliff.

Flashback after violent flashback rocked his mind and stripped his body of all strength. He was weak, hollow, completely spent. And just as you tried to smooth the hair out of his red-rimmed eyes, he flinched. He yanked himself backward, hoping to avoid whatever blow he thought you might strike against him. He forced his shoulders into a corner and tucked his face to the side, hiding from the pain he so often anticipated. And it broke you. It was then that you promised- that you swore to him- you’d never hurt him under any circumstance. 

And killing him seemed to you like a violation of that promise.

“It makes sense, though,” you said, pushing back against his all too generous rationalizations. “It makes sense that you’d ask me to- to do that. And I don’t want you going back there, either. So, I guess if I…” A sharp pain twisted through your stomach. “If I knew that we were alone. And there was no back up. And you only had two options: Hydra’s prisoner or death- I guess I’d…” Hot tears streaked down your cheeks, “If it meant saving you from them, I’d choose death for you.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that, okay?” He wiped a stray tear from your chin. “I’m not holding you to that anymore. And I’m talking to Rhodes tomorrow. I’m gonna see if we can do away doing these two-person missions,” he said. “Cause they’re pretty impractical and risky, if you ask me. It’s safer when there’s a group of us, you know?”

You gave him a small nod, still too overcome by the anguish coursing through your veins.

Finally- mercifully- Bucky wrapped his arms around you and pulled you tight against his body. In an instant, your arms snaked their way around his back and pulled him ever closer. You’d missed him so intensely- so severely- it was like experiencing withdrawal. You could practically feel your body breaking down without him by your side. And he felt that same emptiness, that same aching void. He was convinced that he was never supposed to exist without you next to him. That he didn’t really live until he met you. The two of you were a package deal, two halves of a whole. 

After witnessing Bucky’s attempted abduction by Hydra, spending a week without him was a living hell. You needed to see him, speak to him, touch him. You needed to know that he was there. That he was okay. That he was home. You needed the confirmation that he made it out alive. But he’d disappeared from your life. And part of you wondered if he really was safe and sound in his room down the hall. Or if your mind made it all up just to save you the pain of losing him.

Time seemed to stand still as the two of you held each other. This was what Bucky needed all week. You were what he needed. The residual fear and torment brought on by his latest Hydra encounter seemed to fizzle out as you buried your face in his chest. It didn’t vanish completely- he feared it never would- but you put it on mute. You helped him breathe easy again. 

After was felt like half an hour, you unwillingly unwound yourself from Bucky’s battered body. 

“It’s late. I should get out of your hair,” you couldn’t mask your disappointment. “I know you said you haven’t been sleeping. But you’re still healing. So, you should probably try and get some rest-”

He nodded, but didn’t even attempt to hide just how much he hated the idea of your absence. 

And though you knew you should leave, you couldn’t find the will to move toward the door. Nor did Bucky try to show you out. The two of you just stood there, staring at each other. Leaving soft touches against the other’s skin. Relishing in the reunion.

“Um, you could stay,” Bucky finally said. “If you want.”

You hadn’t even considered it. He was going to need time to deal with everything. To sit with what happened to him. And you felt that your presence would only make it more difficult. Sure, he wasn’t mad at you. But did he really want you sleeping in his bed like you used to?

“Oh, okay. Yeah. Would it-” you pulled at the hem of your sweatshirt as uncertainty got the better of you. “Would that be okay?”

Bucky gave a fervent nod. “I want you to. So, if it’s okay with you, it’s okay with me.” He cupped your cheek in his massive hand, examining the dark circles under your tired eyes. “Plus, Nat said you haven’t slept all week. So, I thought we could both get some rest. Together.”

He took your hand and led you to his bed, the bed you’d shared with him so many times before. The bed you’d curled up in almost every night. The bed in which you’d watched countless black and white movies. The bed you’d tossed and turned in every night after promising to end Bucky’s life. But with the offending promise lifted from your tired shoulders, you crawled under the familiar covers and breathed a sigh of relief. Bucky took you in his arms, molding his body around yours as he so often did. And with him lying safely next to you, you thanked your lucky stars that you didn’t keep your promise.

[pawberri]

The key problem with "proship vs anti" discourse is that the most extreme versions of each side, the ones who actually bother to identify with these labels, accepted each others worst takes as arguments they had to debate. "Fiction =/= reality" is, in practice, an absurdly reductionist, anti-intellectual, thought-terminating-cliche that dictates we can learn nothing about a person via art and that their fiction reflects no political or moral messaging worthy of critique. In response to this, the "puriteens" who are too young to possibly hope to articulate their discomfort, to untangle their position from what is often real trauma experienced online, simply argue "yes, fiction influences and reflects reality in a 1 to 1 capacity." They, and people who want to use the groundwork they laid to make bad-faith callouts, make bad arguments about how the action of engaging in problematic fiction is on equal ground to real life abuse, or is a clear indicator of interest in real life abuse. Both of these arguments are terrible, but each side seems to radicalize the other further and further into their own brands of anti-intellectual reactionary belief. "Proshippers" become libertarian absolutists about free speech and view all transgression as righteous and alternative and therefore leftist. They gain a reactionary nostalgia for the past, desiring a time when people didn't seem to care about the implications of art. "Antis" become authoritarian and hypervigilant for signs of moral decay, at their worst, willing to align themselves with government bodies that offer carceral solutions to the debate. They are willing to use harassment as a tool of punishment, which then leads to false accusations and a fear of openness that puts people at risk of being triggered via obfuscation. (That said, proshippers also take part in plenty of harassment.)

I will say that I believe both of these movements are equally sensitive to co-opting by right-wing forces. We see the authoritarian tendencies of anti culture in harassment campaigns and even the way Republican law makers co-opt "grooming." The proship/fic crowd has such extreme nostalgia for the past that I often see people align themselves with the cultures of 4chan or other happily right-wing websites. They so heavily reject the idea that a drawn sexual depiction of a child could reflect any desire that they are disinterested in analyzing what the motivation behind the depiction is. i.e If we track the history of lolicon in Japan we do find that is, yes, countercultural, but that counter culture is right wing, very misogynistic, and defensive of patriarchial Japanese culture as it is and was including its culture around rape and abuse. Plenty of fictional content works as radicalization material, and radicalization material needs to be ambiguous. There is a valid reason to be hesitant to trust people who consume this content, even if I do not believe most of them will ever be dangerous towards children. The mere presence of sexuality is not enough to make a movement left wing. This kind of thing can again be seen in right-wing libertarian movements in the US. (And even leftist movements can be bigoted and even "pro-pedophilia" or otherwise disinterested in social reform around abuse.)

Is all content with elements of age-play this way? No. But to me, that is why kink media deserves to be treated as art and analyzed, critiqued, treated seriously. It doesn't have to do anything to anyone to be worthy of a moral critique. Said moral critique just doesn't warrant harassment and cruelty and reactionary exaggerations of the person consuming said content.

Anyway, what's my point in saying all this? I don't know. I'm just begging you to tag your God damn content with specific tags instead of random and nebulous shit like "dead dove" or "dark content", and also begging you to stop harassing people who do tag their content so I don't have to guess what "dead dove" and "dark content" mean. No one will erase incest kink fics or people who feel sickened by the idea of them off this earth because we aren't god, but we could at least all be responsible about tagging, flagging, and age-gating our stuff.