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smutoperator · 6 months

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Love In An Elevator

Jo Hyewon (Zoa) x Male Reader

Tags: big tits, DSLs, elevator sex, facefucking, facial, fast-paced blowjob, first date, girlfriend, high-intensity sex, jerking off, long legs, pussy eating, restaurant, (lots of) riding, (lots of) spitting, teen, titfucking, visual

Word count: 4924

Zoa is a hidden gem. Her visuals are stunning. Beautiful deer-esque face, long legs, big and ripe boobs—she's got everything. You couldn't believe it when she accepted your proposal to date her. There might be idols who are more famous than her, but to you, she was the prettiest, without question.

You took Zoa to your favorite top-rated restaurant on your first date, wanting to impress her. Zoa gushed at your proposal, feeling really lucky she got to have a boyfriend who would take her to the best places and enjoy experiences she thought she never would.

When Zoa was eating, you couldn't stop staring at her; she was just so stunningly beautiful that she demanded all of your attention at all times. But one part of her body caught your attention the most: her big and ripe boobs under her white shirt, which made it very easy for you to see. Zoa may be just an 18-year-old teenager, but her mature personality also shows off in her sexy body, with her already having the features of a fully grown adult woman. And to you, none were more noticeable than her tits.

"Let's share this moment," Zoa said, running towards the restaurant's elevator to take a picture of herself. After she was done, she sent you the selfie. You were disappointed you couldn't see her striking face, covered by her phone, but the other parts of her body looked better than ever, as you drooled over how her navel was popping out just above her jeans and how long her legs were as she took a full-body shot at the elevator. You still couldn't believe this girl was your girlfriend; she just looks so pretty. You, for sure, would go to all lengths for her. Zoa is really that girl.

After you paid both their restaurant bills, you two entered the elevator, where she had just shared her picture, and left the restaurant. "What did you think of today's date, Zoa?" you asked her. "It was really great; I feel so overwhelmed by the way you were so kind to me and treated me like a princess," she replied. "Well, you are indeed a princess and the most beautiful woman in the whole world," you complimented her.

The elevator door closed as the machine started to go up, and you two continued to chat. The way Zoa laughed caught your attention the most; she truly had the cutest laugh you had ever heard. However, the happy mood between both of you was about to change in a hurry, as the elevator lights started to falter and suddenly the machine came to a halt.

"I'm scared," Zoa told you, as the elevator was now stuck and only the emergency lights were working. "Don't be; we'll be out of here soon," you said, trying to calm her. "I hope so; I don't like being trapped with nowhere to go," Zoa said. "I'll make sure this will go by quickly," you told her.

Easier said than done; you guys had been trapped for a while in the elevator after you said those words. The once calm and collected Zoa was starting to lose her cool, and you were running out of ways to keep your girlfriend calm. The hugs and kisses you gave her just didn't work anymore, and you could see the first tears forming in her eyes. You needed something better.

"It's getting really hot inside here; I'm starting to have a panic attack," Zoa told you. These words set your alarm bell off. You had to act quickly. At the same time, Zoa looked hotter than ever in that white shirt and jeans. But if she was feeling so much heat, you had found a solution to cool her down.

You took Zoa's jeans off, leading her at first to instantly react and cover her beautiful legs. "What are you doing, baby?" she asked. "You said it was getting too hot, so I'm helping you," you told her as you also started taking your shirt off. Zoa provided a helpful hand, and soon you were naked from the torso up while she was from her legs down.

You kept advancing on Zoa's tall, sexy body, aiming next at the spot that had taken most of your attention at the restaurant: her big and still-growing tits, sucking the area around them with her clothes still on. Meanwhile, you reached into her lower backside, running your hands all over her ass and taking her panties off. Your bulging erection under your pants was already touching the entrance of her pussy, making her moan for the first time.

More kisses ensued before you lifted Zoa's shirt slightly up, unveling her sexy belly button as you started fingering your hands all over her young pussy. With just a couple fingers inside, you were impressed by how warm and tight her hole was. You two kept kissing each other as you kept running your left hand in her legs and pussy, while she placed her right hand straight at your already throbbing boner.

Zoa increased her soft and angelic moans as you inserted a third finger in her vagina, getting louder as you started going up and down her tight pussy with them. Her legs closed around them, and she started sweating a little before you took them off her hole.

Next, you took Zoa's white shirt off, with her already unhooking her bra for you to get easier access to her big, young tits. Zoa may be the one called the giant baby, but you were the one acting like a baby, sucking her milkers in a way you had never done to your mother's. You had never seen such firm and ripe boobs like hers; truly, there isn't a single part of Zoa's body that isn't visually striking.

You kept bombarding Zoa's right boob with suckings and kisses while running your hands all over her left tit before pinning her against the elevator wall and groping both of them, leading to her giving you the biggest smile since you two had started dating. Zoa was now completely naked and submissive to you; her natural body was beautiful from head to toe, with no flaws whatsoever.

As Zoa's nipples got erect from your stimulation, you moved down her hot body, exploiting other areas. At first, you sucked the bottom of her boobs before giving a long lick between them, starting all the way down her navel and going all the way up her chest. You repeated this move multiple times, each time getting longer until you licked her from her pussy up to her mouth. Zoa being roughly the same height as you helped a lot, as once you were finished, you just needed to go down a little bit to suck her perky tits once more.

You go on your knees as Zoa spreads her left leg and her toe on the opposite wall of the elevator, while her hands hold the support with all her might as you start eating her out. After your fingers, it's your tongue that gets to know how warm Zoa's pussy is, with her enjoying every second of it as her moans get more and more frequent.

You run your tongue all over Zoa's pink teen pussy, exploiting her folds to the fullest. You start wondering which lips are better, the ones in her mouth or the ones between her legs, as you worship her pussy and move your tongue faster and faster over it. Zoa gets overwhelmed by the speed at which you eat her folds out, turning herself into a moaning machine as you keep going on.

You start making different moves all over Zoa's pussy, kissing it and spitting on it as well. But as she gets wetter inside, your urge to fuck her pussy grows. But first, you go back to do so with your fingers, making her squirt her teen juices all over them. "Oh Shit," Zoa curses and finally says something. As you simultaneously tongue her clit while penetrating her, her moans get louder, and she almost loses her balance. Sensing she is getting wetter and warmer, you increase the pace of your finger-fucking, pushing your beautiful girlfriend to the limit.

"Fuck. AHHHHH!" Zoa screams as you go full-speed with both your hands and mouth. Her pink pussy had never been stimulated like this before, as she has to use all her strength in that confined space she finds herself in not to fall down. But you don't stop, twisting your fingers inside Zoa's pussy and keeping an eye out for different angles to attack her warm hole before pulling out and going all-in with your mouth as you grab her legs and pin her down even further against the elevator wall.

You reach for Zoa's left boob as you keep eating her out. Her soft milkers are perfect for getting groped and honked hard, and her nipples are harder than ever. "Please, please," Zoa begs as you show no signs of slowing down, worshipping her hot body and especially her warm pussy.

"Yes, oh fuck," Zoa says as you move your fingers back inside her pussy, which is now a dripping wet mess. "Yes, keep going," she continues as she closes her eyes, her athletic figure trembling as you put her close to cum with just your hands and mouth. "Oh my God, shit" she continues as you finger-fuck her faster than ever, panting and moaning and grabbing her boobs, just trying to survive your early attacks.

You kiss and worship Zoa's perfect pussy, now also fondling her tits at the same time, paying extra attention to her nipples as you touch them nonstop. You then attack her clit with your tongue, challenging Zoa to stay with her leg up as you see her body shaking harder than ever. Zoa tries not to lose her breath, her body aching with pleasure at each tonguing you give her. But she can't last for long, as you go back with all your four fingers inside her, twisting them all over her pussy and finally making her cum for good.

As Zoa releases her juices out of her pussy, you worship it with tons of kisses, then move up her body to lick her fit belly, giving special attention to her navel. As you fully get up to kiss her and grope her big tits, Zoa starts unhooking your belt and taking more initiative, quickly unleashing your big cock out of your pants.

Zoa gets on her knees and furiously sucks your dick. You can tell she's not that experienced, going very aggressive on your shaft and popping it in and out of her mouth. But that's not important to you, as her mouth is even warmer than her pussy and watching that doe-eyed deer with those amazing dick sucking lips work on that prick is extremely hot. Zoa keeps licking your shaft and sucking your tip hard, her lips fully wrapped around your pole as her head starts bobbing. "Keep sucking it, keep sucking it," you tell her as she looks up and gives you a naughty stare and jerks your shaft, driving you insane with her speed. She puts just the tip inside her mouth, but that's enough to send shivers down your spine.

Zoa gets sloppier and bobs her head deeper against your cock. "Oh yes." You approve of her blowjob skills just as she gags and opens her big eyes, spitting on that dick shortly after. Her fast-paced work on your cock continues as she jerks it off frenetically before using her mouth to warm your shaft up, bobbing hard as one of her hands grabs your thighs and the other grabs your balls.

As Zoa gags on your cock, a string of saliva connects her DSLs to your throbbing tip. Your relief is short as she goes back to attack, doing to your cock what you did to her pussy: licking, sucking, throating, spitting, and using every move she knows. It's even better when she does all that with her big eyes wide open, staring at you, as you can watch her sexy empressions while sucking you off.

You can't resist for long, grabbing Zoa's head to start fucking her face as your cock rips through her DSLs, tying her hair up with your own hands to see more of her beautiful face gagging on that dick and her doe eyes rolling out of pleasure. As soon as Zoa coughs on your cock, you rattle it inside her mouth, hitting her warm walls left and right before she finally pulls out of it and gives a massive spit on your shaft, going back right after as you grab her hair and dunk her face against your balls multiple times, teaching her not to be such an aggressive cock-sucking whore as you spit in her mouth right after.

Zoa makes a mess out of your cock as the facefucking continues, her chin full of saliva that drips out of her mouth as she gets sloppier and sloppier and turns your dick into a wet mess of spit. Now it's your turn to get aggressive, as you grab her head hard and thrust inside her mouth as if you were pounding her pussy full speed, moving your hips at a fast pace as you place your right foot right at the elevator wall, and splitting her dick sucking lips open with no room for any air to enter her mouth.

After rattling your cock inside her mouth once more, you kiss Zoa passionately, tasting her sloppy and cock-flavored mouth to the fullest. Zoa kept jerking you off as you were doing it, and as soon as you pulled out of her mouth, she got back into her aggressive cock-sucking, trying to prove to you she could be your cute-looking, slutty girlfriend. "Holy shit," you said as Zoa engulfed your balls and took your cock full length in her mouth for a few seconds before her lack of experience did her in and made her gag and get out of breath. And every time she pulled out of your cock, she spat on it, quickly turning it into her signature move.

Zoa kept bobbing hard on your cock and filling it full of saliva. You couldn't complain, as you weren't going to need any lube to enter her tight, warm pussy soon after, just letting her do it as she pleased and getting your cock wet and sloppy. "Bad girl," you said as you got back to fuck her face, and once she gagged, you gave it a lot of slapping with your dick, showing her who was the real boss. "You really like to spit on that cock, don't you, you tall young whore?" you asked her, noticing how often she did it.

As Zoa got up, still jerking your cock off, you spat in her mouth. "You are getting too slutty for my liking," you poke at her, even though you really enjoyed it. "Now turn around," you say as you pin her against the elevator wall. Zoa knows what's coming, lifting her long left leg once again and placing her left foot and right hand on the elevator's handrail. In just a couple seconds, your wet cock easily slides inside her tight teen pussy. "Oh fuck, oh shit" Zoa says as she feels your shaft penetrating her.

Knowing she had already shown how much of a whore she is, you give Zoa no room to breathe, attacking her tight pussy hard from the start and kissing her as you pump her warm hole. "Ah, ah, ah, ah," Zoa softly moans as you turn her into your cocksleeve, fingering herself to get that extra pleasure, now holding both hands against the handrail to take the pounding you are giving her. "FUCK!" she screams as her cheeks start to clap and you grab her tiny waist for a better grip, manhandling her pussy full speed. "SHIT," she keeps screaming as you get addicted to her pussy and can't stop fucking her hard. Even though her insides are perfect, Zoa is truly a flawless woman, the daughter of Venus, the goddess of love.

Zoa has a hard time staying up in just one foot; you fuck her so hard she has to cling onto every support of the elevator, which itself starts to swing a little with the force of your rough poundings on her. "Yes, oh yes, oh yes," she says as you spank her ass and show no signs of slowing down. You had never fucked a girl on your first date, and the thought of fucking her in such an unconventional space turned you on a lot.

"Shit, you're fucking me so hard; don't stop," Zoa told you. And no, you were not going to stop. If it depended on you, that elevator would never go back to work again, and you'd just fuck Zoa to eternity. As you start groping her tits and add extra stimulation, Zoa spreads her cheeks to ease the pressure on her already tightening walls that you kept shaping to the format of your cock.

Zoa's left leg finally gives in as she places it back on the ground, giving you a better angle to grab her butt and hold it as you keep fucking her, now in a standing doggy position that made her look so submissive and slutty, as her vocabulary got reduced to just three words: fuck, shit, and yes.

You kept spreading Zoa's ass cheeks and pumping her warm pussy hard while also grabbing her hair and making those cheeks clap at each thrust, discovering how quickly a teen pussy can turn into an addiction that can make even the calmest men turn into raging animals who furiously pound them. Zoa gets firmly grabbed by the waist as you destroy her fuckhole nonstop, testing how hard this young whore could take your big cock fucking the shit out of her. Meanwhile, Zoa's big, ripe melons are now swinging hard, giving you the perfect opportunity to grope them and feel how hard they try to escape from your grasp every time you pound her.

Zoa regains her strength and lifts her leg up again, allowing your cock to penetrate her even easier. She gets very needy and clingy, turning her cute face in your direction and hugging you as you are still fucking her hard, looking for you to kiss her as much as you can. As much as Zoa may love your cock, she loves your touch and kisses even more, and she just wants to be a good girlfriend. And you give her what she wants: kisses up top, dick at the bottom, making the elevator make a lot of noise as you two hit its walls with your intense fucking.

As you're finally done pounding Zoa, she turns around and gives you a torrid kiss. "Am I a good girlfriend?" she ponders in her head. But you don't give her many seconds to think, instantly lifting her body up and pinning her back against the elevator's wall, forcing her to hold both hands hard into the handrail as you fuck her in a face-to-face position with both her feet up in the air.

"Oh yeah," Zoa says as she fingers her pussy and her feet reach the wall on the other side, landing close to the elevator's buttons. You truly couldn't do this position with a girl shorter than her, feeling blessed for Zoa being so tall and perfect for it.

"You don't get to have it so easy," you tell her, placing her right leg over your shoulder instead and pressing her even further against the wall, giving her a rough but very passionate missionary fucking that sends her over the moon, with Zoa giving you a kiss every time she's not moaning like a submissive slut. "AHHHHH!" Zoa's loud screams come along with the loud noises of her body banging against the elevator's wall as she gets ragdolled and enjoys it to the fullest.

It turns out such a position ends up being too demanding, not only for her but for you as well, as you get Zoa back on her feet and compensate her with another passionate kiss. This time, you let her fully spread her legs and hook them to opposite sides of the elevator, giving you the perfect view of her body, but especially her face, tits, pussy and thighs as you resume fucking her, now with one hand grabbing her head to kiss her and another groping her tits.

Zoa gets increasingly clingy, hugging you and pushing your body even closer to hers. She wants your touch, your cock, to be your cute girlfriend but also your slutty fucktoy. As the hard pounding finally starts to get you tired, you decide to try something different: lying on the elevator's floor as you look up at her goddess-esque tall body, sliding just under her long legs.

You don't even need to give a command; Zoa already knows what to do. She moves a couple steps and squats down your cock, letting herself get fully impaled. At first, you think of telling her to turn around to see her face as she rides you, but as soon as Zoa starts clapping those cheeks against your hips, you feel very appreciative of the back view she gives you, enjoying her beautiful long hair, her toned ass, and her sexy back to the fullest.

Zoa shows no mercy for your cock, riding it hard from the start. "OH MY GOD," she suddenly finds herself screaming, but doesn't slow down. She wants to prove to herself that she can tame any cock. Her moans get louder and screamier as you grind your teeth, trying to hold as hard as you can not to shoot inside her warm hole. Her tits get very bouncy, but you can't see them, and she uses the handrail to her advantage, holding onto it as she keeps bouncing on your cock.

"Wow, I never knew you could ride a dick like that," you tell her. Truth be told, not even Zoa did. Her moves are very spontaneous, the ones of a girl still discovering the pleasures and intrincacies of sex. At times, your cock feels like it's too much for her still-young and unexperienced self, but she's a strong girl ready to blossom and won't stop. The more she feels challenged, the more she wants to ride you, and the harder she goes.

Zoa stays on course; she knows that the elevator won't be turned off for long and wants to bounce as many times on your cock as she can. She starts fingering her pussy, getting wetter, and allowing your prick to slide up and down her easier. "Ah, God," she moans, riding it as fast as she can. The more you hit her sensitive cervix, the better.

You can't be just a bystander to Zoa's pleasure and decide to teach her a lesson, lifting both her legs up and regaining control of the pounding. "Oh yeah," Zoa says as you start pumping her hard back again and destroying her pussy, which has become an addiction to you. The warmth of her hole makes you go feral once more, pounding Zoa balls deep and making your cock fully disappear inside her vagina. It turns out she really likes it rough, as her cunt gets much juicer the moment you go back to manhandle her.

Zoa's pussy burns and clenches all over your cock, forcing you to pull out quickly after just a couple minutes of pounding not to cum inside her. Maybe you need to take it slow. As she turns around, she goes back to sitting on that cock, allowing you to have a full frontal view of her perfect body. "Just ride it as hard as you can," you ask her as you spank her ass. Zoa obliges, this time tilting her body as she clings onto yours and bumps her bouncy chest against it.

"GOD!" Zoa screams as you keep hitting her ass and turning it red, but that only makes her increase her intensity and go full speed against your throbbing pole, bouncing on it as if she wants to snap it in half. "Whoa," you say as Zoa now pushes you to the limit—that perfect, tight pussy biting your cock and sliding up and down—is really just too much for you.

You push your cock up Zoa's pink pussy and put a pair of fingers up her asshole, attempting to slow her down, but she won't cave this time. Zoa wants that cock deep in her pussy at all costs and keeps bouncing. Her hair covers her face, she grabs the handrail hard, and one of her hands is now in her ass to provide her with some extra impulse. "Holy shit," you say as Zoa keeps smashing your cock like nothing. You just decide to grab her by the waist and aid her, pushing her body down your shaft with even more speed, even if it makes you give in and cum inside her.

Zoa's tits are like a pair of pinballs bouncing hard as she places her hands on your chest and stares at you. Her doe eyes are fully bright; she hasn't felt this excited in a long time. Even as you push her closer to you and tilt her body sideways, she never stops. "Fuck, fuck, yes, I want that cock deep in my pussy," she tells you as her cheeks make a loud noise, clapping on your balls.

"Bad girl," you say once again as you slap her ass. Zoa agrees; she's a bad girl, a cock-craving slut, and a teen whore. As she pulls out of your cock a little bit, you think her bombardment is over, but after just two seconds, she has already regained strength to sit back on that cock. It's the only thing she wants now: cock, cock, and more cock. "OH. GOD. FUCK. AH. SHIT." These are the only words that come from Zoa's mouth, as she keeps using your chest as an impulse for her crazy bouncing.

More than 10 minutes have passed, and Zoa just doesn't seem to stop. You push up once again and try to challenge her, as one of her hands is still on the handrail while the other holds your body, but Zoa has won the battle. The truth is, you can never challenge a K-pop idol when it comes to stamina. It's futile.

As Zoa finally climbs out of your cock, she still has her hands on it, always jerking it off at every chance she gets. You stand up to kiss her, still recovering from her crazy ride, but she never gets her tiny hands out of that dick, getting on her knees shortly after to taste her pussy from it, her doe eyes looking more focused than ever. With the way she gags on it, takes it deep in her throat, and jerks it off, it's like your ride never ended. But you can't lie, you love how aggressive she is, taking every second of this elevator fuck session as if it were the last. "Oh yes, fuck," you say as Zoa engulfs that pole all the way deep in her throat in a way many seasoned veterans would be unable to.

"Fuck my face again," she says. Suddenly, that little inexperienced teen is long gone, and she is now giving you orders. She should really respect your seniority, shouldn't she? But you said to hell with it and just gave Zoa what she wanted. You just couldn't say no to the most beautiful woman on the planet, grabbing her head and shoving your big cock down those DSLs until she coughs.

You move back to the elevator's floor, and Zoa follows you as you now penetrate her in a spooning position. Romantic kisses up top and hard pumpings at the bottom ensue. One of your hands grabs her boobs, the other her neck. Zoa can only say "yes" at each pumping and moan like a whore, especially after you move your hands down her body all the way into her wet pussy. You have to grab her long legs to go faster, putting her on the edge. Her pussy tightens as you choke her and muffle her moans with your thumb in her mouth.

You keep pumping Zoa nonstop. "Right there, right there," she says before screaming hard as she cums. She then ties her hair up and gets on her knees, placing her big tits right between your dick and moving them up and down your shaft as you passively watch, searching for that cum. "You want my cum, you little whore?" you ask her. "Yes, baby, all over my pretty face," she says, keeping her aggressive titfucking session going. As you were already on the edge, she promptly gets her wish as seven gravity-defying shots cover her beautiful face full of sperm.

Zoa doesn't even get to enjoy the massive cumshot you gave her, as the elevator starts working again shortly after, leading both of you to get dressed in a hurry and act like nothing happened, with her cleaning her face of your cum just in time to emerge out of it.

It's going to be hard to top your first date.

#zoa smut #weeekly smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #male reader smut

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dalla-mia-isola-strana · 1 month

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Because I keep seeing people who genuinely have not heard about the sexual assault allegations against Neil Gaiman, this is a great resource. It contains links to the podcasts where the victims' stories first appeared, and to commentary from other figures. Please be aware that Neil Gaiman has a hired a PR firm used by other celebrities such as Marilyn Manson accused of sexual assault. At the same time, a rash of bot accounts appeared across social media trying to bury the news with results like this:

Visually stunning, stunning visuals. If you are not a bot designed to launder Gaiman's reputation, please try to avoid acting like one. Until larger press outlets pick up the story, social media does, unfortunately, have a significant role in whether or not this story is forgotten. At least two of the victims were young fans who thought Gaiman was safe to be around. It is up to you how and whether you participate in fandom -- but please don't tag your posts "Neil Gaiman" unless they are actually about Neil Gaiman. Your Good Omens TV show fanart does not need to carry his name. It is, in fact, odd that he seems to have cultivated such a role in fandom that this ever became an expectation. Gifs from Wheel of Time are not typically tagged: "Robert Jordan", fanart of She-Ra or Nimona isn't tagged "N.D Stevenson." You'd expect to tag these names only if you were linking to an interview or a news story or otherwise posting about the real life person. It would be especially odd to tag a picture of Rosamund Pike doing something completely unrelated to Wheel of Time with "Robert Jordan"! And yet photos of Michael Sheen and David Tennant seem to be tagged with "Neil Gaiman" all the time. Is it that Gaiman fostered the hope that he might notice and respond to fannish activity? Is it that he tried to make himself so pervasive, and omni-present in the fandom, as to feel indispensable If so ... all the more reason to stop. Fans of these other works get along just fine without this, and so will you.

#neil gaiman

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poweringthroughthis · 4 months

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love on the beach | jeong jaehyun

desc: paired opposite each other in one of the most anticipated series this year, (name) and jaehyun struggle to see the fine line between play-pretend and real feelings.

warnings: making out

Being the latest topic of conversation in the industry has its benefits. The fans, the money, the vanity, stardom leaves no luxury in life unattainable. And trust him, (name) was beyond grateful for all that and more. But perhaps the general audience is unaware of some unavoidable downsides that actors have to face.

For one, you’re not allowed a lot of autonomy on what projects to sign when you’re a newcomer. Which explains why (name) was in his current predicament. Having to share a bed with Jaehyun.

Jeong Jaehyun, one of the most visually stunning men to ever step foot on earth. He was already an established idol in the kpop business and was recently venturing into the world of cinema, with a BL series no less. Given his natural talent for acting, angelic voice and great face card, there was no doubt he’d take the acting world by storm as well in no time.

This was even more reason for (name) to feel nervous around the man, he was way behind the singer in terms of achievements and fame. The two were in Hawaii to shoot a confession scene at a beach house and the filming ended late.

Since the production was behind schedule(owing to both males’ other commitments), the hotel they had booked for the week long stay, only had one room available for this final (extended) night. Ha, they’d have to make do.

It was not awkward, but the air was a little tense as Jaehyun set his things down. He was just as friendly and soft spoken off-screen as he was in front of the cameras. His personality made it easy for the other to loosen up around him.

By the time they were ready for bed, the awkwardness had long dissipated. Both men were in a good mood, a little drunk too. Nonetheless, the thought of sharing a bed with Jaehyun sent shivers up (name)’s spine.

(name) tried his best to maintain as much distance as he could without seeming rude. Jaehyun was facing the other way, relieving (name)’s nerves a little, though he still spent half of the night squirming in his place with unease.

Eventually, he grabbed his phone from the bedside table and squinted his eyes to check the time.

02.39 AM.

Jaehyun was lying down, his eyes shut. You could never tell what a guy like him was thinking about.

You could tell he was asleep when his breathing steadied. His face looked even more stunning in the dim light. (Name) stared at the other in wonder.

It felt weird having a guy who was not only famous, but also incredibly attractive, lying in bed next to him.

(Name) was sure his lips would taste like heaven.

And suddenly, his arms were wrapping around the observing male, pulling him close. Jaehyun whispered his name, his voice dripping with affection. (Name), startled, could feel the half-asleep male’s hot breath against his ear.

His heart was beating so loud, he was afraid Jaehyun would hear. But Jaehyun didn't seem to care, instead he continued, "(Name), I like you. I know it's wrong but I can't help myself."

A wave of heat spread across (name)’s face. Jaehyun pressed his lips to the still shocked male’s neck. His kisses were hot and wet. His skin tingled wherever Jaehyun’s mouth touched it.

(name)’s body trembled as he nibbled and sucked at his flesh. Jaehyun’s caressing hand traveled down his side, resting on his hip.

His touch was gentle and reassuring, but still, the other actor was nervous. His thoughts ran a thousand miles a second in order to not overlook the gravity of the situation. The Jeong Jaehyun, just told (name) he liked him and was currently smooching him in a hotel room in Hawaii.

He kissed (name) deeply.

His tongue pushed past (name)’s lips, exploring his mouth. He tasted like cinnamon and honey.

Jaehyun pulled away, gazing at the flushed male. One could see the sincerity in his eyes. (Name) liked him too. But this was beyond scary. Jaehyun was one of the most popular guys on the planet and here he was, professing his feelings to his male co-actor.

The situation was almost surreal.

(name) didn't know what to say, so he just leaned forward, capturing Jaehyun’s lips in a kiss. His grip on (name) tightened. He ran his fingers through the shorter’s hair, pulling him closer.

The two were lost in the moment, letting go of all inhibitions. They made out for what seemed like forever. Finally, Jaehyun pulled away, leaving them both breathless.

"I want to take you out. On a date."

The words hit (name) hard.

A date. A real, proper date.

The last time he'd gone on a date was... well, ages ago.

(name) hadn't really dated anyone since he entered the industry. Propelling his career came first, and dating had been the furthest thing from the plans.

But now?

Now he couldn't imagine doing anything else.

"Yes. Yes, of course."

(Name) nodded.

"Really? Are you sure?"

(Name) gave him a small smile.

"Absolutely."

The agreeing male couldn’t help but let out a chuckle again. Jaehyun raised an inquisitive brow at the action as he explained.

“When you were stuttering while filming the confession scene today, I never thought this was the reason.” (name) exclaimed.

“And what do you think now?”

“I think my fluttered just the same on both occasions, Jaehyun.” (name) looked at the male with adoration.

Jaehyun grinned, and it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

#kpop male idol #kpop x male reader #male idol x male reader #nct x male reader #nct 127 x male reader #jaehyun x male reader

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hwaightme · 9 months

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Impressionism

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🩸 pairing: vampire!gallerist/collector!seonghwa x art historian!gn!reader 🩸 genre: fluff, noir, soulmates, supernatural, strangers(?) to lovers, art nerding 🩸 summary: a post-graduate student specialising in impressionism, you were a regular visitor to the many art galleries in the city. who knew that among the paintings you would encounter your favourite, timeless work of art? 🩸 wordcount: 12.3k 🩸 warnings/tags: questionable editing, mention of blood, fangs, wounds, suggestive, many pet names (love, darling etc), art theory/history ponderings, time skips, mention of rituals, philosophy, hwa is centuries-old, yearning hwa 🩸 taglist: at the bottom of the fic 🩸 a/n: happy birthday to @starrysvn!! lheo, ilysm, and i hope you enjoy this little rambling <3 hugs to everyone, all reblogs, notes and comments appreciated! 🩸 playlist: nfwmb - hozier, who is she? - i monster, keep on loving you - cas, la vie en rose - edith piaf, a l'ombre de nous - pierre barouh, les feuilles mortes / sous le ciel de paris - yves montand, moon over bourbon street / until - sting

‘Love and Pain’ - an enigmatic masterpiece that was painted by Edvard Munch, the famous Norwegian artist, in 1895. In vibrant oil paints a dramatic scene interpreted by millions as something more sensual, darker, revealing was immortalised. Perhaps quite literally. You leaned back on one hand, feeling the coolness of the bench located in the middle of the gallery hall, careful to not let the notebook in your hands slip from your lap. ‘Vampire’ - first, it was a label for the woman with the alluring, long red locks that was leaning over her supposed lover, then it turned into a second name for the work. It was comical how Munch himself had initially stated the piece depicted nothing more than a woman kissing the neck of a man, and yet, the tale had told itself. What followed were six versions of this same subject, with a woodcut titled “Vampyr II”, followed by paintings titled ‘Vampire’ and ‘Vampire in the Forest’, and then through common acceptance that this indeed was the ‘submission of a man to the bite of a vampire’, if you were to paraphrase a critic who had been in an astoundingly similar position as you, except without the decades upon decades of other material to refer to. They had been the firstcomers, the initial perceivers to set the tone for society’s consumption of the artwork, the louder of the many voices in the artwork who often had the final say. In some senses, they were your long lost colleagues - they were there to create history, and you were there to study it.

While it was not exactly a part of the movement you had decided to specialise in, you nonetheless would never reject the opportunity to learn more about the stunning world of visual arts, trying to guess how the artist had felt in the moment, what did they see beyond what they presented to the world, how did they translate the heart into brushstrokes. You were taken by all forms of art since you were little - having grown up surrounded by items that were far removed from what you called your air, you were intrigued by anything that was external to your version of ordinary. In your case, it just so happened to be the little private gallery that you had spent almost all of your monthly allowance to visit when you were a school kid - you had been so dedicated, in fact, that the elderly guard who had often also acted as a guide to the visitors had become your first friend in the art world, something of a grandparent figure, and on multiple occasions - when the lack of eyes would allow, simply let you through with a grin and glance out of the entrance doors.

And so here you were, many years later, many hard decisions and conversations behind you, regarding artworks with an unprecedented soulful closeness that you had initially thought was unattainable. Had you believed all those who remained outside of the walls of your personal paradise, you would have been immersed in the same cycle that had been drilled into the majority of your family members, except maybe a handful who you had never met for the exact reason that they had chosen something for themselves. But you regarded your dream as the thorned path - undoubtedly more challenging, not immediately fruitful, but in the long run leading to the heaven of your design. What more could you ask for?

It was enjoyable to be alone with the paintings surrounding you, portals to new realms that any visitor could have the pleasure of exploring. And what was even more inspiring, was that in the eye of every beholder was a different universe, and no matter who one would speak to, their version of the painting would be different, even if just slightly. You huffed, amused. When was the last time you had visited a gallery with anyone else? You could not quite recall - it was likely that you had never seeked company from another because you were more than satisfied with the company of the legendary works that were regarding you from the many walls. It was possible to compose oneself, spend limitless time on every piece, study the details, and drift into one’s own musings when there was no one to ground them. This was when you dared to say you got your best work done. Even though you, of course, conducted research within university and ventured out to galleries, museums, collectors or auctions only within professional bounds, the bulk of the thinking process was carried out in times such as this. When it was just you, your notebook and pen, and a new point of focus. However, this time, you could not say you were fully attentive to the painting that you had decided to focus on, as a certain someone was appearing to share your level of interest in ‘Love and Pain’ too.

A gentleman who could not be much older or younger than you, at most a couple of years, stood off to the right of the bench, unmoving, gaze fixated on the painting. Dressed in a pinstripe navy suit, light blue dress shirt, lacquered dress shoes and a matching navy tie, he was nothing short of being a moving work of art. Hints of a glimmer from his thin framed, elegant silver spectacles gave the man a scholarly aura, while the slicked back dark hair - evidently a lot longer than the styling would suggest, added notes of business, entrepreneurship, perhaps leadership. Nothing was out of place, not a crease, not an exposed thread in sight. Needless to say, your curiosity had been sparked.

Much like you found joy in exploring creations in the realm of the visual arts, you were fond of crafting stories about the people who were strangers in passing. You could not help it; perhaps this affinity for creative internal ramblings had come as a package with studying the degree you had selected, or perhaps this was a naturally occurring guilty pleasure that you simply had not had the chance to entertain before you cut yourself off from expectations and predetermined patterns of thought. But now, you had the full pleasure of wondering, letting your mind travel to lands far away as you took the real life masterpiece in, and pondered why the man could be here, what he could be thinking as he studied Munch’s work, and what resonated with him, and only him.

There was a melancholia with the weight of centuries resting upon his shoulders, that much you could decipher in the stranger’s stance. Even then, there was a gentle burning flame within his heart judging by just how dedicated he was to inspecting the artwork. Like he was seeing an old friend for the first time in years, and was attempting to memorise them anew and recognise each change, bit by bit. You suppressed a chuckle, entertaining the possibility of this man finding a kinship with the painting, but chose to set the idea aside for the time being, instead focusing on sketching his emotional landscape. Was the stranger remorseful? Lonely? Perplexed? You could not quite pinpoint the answer, at least not before you noticed the man’s head starting to turn, and soon enough, his eyes were peering into your own.

They were two pools of deep chocolate, an all-consuming shade that, due to the ever so slightly dimmer lights than in the general halls of the gallery, appeared to be approaching a captivating onyx. The gaze that originated from behind the glasses, and glided across the room that was suddenly too small for two struck you, and you could feel heat starting to rise on your face, blush threatening to reveal the effect of the man’s spontaneous act of confidence. Lowering your head, you gave the stranger a sheepish grin, and pretended to make a random note, pen erratically scribbling over a filled page. He continued to regard you with that same unwavering expression, and only when you looked up again did he seem to catch himself and give you a closed-mouth smile, equally as bashful as yours, and crossed his arms. One step, another, and he was right by the painting, though careful to not obstruct your view - instead, he took his time to read the brief paragraph on the information plaque that had been stuck to the wall off to the side of ‘Love and Pain’. With the same familiarity that is common among those grieving, or in a state of existential sorrow. A bittersweetness prevailed in his aura, one that reminded you of autumn - the falling leaves in red and gold, twirling to join a magnificent carpet, but nonetheless, making a departure, albeit a nearly unnoticeable one. Had he seen many fallen leaves? Was he himself approaching the season? You gasped, but even though the sound was barely audible, you caught the stranger making a minuscule turn in response.

His footsteps were louder than your thoughts, his departure an irrevocably impactful act that left you breathless. You did not know him, and yet you felt as though you had gotten a glimpse at multiple lifetimes, and were part of a moment that was greater than yourself. In the wordless exchange, question after question had found its root, and something told you that you should not dare attempt to craft him a backstory, and choosing to believe in anything but what would be declared by him would be a gross misinterpretation, much like one that was carried out by those who did not wish to reflect on art and look beyond a first impression. For the first time since you had made your initial discovery of the arts, you felt like you were not alone in the gallery, the other visitor’s presence remained so intense that he could be sat right next to you, scrutinising the same painting, entertaining the same thought. Was the woman with the bright tresses indeed what she had been declared to be over the many years she had been introduced to many venues, many variations of public, and finally finding a home on this wall? Did she settle with her lover, or perhaps a carefully selected victim? Would the man have an answer?

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ⋆ . It was unlike you to retrace your steps a mere few days after a visit and return to the same gallery, amble down the same halls, and seek for a new source of investigative inspiration among the same selection. This obviously did not mean that you would never return, definitely not, that would be almost criminal of you to possess such intentions, but you tended to try to cleanse your palate with alternative movements, contemporary takes and avant garde interpretations between searches which were more directly related to your studies. And yet, for the first time in a while, nothing was stopping you from your return. It felt only natural, and so right. Moreover, you felt no unease when you headed straight towards the section that housed the impressionists. An individual with an unspoken, mysterious mission, you were on the hunt for the creative streak, something that would help you ponder the next section of your hefty dissertation, and you could sense that it had to be somewhere here. And, like always, you were right.

‘Bazille’s Studio’, one of the most famous works painted by the so-called ‘tragic artist’ of the impressionists, Frédéric Bazille in 1870. In fact, it had been a collaboration between him and Édouard Manet, another gifted artist, though more renowned as a figure leading modernism, and depicted a scene of discussion and creative collaboration in the studio that Bazille had shared for a certain period of time with other spectacular figures of the visual arts, Claude Monet, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, who could also be found in this painting. On the walls were works rejected by the Salon, which at the time had been the one of the most influential, famous art exhibitions in the Western World, administered by the Académie des Beaux-Arts in Paris. Interestingly, above the piano on the right hung a painting which Bazille had purchased from Monet, potentially hinting at the material ties between them, and the importance the young artist had because of his familial wealth. In a sense, Bazille expressed his support, as well as showed an intimate, platonic scene of the art world where there was a moment of calm, of mutual appreciation, despite the financial troubles and tensions due to character that had been experienced in those walls.

You stepped closer to the painting, trying to detect the transition from Bazille’s to Manet’s hand, the latter of whom painted in the former to take ‘centre stage’, palette in hand. Truly seamless work, though what else could it be? This painting had been a new addition to the permanent collection, and after strenuous, detailed restoration work to give the oil paints their original vibrancy and for impeccable strokes to forget the burden of time, you had the pleasure of seeing it in person. You were an arm’s length away from yet another work essential to history, culture and the arts as a societal colossus.

While it was easy enough to appreciate the technical detail, you found yourself halting to remember the names of all those depicted in the painting, failing to finalise the list in your head. Starting from Bazille, you had determined for yourself the presence of Monet and Manet in his vicinity quickly enough, however where Renoir was, or what were the names of the two other gentlemen in the scene, slipped your mind. You rocked to the side to lean closer to the plaque that was meant to provide you with the information, however you only found the name of the painting, the artist and the medium, much to your misfortune. Clicking your tongue, you returned to studying the faces of each individual, and furrowed your brows in agitated concentration. It was simple to take out your phone and search for the answer, though you knew that just as neutral that action would be, so would be your reaction unless you were to remember, or somebody were to-

A presence to your side caught you off-guard, and you felt a shiver run up your spine. One glance was enough to determine that it was the same man from yesterday, only the outfit revealing a change. Other than that, he had the same impeccable posture and stance, as well as a thoughtful look towards the painting in front of you both. His arms were crossed, though not in a defensive manner; instead they offered an interpretation of philosophy, as though this man was carrying centuries of wisdom with him, history having pummelled down on him and yet needing to support it like Atlas; the titan carrying the world.

Today, he was dressed in a mahogany coloured suit, with a white top underneath and some black boots with thick white rubber soles - quite the transition from last time, when he had been a manifestation of a sleek and pristine office gentleman. Hair, now let down and wavy, neatly framed his face, accentuating the regalness of his features. It was astounding how you were still sure that it would be more likely to find a man of this fashion in a painting, rather than standing beside you. You kept quiet, not wanting to interfere with his musings. Perhaps it was just a silly coincidence that the two of you were at the same place and at the same time again - how else? You did not know him, and you hoped that he did not know you. Though, you truly did not mind his company, and maybe it could serve as your motivation to figure out the rest of the characters in the painting. Once again, your attention returned to the task at hand, but before you could even begin to list off prominent figures of the art world during the era of Impressionism, a deep, honey-like whisper halted you and made you hold your breath.

“Auguste Renoir is the one seated, Emile Zola, the writer, is on the stairs, Monet, Manet and Bazille are, as you likely know in the centre, and that,” he paused to raise his hand, gesturing in the general direction of the far right of the piece, “is Edmond Maitre. Pianist, art collector, and Bazille’s closest friend.”

“I- uh- thank you. How did you know I was trying to recall? Pardon me, I must look so clueless-” you trailed off, eyes finding the floor, an action which seemed to be your automatic response to being under inspection of the man, though this time, he captured your gaze quickly by stepping closer towards you. Looking up, you found concern and apology in his eyes.

“No! Not at all, I… sorry if I misunderstood and I am sorry for forcing you into such erroneous conclusions,” he gave you an ever so slightly crooked smile, charming, very disarming and so suiting this beautiful stranger, that you were instantly prompted by your instincts to return it, dismissing doubt.

“You saved me,” you joked, though the phrase contained within itself an unlikely compassion. Two people, alone in the same gallery, sharing a precious dialogue was something to cherish, and with all your might you wanted to make it last.

“Just as you made me regard the painting in a new light, for which I thank you, greatly,” he bowed his head, the smile not leaving his face for a moment. There was a recognition in his gaze, as well as an inexplicable admiration. What did he discover?

“I guess it might be true that no matter how many times you see a painting, every viewing brings something new,”

“Well said. Are you an artist? A critic, perhaps?” He inquired, moving closer to stand level with you, head turned slightly in your direction to spare the occasional glance. You shook your head slowly, wondering if in a retelling of your destiny you could have pursued either of the careers he had mentioned.

“I am in the arts, though rather than looking at the present I remain in the past. Art historian, well, a postgraduate. Nothing too fancy.”

“Oh? But that is marvellous, and what are you focusing on?”

“I like to call it the painting in plenair during the turn of the century. I focus mainly on impressionism, though do sometimes stray into its interplay with post-impressionism, modernism and expressionism.”

“Ah, no wonder I have been seeing you here often. Enjoying the new collection?” he asked, eager to hear your opinion. There was excitement in his voice as though you were a renowned expert and were about to bestow upon him a priceless evaluation. And this was without considering the technicality of you having only half-met. Just crossing paths twice in one week.

"Yes, of course… The collection is unlike any other I have seen. I keep wanting to return and stay here for ages." You explained, glancing at the stranger while he nodded along.

"Incredibly happy to hear it. I swear I have seen you around quite often during the past month that the exhibition has been open? Am I correct?" evidently, your rapid blinking was interpreted rather quickly as perplexion, for the man gasped ever so lightly, as if to catch his own speeding thoughts.

“I- how do you know? I do believe this is our… second time meeting?” you uttered, one eyebrow raised in suspicion, which, to your disbelief, revealed something akin to fear in the beautiful stranger’s features. Nervously, he adjusted a strand of hair that was threatening to cover his right eye.

“Not quite… you were present at the opening event, right?” he quizzed.

“Indeed, my depar- wait. But how? Respectfully, I am starting to think you know me.” you enunciated with newfound caution, while the man pursed his lips. One second, another passed in near total silence, until a chuckle escaped him and he shook his head. It appeared as though he was mentally scolding himself - his eyes held no malice, instead glinting with hope, that melancholic wisdom, and something unidentifiable, ethereal, supernatural.

“I think it is high time I introduce myself before this gets out of hand. See, in some sense I work here, and most of my days are spent in the gallery or labouring for it-”

“Ah, I see-”

“Park Seonghwa, a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” with one arm folded behind his back and the other on his chest, he bowed to you like how you imagined princes in the numerous portraits you had studied would bow. And the most enthralling part was how the gesture flowed, and was so befitting. Quickly, you bowed in return, but while raising your head, you froze. It hit you why he would know. And know a lot. And would remember you, and likely anyone and everyone who visited. In a low whisper, you asked:

“Am I… correct in assuming that you are ‘the’ Park Seonghwa?” quickly enough, you realised that it was a mistake to find his eyes again - clearly, you were not ready for the intensity, nor for the intrigue that was contained within them, nor for the fact that he moved another step closer to you, the rubber of his boots dampening any sound produced.

“I never knew that there was a ‘the’ attached to my name. I simply love art.”

“Well that love translated into the creation of what is possibly the greatest gallery in the nation, if not worldwide,”

“Oh you flatter me too much, ah, your name-”

“L/N Y/N, and I, too, love art.”

“Elated to hear it,” he gleamed, and you swore the room exploded with the illumination of a thousand stars.

Stunning, awe-inspiring, ever so elegant. He was a walking dream. In that smile was concealed a certain something that had been taboo, a well-kept secret until a couple of decades ago, when those like Seonghwa had started to be fully integrated into society, and no longer had to hide, changing identity from one century to another. With that came Seonghwa’s success - you had read in an article that advertised the permanent exhibition a short blurb of his story, and how for many turbulent decades, the man single-handedly collected masterpieces, crafted a meticulous network and introduced genius artists to the world, and the world to the artists. The gallery was a magnum opus for Seonghwa - a presentation of what he had achieved as a collector, as a patron of the arts, and a celebration of his personal culture.

You could not help but hone in on the fangs, and recall the original reason why it was even possible for Seonghwa to obtain such legendary works and have as much influence as he presently did. It was not spontaneous; submerged in turmoil, he had personally approached artists who, previously abandoned by critics and other prospective buyers, had never considered a future beyond a mysterious tomorrow. Hiding his own true nature, he crafted the tale of a ‘Park’ dynasty, and rose again and again to continue his work. Perhaps, now, some might argue that once he had revealed himself as a vampire the velocity of Seonghwa’s developments had fallen, but you would passionately argue the opposite. It was challenging to believe that any move by this stunning artistic mastermind was not strategic - the announcement had given the gallery more partnerships, more donations, and in turn, an even greater prominence in the community both among professionals and enjoyers.

“Thank you,” the phrase spilled from your lips inadvertently. It seemed to be the only thing that was reasonable to say in that given moment. You pondered the pains that must have been suffered to make the world that you were consumed by come together, and the painting in front of you, aside from what was contained within the frame,now shined in a new light externally too, possessing its own story, resembling a search for a kindred spirit, a true home.

Seonghwa remained quiet, the words of gratitude echoing in his heart. It was endearing, encouraging to hear such warmth from you. So, you did know him, at least the parts he had shown to the public - as was expected from someone so deeply ingrained in visual arts and history, but he could not help but identify it as something much greater than mere awareness. The openness with which you had welcomed conversation with him, the kind charm that radiated from you as you engaged in the careful verbal waltz reminded the vampire of times long, long ago when all that existed for him was drive, enamourment and art. Oh, how your eyes glimmered. His heart clenched into near unbearable agony as he read your expressions, and wondered how much you have seen, what have you yet to see, who you were in this temporary life. If only he could ask fate to tell him how much you remembered of who you had been before.

“No, thank you, for giving this,” he gestured to the gallery around him, graceful hand unfurling as though revealing a delicate flower, “meaning, and reason to exist.”

“I highly doubt I am of much significance, Mister Park,” you responded, a soft smile on your face.

“Would anything hold the same meaning if there was no one to behold it?” he responded. You chose not to answer, catching onto the rhetoricism, “and please, call me Seonghwa. I’d like to say we are to be good friends.”

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ⋆ .

Sitting across from Seonghwa in the cafe that was located on the top floor, above the main halls of the gallery made you feel strangely serene. Today he had foregone the straighter hair styles that you had begun to get used to, surprising you with a head of tousled, almost curled locks that embodied the world’s softness, though remained to be quite the contrast to the more formal and highly fashionable attire that adorned his stature. A suit, tastefully oversized with a buttoned double breasted jacket that was simultaneously serving as a shirt, the plunging v-shaped neckline revealing perfectly smooth skin, and what you noted to be a solitary freckle right in the centre of his collarbone. The trousers, at least from the glimpse that you had allowed yourself when you had met at the entrance to the cafe were of a loose fit, defining his waist at the top and falling to form an almost skirt-like silhouette should he stand how he usually stood: the echoes of what would be called the ‘third position’ in ballet, more relaxed, but still retaining an elegance that only he could carry. The biggest shock to you, however, was Seonghwa’s choice of shoes - a refreshing point to the visual, he had selected to contrast the formalwear with a pair of limited edition, geometrically intriguing Converses. You could catch a glimpse of one of them from over the edge of the table whenever his slightly shaking leg, positioned over the other, would rock forwards just that tiny bit stronger.

While the setting was meant to be casual, the circumstances in which you found yourself were nothing short of miraculous. Never in a million years would you have imagined for it to be possible to be sat across the table from, quite possibly, one of the most legendary contributors to art restoration, collection and exhibition. On top of that, Seonghwa was a figure who actively bridged the gap between disparate communities, finding a common language, and using the arts as a salvation. You were in awe, and could not hold back on regarding the handsome vampire as he quietly reported your and his orders to the waiter who had floated to your table.

“Are you sure you do not want anything else?”

“Yes, I am sure. I do not wish to exploit your kindness-”

“-Not at all. I hope you do not mind that I… must make a rather unconventional order,” he smiled sheepishly, clearing his throat so as to attempt to hide his doubts, though you were uncertain as to how much of such emotions could possibly be left after what had to have been centuries.

“An unconventional order is pouring a sugary energy drink into a triple shot espresso and calling it dinner,” you answered, eyes travelling from Seonghwa’s face to the mural on the wall a few tables away that wrapped behind him and to your left, disrupted only by the occasional floor length window that provided city vistas - rather gloomy, compared to the optimistic illumination of the restaurant. Perhaps out of pity, or out of genuine entertainment, Seonghwa chuckled.

“That does sound like an acquired taste, indeed. Thank you,”

“No need. Thank you for inviting me,” you turned back, nodding a polite bow as he softly waved your gesture off.

A silence settled across the table as you waited for your respective drinks. Your hand, had you not consciously restrained yourself, would have probably reached for the phone that you stored in your purse, but now was fiddling with the sleeve of your shirt, finding the buttons to stress test the threads that had them sewn tight to the fabric. You were not bored, in fact, far from it. You needed a barrier. The grandeur of this man’s presence was almost overwhelming. He was not a mere individual in a room, he consumed it. Had you just walked in, you were certain that your gaze would still settle on his form. Just like the concrete outside was grey, and the pause retained a divine ambiguity, Seonghwa was unforgettable. In an attempt to calm your clouded thoughts, you studied the mural once more.

“May I inquire into your thoughts on the decor?”

“The choice of ‘A Sunday on La Grande Jatte’ is wise. I am guessing you were the one to make the decision?” you heard an exhale, and once more your attention was captured.

“Alas, I cannot take full accolades for this. This stemmed from a discussion that a good friend of mine and I had one late night. Seurat just so happened to make an appearance amidst the chatter, and so… this was born,” he gestured at the surroundings. Clearly, the interior was picked carefully to fit the theme of the legendary painting.

From the colours to the textures and the greenery that had been intricately set up across the restaurant, every detail had a meaning and a place, and did not take away from the spaciousness of the hall. It was breathable, while still giving the illusion that you were stepping into a whimsical impressionist paradise. Perhaps that was another reason why you could not quite contain your disbelief firstly in your encounter, secondly in its progression, and thirdly in your interlocutor’s warmth.

“Spectacular, truly. I have heard you have an eye for detail, however this surpasses all expectations.”

“Oh? There is more you have heard?” he interjected, leaning closer to you and placing an elbow on the table, simply to rest his head on his hand. While this could potentially be seen as slightly unceremonious, it hinted at well-kept confidence, ownership, control. A healthy undercurrent of motivation that came with indirect praise.

“I-oh y-yeah of course,” you did not mean to stutter, but some part of you was grateful you did, for the smirk that had threatened to burst on Seonghwa’s lips was enough for you to feel ignited to elaborate, “if my memory is not failing me, you were the one to distinguish a reproduction of a piece some time ago, no?”

“Ah- yes. That was a Degas reproduction. I must say, the attempt was sincere, however when I saw the-, hm, you will not be startled, will you?”

“Please,” you urged him to continue, intrigued by the story.

“When I saw the original, as it was being made and when it had been finalised, it would be shameful of me to not spot a fake,” he fell back into his chair, just in time for the drinks to be served.

A coffee for you, and a non-descript beverage concealed by a semi-opaque, tall glass for him. Though, you did not need to be a detective to guess what it was that Seonghwa was bringing to his lips, and what he took a tentative sip of. The only mystery that was remaining for you was what ‘type’ he had picked - was it O+? B-? Whatever else? You joined him in the tasting, lifting the mug and indulging in the wonderful aroma of your americano. It did not strike you as necessary to opt for something fancier and lie to yourself - so you settled for your regular order, much to your joy. Familiar taste and the reliability of the caffeine hitting your system painted the scene in more comforting colours, and gradually, you found yourself easing into the dialogue more and more, until life stories, musings and a surprisingly large common ground came pouring.

You discovered that Seonghwa possessed a unique sensitivity and attunement to those around him. Focused on the emotional experiences, he felt through time and could recount emotions like the memory was from a mere few days, rather than decades ago. He was well-spoken, eloquent, intelligent, polite in every right as he navigated through the linguistic landscape and guided you like a partner in a dance. You were spiralling oh so quickly, intrigue catching up to you and prompting you to sacrifice all of your senses to the man and the pleasantly intoxicating atmosphere he captured you in. He was enchanting, and it was far too easy to give in.

“May I reveal something?” in a hushed tone, he inquired, a finger absent-mindedly tracing the rim of his glass.

“Oh, a little secret?” you raised your eyebrows in jest, lightening the initial seriousness with which Seonghwa uttered the question.

“Perhaps, perhaps not. Depends on how you take it. A confession might be more accurate,” he waited for you to take the final sip of your coffee before continuing, unphased by your unwavering focus, “if I were to be honest, I have been meaning to approach you.”

“Pardon?”

“As you know we have a… common awareness of each other thanks to what is housed under this roof, but ever since we first unknowingly crossed paths… I wanted to speak to you.”

Confused, you did not speak, though the words contained an unparalleled affection within them. What could he possibly mean? You chose to refrain from commenting, your hesitation prompting the vampire to continue.

“Do you remember the most recent opening night? Of the exhibition? I believe you were with someone…” he trailed off, hoping you would continue for him.

“Ah, yes, a friend of mine from university. So?”

“This might sound strange but, I distinctly remember you mentioning a name. An artist from the same era, dubbed as L/N Y/N?”

“Goodness, you overheard that? I am so sorry, it is just that said artist has intrigued me for some time, and I was half-hoping to encounter their work. Maybe it is because our names are the same but still….”

“Elusive, aren’t they?”

“To put it softly, yes. I only vaguely recall seeing… maybe one piece in my lifetime, when I was little, and then… nothing. And there is barely any information on the artist online, let alone libraries and archives.”

“Hm, indeed. I guess that makes two of us…”

“Two of us who are searching?”

“That’s right. It brought me happiness to know that I am not alone in this endeavour.”

“Then we can keep searching together.”

While you were positive that you could not conceal your interest, Seonghwa’s did not go unnoticed either. It was of course possible that he was simply well-versed in political correctness, but the burning depth of his pupils told you otherwise. Enthrallment, the discovery of a kindred spirit, recognition, the rekindling of a bond that had existed at some point long ago - all fantasies that played out in your mind as you returned that look with subtle fervour. You wondered how many people he graced with those charms. How many had succumbed to his influence, becoming a marker on his infinite life path, a fleeting second? How many had his lips known, how many had turned into a decadent treat for a genius man with natural peculiarities? While the researcher part of you was perplexed and aching for answers, the you that was caught in the moment simply let it go on, and the feeling of Seonghwa’s leg brushing against yours, and the pride blooming in your chest as he praised the few articles and papers you had published upon having claimed that he ‘knew some things about you too’ preoccupied you in the most magnificent way.

Naturally, you agreed to meet Seonghwa again. On your journey home, in the privacy of the anonymous metro, immersed in the cacophony of deafening rails and the millions travelling to anywhere, you pressed your phone to your racing heart as the vampire, the man, the beguiling Park Seonghwa sent you a message confirming so. Who knew a simple selection of words could be so captivating?

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ⋆ .

Under the comforting thrum of raindrops on the large umbrella, you walked down the streets of the grey-coloured city, your hand lightly holding onto Seonghwa’s arm while he ensured that both of you were protected from the elements. Despite the dull light and bitterness of the cooling season, Seonghwa appeared radiant, truly timeless with every gesture and stride. The elegant angles of his face that you could tirelessly study stood out against the monotone buildings and overcast skies. His voice drowned out the sound of droplets racing one another to the ground. A miraculous gentleman who appeared in your life much like a portrait, or a landscape - a masterpiece you wanted to explore in every spare moment, and better yet, this masterpiece was equally as open to you as you were to him.

“...essentially, yes. It is like another nationality. A marker of species isn’t too far isn’t it? Just another line on a stack of documents. Nothing more,” Seonghwa concluded his explanation, pursing his lips for a moment before letting an exhale turned dragon’s breath escape into the afternoon.

“Makes sense. So would that mean there are separate medical papers and treatment too?”

“Well… when regeneration fails us or when a given case is severe enough… yes. Though it is handled by private clinics run by other vampires.”

“There are private clinics?”

“Of course. Often they are connected to donation points too, and that is how we remain on the right side of the law and stay alive,” he nodded to himself, giving you a bittersweet smile when he noticed confusion overtake your gaze. “Blood,” he stated as-a-matter-of-factly, “I mean blood.”

In a nervous stupor, you cleared your throat and focused on a droplet that was hanging onto the edge of the umbrella, right in front of you, all the way until the gentle motion of Seonghwa’s amble provoked its abrupt descent onto the stone under your feet.

“Ah, yes, I see-”

“If you find this disturbing, we can forget the conversation ever-”

“-I want to know you better, Seonghwa, truly-”

“Careful-”

“Sorry wha-”

With an extraordinary swiftness, you were tugged abruptly by the arm. Not registering your surroundings, you merely went with the inertia, caught off-guard by the proximity of your face to the vampire’s as he held you against him with the arm that you had previously been resting your own on. A hand that you raised on instinct went limp and landed on Seonghwa’s chest, feeling the thick felted wool of his coat. The ringing of a bell, going farther away from you by the second, incessant but at least waking you up from the blur, was enough for you to put two and two together - a cyclist who thought they owned every part of the street, like always. You sighed.

“Reckless… my apologies I did not mean to-” Seonghwa tried to detangle himself, refusing to remain in your personal space for longer than necessary no matter how much he did want to, but his efforts were reduced to nothing when your hand moved to a hold on his upper arm - reassuring, comfortable, accepting.

“Thank you,” you interrupted, “that bike would have definitely run into me…”

“It’s nothing,” a low chuckle echoed in your ears as Seonghwa peered into your pupils, confidence that had previously wavered out of habitual caution now restored, growing into a pride as you continued to hold onto him, “the man was slow enough for there to be no risk of harm. I hope you are not too startled though.”

“Oh? You have super powers too? Do elaborate,” you jested, resuming your walk.

“I would call it more like… being a finely tuned machine. Can’t say I have bad reaction speed. Though I must say, it was a little challenging pulling you out of the way,” there was an evident intent behind the words. However, you were too curious to pay it any mind, instead preferring to find out their meaning live.

“How so?”

“I think this,” dropping his arm, Seonghwa’s hand reached for yours, and without a moment of hesitation, his fingers were intertwining with yours, his palm pressed against yours, “would be better. You know, for safety.” As if you could ever reject him. This was a fact you had established for yourself with an unprecedented certainty. His gallant disposition, attentiveness all confirmed a care for you that was impossible to ignore.

There was something picturesque about the present after meeting this wonderful, infinite pool of art and humanity. You found yourself leafing through articles, art books and biographies with a more wistful and sentimental perspective, imagining what it would be like if it were you who was immortalised in the thousands of brushstrokes, or if you were on the other side of the canvas, how would you go about depicting the scenes unfolding before your very eyes. Timelessness - a quality shared between the art you so adored, and the man you had encountered and over the weeks, let your intrigue be transformed into a shy flame of infatuation. Perhaps it was the underlying reason why you did not reject his advances, nor cower in fear of his true nature with which he was upfront. The other, of course, was the search for the mysterious artist, an adventure that fuelled many of your dialogues, and prompted you to spend more time in the library and the archives of your university than you had ever done before - to the point where Seonghwa himself had encouraged you to take a break from your intellectual expeditions and step into the world as a casual observer. So, you let yourself drift; it finally hit you, what scenes your once again tranquil stroll reminded you of, and you smiled to yourself as you recalled the intricacies of the not quite commonly discussed representation of the Impressionist movement.

‘Rue de Paris, temps de pluie’, painted by Gustave Caillebotte; his most famous work. Not quite as widely discussed, despite still technically being created in the Impressionist era, perhaps due to the meandering through form, realism and reliance on stronger lines rather than broad brushstrokes and the study of light. You did find it fascinating how Caillebotte’s passion for photography had seeped into this piece, however. Much like how, in recent days, you could easily find a way to mention Seonghwa in conversation, be it related to the arts or not. From the subjects in the foreground being slightly out of focus while the middle ground was crystal clear, to how the shapes of some passersby were cropped were all characteristic of photos, rather than paintings, making this particular work all the more dear to you. It was a reflection of life, of behaviour and of what had been daily back in the late nineteenth century.

Was it any different from now, aside from those grand, global topics that historians dedicated their lives to studying? If one were to whittle down to the intricacies, the miniatures that ornamented the span of a human existence, was it so terribly far away from what you were born into, and Seonghwa saw develop and had adopted? How people shielded themselves from the rain with umbrellas, and then used them as a tool to isolate themselves from other urbanites who were in a rush to take a day-long route out of their homes… and back again. The latest silhouettes of dress and accessory; the same rush to be with the times as now.

You felt your companion’s arm move, prompting you to let go and leave your hand hovering as though you were awaiting some kind of change. You bit back an unprecedented sliver of disappointment, only to be caught by surprise once again as you felt the hand settle on the small of your back. Cautious, like you were going to melt from any more pressure than the brush of a feather. A quick glance was enough to determine that you were being studied intently for any sign of discomfort - Seonghwa was ready to pull away at any moment, any sigh, and most definitely at any word. A meek smile settled on your lips, and you shyly used an oncoming stranger as an opportunity to affirm the gesture, stepping towards the vampire, and sensing the confidence of his protective measure be solidified. With glee he followed your every tilt and turn, angling away from the passing form that neither of you could focus on. The touch was electric, somehow monumental despite being so common and barely present. Your mind was on fire, pondering what it would be like to put your head on the elegant man’s shoulder, and let yourself be carried away into a terrific fairy tale.

“This really is a rainy day,”

“Seems quite sunny to me,” you respond with sarcasm, realising only after the fact that your phrase still did retain an element of truth within it.

Sunshine did not have to be literal. It was easy to see, you just needed to return Seonghwa’s gaze, and watch as another spring flower blossomed in the soul of one you had initially assumed to be so cold, so distant. In the darkest winter was a safe haven that you could not help but lean into, and regardless of what you had initially thought, with him, you felt more human, more safe and alive than ever. He listened without fail to your ramblings, and could easily pick up the ball and balance it with his own musings that you could listen to for many lifetimes.

Lifetimes; immortality, the one concept you couldn’t quite wrap your head around. Well, the latter was technically not true, as Seonghwa had elaborated some few days ago: vampires did age, albeit at such a slow pace that to the run of the mill human being, it was impossible to notice, and if they did, it would be someone very close, and only over a matter of decades. Maybe it was this exact inability that made you want to stay and learn all there could be about the gallerist - you thought that would make you feel like you have been living forever. His wisdom was beautiful. The kindness with which he treated you, akin to that of how a spouse treats their long-time sweetheart with a mellow and comfortable affection, was not something you asked for nor expected, but something which he introduced himself with through every action, progressively more amiable when you allowed him to advance.

“Mm, no wonder I can’t quite look at you,” he mused out loud, dramatically looking off into the distance. You raised an eyebrow, curious about what was going to come after his theatrical pause, “your brightness is unparalleled,” Seonghwa chuckled, satisfied with your sigh and the way in which you pretended to be annoyed, only to dissolve in a mute giggle. “So, I do suggest we get out of the rain for a moment and stop by that book shop over there, shall we?”

Following his hand, you spotted an antique bookshop a few doors down, marked by an iron sign and ornate shop window decorations that glistened with each hit of the dancing droplets. A warm golden light emanated from the inside, the hue comparable to a summer’s day. An odd feeling of deja vu washed over you, as though you had been in this store before, even though this was quite the distance away from your home, not on any of your usual commutes and in a part of town you barely visited aside from the occasional brisk walk. It had been established over a century ago, sporting a historical plaque and detailing original to the era the date on the sign suggested. Suppressing your internal monologue, you simply nodded, fond of Seonghwa’s excitement as he pushed lightly against your back and walked on ahead. If you were any more of a romantic, you would have assumed that the shop was a representation of his heart, but you couldn’t allow yourself to think that way, at least not when you felt heat rise to your cheeks as he whispered your name, openly planning what you could look for amidst the rare editions together. You and him turned into a ‘we’ so naturally, you barely had time to blink. A new brushstroke on a canvas, brave, bold and bright. Impressionist.

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ⋆ .

The hypnotising improvisation on a semi-acoustic guitar, followed by a launch back into the theme of a well-known jazz song had you tapping on the counter, unknowingly following every drum beat. The bar turned cosy music venue that Seonghwa had invited you out to was proving to be every bit a wonder of the world, and paradise inside of the otherwise gloomy city which had been plagued with miserable weather and lack of daylight for atrociously long. The classy establishment was a well known favourite among the vampires residing in the city, especially those aligned with a more bohemian and art-focused lifestyle. Critics, painters, collectors, musicians, poets alike all gathered to share ideas and energy, and reminisce days long gone, while the band - one that had not changed since the bar’s establishment, revived legendary pieces one after another.

With ease, Seonghwa had ordered your favourite drink, having memorised it after your many outings that had smoothly transitioned into dates and shared nights. He remembered every detail about you, holding each one tenderness. Your lover gazed at you as he ended a conversation with a fellow collector who had recently come to town for a few days, stretching out his hand until it just touched yours, guiding it to lie flat on the counter. Seonghwa’s palm, still retaining a pleasant coolness despite him having had a couple of drinks of his own, was another reassurance that in the buzz of the venue, you still had your person by your side. Feeling his digits tap and then proceed to brush the back of your hand, you hummed in contentment, and let your eyes travel over the beautiful vampire, who leaned back, tempting you just for fun, knowing full well that you were wholly his, and even when you turned to look elsewhere, it was his face you saw in the crowd, it was his voice that rang in your ears, it was his touch that ghosted over your skin.

The bustier from Alexander McQueen, the gorgeous flowy shirt with ruffles and cuts so tastefully sewn and executed, the statement necklace that was worthy of being displayed at a gallery and must be the envy of many, the high heeled boots that were concealed by elegant trousers - Seonghwa was your favourite work of art, and you could never deny it. Each one of his gestures was worthy of marvel, and the care with which he approached everything - even the tending to the items which he painstakingly selected and matched for tonight made your heart skip a beat. It was boggling how each garment and accessory was either an original, or a one of a kind piece. But at the same time, you did not expect anything less of Seonghwa.

He must be impossible to depict in paintings, you concluded, shamelessly staring at your lover’s face, from the shape of his nose, to the plushness of his lips, to the waviness of his night-like inky locks. You bet many had tried, but judging by the lacking evidence in the art world, they must have failed, miserably, to create something more immortal and invincible than the model and muse. You understood them, and Seonghwa gave no signs of being perturbed.

“So, was that the intent behind our spontaneous trip to this bar tonight?” you gestured at your surroundings, taking another sip from your ornate glass. A sharp exhale accompanied a contrasting soft answer:

“Not at all,I had the business sorted a couple of days ago, and tonight was a lucky crossing of paths to secure the deal,” cryptic as ever, Seonghwa only alluded to the matter at hand.

The matter, or how he had referred to it as ‘business’ was a particular artwork that he had been hunting, by the elusive artist you had been investigating, first in your lonesome, and then joining forces with Seonghwa. Apparently, one of the pieces, by some stroke of unimaginable luck, had been kept safe in the private collection of a ‘Mister Kim’, at least that was how he had been initially introduced to you. Until you put two and two together, and when the very well dressed and styled character had entered the bar and made a beeline towards your partner in artistic musings and romance, recognised the man as a world-famous designer and fashion icon, Kim Hongjoong. And of course, another vampire and kind soul in one.

Their conversation had happened outside of your earshot; whether it was on purpose or just so happened to unfold that way was for your ruminations to determine, but you did overhear enough to figure out that this was a portrait, a never seen work, and was completed by the artist who as it had turned out had been closer with Seonghwa than you had initially thought.

“Seems to be very important, and not just in a ‘collector’ sense…” you trailed off, watching as the ice in your drink cracked, “is this why you were interested, you know, back then?”

“If I were to be honest, darling, I was, and still am, a lot more interested in you. The artist was something of an excuse to get a conversation going. And I do hope,” Seonghwa turned and sauntered towards you, “this conversation does not end.”

Even though you were sitting on one of the bar stools, the heels and stance still left him some room to look downwards, and his sultry expression, orbs glinting at you through dark lashes left you transfixed. In moments such as this, you hated to be mortal. There were so many things that you could not possibly know, and no matter how hard you would try to comprehend the vastness of the angelic man’s mind, you would always remain theoretical, and accept the grand majority of intricacies as axiom.

“I hope so too,” your voice barely rose above a whisper as his gloved hand landed on your neck, gliding upwards to caress your jawline.

“I’m so glad I found you,” his thoughts were elsewhere, you were sure of it, and yet, his gaze remained unwavering, “my eternal love”. Lips stained with bittersweet worship, the words stumbled from them to strike you repeatedly in the heart, forcing it to lose its rhythm. He was regarding you like he had stumbled upon a priceless treasure, a divinity, a paradise. Something far from you and from this planet, but by Seonghwa’s careful selection, etched in your features.

Were you the embodiment of something greater for him? You would not consider yourself to be a model example of a human being, neither were you a pretty statue to display in an exhibition. You were you, but Seonghwa kept on convincing you that it was exactly this that had captivated him and showed him a new beginning. Did you wish to believe that? Of course. But a vampire who was hundreds of years old could keep a grand variety of secrets beyond your understanding, even if he were to exclaim them right in front of you and sketch them out. His eternal love - your version of eternity, or his? A life the duration of a butterfly’s abstract dance to the heavens.

“Love?” he called out to you, eyebrows knitted in concern due to your prolonged silence. You had set your drink down, and were staring at the shine of the glossy chrome silver and pearl on Seonghwa’s necklace. “Talk to me, say anything.”

“I- hm. I think I am just tired. Yeah, that must be it. Tired so I am overthinking, no worries. I’ll just be right here and-”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you tilted your head, noting how Seonghwa immediately straightened out, and instead of attempting to tower over you stepped over to the side to set a protective hand over yours.

“This is a majority vampire bar, full of unfamiliar individuals, this whole deal with the artwork is up in the air and-”

“First of all, I don’t care. Second, you are here with me. And third, I want to trust in the fact that you would not do anything foolish nor harmful. Am I right in my evaluation?” you uttered, still not quite able to look into Seonghwa’s infinite pools of brilliant sienna and dark brown.

“I- I am honoured, but that still does not detract from the fact that we can go get some air and come back. Shall we?”

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to. Hell, need to. Let us have a quick wander?”

“...I’d like that.”

In no time, the winter air hit your cheeks and you were wrapping yourself as tightly as you could in your oversized coat. In your ears the pleasant sound of the vampire’s heels rang out, echoed by the stunning road onto which you were spat out by the heavy black front door of the bar. Warm-toned streetlights liberally decorated the sidewalks and painted the night in honey, gold and copper accents. Reflections of an artificial summer in the puddles and winter chill. Downright magical. Seonghwa seeked out your hand, holding it tight and guiding it into the pocket of his own coat, smirking when you raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Nothing at all.”

You were certain that you were walking through a landscape painting, every element captured by your vision falling into its rightful place, harmonising with the rest. The mumbling and music was long gone, only to be replaced by conversation of other late city explorers and the occasional rumbling of a car lazily rolling past.

“Pissarro.”

“Hm?” Seonghwa kept looking ahead, but squeezed your hand to ask for you to continue.

“Boulevard Montmartre at Night. Painted in 1897, no?” you pointed at the surroundings with a tilt of the chin.

“Ah, indeed! Your perceptiveness never ceases to amaze me.”

“Well, thanks to you I got to see the original, so how could I not make the visual analogy?” you nudged his shoulder, earning a chuckle.

The painting was the only example of a landscape at night from the artist Camille Pissarro, making it all the more special despite it being part of a series of 14 views of the same location. Snow, rain, fog, morning, varying seasons, but only one glimmering night. It was one of the works that Seonghwa had managed to provide for your studies, resulting in a more than impressive academic outcome. Like Pissarro kept on painting the vista, your lover kept on giving, never asking for anything more than for you to share your hours with him, something you did not need to be prompted to do anyways.

“...I’m sorry I cannot reveal more than I do, at least not just yet,” he apologised, as though what he was committing was the greatest crime known to humanity and the supernatural.

As you looked up at the starry night sky, you swore you had heard these words before, uttered by the same voice, the same fingers interlocked with yours. A stabbing sensation in your cranium made you gasp, but you regained your composure quickly enough to not make it a priority for either of you. At the same time, Seonghwa’s expression altered to a semblance of… hope? Longing? You could not pinpoint it, but one of the many glowing dots above you clearly landed in his shining orbs, and he eagerly waited.

Waited for longer than you could realise in your present state.

On their own accord, your lips moved, forcing out a subconscious acknowledgement, previously suppressed. You swore the phrase belonged to another being, but it was as refreshing as the breeze tousling Seonghwa’s locks.

“I know. I can wait too.”

“Soon, my love.”

“I-I know.”

“I miss you.”

“I-” vision growing hazy, you reached to the vampire for support, which he readily provided, “I- too.”

One blink - oil paints decorated your hands, and those alluring eyes were staring back at you from a canvas. Another blink - Seonghwa was repeating your name, pressing his cheek against yours as he shielded you from falling into darkness with his strong arms.

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ⋆ .

Your office was inviting and offered a secure haven: a collection of neutral and wooden tones, with dashes of greenery to relax the eyes. From a potted ivy plant settled on the top of a large wall-length shelving unit to an indoor palm tree enjoying the rays in its designated corner, the room was a miniature paradise. You ran your hands over the thick birch desk, cautiously avoiding the stack of documents you had arranged for yourself to go through this day. Artwork restoration reports, contracts, exhibition plans for years to come… everything you thought you would never see, and yet it was right here in your palms.

Time moved slower, or at least that was how you began to perceive it now that it was in abundance. A fountain that did not cease to bestow gifts upon you - again, something you would have never imagined prior to the curious series of events that were your previous life unfolding the way they did. One fateful meeting, and you were a changed person, staring into the horizon and labelling it as a continuation rather than as a termination of all you could achieve. The world was your oyster, and loving dedication was the price. But when the price was so sweet, and so easy, who were you to say no? If you had to pick a concern, it would be the bandages and binding on your right arm; friction from the sleeve of the turtleneck and blazer you had worn today applying uncomfortable pressure to the delicate wound concealed within.

You stood up from the leatherbound office chair, adjusting your clothes and stepping to the window behind you to look out at the garden belonging to the gallery - a recent expansion. Grand, regal, and as the papers had emphasised, now returned to its rightful owner. You wondered just how much of the city had belonged to vampires at least for a portion of time, and you had no doubt that you would be making more discoveries soon, but for the time being, you were happy with the re-acquisition, or as Seonghwa had called it: your ‘turning’ gift. A particularly strong shift of the arm made you wince, and your other hand shot to nurse your sore arm.

“I’m so sorry darling, does it still hurt?” Unbeknownst to you, Seonghwa had slipped into the office, and immediately rushed towards you, concern painting his beautiful face through furrowed brows and a tiny scowl.

“N-no, barely. The sweater is silly-”

“Let’s not disregard ailments, shall we?” your partner gingerly lifted your arm, and after gaining permission through a few lethargic nods, pushed the sleeve upwards to reveal the bandages, “I- really, we need to apply the ointment again, that must be it-”

“Seonghwa-”

“Work can wait, I just need to-”

“My love-” Seonghwa paused his ramblings to stare back at you, puzzled, “it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. Literally just a bite, isn’t it?” you smiled, the action instantly being mirrored, albeit with a tinge of remaining worry.

“Mm, perhaps I am overreacting, I can’t help it,” your thoughts were numbed by the silken touch of his lips on the back of your hand, wool against cotton as he pulled you into an embrace, “it should heal well once you get used to your new form, I am sure of it,” his tresses tickled your nose, but you ignored it, instead letting your head fall against him.

You stood almost completely still aside from the rocking side to side that was habitual for you both. A lulling motion, one that either of you revealed only to each other. A secret reserved for intimate, loving moments such as this. You shook your head in amusement and buried your nose in Seonghwa’s sweater, inhaling the aroma of his sweet perfume, recalling ‘Love and Pain’ - the painting that had marked the tightening of the invisible string tying you together. Or was it? Coincidentally, on the wall behind your lover was the real inception of your union, one that you had forgotten from one lifetime to the next. A portrait. The one that Seonghwa had been chasing, and what had been his decades-long mission came to an end.

Signed with your own hand, were initials of your name and the year of completion of the painting. None other than the beloved collector and muse, Park Seonghwa, who had posed for you, or rather a version of you, and ever since then, you were the only one on his mind. You had been the master both of the arts and of his fate.

“Please, I am embarrassed…” your partner mumbled, settling for futile attempts to position you in such a way that you would be looking out at the garden, but to no avail. Poking him playfully at the side, you induce a halt, and question him:

“What is there to be embarrassed about? That’s you. Painted by me.”

“Exactly. And you have it in your office, of all places.”

“Well I can’t exactly have you, in the flesh, on display all the time and I would like a work of art around here-”

“Shh-”

“Don’t shush me, Park. Be grateful I don’t keep the sketches out too.”

In all honesty, He would not mind if you did. You could do anything, and the vampire would adore and honour it. Whether it was in your blood or in his nature, he had never regretted almost losing himself in your favour. In your last life, he had gone against all rules set up by vampires, playing against what he swore was the devil in order to have the sliver of a chance to start again and, this time not lose you. Had his plan not succeeded, it was highly probable that he would have been erased from this planet too. But he would rather call himself a masochist than be law-abiding when it came to you.

“Next, you’ll be threatening me with a showcase of just my face-”

“What if I do?” you quipped, pulling back to boop his nose with yours, “I think it would look very pretty. Besides, now that I remember my apparent mastery of the visual arts, can’t I be a tiny bit proud, hm?”

“I would be terribly disappointed if you weren’t. Now, may I put that ointment on you?”

As if you could refuse those sparkling eyes. Promptly following him to the loveseat, which unfortunately for Seonghwa was situated right under the portrait, you sat down and waited. Your partner rushed to the medical cupboard - another new addition installed exclusively to support you as you were getting used to the vampiric nuances in your day to day. With well-practised motions, the required kit was in his hands, and in a blink, set down on the plush cushioning of the miniature sofa. You held back a chuckle as you saw the pout you so loved appear as he focused on unwinding the bandage with utmost care. Before you could feel any hurt, Seonghwa would already let go, or alter the angle at which he was tugging on the material. As soon as the plaster was peeled, you were met with the reason for your eternity and reawakening.

Two deep punctures, still a little irritated, not quite healed, but nevertheless a marking of your future and something you regarded with fondness. Wounds did not hurt when they were merely physical, especially not when you had someone who had bound their immortality to yours to tend to them. Seonghwa bit his lower lip, discontented with the ache as though he could feel it too, and took numerous pauses while cleaning up the wound to glance at you.

“I’ll be applying the ointment now, tell me if it stings, okay?”

“Okay,” you knew it wouldn’t. You had never heard a man be so adamant on checking ingredients at an apothecary before following Seonghwa after your first appointment as a vampire. But just to appease him, you followed this small spoken routine.

“You know… I was scared,” his voice was barely audible, and he could not look at you.

“What were you scared of?”

“Losing you again.”

“Well, I am here, aren’t I?”

Even before you were aware of Seonghwa, let alone the truth behind the portrait, all the roads still led to the same resolution. The arts, art history. Virtually synonymous, for without creation, there would not be the past, and without the study of the past, there would not be the celebration and respect of creation. Finally, you understood the beauty of evolution that Seonghwa had undergone all while remaining the same vulnerable yet legendary figure, dedicated to his vision of the arts, having recollected your own.

“So many things could have gone wrong,” Seonghwa’s mind was reeling from the sheer terror of possibility. He had taken advantage of his high social standing as an aristocrat and pulled rank to avoid waiting for any ritual guides to step in - it was not the first time, but still only the second. And both cases were related to you.

The first time might have been a foolish decision in retrospect, but considering the dire circumstances the extreme solution was the only one. With one foot crossing to the afterlife he was combatting the reapers, and was not going to let go of you even if it meant being pulled in. This time, when you had approached him a number of nights ago with your final agreement to his tentative proposal and kissed his ruminations away, he was ready. Years of study were not going to waste, after all. And yet when he studied the same irises as those from a time long gone, when he held the same hands, his blood ran even colder. What a gambling man he had been back then. The procedure to regift life to you had been risky, and Seonghwa, having never practised those elements of the dark arts bestowed upon his kind, had been taking shot after shot in the dark. How dare he play with your being like that? How dare he hold your existence on a sinful scale?

“But they didn’t.”

No they did not. Your confidence in him had aided considerably, he had to admit. The positioning of his fangs was perfect, and he had memorised all incantations down to the inflections. Second time a charm, but much more anxiety-inducing. Turning was not the same as revival, either. He could not stop himself from imagining the many scenarios of where he would have gone wrong, and cemented your identity only as a name on manuscripts, dissertation, paintings and reports.

“Even the ritual, what if you did not remember-”

“I would love you just the same. Whether I had all my memories or not. That much I can assure you of. That is why I trusted you in the first place, Seonghwa.”

You did not need to be a mind reader to know what he was thinking. All you could do was suggest a brighter palette, and be by his side no matter what colour scheme he were to decide on. It was an artist’s duty to know when to set the tools aside and consider a painting finished. The luxury of a collector was to live through many paintings, unify the souls contained in each and sustain a chronology of expression. The keepers, the scholars, made to observe change rather than induce it directly. This was why you were all the more grateful for Seonghwa daring to change your mortal fate not once but twice, risking himself and his image in your favour.

When your partner was satisfied with his medical care, he hummed to notify you and began to clear up, at least until you placed a weak hand on his leather-clad thigh to gain his full attention. He searched for a hint in your features, eyes darting across your face at lightning speed. Relief came when you grinned brightly, whispering sincere gratitude.

Impressionism - the movement and path made by legends. A rejection of traditional practice, a new vision and interpretation of the outside world in the hues of the soul. Light, reality, immediate action. A breath that reset the arts, magnificent and radical for the time, and now, much adored. From its conception to its establishment, you were there to witness and fall in love, and now could look back at the beauty that had bloomed. His irises, your favourite colour. The speckles of various shades, your favourite details. You stared into Seonghwa’s eyes and did not dare blink. Your favourite impression.

🩸 perma-taglist: @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt @lightinyreads @ren-junwrld @pyeonghongrie-main @marsstarxhwa @pocketjoong-reads @alyszaen @yeooclock @yeonjunnie @asjkdk @lucky-cat-cafe @northerngalxy

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mountainficss · 2 months

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https://www.instagram.com/reel/C5ybw3iJaSf/?igsh=YnZud3NnaTFoM3ho

Saw this clip and it’s got me thinking about Vernon ripping off their partner’s tights before 👀 — but like in a nonchalant way? and their partner is just there kinda stunned coz it was so sudden but hot but also how is he so casual?? And then yeah fun times 👀🤣

!! mentions of: unprotected sex, fingering

the way i can visualize this…hear me out hear me out…i can literally see him just TEARING a hole in his s/o’s tights, solely because he’s too impatient to completely undress them. he’d need to have it right then.

you’d both be tangled up in the sheets, grasping and groping at any available skin as you lay below him. vernon had practically jumped you when you came home from work, immediately yanking you into a needy kiss. you’d be a bit surprised by his sudden neediness, but you’d reciprocate with no hesitation, both of you stumbling to your bedroom between kisses. vernon had always been a stoic person with a nonchalant demeanor, but the way he kissed you told a different story. his kisses were always so fervent, so full of emotion. tonight his kisses were hungry, and you could tell he’d been waiting for this moment all day. any moment he could hold you and feel you was what vernon longed for, and that had never seemed to change even after all the time you spent with him. when showing his love, vernon preferred to let his actions speak for him.

you’d tangle your fingers into his hair, kissing him greedily as he attempted to undo the buttons on your work shirt. he’d try for a bit, but attempting to unbutton a shirt in between a nasty make out session proved to be too difficult for him. he’d give up, eventually letting his hands travel down to your waist, then wander down to your hips, then—

riiiiip.

you’d detach from vernon with a gasp, craning your head down to identify the horrific tearing sound. vernon was staring down at your tights, his hands grasping at the fabric indifferently. he had ripped a large hole into your tights, the opening providing access to your panties and chilling your now exposed skin. “vernon!” you’d yelp loudly from above him. he’d glance up curiously, shooting you a confused expression. “did you just rip my tights?!” you’d gape, and he’d nod almost insouciantly. you’d be so surprised by his sudden use of strength, but he’d act so nonchalantly about it. “they were in the way,” he’d state matter-of-factly, along with a small shrug. you’d just stare at him in shock, mouth still agape in disbelief. “why are you so casual about this?! i can’t wear these now,” you’d whine, your hand traveling down to feel the mangled fabric of your tights.

“‘s no big deal,” he’d mumble, prying your hand from the fabric and replacing it with his own. he’d run his hand over your panties once before tugging them to the side easily, sticking a finger into your slick heat. “i’ll buy you more.” you’d let out a little moan in response, still stunned from his brute strength, but turned on by how easy it was for him. knowing that he was strong enough to tear your fabric with little effort sent waves of arousal through your body. he’d fish his cock from his sweats with his free hand, removing his finger from your clenching heat and sliding his cock up and down your slit. he’d push into you slowly, wrapping your clothed legs around his waist. you wouldn’t be able to hold back your lewd sounds, whining and whimpering from the filthiness of it all. laying underneath vernon while he fucks you through a hole he tore into your tights would quickly bring you to your climax. “i’ll buy you whatever you need,” vernon would murmur, more to himself than to you. you were too far gone to respond anyway, eyes rolled back from his pleasureful thrusts as you wrap your legs tighter around him. you’d reach your orgasm quickly, moaning wantonly as he bullies your sweet spot. your hole would clench as he guides you through your high, his harsh pace slowing down to languid grinds. your twitching hole would tip him over the edge, shooting ropes into your heat and burying his cum inside. he’d pull out carefully, admiring the mess he made on your tights while you pant below him. he’d rub circles onto your inner thigh over the fabric, smiling at the way your sensitive body jerks from the touch. “shopping tomorrow?” you’d ask breathlessly, shooting him a blissed out grin. he’d nod quietly, still absentmindedly tracing patterns onto your leg. “i’ll free up my schedule.”

taglist: @jeonghanpill , @bangantokchy , @caratboy , @bewoyewo , @luvseungcheol , @wonvsmile , @haolovre , @aaniag , @writingbarnes , @dokyeomkyeom , @allieyaaa

#thoughts #seventeen smut #seventeen #smut #svt smut #svt #vernon svt #chwe hansol smut #hansol smut #hansol vernon chwe #mountainficss

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gffa · 4 months

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The Acolyte's first two episodes were a mixed bag imo. The scenery and costumes and fight sequences are absolutely gorgeous, the show is visually stunning and feels a lot like Andor did, but there's something missing in the heart of this show. The entire first episode, with every reference and familiar point, I just felt like this was a show where someone had read a Wookiepedia article, rather than that they were actually that familiar with Star Wars. I'm not sure I could put my finger on everything why, it wasn't just one thing, but the worst thing for me was the way Vernestra was written. Nothing of her scenes felt like herself from the books, despite that, yes, she's reserved and a little uptight in the books, there was a warmth to her that barely came through here, she was very focused on how the Jedi would look politically or how they needed to discuss things instead of acting on the information they had--neither of those are bad things! She's not wrong! She just doesn't feel like Vernestra. The second episode was a lot better, when Sol and Mae had their conversation about her grief and he urged her to let it go, because what she wanted was revenge, and look what revenge had done to Mae, that felt like, yes, this scene nailed it! This scene understood the assignment. Sol is a great character so far, Osha is a great character so far, I'm vaguely intrigued by the mystery they're setting up about what happened 16 years ago, and while I wouldn't say it's a must-see series, you're fine to skip it so far, but I liked it well enough. It was fun to see Jedi in live action looking like they came straight out of the Clone Wars, just with fancier clothes, and I love that the Jedi are allowed different personalities and I like all of them. Sol is fantastic. Osha loves the Jedi, even after she left them. Indara was hot as all get out and went down like a Jedi badass, by saving someone. Jecki is pure delight. Yord is an uptight disaster whom I love, he's wound pretty tight but when push came to shove, he stood up for defending what was right, when he could plainly see Osha was innocent. The makeup is a mixed bag--Vernestra looks like she spent an hour in the makeup chair, meanwhile Jecki's Theelin makeup looked gorgeous. Some of the Jedi robes look a little stiff, a hint of high end cosplay to them, but Indara's looked great. So, watch it if that's you're interested in! I thought it was fun, visually stunning but lacking some heart in the opening episode, it leans a little fanon more than canon, but not intolerably so (some off-kilter but not horrible use of The Attachment Discourse), and I don't think it'll set Star Wars on fire or anything, but it's a fine addition to the collection.

#star wars #the acolyte #the acolyte spoilers #meta

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thesoftboiledegg · 11 months

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"Unmortricken" was a lot. In fact, it might have been a little too much.

To start, I loved the glimpse of what exists outside the Central Finite Curve. The visuals were stunning and reminded me of M.C. Escher's drawings. The Jetson-like family was a nice touch--if anything can happen, who says they can't have different animation styles? All those colorful portals make me wonder what's lurking just out of sight.

It's also funny that the space outside the Curve is full of Rick's favorite thing: crystals. If he took a trip there, he'd come back with his pockets stuffed with gemstones.

Evil Morty's reappearance gave us a decent character study. Since he wasn't the antagonist, we saw him interact with the C-137s as a regular person. Morty's a little impressed, and Rick has a grudging respect for him. Others have called Evil Morty the Rickest Morty, and I agree: similar intelligence, similar technology and similar bloodthirst.

I was glad that he left in the end because that's what his character arc is about anyway. He doesn't want to be part of anyone else's story, not even another Morty's.

However, that's also part of the issue that I had with this episode. Seeing Evil Morty was great, but it was also a little...pointless? You could've had the same story without him. He's not working with Prime, and he has no ties to C-137 after "Rickmurai Jack," so it felt like the writers just said "Hey, you know what would be cool?"

I'm not against writers having fun and giving the audience what they want. "Spider-Man: No Way Home" (yeah, groan at me, Marvel haters) is fan service in blockbuster form, and it was one of the best theater experiences I've ever had.

Still, if Evil Morty came back, I think he should've had a separate episode. The episode juggled C-137 Rick, Morty, Evil Morty and Prime Rick pretty well, giving them satisfying interactions with each other, but no Evil Morty would've meant more relationship development for the C-137s.

Evil Morty's backstory also didn't reveal much about him. I mean--yeah, we all figured that he had an abusive Rick and got fed up. The fact that he had a "regular" Rick instead of a deranged lunatic does make a point about the banality of abuse. Monsters aren't always raving maniacs who torture people in their basements. Ordinary people can wear you down with a slow drip of toxicity and neglect.

I enjoyed this episode, and Evil Morty's return was exciting, but cramming the series' two biggest antagonists and storylines into twenty minutes was a little overwhelming. New plot developments kept showing up, too: Rick found Prime! Prime's various lairs! Omega device! I would've preferred a two-parter.

I'll admit that if you told me that we'd see Evil Morty and Rick Prime in the same shot, I never would have believed you, but here we are.

On that note, Prime's characterization was perfect. No attempt at a cutesy, sad backstory; he's a laughing monster until the end. And is it really the end? He has regeneration abilities, but C-137 acts like he's dead and even gives up the search. This leaves us with a few options:

C-137 killed him.

Prime fooled C-137 into thinking that he's dead when he isn't.

C-137's keeping him alive for later use.

Hopefully, this is more complicated than it looks because I'll be disappointed if this is the end of Prime. He's a brilliant reflection of C-137: the Rick he'd be without his tiny shred of humanity.

And Prime's a maniac, but he tells C-137 the truth. Rick broke into Prime's house. He pretended he belonged with this group of strangers. He latched on to Prime's grandson because he never had his own. His brutal, violent streak never went away no matter how long he tried to play house.

Prime says "Admit it! You would have been me!" In season three and parts of season four, Rick was close. His love for his family--love that he pretended he didn't have--and desire for their approval just barely pulled him back. But what kept that spark alive? How close was he to becoming a cold, unfeeling shell?

In the end, C-137's not satisfied after he destroys Prime--and weirdly, I'm not satisfied, either. Beating Prime to an unrecognizable pulp doesn't bring Rick's original family back. It doesn't erase the atrocities that Rick's committed. It doesn't make his grief go away. It doesn't change the fact that Rick teetered on the edge of turning into the monster that he despised.

What's more satisfying is that Rick didn't turn out like Prime. His Morty doesn't give two shits about Prime, but he loves him. He hugs him in relief (come on, Rick, hug him back already!), cries out "Rick? Rick!" and shakes his body when he thinks he's dead, and talks excitedly as they return home.

Rick's going to therapy, which Prime would have mocked. He went from having nobody to living with FIVE kids if you count Morty and Summer. Even he and his Jerry are pretty tight.

Rick knows this, but he still feels empty all the time. Vengeance doesn't work, drinking doesn't work...wouldn't it be easier if he just switched off his humanity and laughed at everything, even his own death?

But now that he knows how it feels to be loved, especially by his hypothetical grandson, I think he'll always find himself at the Smiths' doorstep.

#rick and morty #rick sanchez #morty smith #prime rick #weird rick #rick prime #evil morty #boy that's quite the collection of tags #unmortricken #season seven #review

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bossbtch1 · 10 months

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Against All Odds part 3 (Final)

Summary : Bucky's betrayal left you deeply wounded, you sought revenge to make him feel the pain he caused. Following your act of retaliation, you distanced yourself from him despite his numerous attempts to apologize. Instead, you found comfort in Sam, and Bucky couldn't ignore the growing closeness, leaving him seething with jealousy.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x Reader (No mentions of body type or ethnicity other than the reader being female)

General tags : Smut and Groveling

TW: NSFW, 18+, Strong language, Hurt, Comfort, Groveling, Jealous!Bucky, Unprotected Sex, P in V, Hair pulling, Light Spanking, Breeding kink, Overstimulation

Word Count: 14,5k (So yeah... I'm sorry it has to be this long)

A/N : We've reached the end of the story, and I appreciate your enthusiasm and support for this chapter. Apologies if it turned out to be a lengthy fic; I contemplated splitting it into two chapters but couldn't bring myself to do that to you all.

P.S. I'm trying something new with hyperlinks to provide visualizations for certain scenes. I initially wanted to include them for the smut as well, but it didn't align with Tumblr guidelines, so I kept it PG. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy the finale!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

A week after that when you were running in the treadmill, you saw Bucky trying to approach you. You ignored him and ran faster. "Y/N... Y/N, please! Let me apologize." Bucky's voice could be heard, but it was drowned out by the music in your ears.

You just kept running. You knew Bucky was trying to apologize. "Can't hear you, music too loud!" You yelled.

He didn't give up and said, "Please just give me 5 minutes.”

"I'm busy.”

"Just five minutes. That's all I ask for."

"No." You pressed a button, and the speed of the treadmill increased. You kept running.

He tried one last time, "Please. Just five minutes."

You ignored him. He got the message.

He stood there, watching you run. You were not paying any attention to him, or even acknowledging his presence. The look on his face was pure sadness. He was not going to give up though. Bucky waited until you finished your run, and then asked, "Hey…”

You ignored him and went out. He followed you.

"Y/N. Wait." He said chasing you before you got into the shower, "Doll. I'm sorry. I fucked up big time. I really am. I was stupid. I wasn't thinking."

You didn’t care, you ignored him and went to the shower, hoping he would leave after you taking a shower, but of course he was waiting for you.

When you got out, he was sitting on the couch. You went out there with nothing but a towel on. "Y/N what are you doing? You're going to get cold." He said.

You rolled your eyes, "What do you think I'm doing, Barnes? I just took a shower. Is there a problem with that?"

He shook his head. "No, but you shouldn't be wearing a towel. You should be dressed. You're going catch a cold." He then averted his eyes from your body and stared at the floor.

"I thought you said I looked good without clothes, Barnes." You smirked. "Is there something wrong?"

He shook his head. "Y/N, put some clothes on."

You then walked toward him and sat on his lap, "Y/N what-"

You cut him off by kissing him passionately. His eyes widened in shock, and then closed as he kissed you back. He was confused as you broke the kiss. You then dropped the towel, exposing your naked body to him. He stared at your breast for a second, before looking into your eyes.

"Y/N," he began to speak but stopped. He was stunned, "Y/N what are you doing right now? Why did you take the towel off?"

"Don't you like me naked? Do you not find me attractive, Bucky?" You asked him with a pouty lip.

"Yes. You're very attractive. Of course. But... We shouldn't."

"Why not? We had sex before, why not now?"

"Because... That was before. But now you are angry at me. I'm not going to do that again. I won't take advantage of you. It's not right."

"Don't worry about it Bucky." You got closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Come on Bucky. I want you. Don't you want me?” You said, moving closer until your lips were inches apart.

He swallowed hard, staring into your eyes. "You're not in your right mind. You're not thinking straight.” He could feel himself getting hard. His resolve was breaking. "Doll, please. You know I want you, but I need to know that are we good? I can't have you and leave. It would kill me."

You smirked at him, "We are good." You said seductively, "For now." You whispered, biting his earlobe gently.

He groaned as his cock hardened at your words. "Doll…” He swallowed hard, looking into your eyes.

"Are you going to give me what I want?" You asked.

"If... If that's what you want. Then, yes."

"Then prove it to me. Kiss me."

He hesitated, but leaned forward and kissed you. His lips were soft and warm. You deepened the kiss, moaning softly as you felt his tongue slip between your parted lips. Your hands moved to his shirt, pulling it off. You threw his shirt on the floor and your hands found their way to his belt. You undid his pants and pulled them down, letting his dick spring out.

You reached for his cock and stroked him slowly. He moaned, bucking his hips forward. "Fuck, doll." He breathed.

"You like that, Buck?" You asked.

He nodded. "Yes, so much."

You then positioned yourself above his cock. "You want this?" You teased him, rubbing his cock against your entrance.

"Fuck, doll." He groaned. "I want this."

You smirked. You then sink down on him slowly, taking in every inch of him. He grunted, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "Oh fuck. That's it. Fuck. You feel so good, doll."

You rode him, grinding your hips. "Oh, god." You moaned. He started to thrust into you, groaning. You rode him, picking up the pace. You started riding him as fast as you could. He grunted, his grip on your hips tightening. He started thrusting in and out of you, faster and harder. You were also meeting his thrusts, moaning and whimpering. You pulled his hair, making him moan loudly.

He hit your sweet spot and you were screaming his name. He kept hitting your g-spot. You were getting close. He kept thrusting, faster and harder.

"Fuck, doll. You're so fucking tight. I love how your pussy clenches around me. You're so hot." He pulled your head toward him to kissed you but you denied his lips. You threw your head back, moaning loudly.

"Oh, fuck! Yes! Oh my god!" You screamed, riding him faster. "I'm close. So close."

He reached between your legs, rubbing your clit. You were on the edge, and you needed just a little more to push you over. He rubbed your clit, faster and faster. "Bucky, I'm gonna come!" You cried out.

"Yes, come on my cock. Come for me."

And you came, screaming his name. Your orgasm triggered his. He came, shooting his load inside you. He grunted, thrusting hard. "Holy fuck." He moaned, still thrusting. "You're amazing."

You collapsed onto his chest, panting, wrapping his arms around your waist. Then after you caught your breath, you unwrapped his arms from you and got off him. You rolled your eyes and he was confused. "You didn't let me kiss you earlier, what happened doll? Are you mad at me or something? Did I do something wrong?" he asked, pulling on his boxers and sitting up.

You ignored his questions and stood up, reaching for your scattered clothes. "Y/N, what's wrong?" he pressed, his tone laced with worry.

You smirked at him, "Thanks for that, I needed it." You had taken revenge on using him.

Bucky stood there, stunned and feeling utterly foolish. He couldn't believe he had allowed you to manipulate him like that. "You said we're good..." he protested weakly, his voice filled with hurt and confusion.

Your response was cold and calculated, "Yeah, I said 'we're good for now,' which was then and not right now. So, I got what I needed from you." You didn't spare him a glance as you began to dress, your movements swift. "We're done here." You made a move to leave, but Bucky seized your arms, his grip tight and desperate.

"You're not leaving this room, not until you tell me why the hell you just did that." His eyes pleaded for an explanation, the hurt etched in his features tearing at your resolve. For a fleeting moment, a pang of guilt flickered within you, but you swiftly brushed it aside. "Y/N, stop. You can't just use me for sex," he implored.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you met his gaze head-on. "I can, and I did. Now, let go of me," you retorted, pushing him away with unyielding determination.

His eyes were now full of anger and disbelief. "So all this time, you were just acting? Pretending to be okay with me? Pretending that you've forgiven me? All this time, you didn't actually forgive me?!"

"Ha! Please, when did I said I forgive you? What do you think I am? A fool? You don't get to act like the victim here. It's your fault!” You yelled at him.

"You don't think I know that?! I fucked up, Y/N. I made a mistake and I'm sorry.” Running his hand through his hair. “What the fuck!"

"What do you mean 'what the fuck'? It's what you did to me! You fucked me and threw me out. What's wrong with me doing the same to you?" You scoffed, crossing your arms.

"You can't do that, Y/N…"

"I can't do that? I can't do the exact thing you did to me? That's rich, Barnes." He stayed quiet. He didn't have anything to say because he knew you were right.

"How does it feel, Barnes? Fucking hurt, doesn't it?" You said staring at his face. You wanted him to hurt just like how you did, you wanted to hurt him. He flinched, his jaw clenching. You were glad he was in pain, it gave you satisfaction. You wanted him to suffer.

He stared at you, his blue eyes filled with pain. You ignored it and started walking toward the door.

"Wait! Y/N please. Don't go. Stay." He pleaded as he grabbed your arm, "I... I was a jerk. I was scared and stupid. And... I was a fool, I don't want this to be over…” He said while looking into your eyes with his blue orbs. “Please, Y/N, just let me fix this…”

"I wish it were that simple. But it's not. It's too late. I guess we were doomed from the start." You said and ripped your arm from his grasp. “You don't get to hold me anymore. Don't ever come near me again. I mean it." You said sternly.

He stood there, tears welling up in his eyes, helpless and uncertain, fully aware that he had messed up beyond repair.

You couldn't stand the sight of Bucky, it broke your heart as much you hate to admit it. It took all your self-control not to run into his arms and hug him. But you had to stand your ground, he hurt you and you had to show him how much it affected you.

You turned around and walked away, then you heard glass shattering behind you. You didn't have to look back to know that the mirror had broken. Bucky had punched the mirror in his anger and frustration.

You walked out of the door, slamming it behind you.

And with that, you left him standing there, alone and broken.

Couple weeks after that you avoided Bucky like a plague. You were trying to forget about him and move on with your life. You never look at him and whenever he was near you, you would use every excuse to walk away or leave the room. If you were stuck in a situation where you had to interact with him, you kept it professional and didn't engage in any unnecessary conversation. Your relationship with Bucky had always been strained right from the beginning, making it no surprise to the other Avengers. So, your growing distance and avoidance tactics went unnoticed.

Bucky was trying his best to keep his distance from you, far enough so you would be comfortable but close enough so he could make sure that you were safe. You knew he was still trying to apologize and fix things with you. You didn't understand why he was doing this, his words, his touch, the way he's looking at you. You didn't need his apology, didn't want his sympathy. You didn't need him. Not now.

Every time he saw you, he would always try to catch your eye, but you never looked back. It was a little hard at first, since he had to see you almost every day, but as time went by, you guys had less interaction because of missions.

Now you were allowed back into the mission field and you were craving it. It took your mind off Bucky and it helped you forget about him.

You didn't need him in your life.

You wanted nothing to do with him.

But he wanted everything to do with you.

He was desperate.

You had no room in your life for someone who couldn't decide where you stood. The push and pull was exhausting, the mixed signals maddening. You also have gotten your revenge, you should feel satisfied. But you weren't. Why weren't you happy?

After awhile you were back on your normal self and started to move on, not because you stopped caring, but you didn't feel the constant heartache anymore. You could think about Bucky and not start crying or break into a cold sweat.

Meanwhile, Wanda shared the news that the gifts for Vision had been a success. While you were genuinely happy for them, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy deep down.

One day after a long mission, you were watching TV in the common area when you saw the three musketeers walking towards you. They were laughing and talking. You paid them no attention and just kept watching TV.

Sam was the first to greet you, his friendly smile easing some of the tension within you. "Fancy seeing you here, YN. It's been a while." He settled down beside you, and you scooted over to give him more space, returning his smile.

You smiled, it had been awhile since you saw them, you were actually starting to miss him. You knew it wasn’t their fault what happened between you and Bucky, so you didn't treat him differently.

You were glad to see Sam again, he was the only one that was acting the same around you. Bucky looked over at your direction, and when you saw him you looked away from him.

"Yeah. Been going on missions with Nat." You replied, attempting to keep the conversation casual.

Sam leaned in a bit, "How's that going for you?"

"Really well. I'm learning a lot. Nat is amazing. She taught me some of those moves too. Not as great as hers, but good enough to defend myself," you responded, appreciating the opportunity to share a positive aspect of your life.

"Nice." Sam smiled.

Taking a seat on the chair next to the couch, Steve turned to you with a warm smile. "How are you holding up, Y/N?" Steve asked, you knew he was asking about your emotional well-being.

"Fine," you gave him a little smile.

The room descended into awkward silence. The three men were making an effort to engage in conversation, but your discomfort hung heavy in the air. You didn't want to be mean or rude to them; after all, they had done nothing wrong. But being around Bucky felt almost unbearable, a constant reminder of a painful past.

“We're here for you. If you ever feel like talking, we're all ears." Steve offered gently. "If you want to talk about it, of course. If not, that’s totally fine too."

Bucky tried to intervene, sensing that you were about to share something he might not want to hear. "Steve, don't—"

You felt a surge of frustration, and despite Bucky's warning, you decided to share your pain, partly to hurt him back. "Well, there was this one person," you began.

"Well, there was this one person..” You started, cutting Bucky off. You decided to share your pain, partly to hurt him back, staring at Bucky.

Bucky clenched his jaw and averted his gaze. You saw a flicker of pain in his eyes.

Sam chimed in, "There's always someone.”

"Okay, the truth is that I met a guy." You rolled your eyes, trying to mask your vulnerability with a dismissive tone. "It turns out, he wasn’t the person I thought he was. I thought he liked me, and, well…"

Sam prodded, "Well what?"

"He didn't like me. It was all a joke to him." You paused for dramatic effect, locking eyes with Bucky. "The guy was so cold-hearted, he even admitted that he used me, that I was just a mistake." Your words were pointed, meant to hurt, and your gaze bore into Bucky as you sought to inflict the same pain, he had caused you.

Sam was visibly uncomfortable. Steve's face fell. Bucky stared at the floor, his fists clenched.

"Oh. That's... that's unfortunate. I'm sorry. Are you alright?" Steve asked gently, concern etched in his voice.

"Yes. I'll be fine. It's not the end of the world. I mean, it hurts. But I'll live." You answered.

Sam's expression twisted into a mix of anger and empathy. "That's beyond messed up. If I were there, I would beat him up."

"Yeah," you replied, your tone bitter. "But, don’t worry I already paid him back.”

Bucky looked guilty, his expression mirroring the remorse he felt. He shifted uncomfortably, his gaze dropping to the floor. He stayed silent, stayed silent, fully aware of the pain he had inadvertently caused you.

“Nice! This is why I like you, Y/N!” Sam nodded in understanding. "So, what's your plan now?"

"Moving on," you replied, your voice steady. "I don't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me sad."

"Good call," Sam said, his tone filled with assurance. "You're amazing, Y/N. Whoever ends up with you will be incredibly lucky. He doesn't deserve your attention. And here's the best part: when you find someone better and move on, he'll be left regretting ever hurting you. That, my friend, is the sweetest revenge."

You nodded, touched by his supportive words. "Thanks, Sam. You're the best."

The atmosphere gradually shifted back to normal as you grabbed a beer to pregame before Tony's party. However, you kept avoiding Bucky's gaze, your responses becoming short and distant.

While Steve was talking with Bucky, Sam leaned closer, his voice low as he whispered into your ear, "Maybe what you ordered worked after all."

You pulled away from him, narrowing your eyes in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Sam smirked knowingly, "You know what I mean," he whispered back, his tone playful and suggestive.

"No, I don't." Your confusion deepened, genuinely puzzled by his words. You hadn't ordered anything, so what was he talking about?

The realization struck you suddenly, and you smacked his thigh in disbelief. "You did not!" The shock in your voice echoed around the room, leaving everyone stunned by your reaction.

Sam laughed heartily, "What? What did I do?" He feigned innocence, grinning mischievously.

"Come on, Sam, stop teasing her," Steve chimed in, giving Sam an amused yet admonishing look.

"I swear, man, I wasn't," Sam protested with a chuckle.

Natasha, always one to read between the lines, chimed in, appearing out of nowhere. "We all know you enjoy teasing the girl."

Sam looked genuinely surprised. "Damn, Nat, can you please not sneak up on me? I almost had a heart attack."

Natasha simply smirked, her response dripping with amusement. "You'll be fine." Her nonchalant remark only fueled the laughter in the room, leaving you momentarily flustered.

You were about to press Sam with more questions, but he managed to divert the conversation, addressing Natasha instead. "When's the party starting, Nat?" His timing seemed convenient, clearly trying to avoid further interrogation.

Natasha checked at her watch and then back at the group, "In about an hour or so, but I need to go now. I have some things to finish."

Ever the gentleman, Sam promptly stood up. "I'll help you, Nat," he offered, his tone earnest.

"That's sweet of you, Sam. Maybe I can find you a girl that likes bird costumes." She joked and the group laughed.

"Funny." Sam said sarcastically, then they walked away.

"Sam!" You called after him, but he continued walking, seemingly ignoring you. Frustration bubbling within, you raised your voice, "Get back here!"

Feeling the heat of embarrassment rise in your cheeks, you huffed in annoyance and sank back into your seat. The room fell into an awkward silence, and you shifted uncomfortably under the watchful gaze of Steve and Bucky.

You met their eyes, "What?" you snapped, but they only exchanged a subtle glance, their expressions unreadable.

Deciding you had had enough, you stood up abruptly. "Alright, I'm going as well. I need to start getting ready," you announced, trying to sound composed despite your frustration.

Bucky made a move to follow you, but Steve quickly caught his arm, holding him back. "No," Steve whispered, his voice barely audible. "Don't, not yet."

Time for the party, it was to celebrate the mission succeed. Tony arrived with Pepper, Wanda, and Vision. Then soon everyone gathered. He was keeping the party small though, only Avengers and close friends. It was a small party though.

In the midst of the party, as people bustled around grabbing food and chatting, you discreetly pulled Sam aside. "Did you know the inside of it?" you whispered.

Sam simply looked at you with a mischievous smile, "Umm no?" Sam teased, his grin widening.

Frustration tugged at you. "Ugh, come on, Sam. Just spill it," you urged.

He chuckled, enjoying your perplexity. "Yes, Y/N, guilty as charged. I was the one who accepted the delivery," he confessed, his tone lighthearted. Your playful annoyance was evident as you lightly hit his chest. "You weren't there. You've been MIA for the past couple of weeks.”

"Oh my god, Sam, you're a dick," you groaned, shaking your head at his antics. "That's rude, you shouldn't snoop around people's packages. It's an invasion of privacy."

"It wasn't on purpose, okay?" Sam defended himself, his grin unyielding. "I can read where it's from, and you don't need to be a genius to guess what's inside. So, yeah, I knew. And you know, it was really interesting to see the stuff you ordered," he teased, clearly enjoying your embarrassment. You just want to dig a hole and bury yourself.

As you both grabbed food together, you shot him a warning glare. "I'm sorry, Y/N. Don't worry, my lips are sealed," he assured, trying to be serious but failing to hide his amusement.

"It better be. If you tell anyone, I will kill you," you growled, half-joking but also dead serious.

"So, any plans with it?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Sam," you warned him, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"Just saying. It's a very interesting device. It has so many settings and functions. It would make things easier," he continued, unable to resist teasing you further. "I'm sure it would come in handy," Sam chuckled, taking a bite of his food.

Your eyes widened in disbelief, feeling embarrassed. “Shut up," you hissed, wanting to hide and disappear, not knowing what else to say.

“Any guy would love it. If you know what I mean," he added, nudging you playfully and making you blush even more.

"You are making me uncomfortable," you whined, pouting like a child. "I am not talking to you anymore," you mumbled.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," he said, holding up his hands in surrender. “It's perfectly normal. Don't be shy," he said, his words meant to be comforting but the smug smirk on his face was anything but. You groaned, wishing the earth would swallow you up right then and there. Dropping your face in your hands, hiding behind them.

“How did you know it was for me? I could've bought it as a present for a friend or family. And, you can't just accept someone else's package."

"Because you wrote your name on it," Sam pointed out, his expression playful. "You could've used a random name if it was meant to be a secret. And come on, I was the only one there. What was I supposed to tell the delivery guy? 'Hey, this package isn't mine, can you go back to the warehouse, please?'"

Taking a bite of your food, you couldn't help but chuckle at his logic. He had a way of making even the most awkward situations seem amusing.

Sam chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. "So, you bought sex toys and lingerie as a present?"

You were about to answer him when Tony dinked the glass and said, "Hello everyone, thanks for coming here." He paused as everyone clapped. "Let's raise our glasses for all of us, may we have a great year." Everyone raised their glass and cheered.

Before everyone drink, Tony stopped us "Not you kid." He pointed at Peter, "You're not allowed to have alcohol, go drink some soda."

"Aww come on, Mr. Stark. I’m not a kid anymore." Peter protested, attempting to sound mature.

"No, and don't complain or I'll kick you out."

“Fine.” Peter rolled his eyes but left to grab a soda.

You smiled as you saw Pepper leaning against Tony's side. They looked happy. You couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy at their public display of affection. You wanted that with Bucky. You sighed, looking down at the drink in your hand.

You were sitting between Sam and Bruce. Bruce was quiet most of the time and Sam kept talking to you and Bruce. You had fun and the food was great. You didn't really drink that much, you just had two or three drinks.

Across from you, Bucky's glances were hard to ignore. His expression was far from cheerful, but you relished in his irritation. Seizing the opportunity, you continued to emphasize your closeness with Sam, subtly trying to provoke Bucky.

Sam tapped you and leaned in again to whispered, "You still haven't answered my question."

You shot him a playful grin. "Didn't know you were so curious, Sam. Besides, I don't feel obligated to reveal my secrets."

"Touché, Y/N, touché," Sam replied, a smirk playing on his lips. " But come on, humor a man, will you?"

"Alright, how about this? I bought it for a friend," you responded casually. “They're just really shy about it."

Sam raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eye, "Oh yeah, and does this friend have a name?"

"They do, but I don't have to tell you everything," you said with a smile.

Sam nodded, and smiled back, "You're right, you don't." You saw Bucky sat in front of you, looking like he was about to kill someone. You smirked on the inside, knowing it was working. "I'll tell you something though, they're pretty lucky to have a friend like you."

"Well, I am the best." You winked at Sam.

He was going to say something when the two of you were interrupted. "I need to talk to you," Bucky growled at Sam.

"I'm in the middle of a conversation, can't it wait?"

"No," Bucky responded, glaring at him.

You knew Bucky was jealous, you could tell by the look in his eyes, and you liked it. You smirked, "Yeah, Barnes. Don't be rude, you're interrupting us."

Bucky looked at you, and he could tell by the look in your eye, that you knew what you were doing, and were enjoying it. He clenched his jaw and staring at you.

Sam smiled, "It's fine, I have to use the bathroom anyway. Talk to you later?"

You nod, smiling at him, "Sure thing, Sam."

He got up, and you watched as he and Bucky walked to the other side of the room, talking quietly. You wished you knew what they were saying, but you had a feeling that it was about you.

"That was interesting," Wanda said, making you look at her.

"What do you mean? It was nothing."

She smirked, "You're an awful liar, and I can tell when you're trying to make a certain someone jealous."

"Is it that obvious?"

"Just a bit." Wanda smiled. "But he deserved it, he was being a dick to you, so you can have a little fun."

"Exactly."

"But remember, don't let it go too far."

You nodded, looking back at them. They were still talking, but Sam had his back to you, so you couldn't see his expression. Then he turned around and walked back towards you.

"Hey, I gotta go. Thanks for the chat, I'll talk to you later."

You smiled and said, "Oh where are you going? We could hang out more."

"I have work to do."

"On a Saturday?"

"Yes, the glamorous life of an Avenger," Sam quipped.

You sighed dramatically, a playful pout forming on your lips. "Fine, have fun saving the world."

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do." Sam winked at you.

You scoffed, "Please, I’m not a child."

"Whatever you say," Sam said, laughing as he walked away.

Rolling your eyes, you let out a sigh, focusing on your drink. It was clear that Bucky had a hand in this – he was the only one with any issue against Sam. But it seemed to work, because as soon as you started talking to Sam, you could see the anger in Bucky's eyes. You ignored him.

As the night wore on, the music grew louder, and the crowds began to dance. It was a great party. You were sitting at the bar, drinking a glass of whiskey. You didn't feel like dancing or partying, you didn't have the energy to do it.

You turned around and caught a glimpse of Steve and Bruce dancing with Wanda and Natasha. Then Bucky came beside you, his eyes focused on something. He was leaning against the counter, his back to you. A sigh escaped your lips, and you rolled your eyes discreetly, wondering why he continued to linger around you.

He finally glanced over his shoulder, his blue eyes meeting yours, and he offered you a small smile. Just as you contemplated leaving, Bucky spoke up, "I see you're getting comfortable with Sam."

Not in the mood for an argument, you nonchalantly shrugged and responded, "He's a good friend."

Bucky's voice lowered, and he muttered, "A little too friendly, don't you think?"

You met his intensity with a nonchalant attitude, taking another sip of your whiskey. "So?"

"What do you mean, 'so'?" Bucky's frown deepened. "Can't you see? He's flirting with you and you flirted back. He’s all over you."

"And?"

"Why would you do that?!" He asked.

"I believe that's none of your concern, Barnes." You continued to sip your drink, maintaining your composure.

"I care about you," Bucky said quietly.

You snorted, turning your attention back to your glass.

Bucky shifted in his seat, turning to face you. He placed his hand on top of yours, causing you to flinch. "I mean it, Y/N. And Sam is my friend.”

Then you raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Am I not allowed to be friends with him? I don't have any problem with him."

Bucky's jaw clenched, his frustration boiling over, "Look, Y/N. You and Sam are getting very close. Friends don't do that. Do you know how he looked at you?"

A mischievous glint lit up your eyes as you prodded, "Oh, how is it? Tell me."

"Like he's about to jump you anytime," Bucky replied, his tone tense with disapproval.

"Is that a bad thing, Barnes?" you teased, your smile intentionally provocative, knowing it irked him.

"Of course, it is," Bucky snapped, his patience wearing thin.

You couldn't help but chuckle, finding his jealousy rather entertaining. As Bucky's patience wore thin, he snapped, "This is no laughing matter."

"Sure it is," you retorted, your voice light and teasing. "Why even care? You made it clear that it was just a heat-of-the-moment thing. So, perhaps I’ll fuck him next. It seems like he's interested." Casually, you finished your drink and set the empty glass on the counter. "Thanks for the heads-up." You turned to leave, but his hand shot out to your wrist, stopping you from getting up. Your gaze flickered between the metal hand and his eyes.

"The fuck you won’t." Bucky's voice was low, his expression hard, his jaw clenched tightly. “If he touches you, I’ll break his arm."

Instantly, you yanked your hand away, your eyes narrowing in defiance. "Don't touch me," you warned, your voice sharp with anger, setting a clear boundary against his possessiveness.

Bucky's blue eyes flashed with anger, his fists clenched at his sides. "Don’t fucking touch him. Or anyone.” He leaned closer to you, your body tense. “Because, I'm the only one who should touch you," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

You met his glare head-on. "And why would I do that? So you can break my heart again? No thanks. I'm not a toy that you can play with, and discard when you're bored.”

Bucky clenched his jaw, and grabbed your arms, pushing you against the counter. "No, I don't want to see you with him. You're mine."

With an exasperated sigh, you held his gaze, your patience wearing thin. You didn't want to continue this game of emotional tug-of-war. "Let me remind you, Barnes," you said, your voice steady but firm, "Last I check, we're not boyfriend and girlfriend. You made it very fucking clear that I was a mistake and you used me.”

You attempted to leave, but Bucky's grip on your arm tightened, pulling you closer. His touch sent an electric jolt through you, "Last I check, you belong to me when you were begging and squirming as I fucked you, doll. I can make you forget him, I can fuck you better than him. I'll show you how a man fucks his woman, doll."

His words sent a shiver down your spine and you could feel your core pulsed. Goddamn it, why did he have this effect on you. Despite the undeniable physical reaction, you mentally reinforced your resolve.

“Nope. I learned my lesson. And did you forget about what I said to you? Don’t go near me," you replied nonchalantly. "Now if you'll excuse me." You tugged at your hand, wanting to break free, but he held fast.

He held your hand and pulled you back to him. "No," he said simply.

"Yeah, well, I'm done taking orders from you," you shot back, refusing to back down, though your heart raced in your chest.

"I'm not letting you be with him, Y/N," Bucky asserted, his voice low and possessive.

"That decision isn't yours to make," you declared, avoiding his gaze, aware that meeting his eyes might shatter your resolve.

"Why? What's the problem, Y/N?" he pressed, his frustration evident.

"Are you seriously asking me that?” You glared at him, “YOU'RE THE PROBLEM! YOU ARE THE FUCKING PROBLEM BUCKY!" You yelled and his grip loosened, and you pulled away from him. You didn't care that the room had fallen silent, with everyone's attention now focused on your heated exchange. Unfazed by the sudden silence, you continued, "I'm tired of your excuses, your indecision, and your damn games. It's always one step forward and two steps back with you. I told you I’m done!"

"So you're done with me, and now you have Sam, so you'll follow him around?" Bucky's words were laced with bitterness and jealousy. "Who's next, huh? Steve? He's Captain America; you should fuck at him instead, climb him like a tree. Or better yet, maybe you can do all of us. Let us have a go."

Regret instantly washed over him as he realized how hurtful his words had been. "I'm really sorry," he began, "I didn't mean—"

But it was too late. Your anger boiled over, and without thinking, your hand flew across his face, the sharp sound of the slap echoing in the room. "What did I do for you to treat me like this?" you demanded.

"Is it because I joined the team because of my connection with Fury?" Your tone cut through the air like a razor. "I worked for this for years. I’ve fought, bled, sacrificed, and pushed myself to the limits, all to be an Avenger. I earned my place, damn it. Do I not deserve it? Why are you punishing me? Fucking tell me!”

You were beyond caring about the eyes fixed on the unfolding drama. 'Let them gossip,' you thought bitterly, your focus solely on the man before you.

“Sorry that life was hard on you, but don’t make it hard for anyone else either," you continued, "No, you know what? I'm not sorry. Life is shit sometimes, and that's just how it is. You have a right to be upset and have feelings, Barnes. But the way you treat people, the way you treat me like trash, that's not okay. It's not fair, and I won't stand for it any longer."

His jaw tensed, and for a moment, it seemed like he wanted to say something. But you didn't give him the chance. "Oh, my bad. Feeling is a foreign word to you, right? Maybe they died when you fell off that train in the '40s."

He could only watch as tears welled up in your eyes, as his mouth moved but no words came out. He was speechless. He couldn't say anything, only guilt was evident on his face.

"Or maybe you forgot how they work. Since you been the Winter Soldier for so long, your emotions are a bit rusty. How does one even deal with feelings and shit when they're programmed to not have them? When they're forced to kill, hurt, and torture innocent people.”

Your tone was merciless, and you instantly regretted your words as you saw the hurt flash across Bucky's face. But you couldn’t stop, the dam had burst, unable to halt the torrent of pent-up frustration.

“They turn you into a weapon. Is that who you are, Barnes? A weapon, a monster without a soul. You've lost all your feelings, all that remains is a cold-blooded, heartless killer. The Winter fucking Soldier.” Your words spat out.

His jaw clenched, and his hands formed fists, his usual rage replaced by a profound sadness. "You’re right… I'm nothing but a monster..."

Steve stepped forward, trying to mediate the escalating tension. "Come on, guys, let's all just take a moment to cool down," Steve said, attempting to diffuse the situation.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his predictable attempt to intervene between you both. "Oh, no, Steve, there's no need to cool down," you retorted, "because there's no fire, except for the flames of my rage. Your best friend here is the one who started the fire."

"Y/N-" Bucky tried to say something, but his words trailed off, lost in the thickness of the charged atmosphere.

“I thought there was more to you than just the Winter Soldier, but every time I see you, you prove me wrong." But your fury was uncontainable, and you turned to face Bucky again, your eyes ablaze with righteous anger. "Stay the fuck away from me, Barnes. Don't come near me. Don't talk to me. Don't even fucking look at me."

Feeling the weight of your anger and frustration, you turned abruptly and rushed towards the exit. You were done, utterly fed up, unable to bear it any longer. Unbeknownst to you, tears slipped down your cheeks. With a swift motion, you wiped away the tears, refusing to let them further betray your vulnerability.

As you strode through the streets, lost in your thoughts, you found your mind drifting back to a time when Bucky had attempted to apologize. You were still so mad at him for what he'd done, you were not going to forgive him any time soon.

One night, you were sitting on the sofa in the common room, trying to focus on your book, when the door opened. You saw Bucky coming in and he stopped dead on his tracks when he saw you. You immediately got up, wanting to leave before things got bad.

But, of course, Bucky couldn't keep his mouth shut. "Hey, doll, how are you?"

You didn't answer, grabbing your book and trying to walk away.

He followed you, "Doll, can we talk?"

You were already walking down the hall when he said that, "I don't have anything to say."

"Then just listen, please." Bucky almost begged,

You stopped, sighing and rolling your eyes. You turned around, and crossed your arms, not wanting him to come near you. "I don't have to." You walked faster to your room.

"Please I'll do anything, just let me apologize, I'm begging you!" Bucky was following you still,

You turned around, "Why would I want you to do anything with you? Just leave me alone." You said, turning around and continuing walking.

"C'mon, Doll, I know you hate me, but let me apologize and explain myself.” Bucky said,

You didn't even bother looking at him and kept walking faster.

"Doll, just please," Bucky was starting to get desperate.

You got into your room and locked the door. He knocked couple of times but you ignored him. You put on your headphone and blasted the music. You could hear Bucky banging the door. You were ignoring him until he didn't go away. You turned the volumes up to a deafening level and tried to drown out his voice.

The memory dissolved abruptly as you felt a hand on your wrist, your reflexes primed for confrontation. You whipped around, ready to hit the person behind you, but the person behind you caught your fist. Your eyes flashed with anger.

"What the fuck do you want? Why are you still following me?" you seethed, your voice dripping with contempt. "Fuck off. You're the last person I want to see right now."

Bucky tightened his grip on your wrist, his eyes pleading with sincerity. "I'm so sorry. I know that's not enough, and it doesn't make it better, but I need you to understand how truly sorry I am. I can't bear the thought of losing you."

You scoffed, "Yeah, sure. Tell that to someone else.” you retorted, your tone laced with bitterness. "I'm sick of hearing apologies." You attempted to pull away, but he held firm.

"I meant it, Y/N." Bucky insisted, his voice earnest. "I'm telling the truth. I'm an idiot, and I made a stupid decision. I'm trying my best to make up for it."

"Go," you demanded, your voice breaking as your frustration boiled over. "I don't want to see you. Just leave me alone."

"Y/N, please…" Bucky persisted, his voice laced with desperation. He walked beside you, oblivious to the curious gazes from passersby. You stared around, people started to recognize him since he was the famous Winter Soldier. Even when he was wearing casual clothes, and not in his Winter Soldier uniform, his metal arm still drew attention.

You walked faster, wanting to get away from him. But he was faster. You didn’t want people to notice that the infamous Winter Soldier was following you, so you stopped. "Just leave me alone!" you yelled, your anger fueling your words.

As soon as you yelled, the bystanders gasped and started whispering amongst themselves. The last thing you needed was more drama and attention toward you. Embarrassment washed over you, and you turned to run, desperate to escape the public scrutiny. Bucky matched your every step. He reached out and grasped your hand, refusing to let you go.

In an attempt to break free, you fought against his hold, muscles straining with the effort. "Let go of me, Buck!" you protested, attempting to wrench yourself away from him. The crowd around you seemed to blur into a background hum as your focus remained solely on Bucky.

"Not until we settle this," he replied, his voice low and intense, his fingers tightening around your arms.

Your glare deepened, frustration boiling over. "There's nothing to settle here, Barnes. Now, let go of me. Before I make you," you warned, your tone sharp with anger and defiance.

A stubborn glint flickered in his eyes. "No." His grip tightened slightly, his jaw clenched with resolve. "Make me, Y/N," he challenged, his voice steady. "I know you're strong, so make me."

In a surge of frustration, you summoned all your strength and pushed against him with all your might. Bucky stumbled backward, losing his balance, and fell to the ground.

You stood over him, your voice laced with defiance. "There," you panted, your chest heaving with emotion, "I did it. I hope you're happy."

Bucky remained silent, but the bystanders, their eyes wide with disbelief, started recording the scene with their phones, capturing the unexpected sight of you standing tall over the fallen Winter Soldier. The urge to smash their phones surged within you, but you resisted, your focus solely on the man at your feet.

"Well, I'm going. You're making a scene,” you declared, taking your first steps away from the growing commotion.

"I just want to talk, doll." He got up.

"And I don’t wanna listen." Yet Bucky, refusing to let you go that easily, got up and followed after you, his footsteps echoing behind you. Your patience wearing thin, you spun around, your eyes ablaze with anger. "Stop following me you creep!"

Having had enough, Bucky seized you and pulled you into a nearby alley. He pinned your arms against the wall, a conflicted look in his eyes. "Let me go," you growled, straining to break free from his firm hold.

"You know that I can't. I won't.” Bucky replied, his voice tinged with remorse.

A surge of panic gripped you, "If you don't, I'll scream." Your threat to scream hanging in the air.

You were about to let out a piercing cry when Bucky swiftly placed his hand over your mouth. "Don't scream. Please," he implored, his eyes pleading with you. "I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you."

In response, you bit down on his hand, but he didn’t flinch. "I know you're furious. You have every right to be. But I’m truly sorry.” Bucky's words poured out, sincere and raw. "Please just give me time to explain everything."

You maintained your glare, your eyes brimming with tears you refused to shed. And finally, Bucky released his grip on your mouth and hands, taking a step back, giving you room to breathe. His voice softened, carrying the weight of his regret. "Listen to me. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have treated you like that. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it.”

You tried to push him away, but he wouldn't budge, not that it did anything, the metal arm didn't even move. His eyes were begging, and he looked sincere, you wanted to believe him, but you couldn't.

"Go to hell! I hate you!" The dam finally broke, tears spilling over. You felt weak and vulnerable, consumed by anger and hurt. You then hit his chest, "I hate you!" Hit it again, "You're the worst!" Hit it again, "You fucking hurt me!"

You hammered his chest repeatedly to vent out. Bucky stood there, unmoved, letting you vent your rage on him. You were crying hard at this point. You were upset that he saw you like this, looking weak.

Then you felt tired emotionally, you stopped hitting him as you realized what a mess you're becoming. Your hands hurt because you were hitting him too much. He grabbed your wrists, "Doll you are hurting yourself, stop pushing me.. don't hurt yourself."

"You did it first! You hurt me, you broke my heart." You continued pushing him, "let go of me, please." You started crying harder, you couldn't see because of the tears and your head was throbbing.

You dropped down your gaze to the ground not wanting to see his face. You didn't know why he was acting like this, you were so fed up. "I don't want to see your face, Barnes. I can't believe you had the audacity to still show up in front of me. When you know that you're a horrible person who doesn't deserve to be forgiven."

He let go of your arms and you wanted to push him away but you were so tired, so exhausted. He placed his hand beside your head caging you in, you knew he was staring at you. "I know… I'm a monster. I know I didn't deserve you. I'm sorry… for everything."

You stayed silent and just crying, your heart aching at the memories. It was so painful.

"I don't expect you to forgive me, but I just wanted you to know. But I'm so sorry. I didn't mean any of the things I said. I'm the monster, not you. You're everything good and I'm nothing." You continued to stay silent not wanting to give in.

You couldn't hold your emotions in anymore, so you just cried. He wiped your tears from your eyes and you shook your head not wanting him to touch you, you hated it, you hated that he was here. He sighed and removed his hand from your face.

You felt like he deserved it, he hurt you, and you want him to feel the pain. He stepped back a few steps, giving you space. "I'm sorry for hurting you, Doll." He apologized, "I'm a fucking asshole and a coward. I should have never done that."

"Please doll, don't cry… I'm really sorry… I shouldn't say those words. I shouldn't hurt you." You continued to cry, "Tell me what to do to make it stop."

"Just go away, Bucky." Your voice barely whispered.

"Do you really hate me that much, doll?" You nodded at him, "Will it make it better if I go away?"

You stayed silent, this was what you wanted, for him to leave. But why did you feel so hurt? You didn't answer him, you couldn't answer him.

Instead you just sobbed like a mess. "Y/N, please, look at me." You didn't, you were so tired of everything, you couldn't even lift a finger. You felt numb and just sad, it hurt so much.

"Please, doll. I'm a jerk, a horrible person. Tell me what I can do to make it up to you.” He dropped down on his knees looking at you with sad eyes, begging. “Please. I need you. I can't lose you."

You were shocked, the most feared assassin in the world was on his knees, in front of you. He looked at you, and you just shook your head. He was being sincere and genuine, but you couldn't accept it. "I need you, please. Give me a chance, let me make it up to you. I beg of you, don't leave me." He was being sincere and genuine, but you couldn't accept it.

You were looking at him crying, not knowing what to do. There wasn't an excuse, nothing would make this better. You felt your heart break, seeing him like this made your heart ache. You had so much pain inside of you. You just couldn't.

"Bucky, just stop." You tried to made him stand up but he wouldn't. "Get up, this is stupid."

He shook his head, "Not until you give me a chance. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, I'm not even worthy of looking at you, but please, let me have a chance." He looked up at you with tearful eyes.

"Don't do this. You're making it worse." You said and he grabbed your hand, "If it means I get a chance, then I'm not getting up. Just please, tell me what I can do."

You closed your eyes. This is so wrong, he was so wrong, this is not right. "I can't do this, this is crazy." You closed your eyes tightly and sighed. You were conflicted.

He shook his head and cried, "I didn't know what came over me, I wasn't good at expressing my feelings, I don't know what else to say, except that I'm sorry.”

You scoffed, "And why do you think you have the right to say that, after all the shit you've done?"

He looked at you, and spoke, "Because, I was wrong, and I'm really sorry."

You didn't want to give in but he was looking at you with such an innocent expression, he looked so broken and helpless. "Sorry just doesn't cut it, Barnes.”

He was quiet for a moment, then spoke, "I know I don't, doll. I know I'm a monster. A murderer. I don't have a right to live." He said in between sobs, and you couldn't help but feel pity towards him. "I've given up all my hopes and dreams when I've been in the hydra. But you give me hope, doll. You give me dreams."

His eyes were filled with sadness, tears streaming down his face. "The minute I saw you, you were everything that was right. I didn't know who you were, and I had no idea how I was going to tell Steve, or anyone. I was afraid. So, I tried to stay away, but the more I was away, the more I missed you.”

Your heart beat faster, you felt something in your stomach. You couldn't describe it, you went to knelt in front of him, he didn't dare to meet your gaze. "Bucky, look at me.”

"I don't have the right, doll. I don't deserve to look at you." He said in between his sobs. “I'm a monster. I deserve to die, not to love."

"You are not a monster.” You placed your hand on his cheek, stroking it gently, hoping it would soothe him. “I’m sorry too for hurting you for all the things I said to you...”

He leaned into your touch, placing his hand over yours. "Please, don't apologize. It was all my fault. I caused this, I hurt you." He whispered.

"We both hurt each other, Bucky. We both fucked up.”

He still didn't meet your gaze. You held his chin and forced him to look at you. You cupped his cheeks, he looked so broken. You wiped his tears, and said, "Why did you say those things to me? Why you said I was a mistake? Why did you say you used me? Why Bucky?"

He took a deep breath and said “Because I was afraid that if I got close, I'll just end up hurting you. I always fuck up in the end somehow, look what I did. I'm such a stupid man. I'm an idiot and an asshole." He took your hands from his face, kissing them before placing them back to his cheeks. "I've never felt anything for anyone. I've never loved anyone, never been in love. Not until I met you. When I'm with you, I feel different. When you smiled at me, when you look at me, I feel that I could be a better man. I want to be a better man for you. You make me feel, you make me alive, you made me happy. You showed me a new life. You're everything I could've ever dreamed of. You're perfect and I don't deserve you."

His hand then touched your hand caressing it lightly, "I was really going to confess everything to you that night. I was going to tell you that I like you, and ask you if I can take you out, or if I can have the chance to show you how much you mean to me. That you make my heart beat fast, and how my whole body goes numb, and my skin tingles when I'm around you. I wanted to tell you that I love you, because I'm pretty sure that I do. But, when I was about to do it, I knocked on your door couple of times, but you didn't answer, so I thought that maybe you were already asleep. So I decided to wait until the next day.”

He took a deep breath before he continued. "That morning, I got a message from the victim's family when I killed them as winter soldier. They told me how they wished that I died instead. How they wished that it was me. And they said they had a daughter, and her name was Bianca. They said, she was beautiful and full of life. They said, if it wasn't for me, their daughter wouldn't have been murdered."

Your heart broke at his confession, but you stayed silent, listening to him, you couldn’t speak, not yet.

He confessed as he looked at you, his eyes filled with tears, and you couldn't help but cry too. "I felt so guilty hearing them said that. I was angry because of what I did. I was mad at myself, and I didn't want you to get involved with someone like me. I can't have anyone else get hurt. I don't know what I’ll do if anything happens to you."

You pulled him into a tight hug, and he clung to you. His arms wrapped around your waist. "I wanted to push you away, you deserve someone better. I thought, maybe if I was a jerk, you would stop liking me. But as soon as I realized, I regretted everything.”

You held him tighter, your heart aching for him. He sobbed quietly, burying his face into your neck. “I'm sorry, I didn't know what I was thinking. You were never mine, but losing you broke me. It was so hard for me to keep myself away from you when all I want is to be with you. I know it, and I don't deserve you.”

"It's okay, I'm here." You rubbed his back, trying to calm him down.

He broke the hug and looked at your eyes, "You have every right not to believe me, but please. Give me a chance. One last chance, and if you decide you still hate me, then I'll let you go. But please, please give me a chance to prove myself."

You didn't know what to do. He was broken, and he was begging you for a chance. It was the least you could do. You were conflicted, but your heart won over, you couldn't bear to see him on his knees like this. "Okay, Bucky. But first let's stand up, my legs are killing me."

He pulled you up, his arms encircling your waist, pulling you flush against him. "I won't disappoint you, doll. I promise. I will make it up to you, and if it takes me forever, then I'll do it."

You stood and looked at him, "Bucky, if we're going to do this. You must promise me, no more secrets. We have to be honest to each other. We have to learn to talk about our problems, and we have to try and understand each other. If you have something bothering you, don't push me away. Come and talk to me."

"Okay, I promise." He nodded, "Thank you, doll. For giving me a chance. I won't fail you." He pulled you closer, his hands gripping your hips, his eyes burning with lust.

You looked at him and smiled, he looked back at you and gave you a small smile. "But that doesn't mean I already forgive you. It's going to take some time, but I want us to work on this. Together."

"Yeah, I know. I will beg every minute if it takes.” His hands moved to your hips, holding you firmly in place. You both stood there in silence before he asked, "Doll, what are we now?"

"What do you mean?" You knew what he was asking but you pretended to not know.

"Doll, can I ask you out? Will you be my girl?"

You relished the moment, letting him wait with a playful pause. His nervous anticipation brought a smile to your face. "Yes, if you'll have me."

Bucky sighed in relief, "Finally!" A broad smile adorned his face as he hugged you tightly, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around. Laughter bubbled from within you. "Thank you, doll." He gently set you down, and you both stared at each other.

You then wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss. He was shocked at first, but soon his arms wrapped around your waist. He kissed back and it was the most passionate kiss ever.

You then wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss. He was shocked at first, but soon enough, he responded. You moaned into the kiss, your body melting into his embrace, and his arms circled your waist, pulling you closer.

His tongue brushed against your lower lip, asking for entrance. You parted your lips, allowing his tongue to slip inside, tasting your mouth. Your tongue danced with his. His tongue explored every inch of your mouth. His hand found its way into your hair, tugging slightly, eliciting another moan from you. He pulled back and pecked your lips, smiling softly. "You're beautiful, doll."

You blushed and bit your lower lip, a smirk forming on your face. "You're not so bad yourself, sergeant."

He chuckled and shook his head, "You're making me blush, doll."

“Shut up, kiss me again.” You tugged his collar and pulled him closer, your lips colliding in a passionate kiss. You two had a lot to talk about, but that could wait. Right now, you just wanted to stay in his arms. You wanted him.

Bucky then grabbed your ass and lifted you, and you wrapped your legs around his waist. You felt the wall behind you and Bucky placed his metal arm on the wall.

You felt his erection rubbing on your center, and he started grinding his hips into yours. You felt him rub against you and moan into your mouth. "Ahh, Bucky."

You could feel him twitching through his jeans, and his metal hand moved from the wall, to under your shirt. He caressed your stomach and moved his hand upwards. Your heart was pounding, and you were excited.

He stopped the kiss and placed his forehead on yours. “Doll, can I?"

"Yes." You whispered.

His hand cupped your breast, and he groaned. “You drive me crazy, doll." He pinched your nipple between his thumb and finger. You moaned and he placed his other hand down your pants. You felt him pull your pants down, and he slipped his fingers in between your folds.

"Bucky."

"Doll, you're so wet." He groaned, and started to rub your clit. "So beautiful."

His metal hand continued to play with your nipples, and he used his left hand to start rubbing your clit faster. You started to moan louder, and Bucky put his other hand over your mouth.

"Shh, baby, be quiet. I don't want the others hearing." He smirked and removed his hand from your mouth. You bit your lip and his finger started to slide inside you.

"Please Bucky..."

"What do you need, doll?"

"You."

He grinned, "Are you sure? I mean we just made up."

"I'm sure, and plus I've already touched myself thinking of you."

Bucky groaned, "Oh god, that's so fucking hot. Tell me more."

"I was fingering myself and I was thinking about your dick, and how much I needed you. I was thinking of your cock filling me up."

"Oh god, fuck."

"But it wasn't enough, and it would never be enough. I needed your big fat cock to make me cum."

When things got intense, then suddenly you heard something fell down. You both froze and looked around, then Bucky let you go and you were back on your feet.

Then a rat came out, and you and Bucky breathed a sigh of relief. You laughed, and you were blushing.

"Hey, don't laugh." He teased.

"That was a huge ass rat! What was it doing in here?" you exclaimed.

"Welcome to New York, doll. It's a rat haven." he chuckled.

“Ugh, gross." You laughed and shot him a playful glance.

Bucky responded by wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you in for a kiss. "Shall we continue this somewhere more private?" he suggested with a mischievous grin.

"Thought you won't ask." You said, smiling. You kissed him and bit his bottom lip. He moaned and looked at you and smirked. "Lead the way, Sergeant Barnes."

"Anything for you, doll." He guided you outside the alley, holding your hands. As you walked down the street, you felt a nervous excitement. His hand in yours, palms sweaty, he squeezed your hand and shot a warm smile your way.

You couldn't believe that he was actually holding your hand, and he was being nice. You felt something in the pit of your stomach, a good feeling. The man you have been in love with for two years, the man who is now your boyfriend, and the man who is going to take you back home and make you scream his name.

"Wanda saw us you know in the gym, why did you lie about it?" You looked up to him and he averted his gaze.

Bucky face hardened, he looked annoyed, "She told you that?" You nodded in confirmation. He sighed, a conflicted look in his eyes. "I didn't want you to be embarrassed or feel awkward. I thought it was best to say no one saw us. I guess she's a rat, just like those in the alley," he gritted his teeth, frustration building.

You chuckled, "It was awkward, I mean I got blackmail by her into buying her sex toys." You were giggling but Bucky wasn't.

"She did that to you? I'll talk to her." Bucky's tone indicated he was ready to take matters into his own hands.

"No, no, it's fine. Really," you reassured him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. "Don't be upset. And please, don't have a word with her. It's between me and her."

"Fine, baby. Only because it’s you who asked me.” He said.

You giggled and leaned up and kissed his cheek. Then Bucky called a taxi and opened the door for you. You blushed and thanked him. He climbed inside the car and sat close to you. He put his arm around your shoulders, and you laid your head on his chest.

The whole ride was silent. You noticed this wasn't the way to the compound, "Where are we going, Buck?"

He rubbed his thumb on your bare skin and you relaxed in his arms. "To my place."

"You have a place? But you live in the compound."

"Yeah, I have a place in Brooklyn. Just for me, no one knows about it, except Steve. I wanted some privacy and peace away from everyone. But, now you're going to know where I live, too."

"Oh, okay." You were so comfortable and calm that you fell asleep. You woke up to a gentle touch of a hand, stroking your hair.

"Wake up, doll. We're here." You arrived at your destination.

You lifted your head and looked at him sleepily. He looked at you and chuckled, "How can you be so cute and sexy at the same time, huh?"

You blushed and giggled, "Shut up."

"C'mon."

He took your hand and guided you inside the building. It was really nice, the hallway was bright and had a fresh scent. It was an old building, but it had a modern vibe. He opened the door and let you in.

It was a spacious studio apartment. The living room was open to the kitchen and the bedroom. "Wow this place is amazing."

When you turned around, Bucky immediately kissed you and his hands were cupping your face. You smiled as he kissed you and his tongue slid in. The kiss was hungry and passionate, you felt how much he desired you, you could taste him, smell him. He pushed you against the wall and his thigh was pressed between your legs, rubbing you through the fabric.

His body pressed up against yours. His thigh was pressed between your legs, rubbing you through the fabric. He let go of your hand and you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer. "Mhhh..." Your lips parted and his kisses moved to your neck. You were breathing heavily, moaning his name. His teeth nibbled at the skin and you grabbed his hair.

He moved his hands down your back and cupped your ass, lifting you up. Your legs automatically wrapped around his waist and your arms were on his neck. He carried you to the bedroom, his hands were everywhere and you were moaning into the kiss.

He sat on the bed and you were sitting on his lap. "Let's not stop this time, okay?" He looked into your eyes.

"Yes, yes." God yes, it had been too long since you had his cock inside you and you desperately wanted him.

"Good girl." Bucky started kissing your neck and you moved your hips, trying to grind against him. You let out a moan and held his head, running your hands through his hair.

He started pulling off your clothes and you sat up and took off your shirt. Bucky stopped and was just staring at you. "What are you waiting for?" Your grip tightened around his hair.

"Sorry, just admiring the view." He pulled off his shirt, and then took his pants off. You stared at him, and he was breathtakingly beautiful. His body was chiseled and sculpted like a Greek God, and he was the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

"Fuck..." You cursed as he unclasped your bra and began sucking on your left nipple and while his metal hand was kneading your right breast. He did the same to the other side. You were a moaning mess under his touch.

"Your breasts are so perfect, doll. Can't get enough of them."

You kissed him again and began grinding your hips against him. He then grabbed your hips and began grinding you back, you felt him getting hard, and you felt like you were going to explode soon. He was breathing heavily, his eyes were dark, lustful.

You then started to take off your panties. "No, leave them on. That's my job." He threw you on the mattress and got on top of you and started sucking and licking your nipples before he went down kissing your body. He was trailing wet kisses to your stomach. He took off your underwear and spread your legs.

Then he was on his knees, he kissed your inner thigh and made you whine. "So impatient, baby."

"Shut up."

He chuckled and then he was kissing the junction of your thighs and hips.

"Bucky, please!"

He smirked and then licked your slit. Your hands went to his hair and he was holding your hips. He was sucking your clit and licking your entrance. You were writhing under his touch. started licking your pussy, eating you out like a starving man.

"Holy shit... Bucky!" You were panting and he was going deeper and deeper. You couldn't think straight anymore. All you could think was his mouth on your pussy. His tongue was working wonders on your cunt. You were moaning his name and tugging his hair.

He inserted a finger and pumped slowly, making you gasp and moan. "Ah, Buck, feels good." Your breath hitched.

"I can feel your tight pussy clenching around my finger, Y/N." He said as he added another finger. You arched your back and whimpered. He sucked your clit and pumped his fingers faster.

His fingers were reaching places that you didn't know existed. He sucked harder and was now fucking you with his fingers. You could feel his metal finger and the vibrations were intense.

He curled his fingers and you arched your back. He was sucking your clit and licking, too. Your legs were shaking and he was holding your hips harder.

"Fuck! Bucky!" You couldn't take it anymore. You were so close. "I'm gonna come."

"Come for me, baby. Come on my face."

"Fuck! Oh god. Bucky!" You screamed as you came on his face. You felt him smile as he licked up all your juices.

When he was done, "That's it, doll. Good girl. Come here." He got on top of you and kissed you. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and it was making you even more horny.

He was kissing your face and lips. "I want to ride you properly now, Bucky."

"God yes, whatever the lady wants." He moved off of you and lied on his back, and you crawled on top of him.

You kissed his chest and his stomach, then you looked into his eyes as you were moving down on him. You were rubbing his cock between your folds. His hands were on your hips, squeezing and digging his nails in.

"Baby, please." You heard him whisper.

"Please, what, Buck?"

"Please, stop teasing me. I need you, now." He was looking at you, and his pupils were so dilated, you could barely see his beautiful blue eyes.

You lined his cock up with your entrance and sank on him, both of you moaning when he was fully inside of you.

"Jesus Christ, doll. You're so tight. And warm."

You put your hands on his chest and started moving up and down on him, slowly at first. He was squeezing your thighs and hips, helping you move.

"Shit! Oh, fuck!" You were bouncing on him now, and he was thrusting up to meet your hips. He was gripping your hips tightly. You started to bounce up and down, and your hands were on his chest. "You feel so good, Buck. You're stretching me out so well."

"Yeah? You're riding me like a champ, baby." He was breathing hard and grunting every time he was slamming into you.

"Ahh, Bucky, yes!" You were biting your lips and throwing your head back, and Bucky was thrusting up.

"Mmm, you like that, sweetheart?"

"Yes! Harder!" You closed your eyes, he felt so good inside you.

"Look at me, baby. Look at me, while I'm fucking you."

You opened your eyes and you were bouncing faster, and he was thrusting his hips faster, too. He was hitting your g-spot and you were getting closer to your orgasm. You were squeezing his biceps. "I've been waiting to fuck you properly since our last time. Couldn't wait to make you scream my name, doll."

"Then do it, make me scream, Buck"

"I will, doll. I promise." You were slamming into each other now, both of you close. You felt his finger touching your clit. "Ahh, you look so pretty when you're riding me, doll. Look at you. So fucking perfect. You're gonna make me cum."

He was looking at you with lust in his eyes. You grabbed his metal arm and sucked on his fingers. You started to suck harder, and you moaned.

He started thrusting harder and faster, the bed was hitting the wall. His hand went to your clit and he started rubbing fast. His other hand kneaded your breasts. You moved even faster and you were getting close, "Buck, you're so good. I'm close."

"I know, I can feel it. You’re doing so good for me, doll. Fuck, doll. Can I come inside you? Please?"

"Yes! Yes, please, come inside me, Buck."

You were screaming his name and digging your nails to his chest. His hand left your breast and was gripping your hips hard. You knew it was going to leave bruises. You were bouncing faster and your orgasm hit you like a truck.

"Oh god, Bucky!" You screamed his name and collapsed on his chest.

"I'm gonna fill your tight pussy up, baby."

"Please, Buck, please."

"FUCK! Y/N! Take it all, baby. Take it." He was filling you up, and you could feel him twitching inside of you.

"Yes! That's it. Fill me up, Buck."

"Jesus." You were both panting and trying to catch your breath. You were resting your head on his chest, and you could hear his heartbeat. He then flipped you over, so you were under him. You felt him that he was still hard, and he was looking at you with a grin. "Can you handle another round, doll? Or are you too tired?"

You smirked and raised your eyebrow. "Are you challenging me, Barnes?"

"Maybe."

"Let's see how long you can keep up, sergeant."

"I can do this all night, doll. How about you?"

"Oh, I'm just getting started."

"Good, 'cause I'm not finished with you yet." He smirked and moved over you.

"You're in for a wild ride, Barnes."

"Bring it on, doll." He pulled your legs and you were in a mating press position, with him towering over you.

"Show me what you've got, soldier."

"Oh, I'll show you." He pulled your legs and you were in a mating press position. He was teasing you with his tip and you were moaning loudly. You were already so sensitive, you were ready to cum again.

"Tell me you want it."

"Yes. I want it! I want you, Bucky."

"Beg me, doll."

"Please. I beg you, please fuck me."

"Who owns you?"

"You do. Only you!"

"Good girl." With that, he entered inside you in a swift motion and buried himself to the hilt and you screamed. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard, and make you forget everything."

He was holding your legs and spreading them more. You were a moaning mess underneath him. He pounded into you so hard, and you were gripping the sheets. Your orgasm was approaching and he was holding your hips hard. You were sure he was going to leave a mark.

"You're not gonna walk after I'm done with you." He was thrusting faster and harder. You were a mess, you were sweating and panting. He was rubbing your clit and pumping into you. He was kissing your neck and you were screaming his name.

Then, he was thrusting fast and rough, and kissing your face. He was nipping your neck and biting. You were leaving marks on his back, and he was gripping your hips.

The way he thrusts his hips, it was like he was a fucking machine. He was a man of his word, and you weren't going to walk tomorrow. He was grunting and groaning and kissing your neck.

He was now pounding so hard into you, and your breasts were bouncing. "You love when I fuck you, don't you?"

"Yes, Bucky. Yes, I do. You're stretching me out so good, Bucky. Don't stop."

"Oh, I'll fuck you until the morning, baby." He was now fucking into your g-spot and his vibranium hand was rubbing your clit.

"Fuck! Bucky, I'm gonna come again!"

"Cum for me, doll. Be a good girl."

"Fuck, Bucky." He gave few more thrusts, and you were seeing stars. You were coming hard and screaming his name.

You were both panting, and Bucky was trying to catch his breath. "Holy shit, doll."

"Yeah, that was amazing."

He lifted his head, and looked at you. "Was? I'm not done, yet."

"What?! Bucky, we can't do it anymore. I already came three times. I can't go again."

"Awww, is my little kitten too sensitive, huh?" He teased you as he lightly slapped your pussy making you yelp.

"Stop it." You said, still sensitive, “Please…”

"Well, we're just getting started. I meant when I said I'm going to fuck you until the sun rises." He flipped you over and he was kissing your back. "Your body is so perfect, baby."

His hands were rubbing and squeezing your ass cheeks. "I want to take you from behind, baby. Can I do that? I want to see that pretty little ass.”

"Mmmmm, fine."

He slapped your ass and you moaned. "Such a good little kitten." He slapped your ass a couple more times, and you moaned. "Now, I'm gonna make you purr like a kitten."

He grabbed a handful of your ass and spread your cheeks. He was teasing you with his tip, and you were pushing your ass against him. "Such a horny kitten, you are." He slowly pushed his cock into you, and you were moaning. He grabbed your hips and started to thrust. He was fucking you slow and deep. But then, he was moving his hips faster.

You were lying on your stomach, and Bucky was pounding into you hard and fast. You were screaming his name. "You're all mine, baby."

He gripped your hair yanking you into pulling you into a kiss. You opened your mouth and his tongue slid in. He explored every inch of your mouth. Your tongues wrestled for dominance, and he won.

"That's it, doll." He was fucking you so hard, he was slapping your ass, and was holding your hips. His dick was hitting all the right spots. You were a moaning mess, you couldn't form words. He was fucking you hard and fast.

The slapping noises were getting louder and the bed was squeaking. His hands started to pinch your nipples making you scream his name, the pleasure was too intense. "I'm close, baby. Let's cum together."

He then continued pounding and you could feel his dick twitch inside. He was grunting and panting. “FUCK, Y/N!” He then came, filling you up. His cum was dripping out of your pussy. He was still inside you, riding out his high.

He pulled out of you but then you noticed he was still hard. "Buck, how are you hard again?!"

He chuckled, "You're the one who made me like this."

You were mesmerized by his stamina but also scared at the same time. He got in between your legs and kissed you passionately. He was kissing down your body and leaving a trail of wet kisses.

“Fuck… Ah… Bucky I can’t… Not anymore.” You were so sensitive and spent, you have came so many times.

"Your moans say otherwise, doll." He grinned as he took his cock and lined it to your entrance and entered you without warning once again. You screamed and gripped his biceps.

He was thrusting his hips faster and hitting your g-spot. You were both moaning loudly, and saying each other's names. "You're taking me so well, sweetheart." You were a sweaty mess and Bucky was gripping your hips.

He was pounding into you and he was so big, it felt like you were being ripped apart. But, you loved the pain. You were scratching his back and leaving marks. You were both leaving bruises on each other's body.

"Fuck, Bucky. Ah, yes!" He was pounding into you and you were moaning loudly.

"That's it, doll. Moan for me."

He was thrusting deeper and harder. Your hands were roaming around his body. You were touching and squeezing every part of him. You cried out as he increased his speed. "Fuck Bucky i can't..." you couldn't come anymore, you were overstimulated.

"Yes you can doll, I know you can." He rubbed your clit faster with now his teeth bit your nipple, “Fucking give it to me, doll.”

You cried out and came all over his cock. "That's my good little kitten." He praised.

But he wasn't done with you yet. You felt so much pleasure and pain, but it felt so good. Bucky thrusted faster and harder, his thrusts were deep. He slammed into you and started thrusting even faster and deeper.

"Shit. Bucky, ahh..." You gasped when his hand found your neck and he squeezed. His grip tightened and he began pounding you harder. You were moaning his name over and over again. You could feel every inch of his thick, long dick, and it was filling you so good.

He then leaned down and was fucking you deep. His metal arm was wrapped around your waist and the other one was choking you. He was sucking and licking your breasts. You were moaning uncontrollably. "Fuck, I'm so close. Let's come together, come to me one more time."

"I can't, Bucky! It's too much." You whimpered. “Please, no more.” You were begging him, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“You can do it doll. Show me what a good girl you are.” He pounded to you faster, his thrusts becoming erratic as he pistoning you in and out.

You were a sweating mess and you couldn't form a coherent sentence. "Holy shit, oh my god, ahhh, fffuck, ahh, ah, mhh, ohh, shit."

You gripped the sheets and screamed his name and you were shaking uncontrollably. Your vision went white and your ears rang. You felt your body go limp. You couldn't move. Your body was overstimulated and tired.

Bucky continued thrusting and you felt him twitch inside you. You both cried out each other's names as you came together. Bucky got off you and laid next to you, pulling you close to him.

You felt so sleepy afterwards, you were spent. He then cleaned you both up before he snuggled with you. "How are you feeling, baby?" He asked.

"Like I can't feel my legs."

He kissed the top of your head and laughed. "Sorry about that, doll."

You chuckled. "Don't apologize. That was the best sex I've ever had."

He held you close and kissed you deeply. You ran your fingers through his hair and he cupped your cheek. As you laid there with him, “I’m sorry Bucky for what I did to you back then on the gym, I took advantage of you… I-“

Bucky stopped you with kissing you. “I know doll, you don’t have to apologize. Like you said, we both hurt each other. Let’s not from now on okay? I promise I’ll be the best version of myself and no more hiding from you.”

You smiled at him, “I would like that.”

Bucky then kissed your forehead, “I love you, Y/N.”

You couldn’t believe your ears, he said it again, “I freaking love you. I've fallen for you ever since the day you helped me out at the hospital and you didn't judge me, you treated me with nothing but respect when I treated you horribly. You have a heart of gold and I'm just glad I was able to finally tell you my feelings. I'm sorry for the way I treated you before, I was just scared to let you in but now I want you in my life, you make me feel safe and loved."

He cupped your cheeks, "Please stay with me. Don't let go of me. I'm begging you to be mine, just mine. Only mine. And I will give my whole life for you, just to be with you, to make up for the time we lost. You are all that I want and all that I need. You are the one for me. If I can't be with you, I don't want to be with anyone else. Please let me take care of you and treat you like the angel you are."

He leaned down and pressed his lips on yours as he whispered, "Be mine and no one else's. Please..."

You felt tears in your eyes, this time it was tears of happiness. "Yes...yes Bucky...I'll be yours. I'm all yours." You went to kissed him but soon the kiss deepened. You moved on top of him as he squeezed your ass and you grinded against him.

Bucky broke the kiss and groaned, "Doll, we have to stop." He put his hands on your waist, trying to slow your movements. Bucky bit his bottom lip. "Or I’m going to get blue balls for the rest of the night."

Your eyes went to his cock seeing it starting to get hard once more. You chuckled and got off him. Bucky laid on his side as you snuggled next to him, "You're right."

Bucky kissed the top of your head, "Thank you, doll. Thank you for loving me. For being my girl and only mine."

"You are welcome, and thank you, for making me yours." You snuggled close to him.

He pulled you closer and caressed your cheeks, "You are perfect, just perfect."

He pulled the sheets over you, so you didn't get cold. You yawned and closed your eyes as you held Bucky's hand and drifted off to sleep. "Sleep well, baby."

You smiled, “Good night, Bucky.”

You were happy, and he was happy. This was all you ever wanted, and it seemed like everything was going well.

But, you still have a problem, a big one. Your friends and the Avengers. They would definitely freak out.

—— FIN ——

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