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ancha-aus · 1 year ago

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RealAgeAU Drabble - Static

This is a drabble I have been planning for a while and I finally know how I want to write it :3

Are you ready?

First Drabble here (with original prompt by @spotaus ) Prev Drabble here Next Drabble here

You see.... there was still something that hadden been addressed :3 Something about how Dust was dealing with the pressure and looks and backstory he has to follow :3

No beta and no edit. (also it is a big boy woops)

Timeline is that Nightmare was deaged like 4 months ago. One month in farmtale

*---------------*

Cross isn't sure how to deal with the tension in the air.

The bickering between Killer and Dust isn't making it any better.

Okay, Cross has got to be honest. It is much as much bickering as it is Killer being annoying and Dust trying to ignore him.

It had started this morning wiht Dust being more anti-social than usual. Easy to note by the fact that he had darkened the inside of his hoody.

Dust hadn't said a single word the whole day even as he went through the motions perfectly.

Cross is enver sure how to help in these moments. The moments which Horror once explained where most likely the times when the maybe ghost maybe hallucination of Dust's brother were extra loud.

Cross isn't even sure what that situation is. He asked everyone but Dust about it and no one really knows for sure if the Papyrus haunting Dust is actually a ghost. Or if it is a hallucination made of his own guilt. From what Cross heard from the others Dust isn't sure either.

The fact remains. They had tried to help in the ways they usually do. Cross tried to stay near in case he wanted something but mostly kept quiet. Cross tried to be a quiet reminder that Dust isn't alone and isn't whereever he was before.

Horror makes Dust's favourites and gently bullies him into eating and taking care of himself.

Killer tries to distract him.

Killer's tactis either goes very well or very wrong. At least Cross has been told that.

Cross has seen the two fight obviously but as soon as one manages to down the other the fight ends. The winner will be smug in their own way, Killer by loudly proclaiming victory while Dust will just have this smug little smile on his face.

The first time they just tackled one another to fight Cross had been worried. But after getting Horror and asking him what to do he had reassured Cross that this was just something the two did. For Dust it helps unload some of his large magic levels and overcharge and for Killer... welll Horror isn't sure about Killer, he assumes Killer just likes fighting or the attention with fighting.

Cross watches as Killer hangs all over Dust and yaps away about something. Cross can see that the fork Dust is holding is slowly but surely starting to curve under the pressure of Dust's phalanges.

Cross can see that Crop is a lot more nervous as he looks between the two worried before looking at Horror. Horror shrugs at the unspoken question.

Cross turns to check on Nightmare and sees him looking at the two with a frown. Cross grins and nudges him "No need to frown. Just them being silly again." he smiles.

Nightmare looks at him before looking back at the two. The frown not leaving "no... it isn't."

Cross is immediantly more worried, and he already was worried! He studies the two and notices that Dust is breathing very shallowly. Cross looks at Horror and signs it quickly to him.

Horror has a look of alarm on his face before slowly, and very carefully, inching closer "Come on Killer. That is enough. Not in the kitchen."

Killer grins cheerfully, completely unaware of the ticking timebomb he is hanging over "oooooh! here comes your knight in shining armour Dusty!"

Dust's fist twitches and Cross can see the fork fold over completely. Oh no.

Killer continues on as he leans on the other "Princess Dusty, getting saved and needing protection-"

And Killer flies over the table right into the stone wall, leaving large cracks on it. Dust follows two seconds after and punches him straight on the face.

Horror gets to Dust and tries to pull him off only to be turned blue and pushed away. Horror manages to fight the force but is still pushed away.

Cross doesn't think as he grabs Nightmare and backs up against the wall on the other side of the room. Even as Nightmare makes an unhappy noise and reaches for Dust. Nope! Not save right now!

Dust stands there panting heavily as mana and magic crack like electricity over him. Fuck. He is overcharged with magic. Fuck they are idiots to not realise that was going to happen soon. Fuck fuck fuck.

Horror somehow still looks calm even with the two different coloured eye lights staring straight at him from under the dark hood. "It is okay... we just ened to go out and-"

Dust huffs "Don't fucking bother." he sounds furious. He glances around the room and looks into Cross's direction for a moment. Dust looks away with a flinch and he is out of the room.

The front door slams shut.

Horror is by Killer as he helps him up. Killer groans as he rubs his skull "okay... maybe i was pushing it... again."

Horror gives him a 'no shit' look before checking his wounds.

Cross glances at Crop who had backed out of the kitchen and now inches back in "is everyone okay? what... waht was that?!" he waves at the front door.

Horror sighs as he rubs his skull "Overcharge... Dust has a lot of LV, EXP, magic and mana. Even with his buffed stats it gets a lot and he needs to release the steam or well... it goes off." he glances around "Sorry for your kitchen..."

Crop nods as he looks at the frontdoor "is it... safe for him?"

Horror nods as he looks into the same direction "It is... just dumb i forgot he would need to discharge...." he sighs.

Killer groans as he gets up "We all forgot. We have been busy and well... I think Dusty forgot as well."

A tug on his sleeve and Cross looks down at Nightmare. Nightmare just looks at him "Can I go to Dust?"

Cross feels panicked "no?! Just let him discharge Nightmare. You know he will be fine."

Nightmare shakes his skull as he looks at the frontdoor "It seemed different... I can't explain." a frown on his face of frustration.

Cross frowns as he looks at Horror and Killer. They share looks before moving towards the front door.

A loud boom of thunder and they open it to stare.

A large vortext of pure black clouds with purple lightning. SLowly but surely swirling to somewhere above the fields.

Crop whistles "Well then... I never saw that much magic before." he frowns and points "That normal?"

Cross follows the direction as he sees small zaps and static all in the air, all that same purple colour.

Killer shakes his skull "No that isn't normal... fuck I need to apologise..." he rubs his skull before quickly looking at Nightmare "don't repeat that." Nightmare shoots him an annoyed look.

Killer grins back before walking towards the stairs of the porch with purpose. only to get zapped as soon as he gets off the wood. Killer yelps and rushes back to stand behind Horror. glaring at the air "Rude! What the hell Dusty!"

horror frowns at him "hurt?"

Killer shakes his skull "More like a tiny zap when you are like static and stuff." he frowns and looks at the air "Though i don't know how that will be once that gets worse..."

Cross frowns as he follows Killer's sight. Cross can admit he is also worried. if this gets much worse it can spell very bad news.. not to forget that it has never been this bad before... Is this just what happened if they don't help him remember to discharge in time? Is Dust even okay with this much pressure and magic going on?

Cross frowns as he hands Nightmare to Horror "You guys stay here. Help Crop with the kitchen and keep Ngihtmare safe." just in case.

Ngihtmare glares as he is put down "I am safe!"

Cross nods and stares at Killer and Horror "I am going to go to help and try to get him to calm down and discharge safely." a spar usually works best.

Horror frowns as he shakes his skull "I will just come back if it goes wrong."

Cross shoots him a look "I got better stats and have the endurance to keep dodging to get through the worst. Killer has a straight up bullseye by his sternum and he annoyed Dust already. YOu may come back but do you really want to do that to Dust?" Horror frowns but nods his agreement. Cross nods himself "just keep an eye on Nightmare and-"

"See? Perfectly safe."

They all turn only to stare. Becuase Nightmare is just standing off of the porch. in the middle of the static. But nothing happens. the static follows along his body but never zaps him. Nightmare looks unamused "I will go to dusty and fix this."

Cross shakes his skull as he gets off the porch. Fuck the zapping is almost constant. He gets ot Nightmare and picking him up gives him a much much much larger and slightly painful zap. Cross breaths through it "No. You are going to stay here and wait. This is our mess so we will fix it ourselves." he nuzzles the small skull "We got this."

Nightmare looks unhappy to doesn't fight being handing back to Horror, Horror flinches at the zap but takes it in stride.

Cross nods to the others and goes into the direction of the large vortex of clouds.

The zapping is honestly just annoying. It helps that Cross can see none of his HP dropping even as he gets closer and closer.

He ends up finding Dust in the wheat field, well in a circle of completely vaporized wheat. the current and magic having turned the plants and part of the ground into ash. Dust just stands there. muttering as crackles of lighting go all along his body.

Cross gulps before stealing himself "Hey Dust!"

Dust freezes. Okay! Good news! Dust can still hear him! not too far gone!

Cross smiles and feels a bit braver "sorry we didn't realise... want to spar? Blow off a bit of steam?"

Dust tilts his skull but nothing. okay wait! Cross knows what this means!

Cross speaks louder "don't listen to whatever he says!" Dust doesn't react. Cross takes a step closer "please. whatever he says it isn't true or real oaky? Or at least not the full truth and-"

Dust chuckles and stares at him "What? Think i ened fucking protection from him?"

Cross blinks and opens and clsoes his mouth. Not sure what to say "I... euh... maybe?" is this a trick question?

Dust looks displeased by his answer. That is fair Cross couldn't commit to either answer. Dust huffs "Don't fucking bother. I am fine."

Cross frowns and feels braver again. No time for self doubt. Dust needs his help. Cross steps clsoer "You aren't fine."

Dust glares back at him "I am fine!" crackles and the ring of vaporized wheat grows bigger. Oh man Cross hopes Crop won't lose too much money thanks to that.

Cross gulps but keeps going closer "It is okay Dust... If it hurts i can heal you!" his healing is weak but he can still heal! "We just need to get you to use some magic and-"

Dust snaps "You want to see fucking magic!" and it crackles loudly as a snap of lightning crashed just by Dust's feet. Cross yelps and feels afraid it did damage but Dust seems fine even as the energy from the lightning travels through the ground. A loud whine of magic nad Cross sees an overgrown blaster right by Dust's shoulder.

Dust hisses "leave. me. alone."

The blaster blasts and Cross dodges. After the dodge Cross actually feels reassured.

You see?

If Dust wants to hit you. He will hit you. The fact he gave Cross enough time to get ready to dodge and didn't change the direction of the beam to still hit him gives Cross hope.

Cross glares back "I am not leaving." not again. He is not giving up on them again.

Dust glares as more blasters appear "You think I won't do it?! You think I am fucking weak?!"

...Weak?

Cross blinks "No? You are like one of the strongest mosnters I know..." Cross has seen Dust fight Ink 1v1 and win. Dust weak? Why would he ever think that? Who would ever think that?

Dust laughs and more crackles in the air as the static grows. Dust's face becomes visible and he smiles sharply at him "That is quite a different answer than you gave before!"

before? When?! Cross never said Dust was weak!

Cross doesn't really have a chance to dodge. Because even if Dust gives him time to see the attacks coming Cross sitll has to dodge them himself.

Dust growls as he charges more attacks "Helpless? Weak? Useless? come on! You can tell me! I already figured it out anyway! With the endless hovering and shadowing!" another blast.

It clicks.

They are fucking idiots!

Cross looks at him panicked "It is just an backstory!" Dust had said no. They still pushed and he had been unhappy wiht it.

They thought it was fine.

But then again. It isn't Cross who has to deal with it with every interaction he has...

Shit. They are assholes.

Cross barely dodges another blast and Dust frowns a tiny bit. He pulls his arm a bit back and a few blasters hold their fire "Well?! Still weak?! Still useless!?"

Cross needs to do something.

And well, the answer is obvious.

Cross gets ready for his sprint. He needs all the speed he can get. Dust sees him hold his own run and rolls his eye lights before shooting at him with a sneer on his face.

Cross runs straight at Dust, straight at the blast. Dust's sockets and eye lights widen and he has to pull hard at his own magic. the air crackles angerly as the blast changes directions just before it hits Cross.

Cross gets right up into Dust's personal space and locks his arms around the other.

Dust snarls and tries to free himself but Cross has more physical strenght than he has and Cross has a good hold on him with locking his arms to his side.

Dust screams and wiggles "Let me go!"

Cross shakes his skull and pushes close to the other "No. I am not letting go of you." not of you. not of nightmare. not of the others. No. He isn't letting go.

Struggling and more screaming. Blasters going off but without his arms he can't aim them right. Dust goes as far as trying to kick, scratch and even bite him but Cross just keeps holding on. Refusing to give up or give in.

The storm around them calms slowly and eventually Dust goes lax in his arms. still some uneasy crackles far above them but the vortex disappeared and the clouds turned more of a dark grey colour.

It starts to rain and this is when Cross thinks it would be safe to let him go. Not that he does. Cross keeps holding on.

Dust isjust lax in his hold. Not saying a word and Cross doens't even know how to say what he wants to say. That he is sorry for pushing. For not helping Dust think of a new plan. So being so okay with Dust having had to carry most of the burding concerning their back story. and later more responsiblity about money. and before that even with taking care of nightmare. All wihtout Cross even trying to help him.

Cross had just... liked the idea of the backstory. That Dust came to them for help, that Cross had a bit of the savior role in the story... Just like he had enjoyed the idea of some people thinking he and dust had a kid together. Just like he enjoys the idea that everyone knows the four of them are an unit and won't separate... Cross is a jerk.

He still isn't sure what to say "... We can probably change the backstory still..." Instead he just talks.

Dust just sounds tired "We can't..."

Cross shakes his skull and just tightens his hold "No we totally can!" think think think "We... we... we can just be that... that i was the one with the ex! But that i hadn't been sure about a kid... and so i just left but regretted it and found out about the bad stuff..." he is just rambling "So i went back and got you guys for help but nightmare had been so young so he didn't remember me and i was still weird about being a father but you were great at it so you and nightmare bonded and so we just kinda told him it was you and... and..." Cross doesn't know. he is stuck and can't think.

Dust snorts against his shoulder "People will hate that... they won't trust us in anyway if they 'found out' we lied..."

Cross gulps and knows he is right. still... "I am sorry... I should have told killer to stuff it when he oppered."

Dust shrugs "Could have done that myself..."

They continue to sit there in the rain. Cross trying to think of some way to fix this mess.

Dust sighs "It is fine... just... stupid... got the best of me... won't happen again."

Cross feels even worse "I am sorry..."

Dust tries to pull back, probably to shoot him a look of some kind but Cross just keeps holding him tighter. No. Not letting go.

Dust sighs and gives in rather easily "I know why... it is fine..."

Cross shakes his skull "you are overworked... and we were to dumb to see."

Dust lets out an annoyed sigh again "I don't need a babysitter. I should be able to take care of myself just fine cross."

Cross feels tears appear but pusehs them back "It isn't being a babysitter you moron! It is about being friends and looking out for one another and not being a dumb idiot to forget one of your friends also needs help!"

silence.

Cross just keeps going "We shouldn't have pushed the backstory. WHen you said no we should ahve just accepted that! You were uncomfortable wiht that plan. YOu are still uncomfortable wiht it. it isn't fair that we kept pushing and you had to brun for it."

Cross feels himself start to ramble and he doesn't bother to stop it "And then the tinkering! You like that and that is great but that doesn't mean it should be a must or have the pressure of being our solo income! You are overworked and tired and need rest and i don't want to hear any comment or self hating joke about you being lazy!"

Dust huffs and mutters "kill joy" but stays quiet otherwise.

Cross keeps going as if he didn't interrupt him "You are also the one who takes charge with Nightmare and that is fine as well as long as you don't have all the pressure! It is unfair of us to just assume you will decide or have the decision or even that you thought about it! Even if you do have the answers and you did think about it it isn't fair that we put that expectation and pressure on you! We are a team and we should share the burden of stuff!"

Cross pants as he just sits there. feeling partly mortified by what he just said and partly relieved he managed to get it all out.

Dust is quiet for a long time before answering "I don't mind it..." it is hardly more than a whisper.

Cross huffs and just keeps holding it "Even if you don't mind it now clearly it is too much or we wouldn't be sitting in a circle of vaporized plants."

Dust is silent but does give a small nod against his shoulder.

Cross nods himself "When you feel okayish. we will go back to the others. you are going to get cleaned up and sleep. actually sleep. and sleep in. No more trying to get up early wiht Nightmare."

Dust mutters "I sleep in..."

Cross huffs "Yeah. until like 8 or 9 compared to the 5 and 6 of Horror and me. But I mean you need to sleep sleep Dust. Sleep in untill at least 10. Don't even think I won't get Horror or Killer to tie you down to the bed!" Dust is almost always up until late at night. he needs rest clearly.

Dust snorts and mutters "Don't let Killer hear you say that. He will have many things to say about that implication about your preferences."

Oh god no brain don't think about that mental image when Dust is stuck in your arms. You don't want to have that type of conversation now when that image does things to you!

Cross feels himself blush as he stares striaght ahead "Very funny."

Dust snorts "I know."

Cross huffs before spekaing again "Well then! You are going to sleep in and get the rest you actually need. We are no longer going to allow you to plan your days full like you did before anymore."

Dust groans "Cross we still need money."

Cross nods "and so we will figure something out eventually! But you are no longer trying to earn enough for everyone. And please for the love of everything actually buy something nice for yourself for once!" so far he had only spend money on stuff for Nightmare. or clothes for any of them. Cross appreciates the clean clothes and things but please Dust just get stuff for yourself.

Dust mutters and mumbles some stuff but nothing that Cross can really make heads or tails from "Good! Now that we agreed to that... Ready to go back?"

Dust is quiet again but sighs "Yeah.... need to apologise to Killer for attacking him... and crop for probably breaking part of his house..."

Cross nods "Yeah... Good news though Killer didn't have actual HP damage so i think even when mad you were pretty controlled over what you actually wanted, which was just Killer to shut up I guess... as for Crop's house I only saw some cracks and Horror and I can do enough construction stuff to fix that." a moment of silence "Also Killer owns you an apology for annoying you the whole day."

Dust listens before sighing "Thanks..."

They sit a moment longer before they both get up. Cross can't help his curiosity as he sticks his phalanges into the lose sand.

Dust frowns at him "What are you doing?"

Cross looks away embarresed "Heard that... if lightning strikes sand like glass is made... I am curious..." he feels something but can't pull it out. Instead he pushes more sand and dirt aside and uncovers a giant glass electric strike in the ground. he can see how the electricity move and made the glass.

Dust frowns at it "Hopefully I didn't ruin his field... Will have to dig that out and any other stuff to make sure it doesn't damage his machinery when he does farming stuff." Dust already sounds tired as he looks around his large circle were Cross cna see multiple hits of lightning hit the ground.

Cross pats his back "It is fine. Horror and I got a lot of free time so we will get to that tomorrow."

Dust looks at him before sighing and nodding "fine."

Cross nods.

The two walk back as Cross looks at the sky "It is clearing... I didn't know you could do the whole sky thing..."

Dust shrugs "never did that before."

huh. Cross keeps looking up "Think it was because you have more charge or something?"

Dust shrugs "Could be..."

Cross nods as he taps his chin "We will need to make sure you don't overcharge faster than..."

Dust is quiet but Cross feels Dust nudge his shoulder. Cross beams at him and Dust shoots him a small smile back.

They near the house and find their other three boys waiting on the porch. Dust goes straight to nightmare nad hugs him before looking at Horror and Killer for just amoment before looking down "sorry... I.... sorry."

Horror smiles bakc and nods. Killer grins himself and shrugs "Euh. It is fine. Sorry to you for once again not picking up on your social clues." he rubs his cheek which has a large bruise "No hard feelings."

Dust nods and agrees easily enough.

After apologizing to Crop for the mess in both the kitchen and field and promising to fix it they get back to their attic. They take a moment to sit together and Cross explains what the deal had been about. Mostly because dust had retreated to hoody-city while hugging Nightmare and was refusing to admit himself what was wrong.

Killer and Horror both look deeply unhappy with this newly gotten information and looka t Dust. Dust manages to somehow look even further away as he mutters "Cross makes it sound worse than it is."

Cross glares. Rude! Because he actually thinks he is underselling the issue!

Killer must come to the same conclusion as he wiggles around until he is laying right up against Dust's side and looks at him begging "You know that I know you are like the strongest monster ever right? Like it is obvious. We all know that? You know that right?"

Dust shrugs and nods but Corss has his doubts. Seeing as he didn't seem to beleive so just moments ago. Killer pouts and has his scheming face on.

Cross sighs "Either way... we need to balance the work load better." he shoots Nightmare a look "You aren't allowed to share the load as you are a child and no child labor."

Ngihtmare huffs and crosses his arms "I can help"

Killer nods "You help by staying safe nad being a good babybones!" Nightamre grumbles even more and pushes closer to Dust.

Horror hums and nods "We will... need to calm down... Taking it easy with townvisits." he shoots Dust a look "Only when it is relaly necessary."

Dust huffs and mutters "Still need cash."

Horror nods "We will figure that out later. First taking things calmly. step by step."

Cross nods as he sees Dust relax a bit. Step by step. They can do this. They got each other and everything will be fine.

*---------------*

First Drabble here Prev Drabble here Next Drabble here

#Realageau #utmv #nightmare sans #deaged nightmare #cross sans #dust sans #horror sans #killer sans #bad sanses #farm sans #And there we have it folks!#Dust waiting breakdown as the pressure got a bit too high for too long!#Cross to the save with forced heart to heart #mostly because cross has the grip and stamina to last him ages and while dust has raw magical power he does not have the same stamina or #strenght to break free #meaning that cross won and dust and him had a bit of a heart to heart in the middle of a circle of distruction and still smoking ground #Also Cross once again having a few inappropiate thoguths and feelings. the boy is so deep in denial you guys.#Dust however makes the joke but misses the point himself as well.#So yeah technically some Doss... Crust? Dross? I am still not sure on their shipname #Though that is very much background and mostly just friendship and platonic #Cross to Dust: How do you dare not believe that we think the world of you?! No! YOu are stuck in the prison of suport and affection until #you learn your lesson!#Dust: it is a hug #Cross: It is the prison of support nad affection!#Euh... I wanted to say more i think?#Oh right! I was very close to making another drabble but that is now for another day.#mostly because i am tempted to make it in two because povs would be interesting but that is a different issue #I am off to fix my links now. lets see if you guys are faster with reading and reblogging this giant drabble or i am faster!

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sourappl3s · 2 months ago

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i never hear anyone talk about how overwhelming it can be to wake up with your desires one day after so long, i’ll speak about my void state success story, when i first entered it. i wont tell you what i manifested since i explained it to an ask. yeah waking up after doing the void state and getting all you want is a pleasant thing but can we talk about how overwhelming it is to literally have you reality just shifts like that? because when i woke up the next morning after inducing the void state my heart genuinely stopped for about 10 seconds and i’m not even exaggerating, because everything was just different? i wasn’t in the same room i was before. LIKE LITERALLY WHEN I WOKE UP I FORGOT I HAD MUSIC PLAYING THE OTHER NIGHT AND RIBS JUST STARTED PLAYING out of nowhere. i like to think of ribs (the song guys) as a new beginnings song, even though the song symbolizes bittersweet memories and friendship. the new beginnings feeling is just my personal feeling. so as ribs was playing i started crying hard on the spot. congratulating myself for reaching this huge milestone, i took in my new environment and cried harder, i sound dramatic but thats just how it was for me. i was shaking and not from fear just from extreme excitement. when i went look in the mirror i cried so much more, everything about me just screamed different, i’m sorry i keep repeating “different” so much because thats literally what it was. everything was just different. i kept repeating to myself “please don’t let this be a dream” over and over, doing everything i can so i’d be sure it wasn’t a dream, when i accepted it wasn’t a dream i went scream into my pillow and started jumping around my brand new room like a hyperactive puppy. thoughts were running everywhere “oh the new memories i’ll make” “i’m finally happy” “its over now” “i can’t wait to see what this new life has in store for me”. i didn’t touch my phone the entire day after waking up with a brand new reality. i barely touch my phone now but i still try to help people on tumblr so they can finally accept their power. i’m not saying i woke up with a terrible/bad overwhelming feeling it was more of a “oh my god theres no way” type of overwhelming feeling. i wanted to share my void state success story with the world but from seeing some liars that were caught (no im not a liar) i was scared people would deem me as a liar because they would “demand” proof. or assume “im lying for attention”. but no this is me coming to you with full honesty that i’ve manifested my dream life, i can still be on social media but that doesn’t automatically make me a liar. if you truly believed in LOA then you wouldn’t have to dwell on solely getting proof for your own satisfaction to really know the law is real. THE LAW IS REAL, THE VOID STATE IS REAL, YOU ARE ALWAYS PURE CONSCIOUSNESS, IMAGINATION IS EVERYTHING, SHIFTING IS REAL, MANIFESTING IS REAL, YES YOU CAN MANIFEST WHATEVER YOU WANT, YOU ARE LIMITLESS.

live in imagination, stop looking for more information, stop starting over, stop giving up, stop doubting, stop looking for the 3D for proof, look within for proof. time isn’t real but yes your clock is ticking, break the pattern or the loop WILL repeat tomorrow. you’re destined for success.

#imagination creates reality #manifesting #shiftblr #lawofassumption #permashifting #law of assumption #loa tumblr #loablr #neville goddard #void state #void success #loa success

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mononijikayu · 5 months ago

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lovesick — ryomen sukuna.

"I'm serious about my girl." Sukuna retorted back, snickering at the white haired vice-captain. "I'm serious, if she calls me anything else, I'll be nothing. Just how it is." "I see, I see." Before Sukuna could fire back something at him, Gojo’s attention shifted to something—or someone—over Sukuna’s shoulder. Gojo started pointing at the doorway. “Oh, and here she is now, captain.” he said, smirking like a man who’d just lit a match in a fireworks factory. "Your beloved girlfriend!"

Genre: Alternate Universe — College! AU;

Warning/s: Short Fic, General Rating, AFAB! Reader, Use of She/Her, Use of Female Centered Identification, Pet Names (Babe, My Love, Etc), Romance, Fluff, Humour, Love, Comfort/No Hurt, Established Relationship, Lovers, Dating, Feeling, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Idiots In Love, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Healthy Relationship, Friendships, Profanity, Swearing, Teasing, Volleyball, Volleyball Captain! Sukuna, Boyfriend! Sukuna, Girlfriend! Reader;

Words: 3.8k words.

Note: i wanted to see ryomen sukuna be someone that is pathetically in love with his lover, because i needed a break from my pattern of being angsty with sukuna, so here you go. that being said, i'm sorry this is shorter than what i usually write. i'm prepping a lot of things because im going to be back in uni soon and i need to make sure i fix the queue!!! that being said, i'll post tomorrow about the valentines special!!! thank you for reading!!! i love you all <3

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IF THERE WAS ONE THING ABOUT HIM, ITS THE FACT THAT HE IS A STRONG PERSONALITY. He knew that too well, everyone knew that just as much. Ryomen Sukuna was just easily the most incredible force to be reckoned with. Whether that be meeting him personally or whether that be hearing baout him in passing.

Everyone would say the same thing about him — it's hard to find out what to say about him without going on a tangent for hours on end. And that was just the easiest thing to do, rather than finding anything definite to say.

The one and only captain of the top ranking college varsity volleyball team in all of Japan, Ryomen Sukuna dominated the court like it was his personal kingdom with that iron fist. He has such a stellar record of existence, that was to be sure, wearing the crown.

All his opponents could only quiver at the sight of his one of a kind powerful line spike. All the teammates he'd have since junior high could only respect and fear him with almost military reverence, like he was their general.

Of course, all his coaches over the years swore he could crush concrete if he so much as clenched his fists mid-serve. That perhaps, it would be good to gentle parent him as much as possible, knowing he's already quite the fire cracker of a man.

Or that he could end up cussing out everyone at the court as easily as one does breathing. That's of course, why the coaches would find him to be the "Cursed King." It was an intimidating title that had followed him since junior high school.

One moment he's someone that you curse because you lost a game because of him, another time you curse him because your team got fined because he ended up causing a fight. And with a name like that, Sukuna relished the air of invincibility it gave him.

Everyone had a box for Sukuna to fit in, of course. That continued over time, to be something that people couldn't avoid making for him and only him. That was just how it was, when you have someone as enigmatic as him.

To some of his teammates, he was "Cap"—the iron-willed leader who demanded nothing less than perfection. The one that would force them to run miles on end until they fell from exhaustion. The one who forced them to do hundreds of spikes until it took out the bottles he prepared on the other side of the court.

The rival schools referred to him as "Demon Spike" but this was mostly because he left a trail of destruction (and bruises) every time he stepped onto the court. One moment that's from the fact that his serves were just dangerously low and one moment it's because he heard someone bad mouth his underclassman.

To the younger underclassmen, who unfortunately still looked at him with bright eyes under those filtered glasses on — he was a mix of "Sensei of True Discipline" and "Volleyball God".

He was to them, a figure of unadulterated awe and of course, that desire to hope, that perhaps they would end up like him too. After all, he was always a star in the court. But in a different way, in the good way. That's how they think.

Of course, even his many teachers and now his college professors had their own opinions for him one at a time over the many years. One of the most known nicknames for him by the professors in the college halls is “The GPA Crusher”.

But this was because Ryomen Sukuna spent more time perfecting his jump serves against his opponent than ever having effort in writing essays for submission. Ironically, even though he was quite a smart young man. The fact that he shows up to exams more than classes and still passes with flying colors is quite certain proof.

But to you, his beloved girlfriend, Ryomen Sukuna was none of these things. He didn’t live in a box and he never wished to do so, no. Instead, he lived eternally, forever, even in the next life — in your heart.

Though he’d never say something that cheesy out loud. That part is not easy for him, but you didn't mind that. You liked to keep him to yourself most of the time. And he was satisfied with that.

The most you could hear from him about you is in passing. Sometimes practice would finish and he, still full of sweat, would immediately pack his things into his gym bag, almost suddenly becoming ignorant of everything else.

His underclassman would invite him to eat something like yakuniku and he would say with a straight face — "I can't. My girfriend wants to cook some authentic pasta for me at her place. Bye."

He would leave almost instantly, much to the shock of the underclassman each year. But most of his teammates, who were also somehow his friends, were not surprised. He and you were dating early on during junior high school. And he would be the same way.

When he wasn't looking, people could only surmise what he looked like when he towered over your giddy figure at every practice, at every game — 'Ah, I see. He's lovesick. And in a good way.'

To Sukuna, you were perhaps the only thing that could triumph against volleyball. You were his number one. And he knew that you thought of him the same way too. And everyone knew that too.

That's why you only ever called him one thing: my love. And to Sukuna, that title was worth more than any championship trophy. But of course, no one knew that. It's not like you don't call him that in public. It's just that no one asks, what that nickname is.

The look in your eyes was more than enough when he makes a wink for you at each serve was enough, the smile on your lips when he comes to greet you at the bleachers was more than enough. No one needed to hear the nickname to know that there was something loving between the two of you.

He knew this truth as well as he knew how to spike a ball with a precise edge. He knew this as much as he knew what would get him a championship. But of course, that doesn't stop curiosity at times. At times he humors them, at times he does not. It was a hit and miss.

That’s why, during a post-practice break, when the Vice Captain of the Volleyball team, Gojo Satoru, decided to start stirring the pot as usual with his antics. And somehow, today, Ryomen Sukuna didn’t mind it. There was something in the air. They could feel it.

(He won't tell anyone about this, but he has very happy about something.

He was after all happy that his girlfriend was staying at his dorm tonight to spoon on his bed after your finals kept you apart for nearly two weeks —

But no one needs to know that.

Otherwise, they'd use it against him.

And he can't have that right now.

It will spoil these bastards and make them too relaxed before championships again.)

Gojo leaned against the bleachers with that signature cocky grin. “Hey, Sukuna.” he drawled, as he watched the captain drink from his water bottle. "You’ve got about a million nicknames floating around. But what are you to your girlfriend?”

Ryomen Sukuna didn’t miss a beat.

He put down his water bottle swiftly.

He glared at Gojo Satoru with a passion.

He tilted his head back, eyes half-lidded with that calm arrogance he wore so well. “Huh? My girl can only call me my love or nothing.” he said, his voice practically dripping with pride.

"Hehhhhh, really?"

“If she calls me anything else, I’ll disappear and leave no trace. Hell, I'll jump off a cliff and make sure I drown into the ocean and never be seen again."

Gojo barked out a laugh, his hands clapping together as if Sukuna had just told the world’s funniest joke. “Wow. Our captain sure is seriously whipped. Actually, that probably doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

"I'm serious about my girl." Sukuna retorted back, snickering at the white haired vice-captain. "I'm serious, if she calls me anything else, I'll be nothing. Just how it is."

"I see, I see."

Before Sukuna could fire back something at him, Gojo’s attention shifted to something—or someone—over Sukuna’s shoulder. Gojo started pointing at the doorway.

“Oh, and here she is now, captain.” he said, smirking like a man who’d just lit a match in a fireworks factory. "Your beloved girlfriend!"

Ryomen Sukuna turned slowly, his earlier bravado evaporating the second he saw you standing at the gym door. Your arms were crossed, your eyes sharp, and your posture practically screamed, You’re in trouble.

“Sukuna.” you called out, your tone cutting through the gym like a whistle signaling the end of a game.

His entire body could only stiffen. He didn’t just flinch—he practically short-circuited. The other players and members, the entire volleyball staff, sensing the shift in the air, immediately stopped what they were doing to watch the drama unfold. All of their eyes were glued on this moment, more than anything.

“Ryomen Sukuna!” you said again, each syllable landing like the sound of a referee’s whistle before a penalty.

Sukuna’s brain scrambled for an escape route. “What the fuck?” he muttered under his breath, frozen in place.

“Ryomen Sukuna, come here.”

“No.” His voice cracked as he stood up so fast he nearly knocked over a water bottle.

His scarlet eyes were shaking as much as his body was. No one has ever seen this before. No one had ever seen the panic on his face before. Not even in a hard game to win. This was the very first time their formidable captain looked so defeated and horrified.

“No, no, my name is my love! It’s my love! What did I do?” he asked, practically sprinting toward you like a volleyball rolling out of bounds.

Gojo Satoru, thoroughly entertained, cackled so hard he nearly fell off the bleachers. “Man, even the Cursed King has a leash!” he wheezed, clutching his stomach. "This is how he is with her. That's interesting, isn't it?"

"He doesn't look like who he actually is in the moment, huh." Nanami Kento whispered under his breath, wiping the sweat with the towel over his shoulder. "We should have used this card when he refused to stop practice during last year's finals."

"Well now we can." Geto Suguru snickers, lounging on the floor as he watched the scene with mirth in his purple gaze. "Does anyone have objections?"

"None here!" The chorus of seniors and juniors retorted back at him.

"Someone save her phone number for speed dial!" Gojo said, pointing to one of the managers who nodded.

By the time Ryomen Sukuna reached you, he was a completely different man. The fearsome captain who dominated courts and crushed spirits was reduced to a panicked, apologetic mess. You continued to stand before him, rolling your eyes, his towering figure in tatters at what you called him.

“I swear I didn’t do anything! There's no girls or even guys! There isn't anything else. You can check my phone. Or you can ask everyone here too!"

"Sukuna—"

"Whatever it was, I’ll do everything fix it and make it right, babe—just don’t call me that again. Please!” he begged, his voice low enough that only you could hear the desperation in it.

"Calm down." You raised an eyebrow, letting him stew for a moment before finally speaking. “You forgot to text me that practice was running late. And I was concerned. I thought we were going to meet up at the cafe nearby so we can go to your dorm together!”

Sukuna blinked. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.” you said, though your tone suggested you might have a few more grievances stored up for later. "Well, I'm also hungry."

Sukuna exhaled so dramatically it was a wonder he didn’t collapse on the spot. “I’ll never forget again, okay?” he promised, his voice full of sincerity. “Babe, I’ll set an alarm—no, two alarms—just for you. And don't worry, we're gonna eat. Actually, take my card and buy something in the cafe while you wait for me.”

As he continued to rattle off promises, you couldn’t help but smile at him. Cursed King or not, to you, Sukuna was just your dorky loving boyfriend, forever trying to live up to his title of my love in your life. And if the rest of the gym wanted to watch him grovel? Well, that was just an added bonus. By the gods, you love him.

"I love you, my love." You whispered to him, taking his hand into yours. "I'm sorry I scared you like that."

"No, no, that was my fault." He grumbled under his breathe, taking a moment to settle in the warmth of your eyes, reserved just for him. "I should have noticed the time. I will never forget about it again, I promise."

"Hm, that's all that matters, my love."

"I'll make us dessert tonight as an apology." He says, moving closer to kiss your temple.

"That would be good, my love."

As Sukuna continued his frantic apologies, the rest of the gym erupted into poorly stifled snickers. Gojo Satoru, of course, was the loudest, slapping his knee like he’d just witnessed the greatest comedy set of the century.

“My love, huh? Big, bad Cursed King reduced to a golden retriever!” he teased, practically howling. “Hey, did you hear that, boys? If she calls him Ryomen Sukuna one more time, he might just cry.”

“Should we start calling him my love too, senpai? Y’know, in solidarity?” chimed Underclassman Itadori Yuuji, grinning as he leaned on his volleyball. The suggestion earned a chorus of laughs and a few enthusiastic nods.

“Yeah, Cap! Don’t worry, my love, we’ve got your back!” Underclassman Fushiguro Megumi deadpanned from the sidelines, his usual stoic face cracking into a rare smirk.

One of the first year underclassman, emboldened by the chaos, cupped his hands around his mouth and called out, “We love you, my love! You’re our MVP for all seasons! With so much love, my love!”

Sukuna whipped his head around, his scarlet glare promising death, destruction, and possibly laps for everyone involved. “If anyone other than my girlfriend calls me that, I swear.” he growled, “I will personally make sure you regret it.”

“Sure, my love!” Gojo crowed, leaning back against the bleachers with a devilish grin. “Ooooh, should we get it printed on the back of your jersey? Cursed King on the front, My Love on the back—perfect balance, don’t you think?"

Geto laughs loudly. "You know what, I think we can make this happen. Coach! We got the budget for that, right?"

“Or maybe embroider it on the team banner!” someone else chimed in, sending the gym into another fit of laughter.

You couldn’t hold back anymore, doubling over as Sukuna turned a deeper shade of red than the volleyballs on the court. His sharp retorts and death glares only fueled the chaos, the once-commanding presence of the Cursed King now utterly eclipsed by the sheer hilarity of the moment.

Finally, Sukuna turned back to you, his expression a mix of betrayal and exasperation. “You’re supposed to defend me, babe.” he muttered, his voice low but desperate.

You reached up to pat his cheek, your grin as sweet as honey. “Oh, my love, I am defending you. I’m making sure they never forget how cute you are to me."

For the rest of practice, you sat down and watched everything unfold before you as you ate your croissant and drank your coffee from the cafe which you bought using your boyfriend's card, of course.

For a while, the gym echoed with the sound of volleyballs, laughter, and the occasional teasing chorus of “My love!” — especially when Sukuna found himself scoring a point, which of course led to him missing the next hit.

Every time someone said it later on, Ryomen Sukuna looked seconds away from snapping a net in half, but deep down, though he’d never admit it, he wouldn’t have traded his nickname or the teasing for anything in the world. Not when you were there, cheering it for him with that adorable voice of yours, loving him completely.

Maybe it wasn't so bad to be lovesick like that.

Not when it was you who loved him just like that.

That's just how he loved you too.

══════════════════

epilogue

After what felt like the longest practice of his life, one that was just peppered with relentless teasing from his teammates and the volleyball team staff — Ryomen Sukuna was finally free to leave with you, to enjoy the weekend together.

He barely said goodbye to the others, grumbling something about “making them run that suicidal hill again on Monday” before grabbing his bag and leading you out of the gym.

“Unbelievable.” he muttered under his breath as you walked side by side. “Gojo’s gonna be insufferable for weeks.”

You stifled a laugh. “Weeks? You mean forever.”

He shot you a look, but there was no real heat behind it. Instead, he sighed and draped an arm over your shoulder as the two of you made your way to his car. “You’re lucky I love you, y’know. Otherwise, I might’ve disappeared on the spot after what you pulled, babe.”

“Oh, come on, my love.” you teased, leaning into him. “It was worth it to see the great Cursed King turn into a puddle in front of everyone. Especially because he loves me.”

“You’re cruel, babe." he grumbled, but there was a small, fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Can't believe I've loved you since we were in junior high."

You winked at him, smile on your lips growing wider. "And for forever too! You'll have to deal with it."

By the time you got back to Sukuna’s place, you immediately made the move to cook while he got into the shower. Soon enough, the air was thick with the scent of miso broth bubbling on the stove.

You’d planned this hotpot night earlier, since he was supposed to have gone home much earlier. But after the chaos at the gym and his long grueling practice, you just felt like it was even more well-earned.

Sukuna, finally emerging from the bedroom, rolled up his sleeves and helped you set the table, his mood softening with each step of the ritual as you hummed along the song playing on the radio.

“You got everything, babe?” he asked, peering over your shoulder as you arranged plates of thinly sliced meat, tofu, and an assortment of vegetables.

“Yup.” you replied, popping a piece of bok choy into your mouth. “And don’t even think about hogging all the meat this time.”

“Me? Hog it?” He snorted, grabbing the chopsticks and pointing them at you in mock accusation. “You’re the one who fishes out all the good stuff when I’m not looking.”

“That’s called strategy, my love.” you said, grinning as you threw his words from earlier back at him.

Sukuna groaned, dropping his face into his hands. “Not you too…”

You waved your chopsticks at him. "Well, I say it more lovingly. You like it like that, you know!"

He grumbles under his breath, red appearing on his cheek. "You're lucky I love you like that."

"Hm, that's why I'm shameless!"

But any complaints were quickly forgotten as the two of you settled down around the simmering hotpot. The warmth of the broth, the crackling of the stove, and the quiet clink of chopsticks filled the room. Sukuna started to relax, his earlier frustrations melting away as he watched you happily dunk mushrooms and noodles into the pot.

“Okay, babe.” he said suddenly, breaking the silence. “I’ve decided.”

You raised an eyebrow, chewing on a piece of tofu. “Decided what?”

“Next time Gojo calls me ‘my love’ in front of everyone, instead of just you, it’s on sight,” Sukuna said, leaning forward with a wicked grin that promised destruction.

He jabbed his chopsticks into a slice of tofu like it was Gojo’s face. “I’m spiking a volleyball straight at his stupid face.”

You burst out laughing, nearly choking on the piece of fish cake you’d been chewing. “Good luck with that. He’ll just dodge it and make fun of you even more. You know how he is—Gojo thrives on chaos. The man’s immune to consequences.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes, stabbing another piece of tofu with unnecessary aggression. “Then I’ll spike two balls. One after the other. And if that doesn’t work…”

You looked at him curiously, mirth in your eyes. "What will you do?"

He paused, his brow furrowing in mock concentration. “I’ll add laps. So many laps. He’ll be running until graduation.”

You snorted, wiping a tear from your eye. “Right, because Gojo would totally listen to your orders. He’d just turn it into a race and leave everyone else in the dust.”

Sukuna grumbled under his breath, his scowl deepening—but the corners of his mouth twitched, betraying his amusement. “Fine. If volleyball and laps don’t work, I’ll come up with something else. Something evil.”

“Evil?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “What, like stealing his Bottega Veneta sunglasses?”

“Too easy. He’s got like fifty pairs, babe.” Sukuna muttered, resting his chin on his hand as he considered his options. “Maybe I’ll prank him during practice. Replace his water with vinegar. Or set his alarms an hour early every day.”

"I forgot he makes his password too easy for people to guess." You murmured, drinking from your cup. You sigh. "Well, I suppose that would work."

"Right? Fool-proof!"

You tilted your head, feigning thoughtfulness. “Hmm, as solid as that is, what if he gets revenge? Gojo’s the type to double down, you would know best."

He hummed. "I'm way better at being stubborn than he is."

"I know that. But he might start serenading you in the middle of practice. Like, full-on ‘My Love’ with a guitar and everything on campus like it's 10 Things I Hate About You."

Sukuna froze, chopsticks halfway to his mouth. “He wouldn’t.”

“Oh, he absolutely would.” you said, grinning. “And you’d never live it down. The Cursed King getting serenaded in front of the entire team? In front of the whole university? They’d be talking about it for years.”

He groaned, dropping his chopsticks and leaning back against the chair like he’d just been defeated in battle. “Why do I even put up with him? Or any of you, for that matter.”

“Because deep down, you love us.” you said, smiling sweetly as you plopped another piece of meat into the hotpot. “Even Gojo.”

“I do not love Gojo,” Sukuna snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Sure, sure, my love!” you teased, nudging him playfully with your elbow. “But admit it—you’d miss him if he wasn’t around to drive you insane.”

Sukuna gave you a flat look, but the twitch of his lips betrayed him again. “I’d miss you more.” he said gruffly, his voice dropping just enough to make your heart skip.

“Aww, my love.” you cooed, leaning closer to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Don’t worry, you’re stuck with me.”

“Good to know, babe.” he said, turning back to the hotpot with a satisfied grunt. “At least you don’t call me my love in front of the team like that.”

You smirked, swirling your chopsticks through the broth. “Not yet, anyway.”

Sukuna froze mid-bite, glaring at you with wide eyes. “Don’t you dare.”

“No promises!” you said with a mischievous grin, earning a groan from him that was half exasperation, half affection.

"You're such a menace."

"Well, that's how you know I love you, my love!" You grinned, moving forward to steal his tonkatsu.

"Babe!" He groans, as he watches you eat the tonkatsu happily.

"I love you!"

Sukuna sighs, his eyes softening, watching you happily eat. "I love you too......"

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sacredsorceress · 2 months ago

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☆.°*Dating Bob Headcanons*°.☆

pairing: bob reynolds x f!reader word count: 1.3k a/n: just a few of my headcanons for what it would be like to be in a relationship with bob!! if you'd like to see more let me know! warnings: mention of therapy, addiction, memory loss- anything that would've been in thunderbolts*

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・inbox・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Ironically, I think Bob is a guy that is comfortable with what life hands him and outside going to Malaysia to try to find himself (or more drugs) he's resigned to accept whatever the universe throws at him- both good and bad. I don't think he'd be the type to join a dating app or feel a hole in the place of where a partner should be unless he began to fall for someone around him. Meaning, the two of you would have likely met in his past or you were a member of the New Avengers.

Unless you have the most enviable confidence on the planet, your friendship budding into more would have been a SLOWWWW burn.

As much as the team picks on Bob (with love), they would be very wary of you starting a relationship with him.

If you were on the team, once they got the inkling that you had feelings for one another, they would iterate to you a million times that you had to be sure about this. You would have to be serious about a future with him: no games. You breaking Bob's heart could send him into an episode that not only hurt him, but everyone else.

I think there are two scenarios to the start of your relationship: either you made the first move or he did- but it was only made possible by the reassurance of the team that you would actually say yes to him.

"Well I don't know guys," he'd argue , fiddling with his sleeve. "What if she doesn't-"

"She could not have been more obvious!" Yelena laughs.

"But-"

"Bob, you have a hot girl with super powers in love with you." John would say. "Do something about it or I will."

And obviously the idea of John making a move on you would be enough to propel him into confessing (a bit awkwardly) his feelings for you.

I think a lot of the first moves would be on you to initiate, because as much as he would want to kiss you and sleep in your bed (and more), he would be so afraid of you saying no or making you uncomfortable that he would hesitate.

King of Consent. If he did make the first move on you it would be because he asked you first. In the first few months of your relationship it's rare that he would touch you without asking.

Oh my god. I think if Bob had friends from his past that he still sometimes spoke to (now that he's clean and in a better mental state, I imagine him trying to patch up old wounds with good friends), he would ask you if it was okay if he told people you were together (as if you'd be embarrassed to be dating him)

You'd take a photo together and he would nervously ask if he could send it to this old friend from childhood and your heart would just swell.

"Of course, Bob. Tell him I say hi."

You would catch him smiling at the photo on his phone- a sweet closed mouth one- as he sent it to his friend.

Sent: Me and my girlfriend :)

Even if you're usually a people pleaser, when it comes to Bob, you'd have to become his biggest advocate because no one is more of a people pleaser than him. Recall when he was in the facility and offered to stay back and die for the convenience of everyone else? Yeah.

Sometimes Bob would ask you to come to his therapy appointments with him so you could fill in the gaps in his memory for his therapist.

You would also join some sessions at his behest because he wasn't always 100% transparent with his doctor and having you there encouraged him to be more honest (not only because you could tell when he was lying, but because he wanted to be better for you.)

Bob has an addictive personality so he doesn't drink anymore, but if you go out for the night, he'll ask Yelena to go with you just to make sure you're safe.

Yelena, who was going out with you anyway and would rather die than let you get hurt, would just pout.

"You are so. adorable." She'd sigh. "But yes. I will watch her."

NYC may get cold in the winter months, but you have a human heater in the form of Bob who would gladly take your freezing hands in yours, bring them to his lips and blow hot air on them to warm you up.

Speaking of the colder months, this man LOVES a hot cocoa. Bob doesn't love the crowds at festivals or markets because all the noises, people, touching can be overwhelming but he'll bear them with you if he can turn his brain off with a hot chocolate in hand and let you guide him.

He blushes bright red when you wipe his milk mustache away with your finger then pop it in your mouth.

When you giggle at his pink cheeks he blames it on the cold (sure bob).

He doesn't get jealous as much as he gets insecure. If Bob saw another man get touchy with you or you laugh at his jokes, he wouldn't be angry, but he would start questioning if he was good enough for you.

Although the sentry serum gave him a lean, muscular build, he would still compare himself to Bucky and Walker. Walker may have been an asshole, but Bucky was nice, successful, conventionally attractive and more stable than him. What did he bring to the table?

When you caught him second guessing himself, you'd be quick to snap him out of it: reminding him that there was no one else in the world for you besides him.

Now if you, got jealous- he'd be shocked.

A new intern would start working for Valentina and you could just see it in her eyes: she wanted him. It didn't matter that you were an Avenger yourself or that Bob would never in a million years be the type to cheat on you, you could feel the heat bubbling in your chest just threatening to boil to the surface.

When you butt into the conversation, placing a hand against his chest and introducing yourself as his girlfriend he didn't even know what to do. The girl, not keen enough to compete with an Avenger, took the hint and went on her way.

"What was that?" He'd ask.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Bob."

You'd just humph and go back to whatever it was you were doing and Bob would be left there with his face red, scratching the back of his neck knowing he's got the most amazing woman on the planet (Time Magazine's issue on the New Avengers made that a blatant fact) jealous over him.

His room is probably pretty bland. Because of his past and the most recent thing he did pre-experiment being back-packing, I imagine that he doesn't very have many things. Whether it be clothes, games, knickknacks- you name it- he probably started out with close to nothing and everything he has now has only been accumulated since joining the team.

Because of this, when you two share a bed it would probably be in your room. He likes the character of it and how it reflects your personality and interests. It makes him feel safe, loved, and homey in a way none of the things from his past ever could with the negative memories tied to them.

If you're not home, he'll text you updates about everything he's doing that day.

10:57: Good morning :)

11:31: Had a bagel for breakfast.

12:45: The fridge is making a weird sound.

3:22: I finished my book. There was a cliffhanger :0

4:10: Miss you :)

And that's just a little bit of the cute little life I think you'd have in a relationship with Bob :)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

hi!! first set of headcanons for our man bob!! if you're interested in more or have some other headcanons besides just general dating ones you'd like to see- my inbox is always open!! xx

#bob x reader #thunderbolts #bob reynolds x reader #robert reynolds x reader #sentry x reader #bob headcanons #bob fluff #bob reynolds #robert reynolds #bob thunderbolts #bob thunderbolts x reader #thunderbolts fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #thunderbolts bob x reader #bob reynolds fanfiction

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cherienymphe · 3 months ago

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Scorned

Friedrich Harding x Reader

Summary: With no possibility of a future with your lover, you make the decision to stop letting him break your heart.

warnings: Non-con, mentions of loss of virginity, obsession, forbidden relationship, power imbalance

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies

♱

Friedrich Harding was a man who earned many compliments—he was a man of integrity, a man with wealth, and a man greatly respected in society. You personally had a few lesser known compliments for the dark-haired gentleman such as his caring demeanor and gentle touch and prowess in bed. It was something that only you had the pleasure of knowing. At least, that was what you were assured, and you chose to believe him for he was a man of integrity.

Under the cover of darkness when you should have been asleep or even during earlier hours when he should have been using valuable time to find a suitable wife, Friedrich preferred to refresh his memory of what it felt like to touch you and taste you and find solace inside of you. The years-long friendship between Thomas and Friedrich made the former none the wiser to the true cause of the latter’s frequent visits over the past year. Your life was not the only one to be changed the moment you were taken in as a maid for the Hutter family.

Friedrich would spend every waking moment breathing you in and finding relaxation in your warmth if he had the choice, and you knew this because he told you so. He was, after all, an honest man. He told you how beautiful you were every time the thought crossed his mind and he told you about every time he thought of you while he was away and he told you how harder it was becoming to stay away from you. He was very honest…even when you wished that he would not be.

“You had to know that no other answer is possible…”

Those baby blues of his were heavy—with sadness or shame, you did not know, only that you yourself felt a bit of both. It was a silly thing to ask him one day—if he ever thought of marrying you—and truthfully you did not know what answer you were possibly expecting. Of course Herr Harding could not ever marry you. You were a maid, a servant—not much better than property in some places—and the gentleman that you had grown to care for needed a wife of good standing…a wife that many would envy him for.

You were neither of those things.

Asking him such a thing only succeeded in making things tense for you two for a few moments and breaking your own heart, but that was quickly remedied when he told you not to think of such things before pressing his lips to yours. His manor only housed one, and so you were not so cautious in how you responded to him once he got his hands on you.

His lips did not stray from your face once as he slowly and gently curved his hips into yours, pushing his cock into you with a pace that he knew you loved. Nothing drove you crazier more, and you loved the sounds that escaped his lips whenever you grazed your fingers over his skin and pressed your nails into his naked back. The only time that you were not a maid and he was not a man out of reach was during these stolen moments, when he was inside of you and whispering sweet nothings in your ear and telling you that you were his.

Only…

You were not his.

He had made that clear to you. You were not his and he was not yours, and while it was never spoken of again, you moved forward with that in mind no matter how much it broke your heart day after day. You did not take words said in the heat of the moment to heart, and never did you ever think to.

“You did not come to me last night…”

The whispered words were said to you in a dimly lit hallway, Thomas’ family just in the sitting room and oblivious to your coupled absence. The dark-haired man had cornered you, his blue eyes hardly leaving your person from the moment he stepped into the house, so some part of you had expected it. With him so close—his warmth reaching out for you and the scent of him surrounding you—it was hard to remember why you had left his bedside cold the previous night. You took a deep breath before racking your brain for the truth.

“I did not think it was wise.”

Friedrich looked between your eyes for a moment before a light chuckle left him, his perfect teeth winking at you as he clearly found your response comical.

“When has it ever been…?”

He reached for you as he said this, but you were quick to grab his hand and halt his pursuit. The frown that knitted his brow was a rare sight—Friedrich hardly being the kind of man who was faced with a refusal from anyone—and you almost felt bad.

“Perhaps that is reason enough that I should have never warmed your bed to begin with,” you quietly told him, and you did not miss the way his face fell. “You must marry and have sons…and not only will that never be with me, but the longer this continues the longer you put it off.”

The man before you stared at you as if you were speaking another language, and when your words finally sank in, he straightened, staring at you in a way you had never been on the receiving end of before.

“It is not your place to worry about such things,” he said, making you bristle. “You let me worry about my affairs.”

You were not stupid. You could see that Friedrich was thinking and feeling way too many things than he was used to in this moment as the implications behind your words were finally starting to hit him, but it did not make his words sting any less.

“No, it is not my place to worry about your affairs,” you agreed. “...but it is my place to worry about mine.”

He was still as you slid from between him and the wall, his gaze stuck on you as you abandoned him in more ways than one. Refusing to sleep with Friedrich any more was no easy decision to make, even harder to execute. The man had introduced you to a world you wondered if you would ever be privy to, and he had made you feel things that made you shudder to think about even now, but you were tired of breaking your own heart day after day.

“I do not want any letters from you and do not seek me out. I no longer want that…”

Before your former lover could respond, you were rejoining the family who employed you. You ignored his gaze when he returned and throughout dinner and most especially as he was leaving. It was no easy feat because Friedrich had the kind of presence that was hard to ignore, and that was true in more ways than one.

Despite how many times you dreamt of the man in the weeks that followed, you told yourself that bittersweet memories were infinitely better than accepting the affections of someone who could never be yours. One day he would be married—guarantee—and maybe one day you would be too—not so much of a guarantee—and Friedrich was an honest man, yes, but it felt insulting to him to think that he might not possess the kind of strength required to never seek you out once he took a wife. You surely liked to think so, but the man himself had told you many times that he found it difficult to stay away from you.

…and he was no liar.

Despite your wishes, letters were still slipped beneath your door, waiting for you at the end of the day when he had long left and you were retiring for the night. Each one went unopened, too afraid of what you might do should you read what he had to say all the while imagining that smooth voice of his. In fact, none of your wishes were met, cornered by the blue-eyed man again and again.

“Friedrich…”

You nervously looked past his broad shoulders, your inability to hold his gaze bringing him great frustration.

“Forgive me for I believed that this was merely some tantrum, some lapse in thought brought on by fear or inadequacy or…”

He trailed off, seemingly unable to gather his thoughts as his eyes roamed your face.

“Friedrich, I have made my feelings clear to you,” you spoke before he could gather himself to do so again. “Leave me be.”

Your attempt to get away was stopped, and your wide eyes rested on his face. There was a deep frown on it, and the facial hair above his lip twitched as his fingers pressed into your arms.

“Have I not told you time and time again that you are mine? That I cannot be without you?”

“Words said while I was warming your bed,” you pointed out, the attitude in your tone clear. “Now it is you who will have to forgive me for not taking them seriously.”

You tried to slip away again.

“So, you thought I said them in jest? That they were not meant to be believed?”

He sounded incredulous, and you took that moment to finally break free.

“It is irrelevant,” you hissed. “Please, leave me be!”

Your voice slightly echoed, and you were quick to stride away from him lest someone come looking for you.

As it turns out, the only person who you ever had to worry about looking for you was your spurned lover. You did not know if his shameless behavior was scarier than if he had preferred to remain discreet. Gathering groceries for the Hutters was a shadowed task and every room you cleaned turned into a hiding place every time he came over.

Your dreams about the man who you had once thought you loved turned into nightmares.

…and those nightmares turned into reality.

“So, this is where you hide whenever you so much as hear my voice…”

His hands were on your face, and your lower back was pressed against a side table as he finally found you one day. Friedrich looked as distinguished as always, but his eyes…something about those eyes gave way to the disarray within him. His thumb brushed the corner of your mouth, and there was a pout on his own lips as he ran his eyes along your face.

“I have written to you,” he forced out.

“...and I have asked you not to.”

The man before you swallowed at that, and his fingers pressed harder into your skin.

“Have you read them?” he finally asked, and your resolute silence must have been answer enough because you did not miss the way his eyes dimmed and his face fell.

Friedrich was normally so composed and dignified, so to see him in such a way was not only fascinating…but also terrifying. A once predictable man had become anything but, and you did not know what to expect from him.

“Has your heart truly grown so cold towards me?” he murmured, a plea in his gaze, and you felt compelled to be truthful in your answer.

“No,” you whispered. “...but I know what I want, and you cannot give it to me, so why go on pretending otherwise?”

You wrestled yourself from his grip with difficulty, and when Friedrich reached out to you, you stepped away, his fingers grazing the fabric of your dress as you did so.

“If you ignore my wishes again…” you took a deep, shuddering breath. “...I fear that you might never find me should you seek me out.”

You did not miss his stricken gaze as you left him, and despite what you wanted, it still hurt to see. You loved working for the Hutters, and perhaps you shared some blame in getting involved with a man who was so closely intertwined with them, but Friedrich had become an overbearing presence that would force you to find employment elsewhere if need be. He did not respect any boundary you attempted to put in place, and that made you feel terrified in a place you once felt so safe in.

He consumed your every waking thought—and not in a way that was pleasing—and perhaps that was why you found yourself touching the pile of letters you swore you would never open. But open them you did, one by one, and each letter grew more worrying than the last. The first was mild in comparison, mostly filled with declarations of desire to be near you and the odd jest here and there about what he had wrongly assumed was some temporary break.

Each one after talked less and less about love and any other gentle feelings and more about the need to never be without you and the ramblings of a man whose thoughts were far from coherent. Words like ‘consume’ and ‘torture’ and ‘despair’ stood out the most, and as you read every one, you had not even realized that you had begun to tremble. The parchment in your hands was shaking, and the cold that gripped you had nothing to do with the weather outside.

So much of what he had written was not all that different from the things Friedrich would whisper in your ear in the dead of night when he was pinning you beneath him and gently biting your flesh and parting your legs to make room for him. So many things that he would say in passionate moments were not at all anything you ever thought to take to heart. After all, how could you possibly expect to believe that he would never want to be away from you when he told you in no uncertain terms that he would never marry you?

For days those letters haunted you, and you struggled with how best to proceed. You did not relish the thought of leaving, but Friedrich—while a well respected gentleman—was a man who often and almost always got what he wanted. You did not know if the hold he wanted to have over you was because he truly loved you or because he felt that being your first meant something more or because…you were simply denying him something he wanted.

All scenarios scared you, and while you were fretting over the unnerving words that never left your thoughts, a storm ravaged your coastal town.

A storm that stranded Herr Harding under the same roof where you laid your head.

Some part of you expected him to give into his temptations.

“I do not know if you think me fickle or you just do not take anything I say seriously…”

You quietly trailed off, shaking your head and moving away from him as the heavy rain pelted against your window. The bad weather kept the rest of the house unaware of the argument going on beneath their very roof.

“...but I told you-.”

“Where do you think you can go that I will not follow?”

His words stumped you, and a flash of lightning brightened the room for a moment before it was bathed in the warm glow from your candles once again. His bright eyes stood out in the low lighting, but you swore that the more you stared into them, the darker they grew. The silence between you was thick with tension, and you felt your throat tighten at the predicament you found yourself in.

“Friedrich,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. “Please…”

“You break my heart, and you are the one begging?”

When he moved closer, you stood your ground despite your fear.

“Your heart?” you gasped. “You tell me that you will never marry me, and you do not think that broke mine? That day after day of being with you while knowing that did not continue to do so?”

You watched as he pressed his lips together, jaw clenching at your words.

“Friedrich…you must marry…and you have no intention of making me your bride. Are you telling me that the respectable and honorable Herr Harding had it in mind to keep me on as some shameful mistress? Hardly more than some whore?”

Your tone was thick with incredulity, and the dark-haired man had no response, only looking away with a huff.

“Or did you simply never think that far?”

“That day is nowhere along the horizon-.”

“Of course, you did not think that far,” you sighed, interrupting. “You are a man. There is no such thing as ‘ruin’ for you. Of course, you do not care.”

“Never speak such things,” he spat, cornering you. “Of course, I care.”

“You care, and yet you have never concerned yourself with what will become of me after you have taken a wife. You care, but you ignore my every wish to be free of you, to move on from you…”

“...because I cannot-.”

He cut himself off, hands placed on your cheeks as he stared at you.

“...because I cannot bear the thought,” he eventually said, pushing the words out through his teeth. “The mere thought of you with another tempts me to do unspeakable things.”

Those words caused a shudder to crawl down your spine, not unfamiliar with them as you recalled reading those exact words on a piece of parchment. His thumbs brushed along your skin, and when he moved closer, your stomach twisted into knots.

“Do you even grasp the insanity that would send me into?”

“Does that seem fair to you? That you must move on one day while I remain here right where you would prefer me?”

“I will never be able to move on from you, what about that do you not understand?”

You looked away from him, and Friedrich touched the tip of his nose to your temple, breathing you in.

“You speak of things that simply make no sense, Friedrich. It seems that I am the one who has to be reasonable yet again…”

“...and how do you plan on doing that? By leaving?”

The silence was loud, and you stumbled out from between him and the wall the moment his hands trailed further down to your shoulder and arm. He softly called your name as you turned your back to him, twice, then a bit louder on the third time.

“I will not allow it,” he harshly whispered, a hand circling your wrist. “Surely, you know that.”

His other hand dug into your waist, pulling you against him.

“I saw the letters on your bed table,” he whispered, voice shaking. “I know you read them. I know that you know what you mean to me.”

“Let go of me,” you breathed.

“That will only happen if you manage to make me,” was his mocking response, and your heart skipped a beat at his words. “If I leave you tonight, I worry that I shall never hold you again.”

His soft lips swallowed whatever you were going to say, and as you went to push him away, he pinned your arm between you.

“I refuse to be without you,” he murmured into the kiss, one hand firm on the small of your back and preventing you from getting away.

Wind whipped rain and leaves against the window, and the thunder carefully hid your fearful yelp as his lips trailed down your jaw and to your neck. His facial hair brushed against your skin, and you shuddered from the familiarity of it. Every attempt to break free from him was thwarted, and you had half a mind to wake the entire house, but you feared the consequences for you should the discovery of such a scene get out.

The man before you would go on fine as if nothing happened.

You, on the other hand, would be lucky to find another decent place of employment…let alone a husband.

Friedrich was unlike anything you had ever experienced, acting so unlike himself as he forced you to go and move in whatever direction he wished. Your panic only began to set in when you found yourself on your bed, a place that had seen your coupling numerous times, but tonight would be different.

Nothing about tonight would be loving.

The sound of ripping fabric made your heart jump, and when Friedrich’s lips wrapped around one of your breasts, you could not hold in your gasp. His other hand slid between your thighs as it had a hundred times, and every push against his chest was useless. You were focused on too much at once—trying to get his lips off of you and his fingers out of you.

When he curved them into you and circled his tongue on your skin, you faltered.

What followed played out just as you expected it to.

The strong man—whose strength you had once admired—was not deterred at all by any hit or scratch or punch you gave him. He murmured many things against your skin as he released himself, pinning your writing frame between him and your bed. Some of it was loving words that you were not at all unfamiliar with, and some of it was reminiscent of the more unnerving things he had put into his writing to you.

“I told you that I cannot resist you,” he whispered, slowly thrusting into you in the way he knew you liked.

It made your stomach churn, now.

“Every time I am inside of you, you bear witness to every confession I make…”

His fingers threaded through your own against your will, pinning your hand to the bed as he held it. His lips pressed opened mouthed kisses against the expanse of your neck, your tearful gaze on the ceiling as your lashes fluttered. Every time he sank into you, your stomach tightened.

He kissed you again, forcing you to move your mouth against his as he tasted the inside of yours. Your free hand unconsciously trailed along his arm, forgetting for a brief moment that this was not like all the other times you snuck away or was lowered onto his bed. Friedrich kisses you intensely, his hips moving against yours with the same intensity, and it made your toes curl.

“Tell me that you shall never leave me,” he gently demanded.

When you could not give him the answer he wanted, his gaze met your tearful one. If there was any guilt within him for his actions then it was not present in his eyes at all. Those blue eyes of his shone like you suspected yours did, the candlelight reflecting in his tearful gaze.

“Must I make it so that you never can…?”

The ominous nature of his words were not lost on you, and a million different scenarios filled your mind.

“You speak of ruin, now…but I imagine that whisperings of the true nature of our relationship would really ruin you…”

Your wide eyes did not look away from his, and you wondered if he was even capable of what he was saying. Friedrich would not—he was a good and honorable man—and even he did not look like he believed himself capable of what he was threatening. However, you remembered your current position and that a good and honorable man would never put you in such a place. His train of thought seemed to be on the same track as yours, and you watched as he mentally resolved himself to whatever he had to in order to keep you.

“Perhaps a delicate condition…”

You dug your nails into his skin, a few tears spilling over, and for the first time in months, you saw uncertainty in his gaze.

“Friedrich…you wouldn’t…”

He swallowed, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your still lips.

“Then do not make me…”

Your lips trembled as he lifted his head and brushed his fingers over your mouth, a deep frown on his handsome face.

“I refuse to be without you,” he choked out. “You have already driven me to the lowest of moral character.”

You flinched as if he had slapped you, and he wiped a few tears away.

“Do not make me sink so low again, I beg you,” he breathed, pressing his face into the crook of your neck.

He remained there and circled his arms around you as he continued to gently sink his cock into you, and too afraid to say anything but what he wanted to hear, you hesitantly nodded.

“Okay,” you shakily whispered. “I shall never leave you.”

The only response you got was a passionate kiss.

#friedrich harding #friedrich harding x reader #nosferatu #nosferatu 2024 #aaron taylor johnson #dark fic

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luviestarz · 11 months ago

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park sunghoon fic recs!

✮ Cafeteria Confessions• PSH - @reinahwanggg (everyone thinks you're dating your childhood best friend sunghoon. well, everyone including sunghoon because he confessed to you almost a year ago and you didn't exactly know it was a confession because of how casually he said it.)

✮ NOONA — p. sunghoon smau - @hoonvrs (park sunghoon experienced love at first sight when he first laid eyes on his friends older sister. a series of sunghoon desperately trying to do anything in his power to get the girl and yang jungwon cockblocking him for funsies.)

✮ secret soft boy revealed | enhypen sunghoon - @elysianeclipxe (build-a-bear is a cliche and old thing that couple do. only lame people would go there to build a bear when it's obviously easier to just buy one.. so tell me why THE Park Sunghoon just so happens to be there, enjoying the fact that he's building a bear... whipped af)

✮ the 24-hour dating challenge - @jaeyunverse (being a famous youtuber isn’t easy, especially when you have to constantly come up with new ideas to keep your audience entertained. and this time, your viewers want you to date park sunghoon, your best friend of nearly a decade, for the entirety of 24 hours.)

✮ CITRUS IN THE MORNING. - @hannie-dul-set (lovestruck! sunghoon just being Very In Love)

✮ 박성훈 、SPOILED ROTTEN - @boyfhee (sunghoon is drunk and is trying to break into your room through the balcony.)

✮ 성훈 、PARK SUNGHOON ! - @sseastar (THE ONE WITH THINGS THAT BLUR THE LINE BETWEEN FRIENDSHIP AND MORE)

✮ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 — BED 박성훈 - @karinasbaby (your fiance, sunghoon insisted on a "mini honeymoon" before your wedding preparations took over your time, so how would your day go now that you're on an island thousands of miles away from home with sunghoon?)

✮ angel - @yenqa (sunghoon can’t seem to figure out if you’re human or an angel.)

✮ come on baby, don’t say that. / park sunghoon - @snghnlvr (you were curious whether or not your boyfriend was a possessive type so you tested it out.)

✮ ceo sunghoon who loves taking care of you because you're his ౨ৎ - @hottestvirgin

✮ sunghoon with a crush on you | smau - @woniecore

✮ scoring a date - @shuichi-sama (if someone had told you that after becoming your high school's volleyball team manager, you would capture the attention of it’s captain, park sunghoon, you wouldn’t have believe them. but as he charm’s his way to your heart, you just might. or in which, sunghoon attempts to woo-you, seem to be working in his favor.)

✮ we can’t be friends — [ 엔하이픈 성훈 ] genre ⋆ smut - @dearjaeyuns

✮ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ | psh. - @pshcomforts (you test sunghoon on his reaction to a girl hitting on him after finding one of those videos on tiktok.)

✮ 𝓜𝐒. & 𝐌𝐑. 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 ୨୧ 𝐏𝐒𝐇 - @jlheon (seeing your ex in public leads to hiding in a small photobooth with your annoying student council vice president park sunghoon)

✮ IMPATIENT. - @sainns (he had everything planned out but how's he supposed to wait when it comes to you?)

✮ MY WORLD — p.sunghoon - @ikeuverse (you're back and you owe Sunghoon an explanation for your departure, but it looks like it's going to be a bit tricky to get him to listen to you.)

✮ UNLUCKY GIRL SYNDROME ✦ PSH - @suneng (if it was possible to see the number of people who would fall in love with you over your lifetime, most people would agree to it in a heartbeat, but some might not. you don't get that choice, labelled by a mysterious system as someone destined to receive no love and threatened to fix this 'error' before it's too late. but who will be your saviour, the social pariah sunghoon, or the school's golden boy sim jaeyun?)

✮ park sunghoon — THE PUSSY EATING COMPETITION! - @karinasbaby (in which… jake convinces sunghoon to join a pussy eating competition with a bet !)

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sosa2imagines · 7 months ago

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My doll...

Disclaimer- Something my pervert brain thought about, I hope you all enjoy. Warning- Soft dark Bucky, smut, possessiveness, jealousy, 5.3k words.

Bucky Barnes had always been a man of few words. A soldier by nature, a soldier by habit. But it was something about you that had always made him feel like he was at a crossroads with himself, like his life could go one way or another depending on whether or not he could ever find the courage to speak up.

The first time he realized he was in love with you, it wasn’t a dramatic moment. There were no bells, no grand gestures. It wasn’t like he had a clear, defining thought of this is it. It was quieter than that. He was sitting next to you in the Avengers’ compound, watching you work on some new project you had thrown yourself into, fingers deftly moving over wires and circuits. Your brow furrowed in concentration, lips parted in that way that made him want to reach out and touch you.

He never had before, of course he was too afraid of ruining the friendship, too afraid of making things weird.

And that was how it had always been. Quiet. Unspoken.

But even with those feelings slowly building, Bucky stayed quiet. He watched you from the edges, from the safety of his distance, telling himself that if you ever really loved him, you’d say it first. He couldn’t risk the possibility of losing you altogether. So, he waited. And waited. And waited.

Tonight, was supposed to be like any other. A rare night off from their duties. No mission on the horizon, no danger lurking around every corner. The team wasn’t together, except for you. You suggested going to a bar nearby for a drink and a break from the constant grind of life in the compound. Bucky had decided, almost reluctantly, to say yes.

Bucky had, of course, known you cared. In all the small moments, like how you would always check in on him, ask him about his dreams or how he was really feeling. And the way your eyes lingered on him when you thought he wasn’t looking.

I know you love me, he thought. I know it.

But Bucky never had the nerve to say it out loud. And now, here he was, sitting across from you at the bar, staring into his glass of whiskey, wishing he could just reach out and touch your hand without the world falling apart around him.

He was far too aware of how close you were, and yet how far away you still seemed.

You were laughing, your voice light and full of life. You always seemed to shine brighter when you were in this mood, the weight of the world lifted, even if only for a moment. But Bucky could see the flickers of doubt in your eyes. Could see the way you kept looking over at him, waiting for something.

Maybe tonight was the night you’d say it. Maybe tonight you’d do what Bucky couldn’t bring himself to do.

But as he watched you, a strange feeling began to take hold. A spark of jealousy. It was a ridiculous thing, he knew. But it wasn’t about you. It wasn’t about the way you looked at other people—it was about the way you looked at him and didn’t say anything. Didn’t do anything.

It was then that a woman approached him.

Bucky didn’t want to be rude. He’d never been the type to just turn someone down, but when the woman slid onto the seat next to him, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him, he didn’t feel the usual discomfort. Instead, he felt an odd sense of power and control, maybe.

She was bold, confident. The way she laughed, the way she touched his arm, the way she spoke to him, it all felt like a challenge. A test. And before he could stop himself, he realized something. He wasn’t afraid of this woman. He wasn’t uncomfortable.

But you were.

He saw the way you stiffened in your seat, the way your smile faltered. You hadn’t said a word, but Bucky could tell, he knew. You were jealous.

And for some reason, that made his heart pound. A dark thought crept into his mind, ‘Maybe this is how it’ll happen. Maybe I can make you admit it. Maybe I can get you to finally say what we both know is true.’

The woman leaned in closer, her fingers brushing his. Her breath was warm against his ear as she whispered, “So, what do you say? Care to dance?”

Bucky glanced at you once more. You were still staring at him, but now, there was a mix of frustration and hurt in your eyes. His breath caught in his throat. He should stop this. He should turn away. But a dangerous impulse surged through him.

“Sure.” he said, standing up without another word, letting the woman take his hand and pull him toward the dance floor.

He could hear your breath hitch from across the room. He could feel your gaze burning and intense. But he didn’t break. Not yet.

They moved in close as the music shifted, her body pressed against his. It was all a game now, a game Bucky wasn’t sure he wanted to play but couldn’t help himself from continuing. Every move he made, every gesture, was designed to make you feel something. To make you feel what he had felt for so long ‘the ache.’ The longing. The desperate desire for something more.

But as they danced, his thoughts were on you. Only you. And all the ways he had hurt you without ever realizing it.

You were standing now, getting your things, heading for the door. And Bucky’s chest clenched as he realized something. He couldn’t let you go. Not like this. Not anymore.

“We are done!” he said to the woman, his voice sharp as he brushed past her, heading toward you.

The cool night air hit him as he caught up to you just outside the bar.

“Doll, wait,” he said, his voice catching in his throat. “Where are you going?”

You didn’t turn around, didn’t even slow down. “I’m going back to the compound, Bucky. I’m done.” Your voice was quiet, but it was laced with finality. “I’m done pretending. Done watching you with her.”

“I’m going back to the compound,” you repeated, your voice a little too calm, too controlled. “I need to clear my head. I think I’ll go check in with Steve.”

The moment the words left your mouth, you felt the shift in the air. Bucky froze.

You hadn’t expected it, Bucky was always so controlled, so guarded. But there was something in his eyes now. Something darker. The breath you’d taken in to steady yourself suddenly caught in your throat.

“Steve?” Bucky’s voice was low, tight with barely contained emotion. His grip on your wrist tightened, and you could see his jaw clench, the muscles beneath his skin rippling with barely restrained anger. “You’re going back to Steve?”

You nodded slowly, avoiding his gaze. You had no idea why, but you couldn’t meet his eyes right now. Maybe it was because you could feel his anger building, and it made you uneasy.

“Yeah,” you said, trying to sound indifferent, but even to your own ears, the words felt hollow. “I’ll be fine, Bucky. I just need some space.”

You tried to pull away, but his grip on your wrist tightened, pulling you back toward him. His eyes locked onto yours, and there was something in the depths of his gaze something primal that made your breath catch.

“Don’t lie to me,” he growled, his voice rough, his tone clipped. “You’re not going back to Steve. Never ever!”

His hand moved to your other wrist, and before you could protest, he spun you around, backing you up against the cold brick wall of the alley. You gasped at the suddenness of it, the sharp heat of his body pressing against you. The force of it left you breathless, but it wasn’t just the physical contact that left you feeling winded, it was the storm swirling in Bucky’s eyes.

“I don’t care about your games, doll,” Bucky continued, his voice now a dangerous whisper. “I don’t care if you’re trying to protect yourself or play it safe. You don’t get to walk away from this. Not after all these months. Not after I’ll final say what I should’ve said the first goddamn time I saw you.”

Your heart hammered in your chest as Bucky’s breath came faster now, his face inches from yours. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the anger and frustration practically crackling in the air between you. His hand was on the wall next to your head, caging you in, his body pressing into yours like he was trying to hold you there, to make you listen.

“Don’t you dare go back to Steve!” he snarled. “I know what you’re trying to do. I know what you’re hiding from. But don’t you dare tell me you’re choosing him. Not when we both know what’s between us.”

Your stomach twisted at his words, a jolt of panic rising up in your chest. You had to get away from him, from this. But somehow, the words felt wrong. He was right. Something had shifted tonight, everything had shifted tonight. And the more you tried to run from it, the more you realized that you were just as tangled up in it as he was.

You shook your head, trying to pull away from his grip. “Bucky, stop. Just stop.”

But he didn’t. His hand moved from the wall to your face, cupping your jaw with surprising gentleness. His thumb stroked over your skin, the touch almost tender despite the fury that was still burning in his eyes. It was like he was trying to hold on to you, trying to keep you from slipping away.

“I’ve spent months pretending I didn’t want you,” Bucky muttered, his voice low and raw. “I’ve spent months watching you with him, keeping my distance, telling myself it was enough just being close to you, just being around you. But it’s never been enough, Doll. It’s never been enough, and I can’t do it anymore.”

“I love you, Y/N. I’ve always loved you.”

Your breath caught in your throat. For a moment, neither of you moved. The world stood still.

You swallowed hard, fighting the surge of emotions that were building inside you, fighting the tears threatening to break free. You had never seen Bucky like this so raw, so vulnerable, so… angry. It terrified you, but in a way, it also made you realize just how deeply he cared for you. How much he had always cared for you.

His grip on your face tightened, but there was no anger in his eyes now, only something softer, something that made your heart beat even faster. “I don’t want to claim you, Doll. I want to have you. I want you to choose me.”

Before you could respond, Bucky’s lips crashed into yours again, desperate and urgent. It was no longer a question, no longer a plea. It was an answer. His hands slid to your back, pulling you into him with such force that you could feel his heart racing against yours.

The kiss was everything every unspoken word, every hidden desire, every emotion they had both kept buried for so long. Bucky was done hiding, done pretending, and as you kissed him back with equal fervor, you knew there was no going back from this.

“Don’t go back to him,” Bucky whispered against your lips, his voice thick with need. “I’m not letting you go.”

You didn’t know what to say. The words felt like they were stuck in your throat. You had always thought you’d have time to figure this out, but now that the truth was out there between you, out there between him, you knew that there was no more time for pretending. No more time for games.

You pressed closer to him, your hands threading through his hair as you kissed him again, and in that moment, you realized there was only one thing that truly mattered.

Bucky dragged you in the room at the backside of the bar.

Without warning, he pins you against the wall, his body pressing against yours. His hands cup your face, holding your gaze captive.

He presses himself closer, one thigh between your legs. His hands move from your face to your hips, gripping them firmly. His lips graze your ear as he speaks, his voice a low grumble. “I'm going to show you exactly how much I want you, right here, right now.”

His mouth closes on your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin. You feel his fingers slipping under the hem of your tee, tracing a path of fire along your waist. “I've wanted you for so long, you have no idea. Watching you, smelling your scent, feeling your touch... it's been driving me crazy.”

His lips move down the column of your throat, leaving a trail of hot kisses along the way. One of his hands moves up to cup your breast, his thumb gently circling your nipple through the thin fabric of your bra.

You let out a gasp, arching into his touch. Your body is responding to his every move, awakening a need you've kept buried for far too long. Bucky smiles against your skin, enjoying the way he's unraveling you piece by piece.

“You like that, don't you? Feeling my hands on you, my mouth on your skin.” He whispers in your ear before capturing your earlobe between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to send a shiver down your spine.

His other hand slides under your skirt, trailing up your thigh, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

Your breath hitches, your legs growing weak as Bucky's touch becomes more and more brazen.

He chuckles lowly, satisfied to see you coming undone under his hands. “You're so responsive... so sensitive. I love seeing you like this, completely at my mercy.”

He spins you around, pressing your front against the wall. You feel his weight press into your back, his hands roaming everywhere, claiming you as his own.

“I'm going to make you mine, here and now. There's no stopping this, no denying what's been boiling between us for so damn long.”

His lips find the nape of your neck, kissing and sucking on the soft skin. His free hand slides down your stomach, resting just at the waistband of your panties. The contact is almost too much, your mind reeling from the barrage of sensations.

“I want you so badly... Can I have you? Right here, right now?” He asks, his voice a deep, raspy whisper. He's poised on the edge, waiting for your answer, his body tense with anticipation.

You can't find the words to speak, too overwhelmed by the storm of emotions and sensations he's stirring within you. Instead, you respond by arching your back, pressing yourself against him, wordlessly signaling your consent.

Bucky lets out a guttural growl, the sound filling the air. He doesn't need anything more than that. His hands move with newfound urgency, peeling away the layers of fabric separating you from him.

He turns you around, his expression darkened with desire. He looks at you hungrily, taking in every inch of your exposed skin. His hands run up your sides, tracing the curves of your body, committing every detail to memory.

“You're so beautiful... So goddamn perfect.” His words are punctuated by small, lingering kisses along your collarbone, across your chest, down along your stomach. You're lost in the sensation, your body on fire under his touch.

He sinks to his knees in front of you, his lips continuing their exploration of your body. He kisses and nips at the tender skin of your inner thighs, teasing and tantalizing you with every touch.

“I want to taste you... I need to taste you...” He husks, his hands wrapping around your hips, pulling you closer. You can feel his breath on your core, hot and eager, making you shiver in anticipation.

His tongue darts out, tasting you lightly, just enough to send a rush of pleasure through you. You gasp, your fingers threading into his hair, holding him close. Bucky smiles against your flesh, enjoying how responsive you are to his ministrations.

He alternates between soft, almost chaste kisses and more firm, calculated licks. He's enjoying the taste of you, the sounds of your moans and gasps. His hands grip your thighs, holding you firm while his mouth works magic, making you moan obscenely.

“You taste so good... Better than I ever imagined.” He lifts his gaze, meeting your eyes. The raw hunger in his expression takes your breath away.

You want to speak, but your mind is a jumbles mess, unable to form a coherent word.

“You're driving me crazy, doll. I want to devour you, to make you mine in every way possible.”

And then he does. He dives in, his mouth devouring you in a frenzy of passion determined to bring you closer to the edge.

Your gasps turn into cries of pleasure, your body writhing under his skilful mouth. Bucky's hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he brings you closer to your climax.

The world seems to spin around you, your senses overwhelmed by the pleasure Bucky is giving you. He's relentless, pushing you higher and higher, determined to give you more than you ever dreamed of.

His tongue works relentlessly, applying just the right amount of pressure to drive you wild. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, nails biting into his flesh, anchoring you on the ground.

Just as your were about to come, Bucky suddenly pulls away, his breath ragged, his eyes dark with desire. He climbs to his feet, pinning you against the wall once again

“I need to be inside you... Now.”

He's barely able to get the words out, his voice thick with need. He captures your mouth in a fierce kiss, his hands already pushing your skirt up around your waist.

His body presses against yours, the hard length of him rubbing against your core. You can feel the heat and strength of him, the evidence of his desire poking you.

“I need you, need this... I need you now..” He repeats the words like a mantra, his lips trailing along your jaw, your neck, your ear.

He pulls you around, turning you to face the wall once again. You feel the cool surface against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat of his body behind you.

“I'm not going to be gentle.” He warns, his hands gripping your hips, pulling them back against him.

You feel him against you, hard and eager, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His hips move against yours, and you can feel just how much he wants you, how badly he needs you.

“Can you take it? Can you handle me like this?” He asks, one hand traveling up your spine, his fingers tracing the line of your vertebrae. His touch is demanding, possessive, but somehow still tender, as if he's afraid he'll hurt you.

You manage to nod, too far gone with pleasure to form words. Bucky lets out a low, satisfied sound, his mouth nipping at your shoulder as his hand slides around to your front.

He cups your breast, his thumb grazing over your nipple, teasing and provoking.

“I'm going to take you, right here, just like this.” He growls, his hips pressing against yours.

You can feel him against you, his body poised and ready, the tip of his cock, teasing your entrance. “Are you ready for me?” He asks, his lips against your ear, his breath hot and urgent.

You can only manage a small, breathless moan in response, your body yearning for him to take you, to make you his own.

“I need to hear you say it. Tell me you want me... That you need me...” His words are a needy, almost desperate plea, his self-control hanging by a thread.

You find your voice, forcing the words out despite the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. “I want you... I need you... Please...”

“That's all I needed to hear.” The words are a rough, guttural grunt, the last vestiges of his restraint snapping. He positions himself behind you, the head of him rubbing against your entrance.

His hands grip your hips again, holding you in place. He's so close, so very close... But still, he waits, wanting to make sure you're ready for the next step.

“Just tell me if it's too much, okay? If I go too far, I want to know.” He whispers the words, his voice betraying a hint of vulnerability, a hint of doubt, despite the powerful, animalistic way he's holding you.

You nod, your body thrumming with anticipation. You trust him, trust him not to hurt you, and that trust makes all the difference. You push back against him, signaling your readiness in the most primal way possible.

He lets out a low, gravelly moan, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. He needs this as much as you do, maybe even more. “God, I can't wait any longer...”

He pushes forward, slowly, carefully. He's being as gentle as he can be, wanting to give you time to adjust to the intrusion. But it's torture for him, the heat, the tightness, the way you're clenching and squeezing him, enveloping him in a way he's never felt before.

“You're so damn tight... So perfect...” He groans the words, his body moving involuntarily, the pleasure too much to resist. His hands grip your hips tighter, his mouth trailing kisses along your back, your shoulders, your neck. He can't get enough of you, his body moving in a rhythm that's old as time itself.

“You feel so good. I never knew it could be like this.” He mutters the words against your skin, his voice thick with ecstasy.

He picks up the pace, his body moving more urgently now, following the pull of pleasure that's driving him onward. His hands are everywhere, caressing and touching, worshiping every inch of you like a man possessed.

“I could stay inside you forever. I never want to let you go.” He murmurs the words into your ear, his voice ragged and broken. He's lost in the moment, in the pleasure, in you.

You reach a hand back, tangling your fingers into his hair, holding onto him like an anchor in the storm. All the rights and wrongs, thrown out of the window.

“Don't let go... Don't ever let go.” He whispers, his lips finding your neck, the skin there already tender from his earlier attentions. His movements become rougher, more frenzied, as if he's desperate to get even closer to you, to merge himself with you in every way possible.

“I need you... I need you so damn much...” The words are a broken chant, gasped into your ear, his breath hot and ragged against your skin.

He's moving even faster now, the sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the air, the only break in the silence apart from your moans and gasps. The pleasure is building, growing stronger and stronger with every thrust, threatening to consume you both. You can feel yourself close to the edge, teetering on the very precipice of ecstasy. Bucky knows it too, he can sense it, sense the mounting tension in your body.

“You're close... I can feel it. I'm so close...” He growls the words, his voice tight with the effort to hold back, to keep control for just a little while longer.

“I want to hear you say it... I want you to let go... Tell me you're mine.” His voice is harsh and ragged, his body trembling with the effort of holding back his release.

You struggle to find the words, to form a coherent thought amidst the haze of pleasure. “Y-yours.. I'm... Yours...”

The words send a wave of pleasure through Bucky, his hips twitching involuntarily at the sound of your surrender. “Say it again... I need to hear it again…”

“Yours... I'm yours, Bucky... All yours...” You gasp the words, your voice quivering with the force of your ecstasy.

That's all it takes. Your surrender, your declaration of ownership, it breaks the dam that's been holding him back. “Mine... You're mine... All mine...” He repeats the words like a mantra, his body moving with a new fervor, a new intensity.

“Steve won’t take care of you like I can.” He thrust, “All I have to do is…” he hits you with another powerful thrust, messing up with your senses. “Make a sad face and remind him of my past!” He hits another powerful thrust, and the voice you make is between a cry and a moan. “He will happily give you to me!”

He buries his face in your neck, his lips finding that sensitive spot just below your ear. When he speaks again, his voice is a possessive, guttural growl, thick with desire. “And don't you ever forget it.”

His lips find yours again, claiming your mouth in a kiss that's hard and demanding. He's drowning in you, in this moment, the world around you reduced to nothing but the heat and the friction and the pleasure.

He's close, so close, but he won't give in, won't let go until he's brought you to your release, until he's given you everything he can give.

“Come for me, doll... Let go... Give yourself to me... I want to feel it, feel you...” His words are a rough, ragged plea, a demand made out of pure need. He's holding back, waiting for you to reach your peak, his body taut and trembling with the effort to hold back his own pleasure.

You can feel yourself teetering on the edge, balanced between light and dark, pleasure and pain, sanity and madness.

“Let go... Just let go... I've got you...” The words, the promise, they're enough to push you over the edge. You shatter, your body arching against his, a cry of ecstasy tears from your lungs. The world spins around you, your release crashing through you like a tsunami, leaving you breathless and trembling.

Bucky's there, holding you against him, his arms wrapping around, holding you up, keeping you from collapse. He's still hard inside you, so close to his own climax.

“God, you're so perfect... I've never experienced anything like this before...” His voice is gruff and broken, his breath hot against your neck as he pulls you flush against him. He lets out a low, guttural moan, his body trembling with need and restraint. “I need you.... I need to let go... you will let me come in you, won’t you? You will be a good girl for me, right doll?”

You nod, your body still thrumming with pleasure as you push back against him, signaling your absent-minded consent.

“You're going to be the death of me, woman...” His words are a rough whisper, a promise and a threat all at once. His grip tightens around you, his body tense and coiled like a spring. “Just a little more... just a little longer... I need to give you everything...”

He buries his face in your hair, his breath coming in jagged pants now, his body taut and trembling with the effort to hold back just a little longer.

“Almost there.... almost... I'm so close...” The words are a ragged gasp.

He let out a low, guttural groan, his body tensing against yours, his arms pulling you tight against him. “God, I... I can't... I'm...” he doesn't finish the sentence. Instead, he buries his face in your hair, muffling his moan against your shoulder as his body tightens and spasms, his release washing over him like a tide, powerful and consuming.

He holds you close as he comes down, his body trembling with the aftershocks, his breath warm against your skin. “God... that was... incredible...” The words are a rough whisper, his voice thick with emotion. He presses a tender kiss to your shoulder, his lips lingering against your skin, as if he can't bear to let you go for even a moment.

He tightens his arms around you, pulling you flush against him, as if he can't bear to have you any further than an inch away from him. “You're amazing, you know that?”

He nuzzles your neck, his lips leaving tender kisses along the sensitive skin there. He's so gentle, so different from the rough, desperate man who'd been consumed by need a few moments ago. As he sees his release dripping from between your legs, his eyes darken, making him feel more possessive about you.

“Mine...” He mutters the word against your skin, his voice thick with possessiveness. He knows it's probably a bit irrational, but he can't help it. He needs to express his claim over you, his desire to protect and own you in every way imaginable.

He then moves his fingers on your thigh, collecting some of his release on his fingers, bringing them closer to your mouth, a silent order.

You know what he wants, what he's demanding, even if he doesn't say the words aloud. Your eyes meet his, holding his gaze, as you slowly bring your hand up to wrap around his wrist, drawing his fingers into your mouth.

“Good girl…” He murmurs the words as he watches you, his eyes darkened by a possessive, primal need. He loves how submissive you are in this moment, how willing and eager you are to please him.

He holds your chin, his fingers tracing the outline of your lips, feeling the glide of his own release against them. “You have no idea what you do to me, doll. You make me lose all control. And I love it…”

He leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that's equal parts tender and possessive. He can taste himself on your lips, and the thought just makes him want you more, more fiercely than before.

He pulls back enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath coming faster now, his body stirring once more. “I swear, doll, you're going to be the death of me...”

He captures your lips again, kissing you deeply, his tongue delving into your mouth, tasting you, claiming you, marking you as his in every way he can think of.

Little do you know, about the real possessiveness he feels about you. Bucky is already planning to take you far away from everyone. To keep you all to himself. While you are already lost in the kiss and afterglow of the sex, Bucky is already planning about the future.

He kisses you again, with a fierce intensity, his hands roaming over your body, as if he's trying to memorize every inch of you. He's thinking of all the ways he wants to have you, all the ways he wants to make you his. He's already made up his mind. You're not just a passing fancy, or a distraction. You're his now, and he's not going to let you go. Not ever.

He then sits on the couch with you, while you rest in his arms, he picks out his phone preparing to take you away. He types out a quick message, his hands still caressing your skin, his eyes never leaving your face.

He's arranging for a secure location, somewhere remote, somewhere he can keep you safe and, more importantly, all to himself.

“My doll.”

Taglist- @imyourbratzdoll @blackhawkfanatic @ordelixx @sapphirebarnes @ilovetaquitosmmmm

@differenttyphoonwerewolf @vicmc624 @thezombieprostitute @nekoannie-chan

@mrvl-addict @mercurial-chuckles

@emerald-writes @caplanbuckybarnes

@redbloodedgurl @cjand10 @chemtrails-club @slutforchrisjamalevans @gracescor3

@ghostlythinggoingaround @princezzjasmine @3xclusivemariii @ephemeral-oasis @zuri-767-666

@geeky-politics-46 @dexter99 @calwitch

@caplanreblogsfics @winterslove1917

@pono-pura-vida @renegadesgirl1991 @iwudbutnah @ghalouha @sebastians-love @saranghaey @greatmistakes @baw1066

@bucks-babe @lolzies123r @kandis-mom @purplecolordeer @avioletkurt

@unaxv @pattiemac1 @lovely-geek @hzdhrtss

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aceecee · 12 days ago

Text

Miseria - Zayne

Synopsis: Six different timelines. In each one you find yourself taking over the life of an extra in the game you had been so smitten with. In each life you’re different, whether it’s a different job, or where you live and even your personality. But only one thing remains constant, you’re determined to avoid them. You’re not in the body of the MC so it’s not like they’ll even notice. Right?

You really shouldn’t have underestimated them.

Alternatively: Local handsome doctor man will keep you locked up!

MC | Caleb | Sylus | Xavier | Rafayel

TW/Tags: MDNI, yandere Zayne, obsession, possessive behaviour, adultery/infidelity (not by reader or Zayne), divorce (reader’s backstory), misogyny, reader used to be a housewife (which I don’t shit on just how they’re taken advantage of), heartbreak, rejection, unrequited love (x2 for Zayne), manipulation, stockholm syndrome (?), dub-con, power dynamics (he’s your superior), workplace relationships, friendship breakups, implied non-consensual pregnancy, birthcontrol tampering, implied forced marriage, stalking (not just by Zayne), break ins, attempted rape (but nothing happens and not by Zayne), trauma bond (idk if it’s the right word), sexual content ( m!masturbation, p in v, semi-public sex, office sex, creampie), probably incorrect medical info and incorrect understanding on how hospitals work since author just searched shit up, fake dating, police bashing, violence, dead dove do not eat

WC: 12.2K

Masterlist

Disclaimer: This is a yandere work. The character's personalities have become dramatised as a result. This is not what I think of them at all even as yanderes, it's just for pure indulgence. MC in the boys chapters is not the same one in her's, she's just generic but she will always be a friend. This is not a safe space for MC haters. If you don't like any of this then don't read.

Zayne is very out of character in this. I cannot emphasise this enough.

Three weeks.

It has been three weeks since you went to bed and woke up the next day inside a fucking game.

Not just any game, the one that had been your comfort when things would get too much. Maybe it was childish or pathetic to rely on fictional men, but then they shouldn’t have been written so beautifully. Their muscles also helped.

The surgeon had quickly wormed his way into your heart and your wallet. You had collected every single memory of his, all his outfits and were well on your way to reaching the highest infinity with him. But one regret stood in your way. When his second myth had been released, your finances weren’t the best so with great control, you didn’t pull. Instead you waited over a year for a re-run. You watched with joy as you got the first memory within twenty pulls. The guarantee resets. Sixty more left.

You worked hard to save up for sixty pulls. It was Sunday, the last day before the banner would end. There are two hours left. You have a fifty-fifty chance. With a gulp, you pull until ten pulls are left. This is it. Sweat runs down your face, you tap your phone. The screen goes gold. It’s too soon to cheer. You quickly tap through all the three stars until your screen blanks. With bated breath, you await for the animation.

It’s green.

You scream as Caleb pops up.

Now you have to wait another year.

With no other choice, you go to sleep and no you’re not crying when you do (you totally are).

Only to wake up in someone else’s bed. You stumble around in a panic, have all those mafia romance books come back to bite you in the ass? They were just a guilty pleasure! You do not want a tall man covered in tattoos named ‘Sergio’ calling you kitten or doll, you cringe just thinking about it.

But then you come across a photo on a desk. It’s of you and an old woman you’ve never met. Oddly enough she looks a lot like you…

That’s when they hit. Not in a gentle way like a mother’s touch caressing as you fall asleep but like you’ve been fucked in the ass by a chainsaw.

Too many memories for you to count. All of you in another life, in this life. The you in these memories laughs the way you do, she moves just like you, it’s clear you’re one and the same. The only difference you can see are the lives you’ve led and the way they’ve shaped you. She’s more…of a pushover and as you live through her memories, she’s been taken advantage of way too many times because of it.

Your original life wasn’t hard, you just had to be independent from a young age and advocating for yourself comes with that because no one else will. You’re too out of it now but later you notice the decay in her apartment, the lack of anything nice and the brutal ache in her chest that has you clawing at the skin desperate to rip your heart out so the suffering can end. All of it is a result of her inability to wish and seek better for herself.

Maybe if she had been a bit like you in that regard, then this wouldn’t be her ending. Thrown away by the one who claimed to love her and abandoned by everyone else.

Your first day is spent in a state of disarray.

The constant barrage of memories leave your head feeling like it’s about to explode. It’s exhausting for your body and mind, you’re oddly dehydrated after. All you can do is lay back down on the bed and sleep.

The second day is spent in a state of anger.

You’ve had time to process her life and you’ve come to one conclusion. Every single person in her (your?) life deserves the pear of anguish. That photo of you with the woman? Smashed into pieces. Not even your own mother was on your side. The ring still on her finger? Gently placed to the side because it’ll fetch a lot of money. You might be angry but you’re not a fool.

The rest of the weeks are spent trying to fix her mistakes.

Your other self was for a lack of better word, brilliant. You feel sick at what she’s been reduced to.

It’s a story you’ve seen countless times: a genius woman meets a man who’s insecure about her brilliance so he manipulates her until she no longer believes in herself and settles for a lifetime as a housewife. And look where that got her.

Discarded. Like. Fucking. Trash.

Her fucking pathetic excuse for a husband gaslit her into accepting the most diabolic pre-nup you’ve ever seen. She was left with nothing in the end, not even the clothes, jewellery or gifts he had bought for her. It’s surprising he still let her keep the ring.

It wasn’t even like her marriage had anything good about it, a cheating scumbag for a husband whose mother hated her. Mrs Choi never failed to remind your other self that you weren’t good enough, born from a poor family and no greater education (like her own son didn’t put a stop to it).

After you throw a pity party for yourself, you spend the week applying to as many jobs as you can. One gets back, a little cashier job in a small grocery mart. The pay isn’t much but it’ll cover your bills and you get a discount. It’ll do for now. It’s hard starting all over again but you’ll work hard to save and go back to school. You’ll do it for your other self, give her the ending she deserved.

But if you do ever come face to face with her, you’ll also give her a slap.

It’ll be a wake up call and also because it’ll be therapeutic for you, you can’t even enjoy the fact that you’re in your favourite game. You’ve been thrust into the deep end when you’ve only just put on the swimwear.

There are no words to describe the realisation that you’re not in the body of the MC but a random background character, one who doesn’t even live in Linkon. It’s like whoever brought you here is telling you not to get your hopes up.

So, you don’t. You accept this is your life now. Maybe you’ll visit Linkon in the future and watch them from the sidelines or maybe you won’t.

That’s how three weeks go by.

In the fourth week, you’re interrupted by your plans to sleep and sleep by your doorbell ringing. A familiar grouchy face filled with wrinkles stares back at you.

“Well?” she demands. “Are you going to invite me in or stand there gawking?”

When you don’t respond, Mrs Choi makes her own way in. She stops and examines your place, her vintage and designer clothing contrasting heavily with the cheap furniture.

“Tch.”

Tch?

TCH???

This fucking b-

“It’s your son’s fault I’m living like this. Go judge him,” you snap. Her eyes widen a little before a smirk settles onto her face. “Finally grew claws?” She doesn’t wait for an answer and makes herself at home on your couch.

“And that’s exactly what I was doing. I was judging him,” she rests her hands on the handle of her cane. “Do sit down, we have a lot to discuss.”

Interested in the direction this conversation was going, you do as she says. Though, a part of you is pissed she’s commanding you in your own home, however disgusting it may be.

“What could we possibly have to discuss?”

“For starters, I’ve never approved of you marrying my son.”

You let out a cold laugh, she doesn’t even blink. “No shit.”

“Because you deserved better.”

Your jaw hangs open.

“I saw it from the start, when he began courting you. You were brilliant and meant for more and he knew. He couldn’t stand it because he’s just like his father,” she looks to the side, shaking her head. “That boy…I tried so hard to teach him better but I failed. I begged him to end the relationship, begged him to leave you alone but he didn’t listen. Then when you got married all I could do was treat you horribly in the childish hopes you would leave on your own,” she looks straight into your eyes, a forlorn expression on her face. “But he had dug too deep into you and you were willing to deal with it. For him. You reminded me so much of myself, I suppose that’s why I was trying so hard to help. Well…in my own way.”

Sitting there on your stained couch, Mrs Choi who had once felt so big when in front of you, was suddenly so small. “It was already too late for me when I began to recognise the cage I built for myself but I’m glad it’s not for you,” that’s when she gives you a smile. The only genuine one you’ve ever seen. How did you not see it before? The anguish in her eyes, the metaphoric stone wall she covered herself in for protection.

This could’ve been your future.

But thank fuck it’s not.

She must’ve seen the relief in your eyes because a small smile makes its way on her face. “But that’s also not the reason I’m here,” she reaches into her purse, pulling out a white envelope. “Here. It’s not even close to the amount you deserve for all the years you put up with my son, for all of your labour he exploited but it should be enough for a new life.”

You open the seal, delicately since you’re not sure what’s in it. Your eyes widen at the amount listed on the account. “The account is in your name and only you have access to it.”

“B-but why…?” You stare at her.

“If I can help just one woman from a fate like mine then I’ll be content.”

“...”

“But there’s one condition.”

You bring the paper in front of you down, replacing it with her face which is looking at you.

“Go back to medical school, [Name]. One far from here. There’s a prestigious one in Linkon city where I have a friend on the board. He’s willing to offer a scholarship, especially after I showed him your unfinished thesis.”

“How did you even find that?”

“I have my ways. Of course, you’ll have to finish that thesis during your time. I suggest packing up and leaving as soon as you can.”

And you do.

The first thing was calling the number she had left, a Mr Xenly answered. He had been eager to talk, asking questions about your thesis and expressed disappointment about it not being finished. You talk over video, he’s bright and cheerful which makes your nerves calm down. Your placement for next year is confirmed and for the rest of the week, the elation you feel never comes down.

Packing up everything you owned was easy. Too easy. It hurt a little to see firsthand how little you own, how little you were left with. It infuriates you how easy it's become to brush off the hurt, the pain, the sting from betrayal. But this is a fresh start, it’s time to leave it all behind.

Mr Xenly is kind enough to find a small and cheap apartment off campus for you, the pictures you received don’t do it justice. It’s small, practically a studio but compared to what you had before, it’s paradise. You have too much money on your hands now, so you reward yourself by sprucing up the place. Comfy blanket throws, cute cushion covers, aesthetic decorations are all over the apartment by the end of the week.

It’s yours and it’s perfect.

Medical school is hard. Which everyone knows but you were still not prepared for how difficult it can be. You have your other self’s intelligence to back you up but you still struggle. Part of you is happy to be challenged so much.

Currently you’re sitting in the lecture hall, listening to your professor drone on. It’s taking everything to not let the boredom win, keeping your eyes open as long as you can. A nudge to your shoulder wakes you up again. You turn to the assailant, it’s Leo. He smirks at your annoyed expression and mouths “focus” at you. With a glare you do as he says.

You met this menace on your first day here, you stuck out amongst the students since you were older and that’s how you got his attention. Unfortunately, he’s never left you alone since then and you have no idea how you’ve made it three years dealing with him.

The lecture thankfully ends ten minutes later but not before the professor reminds you of the special guest lecturer coming in next week. You roll your eyes at the reminder, they’ve been talking about it for weeks, it would be hard not to come across it.

Next week arrives faster than you would’ve thought. It’s on a random Tuesday when your world once again tilts on its axis. You had no idea back then, the chain of events that would happen after.

Leo as usual is waiting for you, quick to throw his arm around your shoulders and usher you in. There’s an exciting buzz in the air, the students are looking forward to something. Or someone.

That’s when you see him, standing tall in pants and a warm shirt. His hair rivals even the darkest obsidian and his eyes…

They are so striking that even you halt a little in the doorway and Leo, completely unaware, ends up pushing you to a seat.

The other students swoon over him and you can’t blame them. While the class settles down and he sets up to prepare, you take the time to watch him again.

You wait for the butterflies but you feel…nothing. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted in a man but your heart doesn’t race, you don’t sweat and you don’t even feel nervous when his gaze meets yours in the crowd.

Did his eyes linger or are you just being delusional?

He starts the lecture, not looking at you again.

Yup, delusional.

You don’t have time to be disappointed in your lack of feelings as you get swept up in his lecture. He’s a genius, the way he weaves his words and presents them have you hanging off the edge of your seat. His findings are revolutionary. This is the man you want to work under, the one you want as a mentor. He’s the only one capable of sending you to great heights.

If only you realised the opposite of that can also be true.

It’s the most you’ve ever seen your class participate, they’re silent as they listen to every word and so many hands are up in the air, each with their own questions. Just like that, three hours pass.

After the lecture is over, you find yourself in a café on campus. Leo is gone to his job so you have plenty of time before you meet again. There's a restaurant that just opened. He wants to take you and you’re always open to trying new food. The cappuccino is a small comfort in your hands, a little defence against the harsh cold.

“Hello.”

The coffee goes all over the table and your clothes as you shriek from the sudden presence and familiar voice. Your hands work fast to use napkins to clean the mess up. Another pair of hands join you. ��I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you hadn’t noticed me,” his melodic voice rings out. “It’s fine, Dr Li. I should’ve been more alert.”

He joins you at the table, all of the coffee has been cleaned up and your clothes can’t be helped. “Please, call me Zayne. I’m not working right now.”

“Okay, Zayne,” you nod.

“Mr Xenly shared your thesis with me. It’s not often he’s so impressed. I was curious to meet the person who had such astonishing results,” he looks you deep in the eyes as he says. The praise out of his mouth on your first meeting leaves you flustered. You might not feel anything for the man but he’s still the man you had once been so smitten with, he still carries with him all his little quirks that you were so taken with. “Your theories on solutions to combat antibiotic resistance leave much to be desired. Like many have already told you, I look forward to when you finish it.”

“Thank you Dr-I mean Zayne. It means a lot coming from you.”

He offers you a gentle smile and takes his leave but not before adding one last thing. “Akso Hospital would be lucky to have you, if you’re considering it for your residency.”

To be honest, you weren’t considering it. You didn’t want to experience his love story with her, you had no desire to see it play out right in front of you but things have changed now. You feel nothing for him, it doesn’t even sting to think of them together so why should you give up the option of working alongside one of the best surgeons designed for this world?

You nod. “I’ll consider it.”

And you don’t see him again after that. Not as you graduate, not as you finish your thesis and not even on your first day at Akso.

Leo follows you to Akso, his interest has always been in paediatrics but you still haven’t made up your mind which makes you glad that you’re expected to rotate around the departments and assist in every single area.

Your first two years will be spent in this rotation, the first as an intern and the second as a resident. When they are over you’ll be able to choose your specialised area. Akso is known for its cardiology and general surgery department, maybe you’ll wind up in one of those.

You meet him again in the second week. His eyes don’t widen as he sees you, there’s no quirk in his eyebrows, he’s just normal as he greets you. Which you’re thankful for and a little embarrassed you had expected a reaction in the first place.

What he does is rightfully yell at you on the first patient you assist him with. A little girl in for a heart transplant, who you were left to watch over after the surgery was done along with four other patients. Between the constant back and forth, you failed to notice a drop in her vitals which led to her being rushed to the emergency room and she survived by the skin of her teeth. You took his words in stride, you had failed and you deserved to hear each one.

Later, Leo finds you tucked into some corner of the hospital. You’re too busy crying to notice him until he throws an arm and pulls you into his side. “You’ve become famous already,” he jokes, which only makes you cry harder. Seeing his joke didn’t land the way he wanted, the boy panics, “I was just kidding, no one else knows [Name]! I only found out from the friendly nurse who thought I could comfort you.” You can’t help laughing at his panicked face, he looks just like a squirrel. He lightly hits you on the shoulder. “Were Dr Li’s words that harsh? I think this is the first time I’ve seen you cry.”

You shake your head. “He was right to yell at me. I’m crying because she’s still alive, because I didn’t kill her,” you bring your head down to your knees. “I know it’s going to happen sooner or later but I’d really like it to be later.”

Leo says nothing else, just letting you cry into his arms.

Neither of you notice the pair of feet around the corner nor as their footsteps walk away.

“Here,” Leo hands you something. It’s banana milk.

“Oh, that’s sweet of you but I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m lactose intolerant.”

You cackle at his dumbfounded expression.

“Wh-a how have I never known this? We’ve been friends for years, [Name]! This is the sort of thing you tell your friends! And I’ve seen you eat dairy before.”

“Yeah cause I had time to constantly go to the toilet before but I can’t do it now, can I?”

With a sulk, he finishes the milk.

The next day, Zayne pulls you aside. “I hope you’re not upset about yesterday,” he calmly asks. It’s not an apology and you don’t deserve one. “I’m alright, Doctor. Please don’t go easy on me.”

His lips quirk. “I’d never.”

Two years don’t go by as quickly as you would’ve liked. You spend each day and many nights at the hospital, doing the grunt work and getting yelled at. A lot. You’ve also lost patients in that time. The first one had been the hardest but you had Leo for comfort. The two of you had become each other’s rock, exchanging stories and information about how to get on the good side of your seniors. You’re just glad he was by your side.

At the end of the two years, you decide to go into cardiology and he sticks by paediatrics. Which meant he wouldn’t be staying at Akso, finding a better program elsewhere.

You’ve always hated airports and they’re no better inside the game. The long wait lines, the amount of people, the sounds of crying children, it’s all so overstimulating. But you pull through and deal with it, for Leo.

“Aww, don’t cry [Name],” the brown-haired man teases you. He wraps his arm around you, securing you both in a tight hug. “I knew you’d miss me.”

“I’m not crying,” you say as you cry. The boy before you gives a small smile, he looks all over your face and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so nervous. His hand comes up gently to brush away some tears.

“I’ve liked you this entire time, you know?” he whispers. You nod. You did know.

“I don’t expect an answer but I’ll wait for you, [Name],” he leaves but not before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

The first few months without him were hard, you knew how much you relied on him but you didn’t think it would be this bad. The two of you still talk but it’s at completely odd hours and only lasts for a couple of minutes each time. It’s not enough but you have no choice but to make it enough. You don’t have the right to ask him to come back, to be by your side when you’re not sure you can reciprocate his feelings. Even if by some miracle you do, there will always be that tiny voice in the back of your head telling you to check his phone or that he’s out with another woman and you’ll never be able to fully trust him, not when that voice had once been right.

Greyson waits for you as you clock in for your shift. He too has the deep under bags you sport. He hands you a cup of coffee. “Morning. It has oat milk, don't worry.” You take a sip, savouring the warmth of the liquid. “My saviour,” you grin at him. He shyly smiles back. “Us assistants should stick together, right?” You nod.

Greyson had already been at the hospital a year before you started but you had also been chosen to work as Zayne’s assistant. The man was easy to get along with but anytime you tried to work out the mystery of his age, he would find a way to brush you off but you’re not giving up anytime soon.

As you walk by the receptionist's desk, Yvonne waves you over. The kind nurse had quickly become a friend, especially when you discovered she was the one who sent Leo after you years ago. You stop when you recognise the figure by the desk. Tall with a slender figure, long brown hair with a fringe, fair skin and warm brown eyes, donned in that familiar hunter outfit.

It’s her.

She looks over you with a cheerful yet nervous smile and you give her a warm one back. You didn’t realise that the main story was already underway, you wonder when the two even met. “She’s just here for a check-up,” Yvonne passes you a tablet, her digital chart. You skim through it. “Dr Li is busy with an appointment, he gave permission for you to handle it.” “Okay, thanks Yvonne.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Dr [L. Name],” you reach a hand out and she eagerly returns your handshake. She introduces herself, her voice exactly like you had customised it. You gesture for her to follow you to a spare examination room. “Just take a seat on the bed,” you say and put on gloves.

“How have you been feeling lately? Any dizziness or nausea?”

She shakes her head.

“I see on your chart and by your clothes that you’re a hunter, has your disease ever gotten in the way?” you ask.

“No.”

She’s lucky. Protocore syndrome is no joke. All you knew from the game was that there was no cure and reading any articles or medical journals on it had produced no further knowledge. It’s a mystery to the people in game as it was to everyone else but if the main character can work as a hunter, backflipping as she fights, then for now she should be okay.

You really hope she gets her happy ending, with one of them or with all of them, hell even by herself because she’s sitting before you now and she looks so young. You think of her several lifetimes, dying or seeing the one she loves die and you feel so much for her.

For a game meant to be a dating sim, they could at least let their main character have a break.

The rest of the check-up goes well, there are no weird results but it doesn’t quell the worry in your heart. You wonder if this is how Zayne feels every time he sees her, does he feel relieved when she’s standing before him?

You can’t help the bitterness in you, she’ll never have to worry about their loyalty, their good, their love, not like you had. They’re designed for her, each of them an anomaly among other men even in their own world. You’ll never have that security. It’s why you don’t think you’ll ever love again. Why you feel like you’re not capable of it anymore.

After the check-up is over, a ping goes off from her phone, when she checks it you notice the familiar charm of a logo dangling from it. “Ah, is that Scattered Adolescents?” you ask innocently. You nearly jumped out of the chair at the speed in which she clasped her hands around yours. Her eyes are wide with joy as they bore right into yours. “I’ve never met anyone else that liked them.”

You laugh. “Are you kidding me? I adore them.”

The two of you blink at the other. “Did we…” she trails off.

“...just become friends? Yeah, I think we did,” you finish with a giggle.

When Zayne finally makes his way to the receptionist’s desk from his meeting, he’s greeted by the sight of you and her giggling. You wave her off as she walks away, a bright smile on your face that he hasn’t seen for months. Not since he left.

“I wasn’t expecting them to become friends so quickly, they seem so different at first glance,” Yvonne comments. He looks at her to show he’s listening but doesn’t respond. “But I’m glad [Name] seems happy, she’s been so down lately. We used to have a bet to see how long until her and Leo would get together but I guess that’s just not happening.” “I see,” he finally says, neither of them notice how his grip on the documents tighten just a little.

Noticing him, you walk up to the two with a smile. It’s not the same carefree one from before, this one is a polite one, like one a person has for a work colleague. A colleague who means nothing more.

“Good morning, Dr Li,” you greet him. He nods at you. Yvonne catches your attention. “Say [Name], are you ever gonna date? I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you look at a person in interest.” Zayne doesn’t let it show but he’s just as curious for your answer. You let out an awkward chuckle but figure it’s best to squash questions like these now before they get worse.

“Love just isn’t as spectacular as people make it out to be.”

It’s a couple of weeks later when you see her again. This time she’s lying on a gurney being wheeled in, knocked out during a wanderer attack. Aside from suffering from a brutal concussion, some bruised ribs and claw mark imprints, the biggest issue is the large rod impaling her abdomen.

Greyson is the one selected to watch over during the surgery, as much as Zayne tries to hide it, you notice how he’d rather be the one present for it all but there are more at risk patients that need him.

It’s hours later that you receive the news that she’s okay, Zayne doesn’t even flinch and just nods but you see the slight tremble in his hands, just before he hides them in his pockets. “Shall we go check-up on her?” you ask him. “I-I know it might not be appropriate but I think seeing her might ease my mind.”

“We can.”

And even though you had pretended to be concerned to give him an out, the sight of her on the bed fills you with a sense of relief you didn’t think would happen. It’s her charm, managing to sneak her way into the very short list of people you cared for, when you had only met twice.

Zayne tries his best to keep it in but his eyes flutter as he tries to keep the tears at bay, you look around noting all the nurses and other staff at work. It would raise questions for him to be so involved with a patient, especially one meant for long-term, so you gently grip his white coat and lead him out the room. “Follow me.” You don’t know why he follows without a fuss but you lead through some corners and bends until you reach a storage room.

“No one really uses this, it’s a forgotten room. Knock on the door when you’d like to leave,” you inform him, closing the door and standing guard outside. It’s not that you particularly care but seeing him try so hard not to cry would tug on anyone’s heartstrings. A few minutes pass and you’re utterly grateful your pager doesn’t go off or that no one comes over to ask what you’re doing. You hear it then, a soft knock on the door.

He opens it himself, from the inside. Standing before you is the Zayne everyone sees at work, there’s no evidence of the dishevelled man you saw not even ten minutes ago. Neither of you say a word, you simply turn around and start walking, another pair of footsteps join you.

“Thank you.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you give him a sly grin.

A scenario like that doesn’t occur in the months that pass after, she comes and goes, now having healed and back on her feet. You make sure to chastise her but you still present her with the plushie of her favourite member of the boyband as a thanks for putting her life on the risk. You will never admit how soft you felt at the bone crushing hug she gave you after. No, you’d sooner die.

It’s just…you can’t remember the last time you had been shown affection in such a way.

Lately, you can’t go two minutes without staff murmuring about the annual gala the hospital holds, the one night a year you can dress in extravagant clothing and mingle with rich people. The night is important for gathering donations for the hospital, so only a few people receive invites. As a mere intern, you along with others were not chosen but this year is different.

Despite your normal aversion to events like these, it feels like you’ve been spending every waking moment in this hospital, so a change of pace is welcome. Even if it’s just in another part of said hospital.

The red dress you buy comes with a price that no resident could pay but the hefty amount sitting prettily in your account helps. It’s a nice flowy dress with only the bodice being tight fitting, there’s a slit but what really got your attention was the choker in similar colour that it came with. It has a red flower with two ribbons that decorate your neck nicely. You can’t remember the last time you had ever dressed up like this. Your doctor’s coat nearly became a second skin.

The event is boring, the music is tasteless and the food even more so. You’re practically counting the seconds go by. None of the people present are remotely interesting so you can’t be blamed for slipping out.

The night sky is beautiful. It’s always been one of your favourite things. The swirls of purple in the black sky with hints of blue, the twinkling stars each different and all extraordinary and the moon. You could look at the moon for hours without looking away. You don’t know why but it’s always been your thing, just looking at it for small yet priceless moments of peace.

But peace never sticks with you for long.

“[Name]?”

Even after so many years, your body and mind remember the voice. They remember the promises of love it had spoken once, they remember the hurt it had hurled towards you. How little and alone it had made you feel. How it had lied so easily. You can’t help the tremble in your body as you slowly turn in its direction. You’re so ashamed of yourself for letting it affect you like this. After all your hard work all it took was one word to collapse everything you’ve built.

“It is you,” he breaths, looking mystified. He doesn’t get to look at you that way. His eyes move around your body taking you in with a look that disgusts you. He doesn’t get to look at you that way.

“What do you want?” It takes everything you have to keep a solid tone, empathetic of any emotion. Your face follows the same way, he doesn’t deserve anything from you. Especially your emotions.

“I just wanted to say hi.” He’s acting like you’re the one insane for being so vicious, like you have no reason to be. Your hand curls at your side. He’d sure look pretty with a large bruise on that face. That’s when your eyes drift to the woman by his side, she’s got her hand tightly clutched in his like you’re going to try and steal him. Her hand goes down to rub her stomach, by the size of it she should be about three months pregnant. She doesn’t meet your eyes, at least she has the decency to look ashamed.

He takes a step towards you. “You look…” he trails off.

“Better than I ever did by your side? Yeah, I do. It’s amazing what not having a cheating scumbag husband in your life can do for your complexion,” you bite. “You’ve said hi, now leave.”

“It’s been years and you still haven’t gotten over it?”

Red, hot white anger flashes through you but before you can open your mouth to fire back, you’re taken off guard by the feel of a warm coat over your shoulders. “There you are, honey. I’ve been looking all over for you,” a warm voice speaks through the silence.

Unlike the voice before, Zayne’s voice calms you down. It’s like a soothing and warm blanket in a room filled with bitter cold. Your hand reaches up the coat, tugging it over you properly. His hand sneaks its way around your waist, pulling you closer. His other hand makes its way to yours, covering it with a gentle squeeze, you didn’t realise it was still shaking.

“Should we head home?” he asks you. His eyes don’t leave yours, they don’t even glance the other way. “Please,” you whisper. He immediately turns you around so you don’t see them and you both start walking away. You don’t hear what Ha-yoon responds with and for that you’re glad.

Zayne leads you to his car. “I’ll drive you home.” The car ride is silent, you’re so plagued by your thoughts you don’t realise to ask how he knew where you live.

Ever the gentleman, he walks you to the entrance of your apartment building. “Will you be okay?” he gently asks. For a few seconds you just look at him. “Are you hungry, Dr Li?”

Your question is unexpected. You let out a small laugh at his face. It’s nice to laugh after all that. “Because I am. The food at the gala was horrible but I know a place not far from here that’s still open.”

He understands your unspoken question. “Let’s go then.”

The two of you receive many looks as you’re seated. You don’t blame them, you both stand out in your current attire.

The small restaurant has become a comfort place for you, it specializes in the local cuisine of your country, a reminder of what once had been home.

“I always find myself here when things get hard. When I had to take my first medical exams, after my first day at the hospital,” you explain as you both put away the plastic menus after ordering. “And now after your ex-husband appeared,” he finishes for you. You nod. “Yup.”

“You helped me out that day so I thought to return the favour,” he continued. “You don’t have to tell me anymore but I’m here if you do.”

You bring your hands to your lap, clutching them tightly against each other. “I…I think I need to just tell someone.”

He leans back in the chair, making himself comfortable. He gives you that slight smile, warmth flooding his eyes.

“We met when we were fifteen. He was everything I never was. Rich, popular and he had a sinful way with words. He could charm anyone and he did it to me. I was too young and foolish to realise his true intentions and face. That underneath it all he was just an insecure boy that couldn’t stand anyone better than him. He worked hard to chip away all the good things I had. We got married straight after we graduated. I completed my bachelor and confided my dream to go to medical school,” you start. Zayne doesn’t say a word, only watching.

“That’s when he started chaining me down. It was small things at first, ‘How can you be a doctor if you can’t even do this?’. But it was enough to stick with me and suddenly I’m a housewife who once had a dream.”

Your food arrives, you thank the waitress but neither of you make a move to eat. He’s still watching and you’re not finished.

“She was his childhood friend, who moved away when they were young. She comes back and suddenly he’s spending any free time with her. She became his first priority and I was a third wheel in my own marriage. He made me feel like I was crazy for even thinking something was wrong. Then I walk in on the two of them,” you can’t help the shakiness of your voice, your eyes brimming with unshed tears.

“I didn’t even realise that the pre-nup had a clause about cheating but only for me. He claimed that I was the one who had an affair with his bodyguard. My own mother stood under oath and lied that it was true, later I found that she was paid a lot of money.”

“He’s a dick.”

You let out the ugliest cackle at the way Zayne said those words. He says them through a straight face, voice monotone but his expression breaks at your laughter, chuckling along with you.

Things change after that. The biggest one you notice is how much he watches you, even when you catch him he’s not in a particular hurry to look away.

“Hey,” Yvonne pulls you aside one day. “There’s a Ha-yoon Choi here for a check-up. Says he’ll only do it if you’re the doctor.” She notices the slight way your eyes widen. “But I can tell him you’re busy and have no time, don’t worry. Should I involve security?”

“No. I’ll do it,” Zayne snatches the tablet from her hand before you can tell no. You didn’t even notice him walk up to you two.

You don’t even have the time to ask what happened as your responsibilities call you away. A hand roughly tightens its grip around your wrist just seconds before you get in your car. “Are you really dating that guy?”

You flick him off. “Yeah I am, what’s it to you?” He scoffs. “Seriously [Name]? He’s your superior, what were you thinking?”

“Are you kidding me,” you try to shove him. “Are you seriously trying to lecture me on appropriate relationships?”

Your voice picks up, gathering the attention of those littering in the car park. Your colleagues stop and watch the altercation. You can’t let him destroy your reputation so you try to get into your car and drive off but Ha-yoon’s never had you disobey him before.

“Have you not even considered the consequences of dating Dr Li,” he yells. You glance around, everyone else has heard him.

“Not here, Ha-yoon. Leave me alone,” you growl out before getting in the car and leaving.

But the damage is done.

Whispers and side eyes follow you everywhere you go. You’ve gone from a reputable doctor to a whore who seduced her superior for better surgeries and for special treatment. There’s no point in even denying the rumours, it doesn’t even matter that none of it is true. None of them blame Zayne, it’s all on you.

It’s been another two months since your altercation with your ex, and the whispers have yet to die down. You can’t even look at Zayne’s direction without hearing something about it.

You’re lying down in your bed, a little sanctuary you’ve made recently, with your phone in your hands. You stare at Leo’s contact, debating whether to bother him with your problems. He’s been silent for months, at first you chalked it up to a doctor’s hectic schedule but his socials show him enjoying time with new friends. You don’t want to call him since there’s a chance he’s working so you settle for a message.

[Name]:

Hey, can we talk?

Leo:

Not now. I’m with my girlfriend.

[Name]:

Girlfriend? When did that happen?

Leo:

When you started dating Dr Li.

[Name]:

I see. Have fun.

The phone drops down next to you. For all his hefty claims of love and how he would wait, he couldn’t even think to hear it from your mouth first. From all the years he had known you, did it seriously never occur for him to realise how out of character it is for you to date your superior?

Or maybe he never really saw you, only the parts he wanted to notice. This is why you’re never falling in love, they’re all the same.

You cry yourself to sleep that night.

Ha-yoon hasn’t left you alone since the altercation, you have no idea how he managed to get your number but blocking him does nothing, he just messages from a new phone. You’re not even safe in your own home. Every night when you come home, there’s a package waiting for you. The items range from designer clothing to expensive jewellery, all of which you sell.

The police practically escort you off their premises when you try to lodge a complaint, they see you as someone delusional because why would a man belonging to a prominent family stalk you?

Even in the game they’re incompetent.

In an odd turn of events, the only one you can turn to for comfort has been Zayne himself. Like you said, things have been different between you two. You’re softer around him, he’s become something akin to a friend. He had apologised for the vitriol you’ve been receiving, blaming himself since but you had told him not to. It was neither of your faults.

You confided in him about Ha-yoon’s new stalkerish methods and the failure of the police, in turn he helped you install cameras in your home and told you to always record any conversations with him. “It would be extremely helpful for your case if you managed to get him to admit to it,” he had told you.

“Stalkers tend to escalate, especially when they’re not being received well. He already knows where you live, it won’t be long until he makes his way inside. I suggest leaving your home pin with someone you trust,” his ears had gone red when you informed him that person was him. You feel a little better knowing he’s looking out for you.

“Check your windows are locked,” Zayne’s soft voice commands through the phone.

You do as he says. It’s become a routine between you two, you call him before you go to sleep and he answers. Then, he goes through a checklist you came up with before you say goodnight. It’s the only way you can sleep these days. The only way you feel safe. And you have Zayne to thank for that.

“That’s everything, good-” your words are cut off by a sudden pounding on your front door.

“What’s that?” Zayne asks, concern laced in his voice.

“Someone’s at my door,” you respond.

“[Name], I know you’re in there!”

“Find a hiding spot, I’m calling the police,” you don’t register Zayne’s voice. You remain frozen. As a doctor one of the most important things is to never freeze yet here you are. Your breath picks up as fear runs rampant inside you, your skin covered in goosebumps whether from the cold or the uncertainty of your future, you have no idea.

Your mind screams dozens of sentences at you but all you can do is gasp for the air you’ve suddenly forgotten how to breathe. God, I’m so pathetic.

“[Name], listen to me. You need to hide, find a weapon and a safe spot,” Zayne’s voice finally makes it way through the buzzing accumulating in your ears. “I’m on my way, stay calm.”

All previous sentiments of finding your little apartment small and cozy are gone as you curse yourself for the lack of good hiding spots. All you have is under the bed or the closet. It feels like you’re going to puke your heart up as you find the biggest knife you have and hide in the closet.

Under the bed is the first place he would look, giving you time to sneak up behind him and catch him off guard.

“I’m coming in,” those three dreaded words are followed by the beeping as he inputs your code. There’s no time to wonder how he even knew it in the first place, your body quickly manoeuvring itself in your wardrobe, hiding yourself under the clothes.

“I’m going to stay quiet now,” in your frenzy you’d forgotten you were still on the phone. “Hurry,” you whimper. He doesn’t respond but something tells you he heard.

The air feels thick as you hear the creak of your front door open. For a second you wonder if he can hear the thundering of your heart in the chilling silence. Your ears pick up every footstep, the creak of the floorboards with it, tears run down your face and you force your hand tight against your mouth to block off any whimpers. You don’t even breathe.

It’s when the footsteps go silent that you worry but you don’t get to linger on that worry for long as the closet door is yanked open. A hand wraps itself around your wrist with such a strong grip it feels like your shoulder might dislocate. Another hand grabs the knife and tosses it across the room before you can even react. Your body is thrown on the floor so roughly that your head bangs hard against the floor.

You’re not sure how long you’re out but judging by the current situation, it wasn’t more than a few seconds. But the view around you is blurry and tilting as you can’t concentrate, you can barely hear the words out of his mouth. Ha-yoon hovers above you with a crazed expression, he brings his face closer to you, an action that only has you sob.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he coos, caressing your face. You try to move your head away but the throbbing in the back of your head has you disorientated. “This is why you should’ve just listened to me, [Name],” he chastises. “We could’ve avoided all this,” he brings his hands down to your pyjama shirt, lingering around the buttons.

“I have to remind you who you belong to,” he pops one. “Doesn’t matter if we’re still together or not, you don’t get to move on,” another one opens. You don’t even realise your sobs getting louder until he presses his hand against your mouth. “Shut up and just take it,” he slams your head down again.

Maybe that’s what snaps you out of it, maybe it’s the anger his audacity brings or maybe your brain registers that you’re not going to be conscious for long but with newfound strength you bring your legs up and kick right at his chest with a sudden rush of adrenaline. Even in that state, you aim right for where his heart is.

The last thing your eyes see before they close is the bastard hunched over the floor, clutching desperately at his chest and gasping for air. It’s a beautiful sight. One that you painted.

You awake to the sound of similar beeping of hospital machines. You don’t register anything, only the memories of what happened before you passed out, your body moves itself up in a panic to get away. The sudden move only has you clutch your head in pain as it throbs, your eyes sting with tears. A warm hand rests on your shoulder, guiding you back on the bed.

Yvonne tries to smile at you but her eyes brim with tears. “Don’t move, you’re just going to agitate it even more. I’ll get you some painkillers later, okay?”

You try to nod but even that brings pain. “You’re safe, he’s not here,” she holds your hands in hers. “I’ll get the doctor on schedule,” she tries to leave but you stop her. “What happened,” your voice comes out croaky, Yvonne moves to hand you a glass of water.

She tells you everything. It’s not the first time you’ve woken up, you had been conscious when help had arrived at the scene, but you were so out of it, you still don’t remember. It’s a good thing, if you had been out for longer than a few minutes it would’ve indicated severe head trauma. You don’t even want to imagine what that could’ve entailed.

You were given a sedative by the paramedics since you had been in too much pain hence why you’re waking up now, only a few hours later. They placed you in a private room, all paid for by the hospital. A CT scan had been done while you were out, showing no major concerns but you’ll be monitored for a while just in case. You don’t need to feel it but the affected area on your head has massive bruising and swelling which is why it hurts so much.

You want to tell her that this wasn’t what you wanted to know, that you needed answers about what happened with Ha-yoon but the room keeps spinning and it hurts to keep your eyes open. “Sleep, I’ll be here,” Yvonne gently says as you doze off.

The next time you wake up, Zayne is in the room with you. He’s sitting on the chair by your side, dressed in normal attire and reading a book. His attention is instantly on you when you groan, he’s by your side faster than you can realise. The soft behaviour usually distributed to his patients is now presented to you. He asks a bunch of questions while looking over your vitals. He masks it well but you can see his concern shining through. It’s oddly comforting.

You open your mouth to ask but he cuts you off. “I know you’re curious but you’re in no state to process anything. I’ll answer everything when you’re doing better, okay?” You just nod, you can tell by his tone that there’s no convincing him.

She visits you too, plopping a plushie on your favourite member from the group. “Thought I’d return the favour,” she gave you a strained smile and her hold on your hand lingered for a long time before her duties called her away. She leaves her warmth behind.

Everyday, the staff fight off the police officers that drop by, all of them advocating that you’re not okay to answer their questions, something you’re grateful for. You’re in no shape to be scrutinized and judged.

Zayne concludes that you’re ready for the whole story one afternoon when you finally walk in a straight line before him. He does more tests to be safe, seeing how well your arms and legs hold up against his grip and whether it’s still difficult to move your head around. You get through it all with no issue.

“I got there seconds after you passed out, he was on the floor beside you so I froze his hands together,” he said like it wasn’t a big deal. “He deserved it,” Zayne countered. “It’s not him I’m worried about, what if it landed you in trouble?”

Your question has his posture relaxed a little. “You should be more worried about yourself,” he flicks you on the head, smiling when you glare in offence. “The police were right behind me, he tried to claim I just attacked out of nowhere but we had all the evidence from the cameras in your apartment. It showed everything, him breaking in and assaulting you. I gave them a witness testimony since I was on the phone with you.”

Your lips tremble as you try not to imagine what would've happened had Zayne never been on the phone with you. How can you even begin to pay him back?

Before you can thank him, your heads snap towards the door sliding open. Yvonne steps through, flashing you a guilty look. “I tried to stop them but they’re no longer taking no for an answer. Said they’ll drop the case without your testimony,” she whispers something else, you can’t be sure but you think she was cursing them out.

“It’s okay, I’ll talk to them,” you respond before turning to Zayne. “Can you stay?”

“Of course.”

To your terrible luck, one of the police officers is the same one that hadn’t taken your complaint seriously. You can’t hide the displeasure or anger, you’re lucky to be still here, had they done their job none of this would’ve happened.

The police fill in the gaps that Zayne didn’t get to, Ha-yoon’s facing charges of assault and attempted rape. With your phone call with Zayne, his testimony to the whole thing, the video evidence and Ha-yoon admitting everything on it, it should stick. They leave after hours of questioning, putting you under a microscope and dissecting every part of you. It leaves you in desperate need of a shower to wash it all off.

The warm rays of the sun offer no solace as you look out the window. Mindlessly, your hands trace over your skin. The media has already picked up the story, your face and name has long been released to the public. One look through your socials confirmed you’ve been thrown to the wolves. People are accusing you of trying to break up a loving family, they’re saying you’re trying to get money out of him, the normal vitriol a victim faces but it gets to you.

The only good thing about this whole thing is that the entire hospital now knows that you and Zayne never dated, that it was a ruse in an attempt to keep Ha-yoon away.

Two days later, you’re only a day away from being discharged when there’s a knock on your door. It means the person on the other end is not anyone that’s visited you so far. You tell them to enter. Leo walks in, a sheepish smile adorning his face, he’s doing the same habit of his, fiddling with his hands. Something he does when he’s nervous.

“Can I sit,” he gestures to the chair, growing more nervous when your face remains impassive. You nod.

“I’m sorry,” he starts. “I should’ve been here, you were trying to tell me before, weren’t you?” You look away from the guilt shining on his face. It makes you waver and you can’t let that happen. “Yeah, I was.”

You don’t see him move from the chair, only noticing when he settles on your bed with you. “I came as soon as I heard. Are you okay?” He tries to caress your face but you move it out the way. His face drops but he honours your request. “I am, you can leave now.”

“Wait,” he lurches forward and grasps your hands together, not caring that he’s crossed your boundary. “Why didn’t you tell me your relationship with Dr Li was fake?” You give him a baffled look. “Are you kidding me? That’s what you’re more concerned about?” you’re practically yelling, all the pent up emotion from the last week finally making its way out. Some part of you feels bad, no matter how selfish he’s being, Leo doesn’t deserve the brunt of all your feelings but the other…the other is happy for a release.

“You couldn’t even be bothered to ask if it was true in the first place, you don’t get to come back and ask for apologies. Get out, I never want to see you again,” by now your voice captures the attention of those outside. Zayne himself enters, confused at first before comprehending the situation. Your current state has him by your side, only the feel of his hands on you calms you down. The nurses usher Leo out of the room and you don’t even spare him a second glance, your attention is on Zayne. You see it then, a quick flash in his eyes. A glint of something.

Almost like satisfaction.

You’ve always had his attention.

Even when he had yet to meet you.

All it took was a meeting with an old friend who passed on your unfinished thesis. He read all twenty pages in one day, your words had him in a trance and he wanted to meet the person with such a fascinating mind.

He cheated by looking at your socials. You didn’t have much of an online presence nor did you post often, none of the photos you posted had your picture in them, all he could settle on was your profile picture. A simple photo of you bundled up under covers, smiling softly at the camera. He didn’t know then why he saved it, or why he found himself looking at it from time to time.

It’s when he sees you for the first time in that lecture room that he makes sense of it. You notice him too, not just because he’s the guest lecturer, but because you know him or maybe he’s just being deluded. He doesn’t affect you in the same way, he wished it didn’t hurt or that he was used to it or even that it was the first time. He allows himself one look at you, you stare at him mystified and it leaves him smug. He’s not above feeling in such a way, you might not look at him in the same way but he’ll take this. He’ll make it enough.

But he didn’t realise that there would be a time where it won’t be enough.

The first time he spoke to you didn’t go in the way he wanted, he was glad none of the coffee burnt you but a sick part of him was glad, you won’t forget him so easily with a first meeting like this. He makes an off hand comment about you joining him at Akso and he knows he has you with the way you light up at his praise.

A whole year goes by without seeing you and he’s never been so restless.

It’s funny, he went years not seeing her, meeting her again by chance and yet he’s barely holding it together now. Looking back, he should’ve realised sooner his infatuation with you, he’s better than that. Perhaps he just didn’t want to admit it.

Loving her had been a constant throughout his entire life, he knew her since they were kids, he knew her. Well enough to know she’d never feel the same way for him but that was okay with him. As long as she remained by his side, he’d have her in any capacity, as a patient or a friend. Maybe that’s why he didn’t see you, you weren’t familiar, what you were was unknown. He should’ve realised that the unknown was what he specialized in, that sooner or later he would want to discover you.

Maybe he could’ve warned himself then, to keep his distance through all the years he’s known you because it’s too late now. There’s only one role you can have is by his side. And it’s not as a friend or a colleague.

He makes sure not to give anything away when you start at the hospital, not even his voice betrays the fact that he’d been keeping an eye on you. Zayne expected you to cry when he yelled at you, he’s not proud of it but he’s raised his voice on several occasions when patients' lives are put at risk by the very people meant to help them and in each occasion they cry but you take it. You don’t flinch, your eyes meet his and all he sees is regret.

You have two special areas in the hospital, one of them is a corner far away where you go to cry. He hears you cry for the little girl, apologising to her in the silence. You’ll make a good doctor.

Two years pass by, you’ve decided to specialise in cardiology with him. A lot has changed in these two years and a lot hasn’t. He’s become somewhat of a mentor to you, you’re not afraid to seek him out and ask for help. Zayne doesn’t think you even realise that the other residents have also started doing the same. He’s not sure why they’re all so afraid of him, all he wants is for them to succeed and he’s thankful you helped them see that in your own way.

You part ways with your friend, Leo. Zayne shouldn’t be happy about it, it clearly affects you. He shouldn’t be happy. He shouldn’t.

But he is.

The first time he saw you together with her, he couldn’t help but compare you two. Yvonne was right, the two of you couldn’t be any different. She was younger or brighter in a sense. It showed in the kindness she held for everyone, her openness pulling in everyone. You were older and not dull but…silent. It was your silence that captured attention, made you a mystery in a way. Which is why you seemed to shine in those little moments where you held warmth for others around you, you were loyal to a fault. Even the way you both laugh are polar opposites, she laughs loud and with force, folding over and holding her stomach or lightly hitting someone around her. You laugh quietly with your hand over your mouth, politely but also a way to restrain yourself.

Zayne still doesn’t realise until he’s in that room and she’s hooked to several machines, unconscious and unable to respond and you’re pulling him to your second comfort area in the hospital. The storage closet you kept a secret from everyone, yet were willing to share it with him. He’s inside the room, the slight crack through the door allows him to see your feet and all he can do is lightly trace where your figure must be on the door. He’s flushed bright red and you have no idea what the mess you’ve made him.

One hand remains on the door, where he hopes your heart might be, and the other rubs quickly on his shaft. He’s holding his shirt in his teeth so that no moans slip out as vile images of you play in his mind. What would you think if he was to pull you in this room and show you the sight of your superior needy and wanton all for you? It’s the imagination of you on your knees that does him in, cum spraying all over his hand.

He’s tainted your room with him.

And you have no idea.

Claiming to be your partner in front of that buffoon that threw you away was done without thinking. Protecting you became second nature and it was what gave him an in. He brushed aside the rage directed at your ex because in truth he was a little grateful to the man. Ha-yoon had ruined you for any other men but Zayne would fix you just for himself.

Because you don’t love him, not now and certainly not after his plan is put in motion. He can’t handle it, he was fine with her not returning his feelings but you’re not allowed to. You don’t love him but he can make you think you do and by the time you realise, it’ll be too late.

He’ll start with Ha-yoon.

“No, I’ll do it,” the idiot had no idea how predictable he truly was. Zayne saw the way man looked at you at the gala, Ha-yoon saw you as property and discarded or not, the moron still saw you as his.

He tries not to delight in the way Ha-yoon’s face drops when Zayne steps through the door but it must show on his face as the other man glares. “Where’s [Name]?”

“She’s busy.”

Too busy for you.

“What brings you here today, Mr Choi?”

“Cut the crap, we both know why I’m here,” Ha-yoon snaps. “I want her back.”

“And you thought harassing her at her work was the way to do it,” Zayne raises an eyebrow, he has a unique way of making anyone feel inferior and the way Ha-yoon shrinks, it’s currently working. “I saw your wife, in what world did you think [Name] would enter a relationship with a man willing to leave his pregnant wife? Do you even know her?”

“I miss her. I never realised how much she did for me until she was gone. She knew me inside and out, how I like my coffee, or how my suit should be ironed and all the things I like. I love her and she loved me once, she can do it again.”

Zayne lets out a cold laugh, the other man involuntarily shivers as the temperature in the room drops. “You claim to love her when all the reasons listed are just the labour she did for you. What you should’ve said is that you miss how she throws her head just a little when she laughs, how mesmerising her smile is that imprints itself into your mind or how no matter how hard you try, her scent will always linger,” he walks closer to the man. Zayne is taller, he’s just…better than this scumbag in every way. “Face it, you left her penniless and broken and it backfired. She fixed herself better than you ever thought possible, she’s too good for you. You knew that from the moment you met her, that’s why you worked so hard to make her into something she’s not.”

With that he walks away and opens the door, looking back at the man. “We’re done here. Show up again and I’ll call security.”

He’s an idiot, Zayne thinks for the tenth time that day as he watches Ha-yoon confront you from the safety of his office. The man had done exactly what Zayne wanted. Ha-yoon’s ego and pride were too big to sustain being damaged, so he would gladly ruin you in response.

And Zayne will be there to comfort you every step of the way.

Zayne likes to see himself as the lesser evil of the two. He’s not so deluded to think himself as a knight in shining armour, no he knows exactly what he is. But that’s the issue with knights in shining armour, they save everyone, they’re willing to sacrifice the one they love for the world. You don’t need that, you need someone who’ll always love you first.

You think no one else realises, Zayne thinks you might not see it yourself, but you’re starved for attention. He noticed the way you lean into hugs, you never initiate affection but you’re always the last one to let go.

It makes him laugh how much Ha-yoon doesn’t see his actions only push you closer to Zayne. He now has access to the cameras installed in your house, he knows your code, the password to your phone just in case, Zayne’s become your safety. Just the way he wanted.

In a twist even he didn’t see coming, Leo takes himself out of the equation and you try to keep in how you’re grieving the loss of friendship but you fold with some soft prodding, right into his arms once again.

The only thing he’s sorry for, the only thing he regrets is how Zayne failed to see that Ha-yoon was pushed too far. His heart dropped when he heard the man banging on your door, his panic and worry were all real as he raced to your apartment. Zayne would’ve killed him, he should have killed him but the police were right behind so he shifted his attention to you. The guilt that manifests upon seeing your state crumpled on the floor, reduced once again to that once small figure Ha-yoon had made of you, Zayne thinks for the first time he might’ve taken things too far.

But the regret doesn’t last long. You don’t leave him alone after. Your hold on his wrist tightens whenever he informs you that he needs to leave, you text him first and you call even more. You need him more than ever and he’s drunk off the feeling.

So, he leaks the story to the press. All he has to do is sit back and watch as your face and name get released. As your address becomes public knowledge and you have nowhere to go. He slyly offers up his guest bedroom before anyone else can.

It’s torture sleeping in the room next to yours, knowing you’re right there but he can’t do anything. He settles on reading a book to pass the time. Except he never realised how unpredictable you can be when his bedroom door opens and you walk in. You don’t say a word as you crawl on his bed and sit right on his lap.

You bring your head closer to his, close enough for your hair to fall on his face. “Do you like me, Dr Li?” you whisper. “Yes,” he confirms, keeping eye contact with you. His eyes fall on your lips, which curl up into a smirk as you notice. “You have no idea how much,” he whispers back, his gaze falling back into your eyes letting you see his devotion.

You bring your lips closer, almost about to kiss him but he blocks it by lightly touching your mouth with his palm. You look at him in confusion but he’s not budging. Because you’re testing him, to see if he’s like the other men in your life. He’s not so disillusioned to think otherwise. But he is cruel enough to make you believe otherwise.

“I didn’t bring you here for this,” his hand moves and his thumb traces over your top lip. “I’m not going to take advantage of you.”

Seeing that he’s not going to give you what you want, you make the first move. Your hand clutches the hand near your mouth, bringing it in and pressing a kiss in the middle of his palm. You hear his breath hitch when you do. “I think I like you, Zayne,” you smile teasingly and gently roll your hips right against his, eliciting a small groan from him. “What if I want you to take advantage?”

His hands settle on the side of your hips, stopping you in place. “You little minx,” he growls. He’s quick to shove you over, nudging your legs to open with his thighs. “You don’t get to take it back,” he whispers against your lips.

He has you now.

Your hands scramble for purchase on the desk but each move only has the man pound harder into you from behind.

The fast movement from his hips leaves you mindless and draped over his desk, your body pliant for his bidding. You bite your lips hard to prevent any sound from leaking, to the displeasure of the man currently bringing you, well…pleasure.

“Zayne,” he says, making you look at him in confusion. “That’s the name of the man making you feel like this,” he brings his mouth to your ear. “Say it, moan it or scream it. Pick one,” his movement stills, pulling a whine out of you.

He’s not going to continue until you adhere, so you give in. “Please Z-zayne,” you tug at his shirt. “Faster,” you whine. He moves his entire body on top of yours, kissing your cheek and nuzzling into your neck. “Good girl,” he praises, smirking as you tighten around him in response.

You let out a moan as he gives you what you want, the desk moving with each hard thrust. The new angle allows him to piston even deeper into you, drawing loud moans from you both. It thrills him that you’re so lost in the pleasure that you don’t even care who hears, it could end your career but you’re too busy moaning like a slut to realise. You’re lucky his office is sound-proof but where's the fun in telling you that?

You can feel the pressure building inside you, you’re close and judging from how his speed picks up as his movements get sloppy, so is he. A sudden thrust has him landing even deeper and it’s your undoing as you cum around his cock with a grunt he cums too. He holds you on his desk for a few minutes, both of you just taking the time to breathe and come down from the high.

His hand comes up to your chin and pulls it to him, bringing you into a kiss. It’s been a few months since you started dating and not a day has gone by where he hasn’t had his way with you. The man is insatiable, needy even when he’s so tired he can’t even move. With how much he’s come inside you, you’re wondering if your birth control can even put up a fight anymore.

You don’t know that he replaced your pills months ago.

He’s always seen himself having kids after marriage but you would never agree to either so quickly so he’ll have to make you.

A year later you stand before the mirror, examining the ring on your finger and the round bump housing something in your stomach.

This was what you wanted.

Right?

AN: Scattered Adolescents = Stray Kids. I just had to, I found it so funny.

And yes, I included exactly how I lost my 50/50 to Caleb, I don’t care that it's been over a week, I’m still salty.

I felt like out of all of them, Zayne would be the one to be subtle rather than forceful so I hope I did it justice. I thought it would be funny to start with reader judging her other self for falling victim to manipulation and then end up in the same position.

Currently watching Lost in space and why is the robot sexy? Guys, why did they make the robot hot? I yearn for the metal.

Happy Juneleb guys! May you all get the birthday card x4 in one pull.

Tag list: @zeverean @quill-for-glory @smittenlynn @nm4565natty @miuangel @noxus123

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vaguely-concerned · 7 months ago

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the more I play the more I think lucanis basically knows it's illario who betrayed him right from the beginning (he's had a year in the ossuary to think. not that many people knew where he was going. when you ask him 'did Illario know you'd be on that ship' his only answer is the hardest flattest 'yes' you ever heard). so it's not so much about figuring out who the traitor is (because that's ludicrous. we all know. immediately. they didn't really bother to hide it lmao) as about methodically closing off every single avenue of denial lucanis has clung to that whole time with as much or little gentleness as you might prefer until he has no choice but to admit it. because the moment he has to admit it, he'll have to do something -- feel something -- about it. and that's such a catastrophic event in lucanis' inner landscape (he has had TWO people in this whole entire world up until now and will do anything to hold on to them with a heartbreaking child-like desperation, even at and especially through the detriment of his own self) that he'd rather just. not. what if we quite simply. didn't. what if we just stayed here in the emptiness where we can both pretend you didn't hurt me in a way I should never forgive. I have so much practice in that with caterina already it's always worked out great for everyone so far. (press x to fucking doubt but that's trauma logic for you lol)

after everything illario did, so much of the storm of lucanis' emotions around it is 'what the FUCK did you get yourself tangled up in this time and how do I get you out of this mess safely'. what's worse: the fact that your brother murdered you, or that he put himself in horrible danger doing so and thus exposed you to the risk of losing him forever. lucanis' heart certainly has an opinion here and it's fucking unhinged (affectionate)

the themes of dissociation in lucanis' character in general makes me feel nuts. allllll these contradictory messy things he needs to cut off from each other because they can't coexist or be easily reconciled inside him. but all remain stubbornly true separately anyway and will have their due one day. love and resentment. tenderness and fear and rage. terror and longing. love and freedom don't coexist. the burned out golden child anthem is playing in the background. he was always caterina's favourite and he has to keep striving to deserve that dubious honour with every breath he takes and then, presumably, mercifully, some day he will die and be excused and can rest. and until now he's suppressed all the -- natural, healthy, protective! -- negative feelings that threaten the few attachment relationships he actually has, at the cost of ever actually having his needs for connection and safety met and leaving his core self imprisoned and compromised. and spite goes 'what. no. that's dumb fuck that' (*spite voice* I do not understand that and even if I did I would not respect it) and does not allow him to fall back into that, which I think is what saves his life, ultimately. it took being possessed by a demon for lucanis to even contemplate telling anyone he loves 'no' in any way, but hey. whatever gets you there right lol

lucanis is dealing with the freeze response allll the way down baby. and he was even before the ossuary, that just turbo powered it and brought it to a breaking point way before it could happen naturally. but something was going to break eventually no matter what, and I'm just glad that in the end, through the power of friendship and also pure spite, it doesn't have to be him

#I am worried about him all the time. but also: his found family of godslaying maniacs and also the power of love. there are reasons to hope #when there was only one set of footprints in the sand that was the veilguard party holding lucanis in their arms #and going 'excuse you he said no FUCKING pickles!!!' while he's like '🥺should you guys really be -- ' 'YES'#dragon age #dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: the veilguard spoilers #dragon age spoilers #lucanis dellamorte #dragon age meta #there's some messiness to his arc but what mary kirby managed to capture here about how this works. is everything to me #he is so exactly for me. I'm sorry for all the people he turned out not to be for. but not for him being for me #the gift of looking at him and hearing 'you're more than what you're going through' and be forced to annoyedly go 'okay #MAYBE that could be also be true for me. maybe.' he's going through it. and also so much more and the funniest person in the world #he's so worth it to still have in the world!!!!#I'm so glad we don't get to 'fix' his relationship with his family and especially caterina actually #that is stuff that would need to happen on a time scale waaay outside of the one in this game #and there's Something very real in having to go 'this is not for me to decide for you. who you love and what you do about it is yours'

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kyunghwannie · 3 months ago

Text

Love Production💫

TWICE's Chou Tzuyu x Male Reader

➤Word Count: Approximately 18.8K+

➤Tags: Deepthroat, Outercourse, Sensation Play, Choking, Breeding, Impact Play (Spanking), Face Off, Reverse Cowgirl, Prone bone, Missionary, Doggy Style, Rough Anal Penetration, Creampie, Carry fucking, Squirting, Facial

➤Description: You have been a valuable asset of JYPE due to your contributions to their big artists like Stray Kids, ITZY. But you primarily were TWICE's main producer. And now, Tzuyu was having her solo debut "abouTZU" which is being lead produced by you. And during the recording time and production of her title track, You and her surely didn't only produce a song for her but something else in your heart as well

The hum of the fluorescent lights in the JYPE office building echoed faintly in the otherwise still night. You were seated at your desk in the producer's lounge, surrounded by an organized chaos of sheet music, sound mixers, and a half-empty coffee mug. The clock read 11:47 PM, but time felt irrelevant in the world of music production, where creativity often struck when the rest of the world was asleep.

You leaned back in your chair, stretching your arms above your head, a soft groan escaping your lips. Another long day, but you didn't mind. Producing music for TWICE was both a privilege and a challenge, and you relished every moment of it. The group's diverse talents kept you on your toes, and their latest project-a solo album for a special someone-was no exception.

Tzuyu.

You'd worked with her countless times before, but there was something different about this project. It wasn't just that it was her first solo venture; it was her attitude. Despite being the youngest member of TWICE, she carried herself with a quiet confidence that often left people in awe. And yet, there was a vulnerability about her-something she rarely let slip but couldn't entirely hide. A soft knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts.

Y/N: "Come in."

The door creaked open, and Tzuyu stepped in, her figure framed by the warm glow of the hallway lights. She was dressed casually in an oversized hoodie and jeans, her long, dark hair cascading over her shoulders. Despite her simple attire, she radiated an effortless elegance that made you pause for a moment.

Tzuyu: "I hope I'm not interrupting."

You shook your head, gesturing for her to come in.

Y/N: "Not at all. I was just going over some tracks for tomorrow's session."

She stepped inside, closing the door softly behind her. Her gaze flickered to the cluttered desk, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Tzuyu: "You work too much."

Y/N: "Says the idol who spends half her life in dance practice and the other half recording."

She chuckled, the sound light and melodic, as she took a seat on the couch across from you.

Tzuyu: "Touché. But at least I get breaks. When was the last time you took one?"

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees.

Y/N: "Breaks are overrated. Besides, someone has to make sure your album sounds perfect."

Her cheeks tinted a faint pink at your words, and she quickly looked away, pretending to study the guitar leaning against the wall.

Tzuyu: "No pressure, right?"

Y/N: "Pressure? Nah. If anything, it's exciting. You're ridiculously talented, Tzuyu. It's just about bringing that out in the music."

She glanced back at you, her lips parting slightly as if she wanted to say something but decided against it. Instead, she settled for a quiet "thank you," her voice almost too soft to hear. The room fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that only came with familiarity. You'd known Tzuyu for years, ever since you joined JYPE as a producer. Back then, you were just a fresh face trying to prove yourself, and TWICE was already a global phenomenon. Despite the overwhelming star power, Tzuyu had always been approachable, though reserved. Over time, you'd built a rapport-a professional camaraderie that occasionally dipped into moments of genuine friendship. You admired her work ethic and her ability to stay grounded despite the chaos of fame.

Y/N: "So, what brings you here this late?"

She hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her hoodie.

Tzuyu: "I couldn't sleep. And I figured you'd be here."

You raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

Y/N: "What gave it away? The never-ending coffee supply?"

She laughed softly, shaking her head.

Tzuyu: "That, and you're predictable."

Y/N: "Ouch. Should I be offended?"

Tzuyu: "No, it's... comforting, actually. Knowing you're always around."

Her words caught you off guard, but you quickly recovered, offering a lighthearted grin.

Y/N: "Well, someone has to keep you idols in check."

She rolled her eyes but didn't respond, her gaze drifting to the window. The city lights shimmered in the distance, casting a soft glow that reflected in her eyes. After a moment, she spoke again, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Tzuyu: "Do you ever feel like... you're not enough?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions. You straightened in your seat, studying her expression.

Y/N: "Is this about the album?"

She shook her head, her hands clasping tightly in her lap.

Tzuyu: "It's everything. Being in TWICE, living up to expectations, trying to prove that I'm more than just the youngest member or 'the visual.' Sometimes it feels like no matter what I do, it's not enough."

Her vulnerability took you by surprise. Tzuyu was always so composed, so poised. Seeing her like this-raw and uncertain-made your chest tighten. You leaned forward, resting your arms on your knees as you spoke.

Y/N: "Tzuyu, listen to me. You're more than enough. You're talented, hardworking, and you care about what you do. That's all that matters. And anyone who doesn't see that? They're not worth your time."

Her eyes met yours, and for a moment, you thought you saw them glisten with unshed tears.

Tzuyu: "Do you really think so?"

Y/N: "I know so. And if you ever need a reminder, just come find me. I'll set you straight."

A small smile broke through her solemn expression, and she nodded.

Tzuyu: "Thank you, Y/N."

Y/N: "Anytime."

The tension in the room eased, replaced by a newfound sense of connection. You weren't sure what had prompted her to open up, but you were glad she had. Tzuyu was strong, but even the strongest people needed someone to lean on sometimes.

She stood up, brushing imaginary dust off her hoodie.

Tzuyu: "I should probably let you get back to work."

You shook your head, gesturing to the empty chair across from you.

Y/N: "Stay. It's not like I'm going anywhere."

She hesitated for a moment before sitting back down, her posture more relaxed this time.

Tzuyu: "Alright. But only if you promise to take a break soon."

Y/N: "Deal."

The two of you exchanged smiles, the air between you lighter now. As the rain began to patter softly against the window, you couldn't help but feel like this was the start of something different-something more.

The clock on the studio wall ticked past midnight, its hands moving steadily into the early hours of the morning. The dimly lit room was filled with the soft hum of equipment and the faint scent of coffee lingering in the air. You sat behind the mixing console, adjusting levels and fine-tuning the track for Tzuyu's solo song, "Run Away." The lead single from her debut mini-album, abouTZU, it was a synth-pop track with nostalgic piano melodies and a bold synth bass that evoked a sound reminiscent of the late 2000s to mid-2010s. Tzuyu stood in the recording booth, her headphones snug over her ears, and a focused expression on her face. She had been practicing the song tirelessly, determined to deliver a performance that would captivate her audience and showcase her growth as an artist.

Y/N: "Alright, Tzuyu, let's take it from the top. Remember to channel the emotion we discussed earlier. Feel the lyrics and let them guide your voice."

She nodded, her eyes meeting yours through the glass window separating the booth from the control room. The instrumental intro began to play, the nostalgic piano melodies setting the tone. As the verse approached, Tzuyu took a deep breath and began to sing.

Tzuyu: "이건 내 warning 날 향한 네 yearning. 정말 확실한 건지 널 내게 turn in, 한 후엔 no turning back..."

Her voice was clear and melodic, but there was a hint of hesitation, a barrier preventing her from fully immersing herself in the song's emotion. You stopped the track and pressed the talkback button.

Y/N: "That was good, but I think you can dig deeper. This song is about yearning and the desire to escape. Try to connect with those feelings and let them come through in your performance."

Tzuyu bit her lip, nodding slowly. She closed her eyes for a moment, as if searching within herself for the emotions needed to convey the song's message.

Tzuyu: "Okay, I'll try again."

The track restarted, and this time, as she sang, there was a noticeable difference. Her voice carried a depth of emotion that resonated with the song's themes. You could feel the yearning in her tone, the desire to break free and run away from the constraints holding her back.

Tzuyu: "Run, run away. I'll give you a chance before it's too late. Once you're in my arms, You will beg, beg to stay..."

As the chorus approached, she poured her heart into the performance, her voice soaring with passion. You watched, captivated by the transformation. This was the Tzuyu you knew she could be-vulnerable, expressive, and utterly compelling. When the song ended, there was a moment of silence. Tzuyu looked up, her eyes searching for your reaction.

Y/N: "That was incredible, Tzuyu. You really brought the song to life."

A shy smile spread across her face, and she let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

Tzuyu: "Thank you. I felt more connected that time."

Y/N: "It definitely showed. Let's do a few more takes to capture that same energy, and I think we'll have it."

Over the next hour, Tzuyu delivered several more stellar performances, each one imbued with the same emotional depth. As the final notes of the last take faded, you leaned back in your chair, a sense of satisfaction washing over you.

Y/N: "I think we've got everything we need. Great job tonight."

Tzuyu stepped out of the booth, her face flushed with exertion but glowing with pride.

Tzuyu: smiles at you "I couldn't have done it without your guidance. Thank you for pushing me to dig deeper."

Y/N: "It's all you, Tzuyu. I just helped you find what was already there."

She looked down, a hint of bashfulness in her expression.

Tzuyu: "Still, I appreciate it."

You smiled, feeling a warmth in your chest at her gratitude.

Y/N: "Anytime. Now, how about we take a break? I think we've earned it."

She nodded, and the two of you settled into the studio's lounge area, the atmosphere relaxed and comfortable.

Tzuyu: "You know, this song means a lot to me. It's about wanting to escape, to find freedom. Sometimes, with all the pressures of being an idol, I feel that way."

Her admission was candid, and you felt honored that she trusted you enough to share her feelings.

Y/N: "I can understand that. It's important to have an outlet, a way to express those feelings. Music can be that escape."

She looked at you, her eyes reflecting a mixture of vulnerability and gratitude.

Tzuyu: "I'm glad I have someone like you to help me through it."

The connection between you deepened in that moment, a shared understanding passing silently between you.

Y/N: "And I'm glad to be here for you."

As the night wore on, the conversation flowed effortlessly, the bond between you growing stronger with each passing moment. In the quiet intimacy of the studio, amidst the shared passion for music, something new and beautiful began to blossom. The low hum of the studio was replaced with an eerie silence after Tzuyu finished the last take for her solo track. You turned away from the mixing desk, stretching your back as the weight of the late hour finally caught up to you. Your fingers ached from adjusting levels all night, but there was a sense of accomplishment, of creative fulfillment that came with a job well done. You glanced at the clock on the wall: 2:45 AM. Tzuyu stepped out of the recording booth, her light footsteps padding softly on the polished floor. She let out a yawn, her long hair slightly messy, her face flushed with a mixture of fatigue and satisfaction.

Tzuyu: "That was intense..."

She smiled, her eyes still soft with the lingering emotion of the song. You couldn't help but admire her, the way she could pour herself into her work, the quiet intensity in everything she did. She looked a little more vulnerable tonight-tired, but still glowing.

Y/N: "You did great, Tzuyu. I think we've got a perfect take. You really nailed the emotion in that last one."

Tzuyu tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her shoulders dropping in relief. She looked like she had been carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders during the recording, but now, there was a sense of ease in her expression.

Tzuyu: "Thank you... I was nervous at first, but... after you gave me that feedback, I felt like I could really let go."

She walked over to the lounge area, a small corner of the studio with a couple of couches and a table covered in snack wrappers and empty cups of coffee. You followed her, taking a seat across from her.

Y/N: "I'm glad. Sometimes, it's just about finding that moment where you can really connect with the music. You were amazing tonight."

Tzuyu smiled, and for a moment, the tiredness in her eyes was replaced by something else-gratitude, maybe even a little bashfulness. She picked up a half-empty bottle of water, twisted the cap off, and took a sip. The sound of the water pouring into the bottle felt almost therapeutic.

Tzuyu: "You know, I was kind of nervous about doing this solo album. Being a part of TWICE is one thing, but this... it feels more personal, you know?"

Y/N: "I get that. Being solo means you're fully in control of your sound, your image. It's a lot more vulnerable, but I think it's also a chance for people to see a different side of you. You've got this, Tzuyu."

She nodded thoughtfully, looking down at her water bottle. There was a pause, a quiet moment between the two of you where neither of you spoke. It felt peaceful, like a mutual understanding had passed between you. Tzuyu wasn't just the idol you worked with; she was someone who had her own fears and dreams, someone who trusted you to guide her through this new step in her career.

She leaned back on the couch, her arms resting on the back as she looked up at the ceiling, seemingly lost in thought.

Tzuyu: "I guess... I never really talked about how overwhelming all of this can be. The expectations, the pressure... sometimes it feels like I'm just supposed to be this perfect image."

Y/N: "But you're not just an image, Tzuyu. You're human. And that's what makes your music so special. It's your voice, your heart that comes through in everything you do."

She turned her gaze back to you, her eyes soft and appreciative. There was something about the way she looked at you, a quiet vulnerability that made your chest tighten.

Tzuyu: "Thanks, Y/N. You always know just what to say."

You could feel the weight of the moment, the quiet understanding that hung in the air between you two. It wasn't the kind of bond you usually shared with colleagues. It was different. Tzuyu was always kind, but tonight there was something more-something more open. It made you wonder how long this had been growing, this unspoken connection between the two of you.

Y/N: "Well, someone's got to keep you grounded."

You chuckled lightly, trying to ease the growing tension. Tzuyu laughed softly, the sound light and melodic, and for a second, everything felt lighter. She reached over and grabbed a packet of chips from the table, her fingers brushing against the edge of your hand as she did. It was subtle, but it didn't go unnoticed. You both pulled your hands away quickly, but the air seemed charged for a split second.

Tzuyu: "You're right. Sometimes I feel like I need someone to remind me to breathe."

You took a moment to reflect on her words. For all her success, for all the grace and poise she carried herself with onstage, Tzuyu was still someone who had to fight through self-doubt and the overwhelming weight of expectations. She was only human, after all.

Y/N: "Well, I'm happy to remind you to breathe. Just make sure you take care of yourself too, okay? Music can be all-consuming, but you need time to just... be yourself."

Tzuyu smiled, her eyes meeting yours again. There was a warmth in her gaze, something that went beyond professional appreciation.

Tzuyu: "You're right. I think I forget that sometimes."

She sat up, moving a little closer, as if the closeness between you both was starting to feel more comfortable. The studio, which had felt like a sterile work environment just hours ago, suddenly felt like a space where time could slow down.

Tzuyu: "Can we take a little longer break? I don't want this night to end just yet."

You nodded, suddenly aware of how late it was. The recording session had gone on for hours, and yet, there was still this unspoken desire to extend the time you shared together, to keep talking and to share moments in this little studio world you two had created.

Y/N: "Yeah, I'd like that too."

Tzuyu smiled, and this time, it wasn't just a polite smile. It was one of genuine affection, one that made you feel warm inside. She scooted over so she was sitting closer to you, her legs brushing against yours as she settled into a more comfortable position. There was a small, playful spark in her eyes now, something that hinted at her usual playful demeanor but softened by the quiet mood of the moment.

The world outside felt like it had slowed down, the rain creating a sense of peace that allowed everything else to fade into the background. It was just you and Tzuyu in this small corner of the studio, sharing a moment of quiet comfort in the middle of the night. As the rain continued to pour outside, the rhythmic patter on the windows grew almost hypnotic, like a gentle lullaby coaxing the world to rest. Inside the studio, the atmosphere was warm and calm, and you found yourself sinking further into the comfort of the moment with Tzuyu. Her presence beside you felt effortless, like this was where you were meant to be-two people in the quiet, simply enjoying each other's company. Tzuyu stretched her legs out in front of her, crossing them at the ankles. She looked over at you, her expression soft, and for a moment, the exhaustion from the recording session seemed to vanish. It was replaced by something more relaxed, more human.

Tzuyu: "I think... I think this is the most relaxed I've felt in a while." She shot you a wide smile.

You turned your head to face her, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I'm glad you're able to unwind. It's been a long night, and you deserve it." Her eyes met yours, and this time, there was something deeper in the way she looked at you. Her gaze lingered for a moment too long, but neither of you seemed to mind. It felt natural, comfortable, like it was a continuation of the quiet bond you had started building hours ago.

Tzuyu: "It's rare that I get time like this... just to sit and talk. I'm always running around or on stage, but moments like these, where I'm just... here, with someone who gets it, feel nice."

Her words hung in the air, and they felt heavier than anything you'd heard in a long time. Tzuyu wasn't just talking about the music industry or her work. She was talking about the moments in life when you could truly connect with someone, when you didn't have to hide behind a persona or the noise of the world around you. You were just two people, existing in the same space, sharing a quiet, honest moment. You leaned back slightly on the couch, crossing your arms, allowing the peaceful moment to settle in.

Y/N: "I get it. You know, I've always admired how well you handle everything. You make it seem so effortless. But I also know that behind all that, you have moments like this-when you just want to breathe."

Tzuyu smiled softly, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of her coffee cup.

Tzuyu:"I think everyone has those moments, right? When they just need to catch their breath?"

You nodded, feeling the weight of her words. It was a humbling reminder that, no matter how successful someone might seem, they too had their quiet struggles, their moments of doubt. Tzuyu had just shared one of those with you. And that vulnerability, that openness, made her even more real, more relatable than she had ever been in the studio lights.

Y/N: "Of course. And you deserve to take those moments whenever you need them."

Tzuyu let out a small, content sigh, her gaze softening as she let her head rest against the back of the couch. The way she seemed to settle into the space beside you felt... natural, as if she were finding peace in the moment, in the quiet, in your company. There was a sense of trust here, a sense of calm between the two of you that had developed over the course of the night.

Tzuyu: "It's nice to just... be with someone who understands. I feel like I don't always have to explain myself. You know?"

The sincerity in her voice made your heart skip a beat. There was an intimacy in what she had just said, a rawness that made you feel incredibly close to her in that moment. You didn't need words to convey the understanding between you two. It was there in the way she held your gaze, the way she relaxed into the couch beside you. You could feel the air between you shift just slightly, like the space between you was shrinking, becoming more charged with something you couldn't quite put a name to.

Y/N: "I get that," you said softly. "I never want you to feel like you have to explain anything to me, Tzuyu. Not about your music, not about you..."

Tzuyu blinked a couple of times, her eyes softening further. She seemed almost... moved by your words. Her hand shifted slightly, now closer to yours, and for a brief moment, your fingers brushed against each other. It was a simple touch, but it sent a shiver through your body, something unspoken passing between you both. She looked down at her hand, then back up at you, a playful glint returning to her eyes.

Tzuyu: "You know, I think I like the way you see me. Like I'm not just Tzuyu to you as in TWICE."

The quiet intensity of her gaze made your heart race. She had caught you off guard with that statement, but it also made you realize something-you had never seen her as just another idol. Tzuyu was more than that, and tonight, it was impossible to deny how strong the connection between the two of you was becoming.

Y/N: "You're not just another idol to me, Tzuyu. Though iam honoured that you like smth about me at least"

She smiled again, this time a little more coy, a little more knowing. Her eyes seemed to sparkle as if she were contemplating something. You could feel the energy shift between you, the tension building as the moments stretched on.

Tzuyu: "Good. Because... I don't think I want to be just an idol to you."

You felt your pulse quicken at her words. The underlying meaning was clear, but neither of you had openly acknowledged it yet. Still, the words hung in the air, and the more you let them linger, the more you realized that you, too, were starting to feel something stronger than just professional admiration. Something deeper.

Y/N: "I think... I don't want you to be just an idol to me either."

The words felt like a revelation, like something that had been buried beneath layers of professionalism was finally surfacing. Tzuyu's eyes softened at your confession, her lips curling into a smile that was both gentle and full of promise. She moved just a little closer, her hand resting a little closer to yours. You could feel the warmth of her proximity, the electricity that seemed to crackle between you. Her hand gently brushed against yours again, this time lingering for just a heartbeat longer. And then, her fingers curled lightly around yours, a silent invitation for you to hold her hand. And you did.

The night was winding down, but the energy between you and Tzuyu hadn't quite fizzled out. The rain had softened into a steady patter against the windows, and the dim lights of the studio illuminated the room in a soft glow. You both sat close to one another, yet there was an undeniable distance between you two-one that was begging to be bridged. Tzuyu's hand, still resting lightly in yours, felt like the spark you'd been waiting for all night. The quiet tension between you two had grown, each moment stretching the boundaries of your professional relationship, moving it into something more.

Y/N: "Tzuyu..."

You spoke her name softly, barely above a whisper, but it was enough to break the silence. She turned her head to look at you, her eyes still soft but filled with curiosity. Her hand squeezed yours lightly, an unspoken invitation for you to continue.

Tzuyu: "Hmm?"

Her voice was soft, almost teasing, like she knew you were on the verge of saying something important. The air between you two felt thick with anticipation, but you didn't know where to begin. There was an almost magnetic pull between you and her, an invisible force drawing you in. Every second that ticked by felt like an eternity, stretching the space between you two thinner and thinner.

Y/N: "You're... really something else, Tzuyu."

Tzuyu's eyes sparkled with mischief at your words. She raised an eyebrow, teasingly.

Tzuyu: "What do you mean?"

You glanced at her, noting how her lips curled into that coy smile, how her fingers still intertwined with yours, almost as if she were testing the waters. Her playfulness made you want to dive deeper, but you could feel the weight of the moment pressing in on you.

Y/N: "I mean... just... you." You let out a small laugh, rubbing the back of your neck in nervousness. "I've been around a lot of people, Tzuyu. But there's something different about you. Something that... I don't know, makes me feel like I want to know you more. In a way that goes beyond just... work."

Tzuyu didn't speak right away. Instead, she regarded you with a thoughtful expression, her fingers playing gently with yours as if she were weighing your words.

Tzuyu: "I feel the same way."

Her words hit you like a wave, and your heart skipped a beat. The simple honesty of it made the room feel even smaller, more intimate. The barrier that had been there between you both-unspoken, but undeniably present-seemed to dissolve in that single sentence. The space between you two was suddenly charged. Her fingers tightened around yours, the contact sparking something deep within you. Your body leaned in just slightly, and she mirrored the movement without hesitation, closing the small gap between you. There was no longer any distance, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Tzuyu: "You're not like other people, you know that?"

You felt a soft laugh bubble up in your throat at her words. The way she said it was almost serious, but there was a hint of amusement in her tone.

Y/N: "You're not so bad yourself."

Tzuyu chuckled, her laughter melodic and warm. It made the atmosphere around you feel even more comforting. The way she was looking at you, the quiet intensity in her gaze, made your pulse quicken. She seemed to be studying you, reading the silent language between you both. And in that moment, you realized just how much you wanted to be closer to her. She leaned in, her lips just inches from your ear as she spoke softly.

Tzuyu: "Do you feel it too? The spark?"

You didn't even hesitate. Your voice was low and sincere as you nodded, your eyes locking with hers.

Y/N: "Yeah, I do."

And before either of you could say another word, the tension finally broke. Tzuyu closed the remaining distance, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was tender but full of intention. It wasn't rushed or frantic-it was as if the world had paused just for the two of you. She pulled you closer, her free hand gently cupping your cheek, as if grounding her to you. Tzuyu's fingers slid up to your jaw, her touch light but deliberate. The kiss deepened, and you could feel the connection between you both intensifying with every second that passed. The world outside seemed to disappear, and it was just you and Tzuyu in that moment-two people who had been circling around each other for hours, waiting for the right time to finally close the gap. When you pulled away for a brief second, Tzuyu's eyes were wide, a mixture of surprise and something else you couldn't quite place. Her lips were slightly parted, and she let out a small, shaky breath.

Tzuyu: "Wow. I didn't think it would feel like that."

You chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face as you leaned your forehead against hers.

Y/N: "Neither did I."

But the truth was, you both had known from the very beginning that this moment was inevitable. The sparks had been there from the start-the chemistry, the shared understanding, the quiet tension that had built up over time. And now, here you were, finally acknowledging what had been simmering beneath the surface all along. Tzuyu smiled softly, her hand now resting against your chest, feeling the steady beat of your heart beneath her palm. Her touch was gentle, but there was an undeniable warmth radiating from her that made you feel grounded.

Tzuyu: "You... make me feel something I haven't felt in a long time."

Her voice was barely above a whisper, but the sincerity in her words made your heart race. You felt your own emotions swell as you pulled her closer again, this time not as a colleague, not as an artist and producer-but as two people who had found something unexpected in each other.

Y/N: "I'm glad I'm here with you, Tzu." Her smile was all you needed. It was a promise, an unspoken vow that whatever this was-whatever it had become-it was real. And for the first time in a long time, you felt like everything in your life had finally clicked into place.

As the rain continued to pour outside, you stayed there with her, savoring the quiet, the closeness, and the feeling that something beautiful was just beginning. The studio was quiet, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning and the faint sound of rain against the windows. You had been sitting in front of your computer screen, reviewing Tzuyu's recent recordings for her upcoming solo album, but you couldn't focus. Your mind kept drifting back to her-the way she moved, the way she smiled, the way she seemed to carry herself with such grace and confidence. The longer you spent with her, the more you realized that there was something about her that made everything feel right.

Tzuyu had stepped out for a quick break, giving you the time you needed to clear your head. But it hadn't worked. The quiet space only gave you more time to think, to realize just how much you cared for her, how much you wanted to be close to her. And now, with her absence in the room, you couldn't ignore the truth any longer: You were falling for her. Hard. The door creaked open, and you looked up to see Tzuyu standing there, her long hair falling loosely around her shoulders. She had changed into a more comfortable outfit-a simple hoodie and jeans-but the way she carried herself still made her look effortlessly beautiful.

Tzuyu: "I'm back," she said softly, her voice a soothing melody. "Got caught up in a few things." You smiled, though you could feel the tension in the air between you both. The moments you shared earlier had been lighthearted, playful even, but now that she was back, it felt different. The atmosphere was thick with something unspoken. You both stood at the edge of something, neither one willing to take that first step.

Tzuyu moved to sit beside you at the desk, her gaze meeting yours. There was a softness in her eyes, but also a flicker of curiosity-like she could sense the shift in the air too. Her fingers brushed against yours as she reached for the coffee cup you had placed beside the keyboard. The touch sent a shock through your body, and you had to fight the urge to pull back, to avoid the growing tension between you two. You swallowed hard, suddenly nervous. You had been so sure of your feelings before, but now that the moment had come, you weren't sure what to say. The words were stuck in your throat, and you struggled to find the courage to speak them.

Y/N: "Tzuyu, there's something I need to tell you."

She paused, her hand frozen in mid-air as she looked at you. There was an intensity in her gaze, and for the first time, it felt like you were truly seen. The playful banter and the friendly gestures from earlier were gone, replaced with something deeper. Something real.

Tzuyu: "What is it?" Her voice was soft, almost tentative, like she was bracing herself for something important.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. This was it. This was the moment you had been avoiding, the moment where everything could change. You looked at her, trying to find the right words, but all that came out was the truth.

Y/N: "I've been trying to ignore it, to pretend like it's just... you know, nothing. But it's not nothing. Tzuyu, I... I think I'm falling for you. I know i said before that it was just liking and feeling the spark you talked about. But tbh, it felt like lying to myself because It's not only liking for you that i have."

The words hung in the air, heavy and uncertain, like they could shatter everything between you two. You watched her face closely, waiting for a reaction-any reaction. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you could feel the nerves twisting in your stomach. Tzuyu didn't say anything for a long moment. She just sat there, staring at you with wide eyes, her lips slightly parted. You couldn't tell if she was shocked, confused, or... something else entirely. You felt your anxiety rising, and before you could say anything else, she spoke.

Tzuyu: "You're... falling for me?"

The way she said it was gentle, almost like she was trying to understand it, to make sense of the words. Her voice was soft, and you could see a small blush creeping onto her cheeks even though her expression had concentration and subtle tension

Y/N: "Yeah," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know when it happened, but... it's been building up, and now I can't ignore it anymore. I care about you, Tzuyu. More than I should, maybe, but I do."

Tzuyu blinked a few times, clearly processing your confession. She let out a small, nervous laugh, her eyes not leaving yours.

Tzuyu: "I had a feeling... I mean, I've been feeling something too. But I didn't want to say anything because... well, I didn't know if you felt the same way."

Your heart skipped a beat at her words, and a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. You weren't alone in this. She felt it too. Her gaze finally softening as she leaned in closer. Her hand found yours again, and this time, you didn't pull away. You let her fingers intertwine with yours, the contact warm and reassuring.

Tzuyu: "I didn't want to admit it either, but... I really like you, Y/N. More than I thought I would."

The air between you two shifted again, this time in a way that made you feel lighter, more at ease. The tension had melted away, replaced by a gentle warmth that filled the room. You smiled, your thumb gently brushing against the back of her hand.

Y/N: "I'm glad... I was afraid I might have ruined everything by saying it."

Tzuyu shook her head, her smile growing wider.

Tzuyu: "No, you didn't ruin anything. I'm happy you said it."

There was a quiet moment where you both just sat there, hands still entwined, the weight of your confession sinking in. The uncertainty that had plagued the air earlier was gone now, replaced by a shared understanding. You both knew where this was going, and it felt... right.

Y/N: "So, what now?"

Tzuyu's eyes sparkled as she leaned in, her lips just barely grazing your ear.

Tzuyu: "Well... I think we should take it slow. But if you want, we can figure it out together."

You nodded, your heart swelling with happiness. She wasn't pulling away; she was leaning into this, just like you. And just like that, it felt like everything had fallen into place. You both leaned back into your seats, still holding hands, as the quiet music of the studio filled the space between you. The rain outside continued its steady rhythm, but inside, everything felt peaceful. You didn't need to rush. You didn't need to figure it all out right now. All that mattered was that, for the first time in a long time, you both understood each other-and that was enough.

---------

The quiet hum of the studio equipment fades into the background as Tzuyu’s fingers tighten around yours, her breath hitching ever so slightly. The air between you two crackles with something new—something hungry. Her dark eyes flicker down to your lips, then back up, a shy but unmistakable desire burning behind her gaze.

"Y/N…" Her voice is barely a whisper, laced with a nervous tremor. "I-I’ve never… done this before. But I want to. With you."

Your thumb strokes the back of her hand gently, reassuringly. "We don’t have to rush, Tzuyu. You did say we can take it slow. We can stop anytime—"

She shakes her head, cutting you off with a sudden boldness that surprises you both. Her free hand lifts, fingertips brushing against your jawline before sliding down your neck, over your collarbone, and finally resting against your chest. You can feel your heartbeat thundering under her palm. "I don’t want to stop, i changed my mind," she murmurs, her voice dropping lower, huskier. "I’ve thought about this… about you… too much."

Before you can respond, she leans in, pressing her lips to yours in a kiss that starts soft—hesitant—but quickly deepens as her tongue swipes against your bottom lip, asking for entry. You groan into her mouth, one hand tangling in her hair as the other grips her waist, pulling her closer until she’s straddling your lap. The heat of her body against yours is intoxicating, her hips grinding down instinctively, making your cock twitch painfully against the confines of your pants.

She breaks the kiss with a gasp, her cheeks flushed, lips swollen. "Fuck…" she breathes, eyes darting down to where your erection strains against your zipper. "I knew you’d be big, but—" Her fingers tremble as she undoes your belt, then your button, her breath coming in short, eager bursts. "Can I… see it?"

You nod, lifting your hips slightly to help her tug your pants and boxers down just enough for your cock to spring free, thick and already leaking at the tip. Tzuyu’s lips part in a silent gasp, her fingers wrapping around your shaft experimentally, giving it a slow, tentative stroke. A bead of pre-cum glistens at your slit, and before you can even process it, she leans down, her tongue darting out to lick it up with a soft "Mmmf~" that sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

"Shit, Tzuyu—" you choke out, hips bucking slightly as her warm, wet mouth closes around your tip, sucking gently. Her doe eyes flick up to yours, watching your reaction as she takes you deeper, her lips stretching obscenely around your girth. "Fuck, your mouth feels—ahh~!"

She moans around your cock, the vibration making your toes curl, and then—without warning—she pushes further, her nose brushing against your pelvis as she takes you all the way down her throat. Her eyes water, but she doesn’t pull back, her throat fluttering around you as she gags slightly before relaxing, adjusting. "Hnngh~! Tzuyu, you’re—fuck—you’re gonna make me cum if you keep—"

She pulls off with a lewd pop, saliva stringing from her lips to your cock as she pants, her voice wrecked already. "Good," she rasps, her fingers stroking you lazily. "I want to taste you… all of you." And then she dives back down, swallowing you whole again, her head bobbing faster now, her free hand cupping your balls, massaging them as she works your length with a desperation that belies her earlier shyness. The wet, filthy sounds of her throat taking you fill the studio, her muffled whimpers of "Nggh~! Mmmf—!" sending you hurtling toward the edge. You fist her hair, not forcing, just holding, as your hips jerk up involuntarily, fucking into her mouth. "Tzuyu, I’m—I’m gonna—"

She hums in response, her eyes fluttering shut as she takes you deeper, her throat milking you as you finally spill down it with a broken groan, your cum flooding her mouth in thick, hot pulses. She swallows every drop, her tongue lapping at your oversensitive tip until you’re twitching, oversensitive, pulling her off with a gasp. She sits back on her heels, lips glistening, chin slick with spit, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she meets your dazed gaze.

"Did… did I do okay?" she asks, voice small but her eyes gleaming with something smug, something hungry. You let out a breathless laugh, dragging her into a searing kiss, tasting yourself on her tongue. "More than okay. Fuck, you’re gonna ruin me." She giggles—soft, sweet, and sinful—her fingers already trailing lower, toward the button of her own jeans. "Good. Because I’m not done with you yet."

Tzuyu pulls back from the kiss with a devilish glint in her eyes, her fingers already working the button of her jeans. She stands up slowly, swaying her hips just enough to make your mouth go dry as she shimmies out of the denim, revealing toned thighs and that mouthwateringly tight ass of hers—round, plush, and begging to be gripped. The way her panties cling to her curves makes your cock twitch again, already half-hard from the sight alone. "Like what you see?" she teases, biting her lower lip as she peels off her top next, letting it fall to the floor. Her breasts—not big, but perky, perfectly shaped, her nipples already pebbled under the thin fabric of her bra—make your fingers itch to touch. She unhooks the clasp with practiced ease, letting the garment drop, and your breath catches.

Goddess. Absolute fucking goddess.

She steps closer, her bare skin glowing under the dim studio lights, her abdomen soft yet toned, her hips sinfully curved, leading your gaze downward like a temptation you can’t resist. She kneels between your legs again, her fingers tracing up your thighs before wrapping around your cock, already hardening again under her touch. "Y/N…" Her voice is sweet, almost innocent, but the way her thumb swipes over your leaking tip is anything but. "Can I try something?"

You nod, swallowing hard as she leans in, her lips brushing against your shaft before she looks up at you through her lashes, doe-eyed and demure—but the words that leave her mouth are anything but.

"I want to choke on it." Your brain short-circuits. Did she just—?

Before you can even process it, she’s taking you deep, too deep, her throat fluttering around you as she forces herself down until her nose presses into your pelvis. Tears bead at the corners of her eyes, but she doesn’t pull back, her fingers digging into your thighs as she holds herself there, gagging slightly before relaxing, her throat milking you. "F-fuck, Tzuyu—!" You instinctively thread your fingers through her hair, not pushing, just guiding, your voice strained. "You don’t have to—ahh~!—hurt yourself, Tzu."

She pulls off with a wet gasp, saliva dripping from her swollen lips, her chest heaving. "I like it," she admits, voice wrecked, her fingers stroking you lazily. "Feels… good. Like you’re claiming me." Your cock throbs at her words, at the filthy way she says them—so sweetly, so earnestly, like she’s confessing something sacred. You cup her cheek, thumb brushing away a stray tear.

"You’re perfect," you murmur, heart swelling as she nuzzles into your touch. "But I don’t want you to push too hard, okay? We go at your pace." She smiles—genuine, warm—before her expression shifts into something hungrier, her tongue darting out to lick a stripe up your length. "Then let me practice," she purrs, before swallowing you down again, deeper, slower, her throat working around you like she was made for this

. And as her head bobs, her moans vibrating against your cock, her free hand sneaking between her own thighs—fuck, is she touching herself?—you realize one thing with dizzying clarity: This angel-faced, soft-spoken, Tzuyu you think you knew? She’s a fucking needy slut for you. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Tzuyu pulls off your cock with a lewd, wet pop, her lips glistening with a mix of spit and your cum. She looks up at you through her lashes, her cheeks flushed, her breathing uneven—and there’s something unbearably smug in her expression as she licks her lips clean. "You came so fast," she murmurs, her voice a mix of awe and pride. "Was I… that good?"

You let out a breathless laugh, your fingers gently brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "Too good," you admit, your thumb tracing the curve of her bottom lip. "I didn’t expect you to be so… natural at this." She giggles—soft, sweet, but with an undercurrent of something darker, something hungry. Her hands trail up your thighs before she rises, straddling your lap again, her bare skin pressed flush against yours. The heat of her is intoxicating, her perky tits brushing against your chest as she leans in, her lips ghosting over yours. "I like it," she confesses, her voice barely above a whisper. "When you lose control because of me. It makes me feel… loved."

Your heart clenches at her words, at the raw honesty in them. You cup her face, pulling her into a slow, deep kiss, your tongue sliding against hers in a lazy dance. She melts into it, her fingers tangling in your hair, her hips grinding down against yours in slow, teasing circles. When she pulls back, her eyes are dark, her lips swollen. "I want to make love first," she murmurs, her fingers trailing down your chest. "Before we… fuck."

You blink, tilting your head. "What’s the difference?"

She bites her lip, her fingers hooking into the sides of her panties. Slowly, teasingly, she peels them off, revealing smooth, flawless skin, the faintest hint of pink between her thighs. Your mouth goes dry at the sight. "Making love is… slow," she explains, her voice trembling slightly as she guides your hand between her legs. "Gentle. Like you’re worshipping me." Her breath hitches as your fingers brush over her slick folds, her hips jerking slightly at the contact. "Fucking is… harder. Rougher. When you ruin me."

Your cock twitches against her thigh at her words, at the way her voice drops into something filthy despite her innocent face. But then her next words make your heart stop. "I’m a virgin," she admits, her eyes locked onto yours. "But… don’t worry about blood. My hymen tore a long time ago from using tampons." She swallows, her fingers tightening around yours. "I just… I want you to be my first. In every way." Your chest tightens, your grip on her hip unconsciously tightening. "Tzuyu…" She silences you with a kiss, her body pressing closer, her warmth seeping into you. "Please," she breathes against your lips. "I want to feel you. All of you."

You nod, your hands sliding down to grip her thighs, lifting her slightly as you shift, laying her back against the studio couch. Her breath comes in short, eager bursts as you hover over her, your eyes tracing every inch of her—her perfect tits, her toned stomach, the way her hips curve, the drenched heat between her thighs. You kiss her again, slow, deep, your hands mapping her body like you’re memorizing her. She arches into your touch, her nails digging into your shoulders as you trail kisses down her neck, her collarbone, finally taking one pert nipple into your mouth. She gasps, her back arching off the couch as you suck, your tongue flicking over the stiff peak.

"Ahh~! Y/N—!" Her voice is already wrecked, her hips grinding up against nothing, seeking friction. "P-please…" You smile against her skin, your hand sliding down her stomach, fingers dipping between her folds. She’s soaked, her arousal coating your fingers as you circle her clit, slow, teasing.

"You’re dripping, Tzuyu," you murmur, your thumb pressing down just hard enough to make her whimper. "All for me?" She nods frantically, her legs spreading wider, inviting you in. "A-all for you," she whines, her back arching as you slide a finger into her, her tight walls clenching around you. "F-fuck, more—!" You add a second finger, curling them just right, and her entire body jolts, her moans turning shrill, desperate. "Hahhh~! There, there, there—!"

You watch, mesmerized, as she falls apart under your touch, her orgasm crashing over her with a broken cry, her thighs trembling around your hand. She collapses back against the couch, her chest heaving, her skin flushed. You lean down, kissing her gently as she comes down, her fingers weakly tangling in your hair. "Ready?" you whisper against her lips. She nods, her eyes hazy but determined. "I want you inside me," she breathes. "Now."

You don’t make her wait. You line yourself up, your cock pressing against her entrance, and with one slow, agonizing thrust, you sink into her, her tight heat engulfing you.

She gasps, her nails digging into your back, her legs wrapping around your waist to pull you deeper. "Oh fuck—!" she chokes out, her walls fluttering around you. "S-so big—!" You groan, your forehead dropping to hers as you still, letting her adjust. "Okay?" you rasp, your voice strained with the effort of not pounding into her. She nods, her hips rolling experimentally, making you both groan. "M-move," she whimpers. "Please, move."

You obey, pulling out almost completely before sliding back in, slow, deep, worshipping her like she asked. Her breath hitches with every thrust, her moans soft, sweet, her body melting into yours. This—this is making love. The way she clings to you, the way her lips find yours in messy, desperate kisses, the way she whimpers your name like a prayer— And when her second orgasm hits, when she screams but trying to lower it, her walls milking you, you know— You’re ruined for anyone else. Just like she wanted.

Tzuyu's tight, velvety walls clench around your thick cock as she rides you in the intimate face-off position—her forehead pressed desperately against yours, her breath hot and ragged against your lips. Every slow, deep thrust draws a whimper from her swollen mouth, her nails digging crescent moons into your shoulders as she bounces in your lap, taking you deeper with each roll of her hips. "Y/N—ahh~! F-feels so... so good inside me," she gasps, her voice trembling with each upward grind of your cock against her sensitive walls. Her slick arousal coats your length, the lewd squelch of her dripping pussy filling the studio air as she clings to you, her body trembling on the edge of another climax.

You exhale sharply, your hands gripping her waist, guiding her movements—slow, deep, worshipping—just like she wanted. The way her tight cunt grips you, the way her breath hitches every time you bottom out inside her, the way her swollen clit rubs against your pelvis with every bounce— It’s maddening.

But despite the overwhelming pleasure, you force yourself to hold back, your teeth gritting as you slow her hips. "Tzuyu—fuck, I’m close, but you’re not on birth control—" She whines, her hips stuttering, her pussy clenching around you in protest. "N-no, please—I want you to—ahh~!—finish in me!" Her voice is desperate, her thighs shaking as she grinds down harder, her walls fluttering around you. You moan your fingers digging into her hips to still her. "Tzuyu, we can’t—"

She cuts you off with a frantic kiss, her tongue sliding against yours before she pulls back, her eyes dark with need. "M-my purse," she pants, nodding toward her bag on the studio table. "I—I have had pills. Emergency ones." You blink, stunned. "You... planned for this?" Her cheeks flush crimson, her lashes fluttering as she avoids your gaze. "I... might have thought about it. A lot." She bites her lip, her hips giving a slow, teasing roll that makes you groan. "I wanted to be ready... in case we ever... did this."

Your grip on her tightens, your cock throbbing inside her at her admission. "Fuck, Tzuyu—" You crush your lips to hers, your tongue delving deep as your hips snap up, harder now, no longer holding back. "You’re gonna be the death of me." She moans, her back arching as you fuck up into her with rough, claiming thrusts, her nails raking down your back. "Hahhh~! Yes, like that—fuck me, ruin me—!"

Her words send a jolt of white-hot lust straight to your cock, your thrusts turning brutal, possessive, your forehead still pressed to hers as you pound into her dripping cunt. Her moans turn shrill, her body quivering as her third orgasm rips through her, her walls milking you desperately. "C-cum in me," she sobs, her voice breaking as she clenches around you. "P-please, fill me—!"

You snapped like clip at her words, burying yourself to the hilt, your cock pulsing as you empty yourself inside her, thick ropes of cum flooding her tight channel. She whimpers, her body trembling as she takes every last drop, her own climax still wracking through her. When the aftershocks finally subside, she collapses against your chest, her breath coming in ragged pants, her sweat-slick skin pressed against yours. You hold her close, your fingers tracing lazy circles on her back as you both come down from the high.

After a long moment, she lifts her head, her lips curling into a shy, sated smile. "...So. That was making love and fucking." You chuckle, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "And we’re definitely doing both again." She giggles, nuzzling into your neck. "Good. Because I’m not done with you yet." And as her fingers trail lower, her lips finding yours again, you realize one thing with absolute certainty— You’re fucked in the best way possible.

Tzuyu pulls back from your embrace with a mischievous glint in her eyes, her fingers already reaching for her discarded panties. She slides them back on with deliberate slowness, the fabric clinging to her still-damp folds as she bites her lip playfully. "Now you," she murmurs, nodding toward your boxers. "Put them back on."

You raise an eyebrow, confused but intrigued, as you tug your boxers up over your half-hard cock, the fabric straining slightly against your renewed arousal. Before you can ask what she's planning, Tzuyu straddles your lap again, this time with the thin barrier of clothing between you. She leans in, her lips brushing your ear as she whispers, "I'm going to edge you until you're begging to be inside me again."

Her hips roll forward in a slow, torturous grind, the heat of her pussy pressing against your cock through the layers of fabric. The friction is maddening—not enough to push you over the edge, but just enough to keep you achingly hard, your breath hitching as she controls the pace with teasing precision. "F-fuck, Tzuyu—" you groan, your hands gripping her waist as she rides you through your boxers, her wetness seeping into the fabric. "You're killing me."

She giggles, her breath warm against your neck as she grinds down harder, her clit rubbing against the base of your cock with each movement. "Mmhn~... You like this, don't you?" Her voice is sweet, innocent, but the way she rolls her hips is anything but. "Feeling me so close but not letting you cum?" You grit your teeth, your cock throbbing beneath her, the pressure just shy of enough to tip you over. She’s taunting you, her movements calculated to keep you right on the edge, her own pleasure evident in the way her breath hitches with each grind. Then, without warning, she stops, her body stilling as she pulls back to look at you, her lips curled into a devilish smirk. "Oops. Too close?"

You exhald sharply almost like an airy groan, your fingers digging into her hips as you pinned her beneath you. Her eyes widen, her chest rising and falling rapidly as you hover over her, your voice a low, soft whisper, "Your playing a lot, Tzu. Like fire or something?" She grins, her legs wrapping around your waist as she pulls you closer, her voice a breathy whisper. "Then burn me." And just like that, the game resets—but this time, you're in control.

Tzuyu's breath hitches as your fingers hook into the waistband of her panties once more, peeling them down her toned thighs with deliberate slowness. The air between you crackles with anticipation as you reveal her glistening, shaved pussy—her delicate pink lips already swollen and dripping with arousal.

The sight makes your cock twitch painfully against your boxers, and with one swift motion, you push them down, freeing your thick length once more. You hover over her, caging her between your arms as you brush your nose against hers, your voice low and tender. "Tell me what you want. Hard? Or slow?" Her dark eyes search yours, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she considers your question. A shy smile tugs at her lips before she murmurs, "Start... mid. Then—ah—faster when I say." Her fingers trail down your chest, her touch featherlight. "I want to feel you build up inside me."

You nod, pressing a soft kiss to her lips before guiding your cock to her entrance, the head nudging against her slick folds. She gasps as you push in, her tight walls fluttering around you as you sink in slowly, giving her body time to adjust to your girth. Her breath comes in short, shaky bursts, her nails digging into your biceps as you bottom out, your hips flush against hers. "O-oh fuck—" she whimpers, her legs wrapping around your waist to pull you deeper. "Y-You feel... so big..."

You groan, your forehead dropping to hers as you begin to move—mid-paced, just as she asked. Each thrust is deep, measured, your cock dragging against her sensitive walls in a way that has her toes curling. Her breathy moans fill the studio, her hips lifting to meet yours with every roll of your hips. You watch her face—every flicker of pleasure, every bitten lip, every flutter of her lashes—as you make love to her. Your hands roam her body, memorizing every curve, every dip, your touch reverent. When your thumb brushes over her clit, she jolts, a broken cry tearing from her lips.

"Y/N—! R-right there—!. P-please, harder now—!" You obey, your thrusts growing more forceful, more urgent, but never rough—never without care. Your hips snap forward, driving into her with enough force to make the couch creak beneath you, but your hands cradle her face, your lips capturing hers in a searing kiss to swallow her moans.

She screams into your mouth, her walls fluttering wildly as her climax crashes over her, her body shaking beneath you. But you don’t stop—can’t stop—not when she’s clinging to you, her nails raking down your back as she sobs for more. "D-don’t stop—! Fuck, don’t stop—!" You won’t. Not until she’s begging you to.

Your thrusts falter for just a moment as your brain buzzes with arousal at her request—but concern still lingers at the edges of your lust-drunk mind. Your lips brush along the shell of her ear, your voice ragged but tender as you murmur, "Tzuyu... , are you sure you took the pill? It's—hnngh—it's safe? Despite me cumming in you earlier?" Her answer comes between gasps, her fingers tightening in your hair as she nods frantically. "Y-yes, yes—ahh~!—took it s-seven days ago... made sure—haah!—to be extra safe..." Her breath hitches as you grind deep, her walls fluttering around your cock as she arches beneath you. "W-wanted—wanted you to breed me... fill me up... please—!"

The raw desperation in her voice sends a jolt of white-hot need straight to your cock. You pull back just enough to see her face—her cheeks flushed, her lips parted in swollen, panting breaths, her eyelashes fluttering as she looks up at you with pure devotion. The sight of her like this—goddess-like in beauty, yet ruined with pleasure just for you—makes your chest ache with something deeper than lust. To the world, she is Chou Tzuyu—TWICE's untouchable visual, the ethereal maknae with a face sculpted by the heavens. But here, beneath you, she is just yours—her body trembling, her perfect tits bouncing with each thrust, her toned stomach quivering as you drive into her over and over. The way her tight little pussy grips you, so warm and dripping, as if her body was made to take you... You can't help but groan, your hips snapping forward with renewed intensity, your voice a loving murmure against her skin. "Fuck—look at you... so perfect... taking me so well—" Her answering whimper is filthy, her legs locking around your waist to pull you deeper. "M-more—! Harder—! Wanna feel you—ahh~!—cumming inside me—!"

You oblige, your thrusts turning brutal, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the studio. Her moans grow shrill, her back arching off the couch as her nails rake down your back, her pussy clenching around you like a vice. You know you won't last much longer—not when she's begging for it like this, not when her body is milking you so perfectly. But you want to savor this—savor her—for just a little longer.

So you slow, just for a moment, your forehead pressing against hers as you catch your breath. "Tzuyu... look at me." Her hazy eyes meet yours, her lips parted in a silent gasp as you roll your hips in a slow, deep circle, grinding against her sweet spot. "I love you," you whisper, the words spilling out before you can stop them. Her breath catches, her eyes widening—before she melts, her entire body going pliant beneath you as she pulls you into a desperate, sloppy kiss. "I love you too," she whimpers against your lips. "Now please—fuck me like you mean it—!"

The moment the words leave her lips, something primal snaps inside you. Your grip on her hips tightens, fingers digging into her soft skin as you pull her impossibly closer, your cock throbbing deep inside her. The knowledge that she's safe—that she wants this, planned for this—sends a surge of possessiveness through you. "Fuck—Tzuyu—" Your voice is a ragged breath, your thrusts turning feral, each snap of your hips driving into her with enough force to make her gasp. "Gonna fill you up—gonna breed you so good—"

Her answering moan is broken, her back arching off the couch as she clings to you, her nails scraping down your back. Her pussy clenches around you, her walls fluttering wildly as she teeters on the edge of another climax. "Y-yes—! Please—!" she sobs, her legs trembling around your waist. "W-want it—want your cum—want you to own me—!" The filth spilling from her perfect lips is your undoing. With a guttural groan, you bury yourself to the hilt, your cock pulsing as you spill deep inside her, thick ropes of cum flooding her tight little cunt. She screams, her own orgasm crashing over her as she milks you for every last drop, her body shaking beneath you.

You collapse against her, your breath ragged as you press feverish kisses to her neck, her collarbone, her jaw—anywhere you can reach. She whimpers, her fingers carding through your hair as she comes down, her walls still fluttering around your softening cock. After a long moment, you pull back just enough to see her face—her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen, her eyes dazed with pleasure.

You brush a stray strand of hair from her forehead, your voice soft. "Okay?" She nods, a lazy, sated smile curling her lips. "Mmm... more than okay." Her fingers trail down your chest, her touch featherlight. "You... really did it, huh?" You chuckle, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Yeah. Just like you wanted." She giggles, nuzzling into your neck. "Good. Because I'm definitely not done with you...for a long time~"And as her fingers trail lower, her lips finding yours again, you realize one thing with absolute certainty— this lovely night ain't over yet.

After a few moments of catching your breath, Tzuyu suddenly pushes against your chest with surprising strength—rolling you onto your back before straddling your thighs. Her smirk is downright sinful as she trails her fingertips down your sweat-slicked chest, watching goosebumps rise in their wake. "Tired already, oppa?" she teases, her thumbs circling your nipples with deliberate slowness. "And here I thought my producer-nim had... boundless stamina."You groan at both her words and the way she grinds her dripping slit against your thigh—her arousal leaving slick streaks on your skin.

Even spent, your cock twitches back to attention beneath her, betraying your hunger. "Fuck—you're relentless," you rasp, hands sliding up her toned thighs to grip her waist. Her answering laugh is pure velvet as she leans down, her breasts pressing against your chest as her lips brush yours—just out of reach when you try to kiss her properly. "You love it," she whispers before suddenly twisting her body in one fluid motion—her back now facing you as she settles into reverse cowgirl, her perfect ass pressing against your hips.

Her back is a fucking masterpiece—the elegant curve of her spine dipping into the lush swell of her ass, her shoulder blades shifting like wings with every slight movement. The studio lights catch every ripple of muscle as she lifts herself slightly, reaching behind to guide your cock back to her entrance. Her skin glows—flushed and dewy from exertion—and when she glances over her shoulder, her eyes are dark with intent. "Watch," she breathes, sinking down onto you in one torturously slow motion. "Watch how tight I take you like this."

And god —she's right. The angle makes her feel even tighter, her walls fluttering around you as she starts to ride you with shallow, experimental bounces. Her hands brace against your thighs for leverage, her back arching as she throws her head back— perfectly framing the way her silky hair spills between her shoulder blades. You can't resist sitting up slightly—one hand gripping her hip while the other trails up the ladder of her spine, making her shudder. "You're gorgeous," you whisper, nipping at her shoulder. "Look at you—riding me like you were made for it."

She moans, her rhythm stuttering as your fingers tangle in her hair, gently tugging her head to the side to expose her neck. You lick a hot stripe up her pulse point, reveling in her gasp. "I was," she pants, her voice breaking as you thrust up to meet her next descent. "M-made for y-you—ahh~!" Her words unravel you. Your grip on her hip tightens as you help her move—guiding her into a faster, harder pace. The lewd slap of skin on skin fills the room, punctuated by her high, breathy whimpers. Every time she sinks down, her ass bounces against your pelvis—the sight so obscene you have to bite back a groan.

One of your hands slides around to her front, fingers finding her swollen clit with practiced ease. She jerks in your lap, a broken cry tearing from her lips as you circle the bundle of nerves in time with her movements. "Ngh~! T-too much—!" she sobs, but her hips don't stop—if anything, she grinds down harder, chasing the overstimulation.You chuckle, your lips against her ear. "You asked for this, Tzu. Wanted me to use you, remember?" Your fingers press down just enough to make her legs shake. "So take it. Take everything I give you."

Her answering whine is filthy, her body clenching around you as she nears another peak—but you slow your hand, denying her release. She whimpers, her rhythm faltering as she glares at you over her shoulder. "Y-Y/N—!"

"Oops~"

You smirk, pressing a kiss to the corner of her pouting lips. "Not yet. Gonna make you beg for it." And with that, you flip her onto her back again—her legs hooking around your waist as you loom over her, your cock still buried to the hilt. Her chest heaves, her eyes blown with lust as she realizes— You're far from done.

Tzuyu's breath comes in shallow gasps as she arches her back, her fingers gripping the couch cushions beneath her. Her voice is barely above a whisper when she speaks, laced with both hesitation and desire."Y/N... can you...?" She bites her lip, her cheeks flushing even deeper as she glances back at you over her shoulder. "I want you to... spank me. Just—just a little. Please?"

Your heart races at her timid request, your hands immediately soothing over the curve of her ass, massaging gently before you lean down to press a kiss between her shoulder blades. "Only if you're sure, Tzu. And we stop the second you want to, okay?"She nods eagerly, her body trembling with anticipation. "I trust you."

You start slow, your palm connecting with her right cheek in a light, almost playful tap. The sound is crisp in the quiet studio, and Tzuyu lets out a surprised little gasp—more from the sensation than any real pain. You rub the spot gently, watching the faint pink bloom under your fingertips."Okay?" you murmur, your other hand still caressing her hip reassuringly.She nods, pushing back against you slightly. "Mhm... again?"

You oblige, this time a little firmer—your hand landing on the other cheek with a soft smack. Tzuyu whimpers, her fingers tightening in the couch cushions, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she rocks her hips back, silently asking for more. You continue like this—alternating between soft spanks and soothing strokes, letting her adjust to the sensation. Each strike is measured, careful, never enough to truly hurt—just enough to make her skin flush a deeper shade of pink. Her breath hitches every time your palm connects, her body growing more pliant beneath your touch.

As Tzuyu grows more comfortable, her moans become louder, needier. She starts rolling her hips in time with your strikes, her slick arousal coating your thighs as she grinds against you. "H-harder," she whines, her voice trembling. "Please, Y/N—I can take it." You hesitate for only a second before giving her what she asks for—your next spank landing with a sharper crack, the sound echoing in the studio. Tzuyu yelps, her back arching, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she pushes back, her ass now a pretty, rosy red under your attention.

You alternate between spanks and gentle rubs, your other hand gripping her waist to steady her as she starts bouncing in your lap again. Each time your cock slides back into her, her walls clench around you, her pleasure mounting with every strike. "F-fuck—!" she sobs, her rhythm growing erratic. "It feels—ahh~!—so good—!" You watch, mesmerized, as her body reacts—her skin flushed, her breath coming in ragged pants, her pussy dripping around you. The contrast between the sharp sting of your spanks and the overwhelming pleasure of your cock inside her has her teetering on the edge, her moans turning shrill with desperation.

Even as you indulge her request, you never lose sight of her comfort. Between strikes, your fingers trail over her heated skin, soothing the slight sting before building it back up again. When she whimpers, you pause, pressing a kiss to the small of her back. "Still good?" you murmur, your voice thick with concern. She nodded, clearly eager for you to go on.

You oblige, your next spank landing just a little harder, making her jolt in your lap. Her pussy squeezes around you, her orgasm crashing over her with a broken cry. Her thighs tremble, her nails digging into the couch as she milks you through her climax, her body going taut before collapsing forward, spent. You catch her, pulling her against your chest as you both catch your breath. Your hands roam her back gently, tracing the faint marks left by your touch—not bruises, just a temporary blush of pink that’ll fade soon. She turns in your lap, as she nuzzles into your neck, her voice soft and sated. "Thank you..." You press a kiss to her forehead, your heart full. "Always, Tzuyu-yah."

Tzuyu's body is still trembling from her last climax, her oversensitive walls fluttering around your cock as you continue to move inside her—slow, deep thrusts that make her whimper with every drag of your length. Her fingers clutch at your shoulders, her nails digging in just enough to leave faint crescents in your skin as she tries to steady herself. "Y-Y/N—ahh~!—i-it's too much—!" Her voice is a broken plea, her thighs quivering as you push her further into overstimulation. But you don’t stop—not yet.

You want to see just how far she can go. You shift slightly, angling your hips to grind against that sweet spot inside her with every thrust. Her back arches off the couch, a strangled cry tearing from her lips as her pussy clenches around you like a vice. "I know, baby," you murmur, your voice rough with restraint as you press a kiss to her collarbone. "But you can take it. Just a little more—"

Her response is a garbled moan, her head thrashing against the cushions as you pick up the pace—your thrusts growing faster, harder, each one driving her closer to the edge again. Her legs lock around your waist, her heels digging into your back as if she’s trying to pull you even deeper. And then— It happens. A sharp, desperate cry rips from Tzuyu’s throat as her body seizes beneath you—her back bowing off the couch, her fingers scrambling for purchase against your skin. For a split second, you think she’s just coming again—but then you feel it.

The first gush is hot, slick, flooding between your bodies with enough force to drench your thighs. Tzuyu screams, her entire body convulsing as her pussy pulses around you, her release coming in waves—not just the thick, creamy femcum from before, but something more, something primal. The scent is musky, heady, the liquid gushing out of her in a near-geyser of pleasure and desperation, soaking the couch beneath you both. Her eyes are wide, her mouth agape in shock as she squirts—her body betraying her in the most filthy, beautiful way possible. Your hips snap forward, pounding into her through the mess, your cock sliding effortlessly in the slick heat of her ruined pussy. Tzuyu sobs, her hands flying to her face as she shakes, her thighs dripping with the evidence of her surrender.

"O-oh my god—!" she chokes out, her voice wrecked. "I-I didn’t—hahh~!—I didn’t mean to—!" You lean down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss, your tongue sliding against hers as you claim her moans. "Shh, it’s okay," you growl against her mouth. "You’re perfect. So fucking perfect." Her answering whimper is broken, her body yielding to yours as you fuck her through the aftershocks, her pussy still clenching around you in weak, sporadic flutters.

The squelch of your thrusts is obscene, the sound of her dripping arousal filling the studio as you push her further, deeper into bliss. And when you finally spill inside her—your cum mixing with her mess—Tzuyu wails, her nails scoring down your back as her body locks around you, milking you for every last drop. You collapse against her, both of you panting, shaking, ruined. And as you press a kiss to her sweat-slicked forehead, her dazed, sated smile tells you everything you need to know.

You slowly pull out of Tzuyu's thoroughly used pussy with a soft, wet sound, both of you wincing slightly at the sensitivity. Your cum spills out of her in thick, messy ropes, dripping onto the already ruined couch beneath her. Her thighs tremble as she instinctively tries to clench them together, but she’s too spent—too open after taking you so many times.

Tzuyu lets out a breathy sigh, her fingers lazily trailing through the mess between her thighs before lifting them to her lips. She licks her fingers clean with deliberate slowness, her dark, sparkling eyes locked onto yours with a mischievous glint you rarely see from her. "Mmm… delicious," she purrs, her voice still husky from exertion. Then, with a giggle that sounds almost wicked coming from someone as composed as her, she murmurs, "Think you can fill me one more time, oppa? Or are you finally tired...?"

You blink, stunned for a moment—both at her boldness and the way her usually elegant diction melts into something downright filthy in the afterglow. But then a slow grin spreads across your face as you lean in, trapping her beneath you again, your lips brushing her earlobe. "Oh, Tzu" you murmur, voice dripping with playful warning, "You’re gonna regret teasing me when I pin those pretty legs back and pound another load into you so deep you’ll taste it tomorrow." She shivers, nibbling her lip—but there’s no real hesitation in those doe-eyes. Just challenge. And when her fingers slide down to rub slow, teasing circles over her swollen clit.

Tzuyu slowly peels herself off the couch, her legs still trembling slightly as she lowers herself onto the plush carpet of the production room. She gets on all fours, her back arching elegantly as she presents her perfect, round ass to you—high, tight, and still faintly pink from your earlier attention. With a playful wiggle, she glances back over her shoulder, her usually composed face now flushed with a mix of shyness and boldness. "I... I want to try it," she murmurs, her voice softer now, less teasing—more vulnerable. "I-I brought... lube. Just in case." She nods toward her purse nearby, where a slim bottle of strawberry-flavored edible lube peeks out from the side pocket.

You blink, surprised but touched by her thoughtfulness—how she had planned for this moment, how she trusted you enough to explore this with her. Your heart swells as you reach for the bottle, your fingers brushing against hers gently before you take it. "You're sure?" you ask, your voice warm, your thumb stroking the back of her hand reassuringly. "We don’t have to if you’re not ready." She bites her lip, her eyes flickering with a mix of nervousness and determination before she nods. "I’m sure. I... I want to feel all of you."

You pop open the bottle, squeezing a generous amount of the sweet-smelling lube onto your fingers before warming it between them. Then, with deliberate tenderness, you drizzle it over her ass, watching as the pink-tinged liquid trails down the curve of her cheeks before pooling at her tight, puckered entrance. Tzuyu shivers at the sensation, her breath hitching as your fingers glide over her skin, spreading the lube in slow, soothing circles. "O-oh—" she whimpers, her hips shifting slightly. "It’s... cold." You chuckle softly, leaning down to press a kiss to the small of her back

"It’ll warm up soon," you murmur before gently pressing a slick fingertip against her rim, applying just enough pressure to make her gasp. You take your time—rubbing, massaging, letting her body adjust to the foreign sensation before slowly pushing the tip of your finger past the tight ring of muscle. Tzuyu tenses immediately, her fingers curling into the carpet beneath her. "Breathe, Tzu," you remind her, your free hand stroking her hip soothingly. "Relax for me... that’s it." She exhales shakily, her body gradually loosening around your finger as you work it deeper, gently stretching her. The lube makes the glide smooth, and soon, you’re able to move in and out with ease, her walls fluttering around you in hesitant pulses. "H-how does it feel?" she asks, her voice small, uncertain. You chuckle, your fingers still moving with painstaking slowness. "Yeah, baby. Good weird." By the time you’re three fingers deep, her body is pliant, accepting, her earlier tension replaced by soft, breathy moans. She’s ready—but you still take a moment to lean over her, pressing your chest to her back as you nuzzle against her neck. "Still okay?" you whisper, your lips brushing her ear. She turns her head just enough to capture your lips in a sweet, lingering kiss before nodding. "Mhm... more than okay."

And with that silent permission, you finally—finally—line yourself up, your cock slick with lube as you press against her entrance, your heart pounding in your chest. This is going to be slow. This is going to be careful. And—if the way Tzuyu is whimpering beneath you is any indication—this is going to be perfect.

Your fingertips trace delicate patterns along Tzuyu’s spine as you hover over her, your bodies connected only by the heated anticipation between you. She shivers beneath your touch, her back arching ever so slightly—a silent plea for more. You lean down, pressing a tender kiss to the curve of her shoulder, your lips whispering against her skin: "You’re doing so well, hun… so perfect for me." Your voice is barely above a murmur, warm and thick with affection.

Tzuyu turns her head just enough to catch your lips in a slow, achingly sweet kiss, her lashes fluttering as she sighs into it. When she pulls back, her lips are glossy and slightly parted, her breath coming in soft, uneven puffs. "Y/N…" Her voice is small, vulnerable—so unlike her usual composed tone. It makes your chest tighten. "Will you… keep talking to me? Like this? It—ah—it helps." You nuzzle into the crook of her neck, your hands roaming her sides in slow, soothing strokes. "Of course," you promise, your lips brushing her pulse point. "Every second. I’ve got you."

You shift slightly, lining your cock up with her slicked entrance, your tip pressing just enough to make her tense for a fleeting moment. Instantly, you still, your hands returning to her hips in a grounding grip. "Breathe, Tzuyu," you remind her, your thumbs rubbing gentle circles into her skin. "In… and out. Just like that." She obeys, her body gradually relaxing beneath yours as you push forward—inch by agonizing inch. The heat of her is overwhelming, her walls hugging you in a vice-like grip, so tight it feels like her body is trying to fuse around you. A choked whimper slips from her lips, her fingers clawing at the carpet beneath her. You freeze. "Too much?" She shakes her head frantically, her voice shaky but determined. "N-no… j-just… full." She pants, her hips pressing back just slightly—enough to make you groan. "D-don’t stop."

You exhale a shuddering breath, your forehead dropping between her shoulder blades as you resume your slow, painstaking thrust deeper. Every movement is measured, careful, your cock sheathed in slick warmth as her body reluctantly yields to yours. When you’re finally fully seated, buried to the hilt, you both pause—breathing heavily, trembling against each other. Tzuyu’s fingers unclench from the carpet, her hand blindly reaching back to grasp at your thigh. "O-oh my god," she whimpers, her voice wrecked. "I-I can feel you… everywhere." You press a kiss to the damp skin between her shoulder blades, your hands roaming her body in slow, worshipful strokes. "You’re amazing," you murmur against her skin. "Taking me so good, so perfectly…"

She whines at your praise, her walls fluttering around you in a way that makes your vision blur. You grind deeper experimentally, earning a sharp gasp from her—but before you can pull back, she pushes against you, her hips rocking back in a silent plea for more. You chuckle, breathless, your lips curling into a smile against her back. "Greedy, huh?" you tease, your hands gripping her waist as you finally—finally—begin to move. And when she moans, loud and filthy, her body arching beneath yours, you know— You’re both ruined for anything else.

Tzuyu's ass is a work of art—high, round, and perfectly sculpted, the kind that makes your mouth water just looking at it. The soft globes are still faintly pink from your earlier spanking, the skin warm under your palms as you grip her hips. Her asshole is a tight, fluttering ring of muscle, clenching and unclenching nervously around the thick head of your cock. The strawberry lube glistens around her rim, making the stretched skin shine under the studio lights.

You move with agonizing slowness, letting her body adjust to the overwhelming stretch. Every inch you push in feels like a victory—her muscles resisting at first, then reluctantly yielding to your girth. Her breath comes in shaky gasps, her fingers twisting into the carpet as she tries to relax. "S-so big," she whimpers, her voice trembling. "F-feels like you're splitting me—"

You pause when you're halfway in, your cock throbbing inside her impossibly tight heat. Leaning over her, you press a kiss to the small of her back, your hands soothing up her sides. "Breathe, Tzuyu-yah," you murmur against her skin. "Just relax… you're doing so good." She nods, exhaling shakily as her body slowly loosens around you. You resume your slow push forward, watching with rapt attention as her ass swallows more of your length. The way her rim stretches around you is obscene—her pink flesh clinging to your shaft like it never wants to let go.

When you're finally fully sheathed inside her, you both freeze, panting. Tzuyu's whole body is trembling, her back arched beautifully as she adjusts to the overwhelming fullness. "O-oh god," she whines, her voice breaking. "I-I can feel you everywhere—" You groan, your fingers digging into her hips as you fight the urge to move. "Fuck, you're perfect," you grit out. "So tight… like you were made for me." She whimpers at your words, her walls fluttering around you in a way that makes your vision blur. You pull back just an inch before sliding back in, setting a slow, deep rhythm that has her moaning into the carpet. And as her body finally accepts you, her moans turn from pained to pleasured—her ass squeezing you just right with every thrust. She was made for this. Made for you.

Tzuyu's breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps as she arches her back further, presenting her perfect ass to you in the most obscene invitation. The strawberry lube glistens around her stretched rim, her hole still fluttering from the initial penetration.

She glances back over her shoulder, her dark eyes hooded with lust, lips swollen from biting back moans. "Y/N…" Her voice is a breathy whisper, raw with need. "Start slow… but don’t be too gentle. I want to feel you—all of you " Her words send a jolt of heat straight to your cock, already buried to the hilt inside her tight heat. You lean over her, pressing your chest to her back as your lips find the shell of her ear. "Tell me if it’s too much," you murmur, your hands sliding down to grip her hips. "I’ll stop the second you need me to." She nods, her fingers twisting into the carpet beneath her as you finally—finally—begin to move.

You pull out almost completely, watching with rapt attention as her asshole clenches around nothing, trying to keep you inside. Then, with deliberate slowness, you push back in, your cock sinking into her tight heat inch by torturous inch. Tzuyu whimpers, her back arching as her body struggles to adjust to the stretch all over again. "F-fuck—" she gasps, her voice trembling. "S-so deep—" You groan, your fingers digging into her hips as you bottom out, your pelvis flush against her ass. The way her walls grip you is unreal—like her body was made to take you like this.

You pause, letting her adjust, your thumb rubbing soothing circles into her hipbone. "You’re doing so good, love" you praise, your voice rough with restraint. "Taking me so well…" She shudders at your words, her hole fluttering around you in a way that makes your vision blur.

Encouraged, you pull back again, this time setting a slow, steady rhythm—each thrust deep and measured, each withdrawal just enough to make her whine in protest. Tzuyu’s moans grow louder, her body gradually relaxing into the rhythm as pleasure begins to outweigh the initial discomfort. Her ass bounces slightly with each thrust, the lewd slap of skin on skin filling the studio. The sight is obscene—her perfect cheeks jiggling, her hole stretched wide around your cock, the lube making every movement slick and effortless.

After a few minutes of this agonizingly slow pace, Tzuyu pushes back against you, her voice a desperate whine. "Y/N—please—" Her fingers claw at the carpet, her hips rocking back to meet your thrusts. "I-I can take more… harder—" You groan, your grip on her hips tightening as you oblige, your thrusts growing faster, harder. The force of your movements sends her sprawling forward, her chest pressing into the carpet as you pound into her from behind. Her moans turn shrill, her walls clenching around you like a vice as pleasure overwhelms her. "O-oh god—!" she sobs, her voice breaking. "I-It’s—ahh~!—s-so good—!"

You lean over her, your chest pressing against her back as your lips find her ear. "You love this, don’t you?" you whisper, your voice thick with lust. "Love getting your tight little ass fucked like this?" Her answering wail is filthy, her body quivering beneath yours as you ruin her. And when your hand slides around to her front, your fingers finding her dripping pussy, she screams, her orgasm crashing over her with brutal intensity.

But you don’t stop—not when she’s begging for more, not when her body is milking you so perfectly. No, you’re just getting started.

Tzuyu's body arches beautifully beneath you, her flushed skin glistening under the studio lights as she takes every deep, rough thrust—her tight hole gripping you just right as she whimpers into the carpet. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air, mingling with her desperate moans. Her fingers scramble for purchase, nails digging into the plush fibers as she pushes back against you, "M-more—ahh~!—p-please, more—"

But despite the ferocity of your movements, your hands remain tender—one gripping her hip possessively, the other stroking down her spine in soothing, worshipful caresses. When her moans pitch higher, her body tensing as she nears another overwhelming climax, you suddenly slow—just enough to give her a moment to breathe. "Shh, I've got you," you murmur, pressing a kiss to the curve of her shoulder. "You're doing so good, baby—taking me perfectly." She whines, her hips squirming impatiently beneath you. "N-no—don't stop—!"

You smirk, leaning back just enough to admire the rosy blush already coloring her ass from earlier—but it’s not enough. Not when she’s begging so prettily. Your hand lifts, hovering just above her heated skin. "You want more?" you tease, your voice thick with affection. "Then tell me where." Her breath hitches, her body trembling as she glances back at you with wild eyes. "M-my… a-ass," she stammers, her cheeks flushing darker. "P-please…?" Your palm comes down in a sharp, stinging smack—just hard enough to make her jolt, her walls clenching around you in a way that has you groaning. She yelps, her back arching, but then— "A-ah! Again—!"

You comply, your strikes alternating between cheeks, each one landing with a crisp sound that echoes in the studio. Tzuyu’s moans grow louder, needier, her body rocking back to meet your thrusts as her skin turns a delicious shade of red. Yet, even as you mark her, your touches remain reassuring—your free hand rubbing circles into her lower back, your lips pressing apologetic kisses to every spot you strike. "That’s it," you praise, your voice a heated murmur against her skin. "Taking my cock and my hand like a good girl." She sobs at your words, her hips grinding down as another orgasm rips through her—her ass fluttering around you in rhythmic pulses. You groan, your thrusts turning erratic as her tight heat threatens to undo you, but you hold back, refusing to spill just yet.

Tzuyu whimpers softly as you guide her onto her stomach, her body stretching out in a straight line along the plush studio carpet. Her fingers curl into the fibers, gripping tightly as she presses her flushed cheek against the soft material, her breath coming in shallow pants. The curve of her back is a smooth, elegant slope, her ass still beautifully reddened from your earlier attention—just begging to be marked even more. "L-like this?" she murmurs, her voice trembling slightly as she glances back at you over her shoulder. Her dark eyes are wide, pupils blown with lust, her lips parted as she waits for your next move. You nod, running a soothing hand down her spine before settling over her, your chest pressing against her back as you line your cock up with her slick, stretched hole. "Perfect," you murmur, your lips brushing the shell of her ear

The angle is unreal. With her legs together beneath you and her hips slightly raised, her ass swallows you whole, her walls clenching around you in a way that makes your vision blur. You sink in slowly, savoring every inch of her tight heat, your hands gripping her waist to keep her steady. "O-oh fuck—" Tzuyu gasps, her fingers scrambling against the carpet as she struggles to adjust. "Y-You’re—ahh~!—s-so deep—" You groan, your forehead dropping between her shoulder blades as you bottom out, your hips flush against her ass. The sensation is overwhelming—her body hugging you in a way that feels made for this position. You stay like that for a moment, letting her adjust, your lips pressing soft, reassuring kisses along her spine.

"Breathe, Tzu, " you murmur, your voice rough with restraint. "Just relax… you’re taking me so well." She nods, her body gradually loosening beneath yours, and when you finally move, it’s with a slow, deep roll of your hips—pulling out almost completely before sinking back in with leisurely precision. Tzuyu whimpers, her back arching as the new angle hits her in ways she’s never felt before. "Y/N—ahh~!" she sobs, her voice breaking. "I-It’s—different—!" You smirk against her skin, your hands sliding up to pin her wrists gently against the carpet as you pick up the pace—your thrusts growing faster, harder, each one driving you deeper than before.

The slap of skin on skin is obscene, her ass jiggling with every brutal snap of your hips. Tzuyu's body trembles beneath you, her fingers twisting into the carpet as your thrusts grow deeper, more relentless. The angle of the prone bone position allows you to reach unimaginable depths, each snap of your hips drawing out broken, breathy moans from her lips. Her skin is slick with sweat, her back arching beautifully as she takes every inch of you, her tight hole fluttering around your cock in desperate pulses.

"Y-Y/N—ahh~!" she sobs, her voice cracking as another wave of pleasure crashes over her. Her thighs quiver, her body tensing—and then, with a sharp cry, she squirts again, her release soaking the carpet beneath her as her walls clench around you in rhythmic spasms. You slow your movements, your hands immediately soothing over her heated skin, rubbing gentle circles into her hips as she gasps for air. "Shh, it's okay," you murmur, your voice soft, tender. "You're doing so good, baby. Just breathe for me." She nods weakly, her body still trembling from the intensity of her orgasm.

You press a kiss to the nape of her neck, your lips lingering against her damp skin as you give her a moment to recover. When her breathing steadies, you lean back slightly, your cock still buried inside her, and brush her hair away from her face. "Where do you want me to finish, Tzuyu?" you ask, your thumb tracing the curve of her cheek. "Tell me, and I'll give you exactly what you want." She turns her head just enough to meet your gaze, her dark eyes hazy with pleasure but still so trusting. A shy smile tugs at her swollen lips as she whispers, "On my back… please? I-I want to feel it… see it." Then, with a playful glint in her eyes, she adds, "And later… you can breed my ass properly."

A pause occured on you at her word. That's hot

Your heart swells at her words—not just because of the filthiness of them, but because of the trust behind them. You press another kiss to her shoulder, your voice warm as you murmur, "Anything for you." You pull out slowly, your cock glistening with lube and her arousal, and guide her onto her back. She goes willingly, her body pliant beneath your touch as you settle between her thighs. Her skin is flushed, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she watches you with hungry eyes.

You stroke yourself lazily, your thumb swiping over the head of your cock as you admire the mess you’ve made of her—her ass still red from your spanks, her thighs sticky with her own release. When your orgasm finally hits, you groan, your release painting thick, hot stripes across her stomach and chest. Tzuyu gasps, her fingers trailing through the mess with a look of awe. "So warm…" she murmurs, her voice breathless. You collapse beside her, pulling her into your arms as you both catch your breath.

Your fingers trace idle patterns along her spine, your lips pressing gentle kisses to her forehead. "You were amazing," you whisper, your voice full of affection. "So perfect for me." She nuzzles into your chest, her body still humming with pleasure as she sighs contentedly. "Mmm… next time, breed me like you promised?" You chuckle, your arms tightening around her. "Whenever you want"

The studio air still hummed with the heat of your earlier passion, the scent of sweat and sex clinging to your skin as you both caught your breath. Tzuyu lay half-draped across your chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns through the thin sheen of sweat on your collarbone. The quiet between you was comfortable, intimate—the kind that only exists when two bodies have learned each other so thoroughly that words become unnecessary.

But then her fingers trailed lower, her nails scraping lightly over your abdomen before wrapping around your half-hard cock with a playful squeeze. You groaned, your hips jerking instinctively as her thumb swiped over the sensitive head, still slick with lube and her own arousal. "Tzuyu—" you warned, but your voice lacked any real protest. She knew it too, her lips curling into that mischievous smile that always meant trouble.

"What?" she murmured, her voice dripping with faux innocence as she stroked you slowly, her touch feather-light. "I thought you were done." You caught her wrist gently, your fingers circling the delicate bones as you pulled her hand away—but not before your body betrayed you, your cock twitching in her grip. She giggled, the sound bright and infuriatingly pleased with herself. "You’re impossible," you muttered, but the fondness in your voice gave you away. She knew exactly what she was doing—knew how easily she could unravel you with just a look, a touch. And God help you, you loved it.

You sat up, pulling her with you, your hands settling on her hips as you guided her to her feet. She went willingly, her body pliant beneath your touch, but there was a glint in her eyes now—a challenge. She wanted to see how far she could push you before you snapped. And you were more than happy to oblige. The couch was still a mess—crumpled fabric damp with sweat and lube, the armrests bearing the faint imprints of her nails from earlier. You guided her toward it, your hands sliding up her back as you bent her over, her palms flattening against the leather. The position arched her back beautifully, her ass on full display—still red from your earlier attention, her hole slightly puffy from how thoroughly you’d fucked her.

You stepped closer, your cock sliding between her thighs, the heat of her skin maddening even before you lined yourself up. the head of your cock brushed against her entrance, her body remembering the stretch, the fullness. "Y-Y/N—" she gasped, her fingers tightening on the armrest. "I-It’s—" You leaned over her, your chest pressing against her back as your lips found her ear. "It’s what, baby?" you murmured, your voice low, teasing. "Too much? Or not enough?" She shuddered, her hips rocking back impatiently—her answer clear. You chuckled, your hands gripping her waist as you pushed forward, your cock sinking into her with agonizing slowness. The angle was different this time—deeper, tighter, her walls clenching around you in a way that made your vision blur.

Tzuyu cried out, her back arching as she took you, her body yielding perfectly to yours. You paused when you were fully sheathed, giving her a moment to adjust, your thumbs rubbing soothing circles into her hips. "Breathe," you reminded her, your voice soft despite the fire burning in your veins. "Just like that… good girl." She nodded, her exhale shaky as she relaxed beneath you.

Only then did you move—pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in with a deep, measured stroke. Tzuyu moaned, her fingers scrambling for purchase on the couch as you set a relentless pace, each snap of your hips driving you deeper than before. The sound alone was enough to undo you—the slap of skin on skin, the squelch of lube and her own arousal as you fucked her, the broken little whimpers spilling from her lips with every thrust.

And the sight—God, the sight. Her ass jiggled with every impact, the reddened skin clapping against your thighs as you pounded into her. Her back was a perfect, elegant curve, her shoulder blades shifting beneath smooth, sweat-slicked skin as she arched into your touch. And when you reached around to cup her breast, her nipple pebbling against your palm, she sobbed, her walls fluttering around you in a way that made your knees weak.

You groaned, your forehead dropping to her shoulder as you fought for control. She was ruining you—wrecking you—and she knew it. "Y-Y/N—ahh~!" she cried, her voice breaking as you hit just the right spot. "I-I’m gonna—please—" You knew what she was asking for—knew she was close again. But you slowed, your thrusts turning shallow, teasing, just to hear her beg. "What do you want, Tzuyu-yah?" you murmured, your lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Tell me." She whined, her hips rocking back desperately, trying to chase her release. "F-fuck me harder—please—"

You obliged, your hands tightening on her hips as you snapped forward, your cock pounding into her with brutal precision. Tzuyu screamed, her body locking around you as she came, her orgasm ripping through her with violent intensity. And when you followed her over the edge, your release spilling deep inside her, she collapsed against the couch, her body trembling from the aftershocks.

You caught her before she could slide to the floor, your arms wrapping around her waist as you pulled her close, her back pressed to your chest. She melted into you, her head lolling against your shoulder as you pressed kisses to her damp skin. "You okay?" you murmured, your voice rough but gentle. She nodded, her fingers tangling with yours as she brought your hand to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. "Mmm… better than okay."

Tzuyu's fingers still traced lazy circles on your chest, her touch feather-light and teasing. The way her lips curled into that mischievous smirk—so unlike her usual composed, elegant self—made your breath catch. She was playful, bold, her dark eyes glinting with a mix of challenge and amusement as she watched your reaction.

"What?" she murmured, her voice dripping with faux innocence as she dragged her nails down your stomach, stopping just above where your cock lay half-hard against your thigh. "You look surprised." You exhaled a laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. "I just…" Your fingers brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear as you studied her—the flush on her cheeks, the way her lips were still slightly swollen from earlier. "I didn’t know you could be this naughty."

For a second, her smirk faltered. Your words—spoken with such open admiration—seemed to catch her off guard. The teasing glint in her eyes flickered, replaced by something softer, shyer. Her fingers stilled against your skin, and suddenly, she wasn’t the bold, demanding vixen from moments ago. She was Tzuyu again—the Tzuyu who got flustered when complimented too directly, the Tzuyu who hid her face in her hands when the members teased her.

Her gaze dropped, her lashes fluttering as she bit her lower lip. "I…" She hesitated, her voice suddenly small. "I didn’t mean to be too much." Your heart squeezed. God, she was adorable. One second, she had you wrapped around her finger, and the next, she was blushing over it. You cupped her cheek, tilting her face up to meet your eyes. "You weren’t," you assured her, your thumb brushing over the apple of her cheek. "I love when you’re like this. When you’re… confident." Her breath hitched, her eyes searching yours—as if she couldn’t quite believe you meant it. Then, slowly, a shy smile tugged at her lips. "…Really?" You grinned, leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of her nose. "Really."

She giggled—a soft, girlish sound—before burying her face in your neck, her arms winding around your waist. You could feel her smile against your skin, the way her body relaxed into yours. And just like that, the moment shifted. The air between you wasn’t charged with lust anymore—just warmth, affection, the kind that made your chest ache. But then her fingers danced lower again, her touch light, testing—and when you groaned, she laughed, the sound bright and triumphant. "…So," she murmured, her lips brushing your ear, "does that mean I can be naughty again?" You groaned, tipping your head back against the couch as her hand wrapped around you, her grip firm, knowing. Yeah. You were doomed.

The moment Tzuyu's hands fisted in your shirt and yanked you upright, you barely had time to process the sudden movement before her legs were wrapping around your waist, her bare thighs squeezing your hips with surprising strength. A startled yelp escaped your lips as you instinctively braced your hands under her ass, her weight settling against you as she clung like a koala—her lips already seeking yours in a messy, impatient kiss.

"Tzuyu—!" you gasped against her mouth, your voice equal parts exasperated and fond. But she just giggled—that breathy, mischievous sound that always meant trouble—and ground her hips down against yours, the slick heat of her already making your cock twitch back to full hardness.

"Carry me," she demanded between kisses, her teeth nipping at your lower lip. "Fuck me like this. Please."

you pushed into her in one smooth, deep stroke. The angle was unreal—her legs spread wide around your hips, her body stretched open as you filled her completely. Tzuyu arched off the wall with a sharp cry, her head falling back as her walls fluttered around you, adjusting to the sudden stretch.

You paused, your forehead dropping to hers as you both caught your breath. Her panting breaths fanned across your lips, her eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings against her flushed cheeks. Up this close, you could see every tiny freckle dusted across the bridge of her nose, the way her pupils were blown so wide her irises were nearly swallowed by black. She was beautiful—wrecked already, and you'd barely even moved.

"Okay?" you murmured, your thumb brushing over her hipbone in slow, soothing circles.

She nodded frantically, her fingers tightening in your hair. "M-move—please—"

You obliged, pulling out almost completely before snapping your hips forward again, the force of it driving her harder into the wall. Tzuyu yelped, her legs tightening around you as you set a brutal pace, each thrust jolting her higher up the wall. The sound alone was filthy—the wet slap of skin on skin, her gasping moans, the way the wall creaked slightly with every impact.

And the feel—God, the feel of her.

Her walls clenched around you in rhythmic pulses, her body milking you with every inward stroke. Her breasts bounced with each movement, her nipples pebbled and begging for attention. You ducked your head, capturing one in your mouth, your tongue flicking over the stiff peak as she sobbed above you.

"Y-Y/N—! Ahh~!" Her back arched, her thighs trembling around you as her orgasm crept up on her. "I-I'm gonna—hnngh~!"

You groaned around her nipple, your hips stuttering as her walls fluttered around you. But you held back, focusing entirely on her pleasure, on the way her body tightened, on the broken little noises spilling from her lips.

When she came, it was with a scream—her body locking around you, her nails scoring down your back as she shook in your arms. You held her through it, your thrusts turning shallow, gentle, prolonging her pleasure until she was whimpering from overstimulation.

Only then did you still, pressing her firmly against the wall as you both panted, your foreheads resting together.

And as her dazed, sated eyes met yours, you knew—

You'd do anything for her.

Tzuyu's back arched as her palms flattened against the cold surface of the production room table, her fingers scrambling for purchase on the smooth metal edge. The shift in position made her gasp—her legs still locked around your waist, but now her upper body was braced against the table, giving her just enough leverage to rock her hips at her own pace. You could feel the tremors running through her thighs, the way her inner muscles fluttered around your length as she adjusted to the overwhelming fullness. Her breath came in short, uneven pants, her lips parted in a silent 'O' as she experimentally rolled her hips, testing the angle.

"S-slow…" she whimpered, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyelashes fluttering like delicate butterfly wings against her flushed cheeks. "It's too… ahh~… too much right now…"

You immediately stilled, your hands moving to cradle her hips, your thumbs rubbing soothing circles into the dip of her waist. The way she looked in this moment—her usually pristine hair tousled and sticking to her damp forehead, her lips swollen from kisses, her chest rising and falling rapidly—it made your chest ache with something far deeper than lust. You leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the hollow of her throat, tasting the salt of her sweat on your tongue.

"Take your time," you murmured against her skin, your voice rough with restraint. "However you need me… I'm here."

She exhaled shakily, her fingers flexing against the table as she began to move—tiny, experimental rolls of her hips that gradually grew more confident. The drag of your cock inside her was exquisite, the wet heat of her almost too much to bear. You bit back a groan, your forehead dropping to her shoulder as you let her set the rhythm, your hands remaining gentle but firm on her waist, guiding but never forcing.

The production room around you was silent save for the sound of your mingled breathing and the occasional creak of the table as Tzuyu shifted. The overhead lights cast a soft glow over her skin, highlighting the sheen of sweat along her collarbones, the way her small, perky breasts bounced ever so slightly with each shallow thrust. They were perfect—not overly large, but beautifully shaped, the pink nipples pebbled and begging for attention. You couldn't resist leaning down to capture one in your mouth, your tongue swirling around the stiff peak as Tzuyu moaned, her back arching off the table.

"Y-Y/N—!" Her hands flew to your hair, her fingers tangling in the strands as she pulled, her hips stuttering. "T-that's—ahh~!—too sensitive now…!"

You released her with a soft pop, grinning up at her through your lashes. "But you taste so good," you teased, your voice dripping with affection. "Like honey and salt… perfect."

She whined, her cheeks flushing an even deeper pink at your words, but her hips didn't stop moving—if anything, they grew more desperate, her thighs tightening around your waist as she sought more, deeper.

As much as you wanted to let her take the lead, the feel of her—her tight heat, her trembling thighs, the way her walls clenched around you with every tiny movement—was pushing you dangerously close to the edge. Your fingers dug into her hips, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as you fought to hold back.

"Tzuyu…" you warned, your voice strained. "I'm close… so close…"

Her eyes—dark with lust but still so clear, so trusting—met yours, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. Then, with a suddenness that stole your breath, she pushed against your chest, her legs unwrapping from your waist as she slid off your cock and dropped to her knees in front of you. You barely had time to process what was happening before her small, delicate hands were wrapping around your length, her fingers just barely meeting around your girth as she began to stroke—fast, firm, her thumb swiping over the leaking tip with every upward motion.

"Ah-ah," she chided, her voice breathless but playful, her dark eyes glinting up at you through her lashes. "My turn."

Your breath caught as she leaned in, her pink tongue darting out to lick a slow stripe from base to tip, her lips wrapping around the head with a filthy pop. The contrast was staggering—one moment, she was a trembling, oversensitive mess beneath you; the next, she was devouring you with a confidence that made your knees weak. Her free hand cupped your balls, her fingers massaging gently as she took you deeper, her throat fluttering around the tip in a way that had you seeing stars.

You groaned, your fingers tangling in her hair—not to guide her, just to feel, to anchor yourself as she worked you over with single-minded determination. The sight of her like this—Chou Tzuyu, the ethereal visual of TWICE, on her knees for you—was enough to send you spiraling. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked, her tongue pressing against the sensitive vein on the underside of your cock, her moans vibrating through you like electricity.

And then, just as you were about to lose it, she pulled back, her hand stroking you rapidly as she tilted her face up, her lips parted in invitation.

"Come here," she whispered, her voice hoarse from use.

Your hips jerked involuntarily, your release barreling toward you with unstoppable force., your release coming down across her face in thick, pulsing ropes. The first stripe splashed across her cheekbone, glistening against her flawless skin. The second landed on her chin, dripping down toward her throat. The third—God, the third—painted her lips, her tongue darting out to catch the last drops with a smug little hum.

She looked ruined—her hair mussed, her face glazed with your cum, her eyes dazed but triumphant. And yet, she was still beautiful, still Tzuyu, still the girl who made your heart stutter with just a smile.

Someone really needed to give you the "Luckiest Guy on Earth" title.

"Pretty?" she asked, her voice lighter now, playful.

You choked on a laugh, your fingers trembling as you brushed a stray drop from her chin. "So pretty," you breathed, your voice wrecked. "The prettiest."

She beamed up at you, her nose scrunching in that adorable way it always did when she was happy, and in that moment, you knew—

You were the luckiest man alive.

#twice #chaeyoung #dahyun #jeongyeon #nayeon #momo #sana #jihyo #mina #tzuyu #twice tzuyu #tzuyu smut #twice smut #twice x male reader #girl group smut #chou tzuyu

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midniqhtt · 1 year ago

Text

james ‘logan’ howlett

masterlist • x-men • 11/18/24

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs

two

𑣲 as it was I @ichorai

you first met logan as weapon x, wiped clean of any memory of his past life. he had nearly killed you then. and now, almost two years later, he’s pressing kisses over the very same scars his adamantium claws had inflicted.

𑣲 blast from the past I @lune-hime

𑣲 a wolverines heartache I @imaginesforfandom

On two separate occasions, both Y/N and Logan find jealousy within their friendship.

𑣲 feral I @angelltheninth

𑣲 worked up I @loganbcrnes

logan breaks the bed

𑣲 anything I @starryluce

Almost everyone fears Logan but Logan only fears you. His wife that happens to be pretty mad at him.

𑣲 i need you baby I @lilac-mushroom

When you found out that mutants were being chased and attacked, you couldn't stand the thought of Logan, an old friend of yours, being hurt. Upon arrival at the place he was staying at, you found him beaten up and hurting, his healing powers slowed down. Deciding to take care of him, you couldn't ignore the closeness and strong sexual tension felt between you, just like old times. It wouldn't be bad to give in to it... right?

𑣲 above the clouds I @/lilac-mushroom

Flying over to Atlanta for a mission with the X-Men, you sat next to Logan on the plane. But when his hand sneaked to caress the top of your thigh, you were faced with having to decide between sneaking off with him to the bathroom and leaving Logan painfully hard for rest of the flight. Maybe if you tried to be quiet...

𑣲 apologies I @jbreenr

The Wolverine's presence in your life took a turn you did not expect.

𑣲 two wolves, one bunny I @buckylattes

Logan and Bucky have had their eyes on you for a little bit now, and you can’t stand to wait any longer for them to finally make a move. So you make a move of your own and finally, you all get what you’ve been wanting.

𑣲 next door neighbor I @/buckylattes

Your next door neighbor, Logan, has been trying to get your attention for a while now, but he fears that he’s taken the whole situation the wrong way. Will you ever give him a chance?

𑣲 possessive I @/buckylattes

Logan is always very possessive of you, his girl, but you can’t really be mad at him even if you try.

𑣲 untangle me I @buckyownsmylife

The one where once it becomes clear that Logan is your alpha, he’s the one left pining

𑣲 first burn I @/buckyownsmylife

The one where Logan is so crazy to make sure that everyone knows you’re his, that he fucks you in front of everyone.

𑣲 prom I @loving-barnes

𑣲 a little game I @/loving-barnes

𑣲 touch me like nobody else does I @galatially

you called and i came, the history between us too broad to ignore; when he showed up on your doorstep five years after he disappeared in the middle of the night, logan howlett decided to clear the air.

𑣲 in love with the wolverine I @ellana-ravenwood

𑣲 sunshine and flowers I @hannibals-favourite-meal

Logan has had a great many loves in his long life and he’s over it. He doesn’t want to lose anyone else yet somehow, the annoying and very much younger art teacher at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, wormed her way into his heart.

𑣲 the way back home I @/hannibals-favourite-meal

After months of being apart from each other, he’s finally back in your arms

𑣲 worst possible decision I @/hannibals-favourite-meal

How could Logan be stupid enough to fall for the little sister of an overprotective metal controlling mutant? As it turns out, very easily.

𑣲 body swap I @make-me-imagine

reader and wolverine get body swapped, and the reader just so happened to be on their period when it happens + them having to deal with each others mutations.

𑣲 wolverine x reader I @carry-on-wayward-sun

𑣲 it should have been me pt2 I @wolfdeamonghoul

Bucky and you had a good relationship, until he felt like didn’t need you anymore and so he breaks up with you and starts dating Natasha soon after. It only takes seeing you walking down the aisle, saying your ‘i dos’ to someone else for him to realize his mistake.

𑣲 what a tease I @/wolfdeamonghoul

you tease Logan too much that he begins to pleasure himself

𑣲 sexting I @/wolfdeamonghoul

𑣲 breed out I @holylulusworld

you woke the animal in wolverine.

𑣲 bed sharing I @/holylulusworld

“Can you do ‘bed-sharing’ with Wolverine? He’s grumpy and you believe he doesn’t like you, but he can’t stop himself from sniffing at your neck and it can be smutty or just fluff. You decide.”

𑣲 cranky I @/holylulusworld

Your boyfriend is cranky in the morning.

𑣲 newbie I @kgficz

Logan had arrived at the X Mansion only a few days ago, finding it difficult to adjust. One night when he can’t fall asleep, he finds you awake in the kitchen and strikes up a conversation.

𑣲 back in time I @/kgficz

Set in Days of Future Past; Logan has lost everything, he has lost you. He’s finally been sent back in time to change the future. How can he keep his head straight when he travels back and sees a younger you?

𑣲 logan training I @imyourbratzdoll

logan and the reader end up training in another... more fulfilling way.

𑣲 labels I @mlmxreader

you and Logan discuss your relationship over a beer.

𑣲 the last goodbye I @trickstersteve

𑣲 just a dance I @lipstickandvibranium

Logan wasn’t fond of parties, but he was fond of her.

𑣲 i guess you didn’t cheat, but… I @youreobsessedwithtoomanyfandoms

𑣲 request I deactivated account

𑣲 grumpy x sunshine I @inkdrinkerworld

𑣲 mutant!reader I @/inkdrinkerworld

𑣲 forever winter I @luna-writes-stuff

After a rough mission, you lost a handful of students. Trying to sleep off your concussion, Logan retreats to the kitchen, coping in his own ways. You encounter him late at night, and remember him that there is no need for him to deal with this alone.

𑣲 obsessed with wolverine I @gallavichsreddie1128

𑣲 sugar, sugar I @eupheme

Your eccentric neighbor Wade may drive you a little up the wall… but, you’re willing to put up with him if it means he’ll introduce you to his new, grumpy-looking roommate.

𑣲 come on and show me I @/eupheme

𑣲 your kiss is on my list I @/eupheme

𑣲 the honda odyssey I @coweye

The car fight reimagined and it only needed to be like 10% more erotic than the original.

𑣲 the worst logan part 2 I @/coweye

You are the deceased-anchor-being-Logan's lover, having found yourself with Laura in the void, you navigate meeting the variant of the love of your life

𑣲 all coming back to me I @heartlogan

logan didn’t realise you would be here in the past. all that follows.

𑣲 the story ends I @/heartlogan

the day that logan lost you

𑣲 request I @gay-dorito-dust

logan reuniting with reader

𑣲 heart made of glass I @moonlight-prose

you couldn't control when they could come. the waves of nothingness - of battling with your body and mind in the hopes it would cause a shift. you wanted to control it. he simply wanted to help.

𑣲 home video I @little-miss-dilf-lover

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett angst #logan howlett oneshot #wolverine #wolverine x reader #x-men #x men x reader #logan howlett imagine #wolverine imagine #logan x reader #james howlett x reader #james howlett #james howlett imagine

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colouredbyd · 18 days ago

Text

Hold On Tight, It’s a Wild Ride!

cowboy!remus lupin x fem!reader x biker!sirius black

synopsis : saddle up, trouble’s here! after getting caught by sirius, the towns sweet baker slips out of remus’s reach, leaving him lost in a haze of desperate need and restless nights. sirius is dead set on breaking through that sweet, guarded shell—ready to ride hard and take whats been teasing for far too long. three wild hearts tangled in a dirty game, with a brat determined to push them both to the edge and ride this madness straight to hell.

warnings: NSFW, explicit sexual content, graphic language, dirty talk, sexual tension, alot of teasing, semi-public sex, dirty thoughts, exhibitionism, lots of cum, eating out, oral sex, penetrative sex, blow jobs, spitting, fingering, eating out, degradation, praise kink, bratty behavior, brat taming. porn but with plot, everyone in this is horny!!!

w/c: 8.6k (pure filth)

a/n: this is 8k words of horny thoughts then smut <3 (posted at 4 am, therefore not proofread)

part one masterlist

Remus has a serious fucking problem — and that problem is you.

Not that he’s the kind of guy to moan about it out loud. You’re not some nuisance he wants to shoo away. He doesn’t hate you, doesn’t think you’re annoying, and damn sure doesn’t want you anywhere but near.

Hell, it’s the exact opposite — he likes you too much. Way too much. And that’s the goddamn problem.

He tries to look anywhere but at you when you bend down to pick up that jar you dropped. That dress you’re wearing is way too fucking short — and sure, Remus tells himself he ain’t staring (he totally is), but everyone else at this godforsaken town sure as hell notices.

That includes Lily, who’s already stepped behind you, blocking the view of your white panties you’re practically handing out like candy to every poor bastard around this town.

Remus doesn’t know if he should thank Lily for covering you up or tell her to move the fuck aside so he can see better.

Then there’s Sirius. That son of a bitch is leaning casually against the porch rail, smirking like the cocky bastard he is, eyes locked on Remus like he’s watching a damn rodeo. The way Sirius looks at him — it’s not exactly friendly.

That look on his face is a mixture of mischief and something more dangerous, like he knows exactly what kind of mess he’s stirring up.

Remus feels his jaw tighten. Him and Sirius? They go way back. Old friends, yeah — but the kind of friends who messed around casually, no strings, no promises.

That was supposed to be the past, something Remus told himself was done and dusted. That was before Sirius started slipping back into his life like a ghost, dragging all those old, confusing feelings with him.

Remus wants to convince himself it’s over, that he’s moved on. But every time Sirius shows up, with that damn smirk and those sharp eyes, his brain shorts out and his dick wakes the hell up like clockwork.

He shoots Sirius a glare, half pissed off, half... well, he doesn’t know what the hell else it is. Desire? Frustration? Both? But mostly irritation that the bastard has this power over him.

Still, Remus tries to keep his gaze on you — because you’re the real problem here, standing so goddamn close, making it impossible not to want more than just friendship. And if that wasn’t enough, here’s Sirius, watching the whole damn thing unfold like it’s his personal entertainment.

Remus still remembers the exact second Sirius Black walked through the bakery door five days ago. The bell jingled sharp and clear, cutting through the quiet heat between you and him.

You’d been caught in the middle of something—pressed close together, breathless and more than a little tangled—and then suddenly, the moment shattered.

“Am I interrupting?”

You jolt like you've been caught stealing something, which, to be fair, you sort of were—Remus’s breath, his body, his quiet unraveling.

The bell above the bakery door jingles again as it swings shut behind the voice.

“—because I was promised a raspberry tart and a man with manners. So far, I see neither.”

Remus swears softly, forehead thudding against your shoulder with a muffled groan.

“Sirius,” he mutters, like the name physically pains him.

You look up, and there he is—Sirius Black. Leather jacket, loose black hair dangling messily at his nape, a smirk so lived-in it might as well be stitched into his mouth. He doesn’t seem even a little sorry.

“Remus,” he returns, stepping further into the bakery like he owns the air. His eyes flick to you. “And you must be the infamous baker.”

You try to pull away from Remus, but his hand on your waist tightens just enough to say: don’t.

Sirius’s gaze drags slowly down from your flushed cheeks to your parted lips to the hand Remus hasn’t moved. There’s no shame in the way he looks at you—just curiosity, interest, something too alive to name. His tongue runs along his bottom lip, and he smiles like he’s already halfway through the punchline.

“Well, this is cozy,” he says. “Didn’t realize I was walking into a bloody rom-com.”

“Don’t you have a bike to crash?” Remus growls, still leaning into you but straighter now, all tense muscle and wary heat.

Sirius shrugs. “She’s cooling off.” His eyes stay on you as he adds, “Thought I’d do the same.”

Ever since that fucking day Sirius showed up at the farm, you’ve been avoiding Remus like he’s some goddamn plague. Like, you’ve been ducking him harder than a shitstorm you don’t want to get caught in.

You don't visit him, don’t meet his eyes when he’s in the same damn road as you, and for the love of everything holy, you haven’t come near the Lupin farm for a goddamn chocolate restock in what feels like forever.

Hell, when Remus finally dragged his sorry ass over to the bakery, you nearly pretended not to see him—almost walked right past like you hadn’t seen the dude who’s been circling your life like a fucking shark.

And Remus? Jesus Christ, he’s losing his fucking mind. Since you started ghosting him, he’s been pacing that goddamn farm like a caged animal, snapping at thin air and muttering all sorts of pissed-off nonsense under his breath.

He’s so desperate it’s pathetic — like, you can almost hear the poor bastard begging himself to grow a spine and just say something.

Every second you keep avoiding him, the harder he spirals, pacing and cussing like the farm’s about to fall apart around him because you won’t give him a single goddamn minute of your attention.

Sirius’s arrival hadn’t just interrupted whatever was between him and you—it threw everything Remus thought he’d settled into into a chaos he wasn’t ready for.

And deep down, Remus knows it’s going to take more than a few days—and a lot of stubborn fights with himself—to keep that old fire from burning everything down again.

Meanwhile, you’re behind the counter, wiping down the worn wooden surface, exchanging smiles and small talk with a regular customer when suddenly the familiar loud rev of a motorcycle engine cuts through the quiet street outside.

You already know who it is before the bell over the door jingles sharply.

And then he steps in.

It’s an odd sight—Sirius Black in your cozy little bakery. Tall, wild black hair falling in unruly waves, too many piercings glinting under the soft light, a leather jacket worn like a second skin, and the unmistakable scent of smoke and cigarettes clinging to him like a shadow.

The contrast between him and the warm pastel walls, the scent of fresh bread and cinnamon, feels almost surreal—but there he is, smirking like he walked into heaven itself.

He steps in like he owns the place, and for a moment—just a moment—it feels like he does. He belongs everywhere and nowhere at once. And he looks so damn amused to be standing in the middle of a bakery painted blush pink, with frilly curtains and little glass jars of pastel meringues lining the shelves.

His eyes flick over you once, slow and lazy. “Well, this is domestic.”

You don’t even blink. “Can I help you, Black? Or are you just here to loiter and bring down the property value?”

He smirks. That same crooked smirk that probably had girls unbuckling their skirts behind barns in three diffRemust counties. “Actually, I’m here for something sweet.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Try the exit.”

“Tempting,” he murmurs, sauntering to the counter. “But I see something better.”

His fingers tap the glass as he surveys the baked goods, but you’re not fooled. His gaze keeps sliding back to you, flicking down your apron to the hint of skin where your neckline dips. You feel it like a stroke. Like he’s undressing you one glance at a time and enjoying every damn inch.

Your thighs press together behind the counter. It’s instinct. Desperate, shameful instinct, truly.

Sirius’s voice cuts in. “Cinnamon roll, big one, drowning in icing.”

Of course he picks that one. The messiest fucking thing in the case.

You box it up wordlessly, fingers shaking just a little as you hand it over. He doesn’t take it away. He peels the paper back right there at the counter and bites into it slow, like sin made flesh.

Icing smears his lip. His tongue swipes it off in a way that makes your breath catch. And then he licks his finger. Slow. Sucking it into his mouth like he’s thinking about sucking something else.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Your brain short-circuits.

Because it’s not just the way he eats it—it’s the sounds he makes, low and satisfied, half a growl, half a groan. It’s the smug glint in his eyes when he catches you watching him, cheeks burning, mouth slightly open, thighs clenched tight.

“You always make ‘em this sweet?” he asks, licking a stray bit of glaze from his thumb. “Or is this one just for me?”

You want to say something clever, something biting. Instead, your voice comes out thinner than you like. “You’re disgusting.”

Sirius grins like it’s the best compliment he’s ever gotten. “You’re blushing.”

You are. And worse, your head is filled with the filthiest thoughts. Like how that mouth would feel sliding down your stomach. How his rings might dig into your hips. How it would feel to straddle that stupid, loud bike of his with his hand up your skirt and his tongue in your mouth–

Okay stop. You look away.

Because if you look too long, you’ll do something you’ll regret. Like asking him to stay or like begging him to touch you.

“Bit jumpy today, sweetheart,” he says, licking a streak of icing from his palm. “Don’t worry. I bite soft.”

You swallow around the lump in your throat, fists clenched at your sides.

He leans a hip against the counter like he’s got all the time in the world, licking icing from his thumb with deliberate slowness, eyes still fixed on you like he’s imagining how you taste instead.

“I said you’re disgusting,” you snap again, more breathless this time. You hate how he gets under your skin. How you can already feel your pulse between your thighs.

“And you keep saying that,” he says, cocking his head. “Yet here you are. Still standing there. Still looking at me like you want to lick this sugar off my mouth yourself.”

“You’re delusional.”

He chuckles—low, dangerous. “You think Remus doesn’t notice, sweetheart?”

Sirius steps closer.

“You think he doesn’t see the way you flounce around this little bakery in that short-ass dress, bending over the lower shelves every chance you get?” His hand gestures vaguely to the glass display, to you. “Like a desperate little bunny just begging to get caught.”

Your mouth opens, but the words short-circuit under the heat of his stare.

Then you move. A little too fast. Pretending to tidy something, needing to break the tension, needing air—anything honestly.

You crouch down, grabbing a container, the skirt of your dress riding up dangerously high.

You feel it before you hear it.

Sirius moves behind you—slow, steady footfalls across the floorboards. The heat of him right at your back before you can stand fully. His hand reaches out and cups your jaw, tilting your face toward him. The grip is gentle, but there’s nothing soft in the way he looks at you.

“Don’t play dumb,” he says, voice dipped in honey and smoke. “I know what you’re doing. All that innocent bakery girl shit. Sweet smile, pretty apron, acting like you don’t know how you’re driving every man in this town to fucking madness.”

His thumb brushes your cheek, then down—drags lightly over your bottom lip.

“You don’t want me to stop, do you?”

He’s close enough that you can taste the cinnamon on his breath. Close enough that if you moved just a little, your mouth would be on his.

You hate that he’s right. You hate it more that your body’s betraying you—heart hammering, thighs pressed tight, panties damp and clinging, soaked through from just the way he’s looking at you.

“Sirius…” It’s meant to be a warning, but it comes out like a plea.

He grins like sin itself, thumb still resting on your lip, a smear of sugar on your skin. “Say it again.”

Your breath catches, but before you can respond, he tilts his head, eyes flicking lazily down your body, the way your dress clings, how your nipples are hard through the thin fabric, how your thighs shift like you’re trying to stop yourself from rubbing them together.

“Gonna drive poor Remmy crazy, walking around like that,” he mutters, almost to himself. “All soft and soaked and ignoring the poor man.”

And something in you snaps. Maybe it’s the way he says “Remmy,” maybe it’s the condescension, maybe it’s just the filthy heat pooling between your legs—but suddenly you’re stepping forward, tilting your chin up, pressing your chest lightly against his.

Your voice is syrupy sweet, but your eyes don’t flinch.

“Well then,” you purr, “why don’t you go tell Remmy what a filthy little mess I am?”

You smile—slow and dangerous. “Tell him how I’ve been thinking about him every night since he kissed me in this bakery. How I keep fucking myself with my fingers imagining his hand on my throat and your mouth between my legs.”

He’s dead silent. Frozen. His hand tightens ever so slightly around your jaw.

You keep going, drunk on the thrill. “Bet you’d both like that, wouldn’t you? Watching me fall apart on my knees, moaning for one of you while the other ruins me.”

His breath catches audibly. And then he laughs—sharp, guttural, mean. It sounds almost like pain.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “You really are the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

His mouth is open, lips parted like he’s ready to either spit the filthiest thing he can think of or bite.

He’s leaning in—you can see it, feel it, the lazy drag of his breath against your mouth, the way his eyes darken as they drop to your lips. His hips shift forward, almost like he’s going to pin you right up against the counter and do something about that little speech you just gave–

–You step back.

“Oops,” you chirp, sweet as poisoned honey, like you didn’t just wreck him. “Looks like you’re not the only one who wants cinnamon today, Black.”

The bell above the door jingles just as Sirius’s mouth clicks shut, his body still strung tight like he’s about to lunge.

A middle-aged woman walks in—regular customer, probably here for her usual almond croissant—and she gives you a polite smile, completely clueless that she just stepped into a goddamn storm of unspoken filthy tension and raw, aching need.

Sirius doesn’t move. In fact, he’s never hated some poor innocent old woman this much for cockblocking him. Because right now she’s the biggest motherfucking wedge between him and what he wants.

If looks could kill, she’d be six feet under by now.

He’s still standing there like he’s been punched in the stomach, watching you swish back behind the counter like nothing happened, like you didn’t just whisper the word ruin into his ear while smiling about Remus.

“Hi, Mrs. Vance,” you say sweetly, already ducking behind the counter, cheeks flushed but not from embarrassment. “Croissant and lemon loaf today?”

“Please, dear.”

You serve her like it’s any other morning, grabbing the still-warm croissant from the rack and slicing her lemon loaf with practiced ease.

Sirius doesn’t move. He stands in the center of your soft, pastel bakery like a devil dragged into a prayer circle—black leather jacket, too many rings, silver chain glinting under the lights. Watching you with hooded eyes, tongue flicking over his bottom lip, catching stray sugar.

You slide the bag across the counter, take the woman’s cash, and chirp, “Have a lovely morning!”

She’s barely out the door before Sirius mutters, “You’re good at that.”

“At what?” you say, stepping away from the register, grabbing a napkin to wipe your hands, heart still hammering behind your ribs.

He follows you with his eyes, slow and slick. “Playing innocent.”

You scoff, but your dress sways dangerously high as you reach for the tub of cinnamon glaze on the prep counter. “It’s because I am.”

Sirius snorts. “Sweetheart, you were grinding on my best friend like a bitch in heat five days ago. You wanna tell me that was innocent?”

You pause, reaching over to the counter and dipping your fingers into the glaze you had set out earlier while prepping. Slowly, deliberately, you turn to him and suck a dollop off your finger, locking eyes as you do.

“Don’t act like you didn’t love watching it,” you purr.

He starts toward you again, like he’s about to crowd you into the counter—but you’re faster this time.

You sidestep just before he touches you, tossing the glaze-stained napkin in the bin and licking the last bit from the side of your mouth, letting it linger.

“I mean, if Remus was actually fucking me that day,” you add, voice light, “you wouldn’t have had to guess.”

Sirius’s nostrils flare.

You blink up at him all innocent, tilting your head like you’ve got no clue what kind of filthy-ass tornado you just whipped up in his gut.

You’re standing there in that damn dress that’s way too short, grinning like a devil, fingers dripping with some suspiciously white, sticky glaze—hell, Sirius doesn’t even wanna know what kind of sweet, slimy shit it is, only that he really is trying not to let his perverted thoughts wonder.

Then your lips part again, this time in mock surprise, fingers pressing against your temple as if some great tragedy has just struck you.

“Shit,” you gasp dramatically, eyes wide. “I just ran out of cinnamon powder—Remus had some stored in the back of the barn.”

You say it like it’s nothing. Like you haven’t just said his name with that soft, familiar note that Sirius swears does something rotten to his chest. Like you don’t know how close he is to yanking the apron from your waist and pinning you against the prep counter.

You untie the apron with one hand, dropping it onto the hook with the same lazy grace you seem to do everything with. Like being hot was just something you were born knowing how to weaponize.

Sirius watches, helpless, as your dress hikes even higher during the motion—bare thighs, that sway of your hips, the soft dip of your waist. It's a visual kick to the teeth.

“Well,” you chirp, already walking toward the back exit, your voice syrup-sweet and oblivious. “Catch you later, Black. I’ve gotta go grab some things from Remmy.”

You say it like that, and Sirius’s jaw clenches.

He hates—hates—how the image rushes in uninvited: you in that same dress, climbing the hill toward the Lupin farm, sun on your shoulders, dirt under your heels, lips parted just a little because you’re always flushed from the heat when you get there. And Remus is probably out back, sleeves rolled up, hands dirty, hair wild.

Sirius knows how that ends. He’s seen how that ends. You in Remus’s lap, whining into his neck, grinding like you can’t help yourself, like you were made to fuck on bakery counters and wooden barn tables and motorcycle seats and wherever the hell else your pretty little body wants to be worshipped.

Sirius blinks hard.

Fuck.

He shouldn’t be thinking this.

But he is.

He doesn’t like town girls. Never has. He grew up in places where girls wore lipstick sharp enough to draw blood, where they took shots faster than you could blink, laughed with mouths wide open and eyes dark. He fucked girls in pub bathrooms with his rings still on. He liked it filthy and fast and forgettable.

But you?

You walk barefoot through the market with your basket of flour and blueberries, leave pink gloss stains on straws, tuck daisies behind your ear without even trying.

And somehow, somehow, Sirius feels more perverse imagining what you sound like when you beg than he ever has with girls who would’ve let him tie them up in a booth at The Dog & Bone bar.

He swallows.

You’re halfway out the backdoor when his voice snaps through the haze. “I’ll drive you.”

You stop and turn around, eyebrows raised like he’s grown a second head. “To the farm?”

He shrugs, trying to play it cool, ignoring the way his throat is dry and his jeans are suddenly too tight. “Why not?”

You glance between him and the bakery, lips quirking. “Not getting on that glorified deathtrap you call a bike, Black.”

He grins slow, stepping closer. “Come on, you don’t trust me?”

“Nope.”

“I’d never hurt you.”

You pause at the door, one hand on the frame. “You sure?”

He means it. He thinks he means it. But the way you’re looking at him now—mouth glistening with sugar, neck flushed, dress riding high like you want him to see—you’re making it impossible to remember where the line is. If there even is one.

You tilt your head slightly, like you know exactly the kind of chaos you’re causing.

His throat’s dry. Jeans tight. Every logical cell in his body tells him to knock it off—but logic doesn’t stand a chance when you’re looking at him like that.

You sigh, all mock annoyance, but there’s a flicker in your eyes that’s anything but innocent. “Fine,” you say, letting the word drag a little. “But if I die, I’m haunting you.”

You turn and walk out into the alley, hips swinging like a fucking metronome.

Sirius follows like he’s under a spell.

He knows he shouldn’t be thinking what he’s thinking. Not when Remus’s name is still fresh in the air. Not when you smell like vanilla and innocence and everything he’s ever sworn wasn’t his type.

The engine’s rumble echoes through the alley, low and feral, like something breathing beneath the concrete. You hesitate at the edge of the curb, the hem of your dress flaring in the breeze kicked up by the motor.

Sirius is already astride the bike, long legs planted, black boots grounded like he owns the damn earth. He pulls a cigarette from behind his ear, lights it with a flick and a hollow click, and takes a slow drag—like he’s got all the time in the goddamn world. Smoke curls from the corner of his mouth as he looks back at you over his shoulder, eyes half-lidded, a grin tugging lazy and cocky at his lips.

And the problem is—he knows exactly what he’s doing.

You narrow your eyes. “You’re gonna smoke and drive?”

He blows out a slow stream of smoke, eyes not leaving yours. “Sweetheart, if that makes you nervous... you really shouldn’t see how I handle the curves.”

Your breath catches—and he smirks wider, smug and dangerous, the kind of man who doesn’t just walk into trouble.

“All that attitude in the bakery,” he laughs, tilting his head, lips tugging into a smirk. “And now what? Nervous, sweet girl?”

You try to scoff, but it comes out breathier than intended. “I’m not nervous. I’m—”

He cuts you off with a laugh, slow and indulgent. “Sure, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, but your fingers twist at the side of your dress. “I just didn’t think you’d actually drive me.”

His grin deepens. “Wouldn’t be a gentleman if I let a pretty little thing like you go wandering off alone, would I?”

You don’t answer. You can’t, because suddenly, Sirius Black is off the bike.

He moves fast, faster than you’re ready for—two strides and he’s in front of you, hands landing firm on your waist.

Big hands, warm even through the leather, gripping like they’ve been there before in some fever dream you’ve barely dared to admit to having. And then—

“Oh—” you gasp as he lifts you like it’s nothing, like you’re made of silk and air.

Your hands flutter uselessly against his shoulders, but he’s already got you seated behind him, legs falling around either side of the seat. The leather’s warm beneath you, but not as warm as the heat starting to pool low in your stomach.

“There you go,” Sirius says, and it’s filthy, the way he says it—quiet and rough, like a man proud of what he’s just done. He steps back slightly and looks you over like you’re his work. “Pretty girl.”

The air gets knocked clean out of your lungs.

Fuck.

That means two things, your brain helpfully supplies in a scream.

One: He’s great at sex talk. Like, dangerously good. Like he’s probably the type to press his mouth to your ear and say filth until you’re begging, soaked through, clawing at him just to make—God, please—let you come.

Two: He clearly wants you.

Because no one touches someone like that unless they’re thinking about what else they could be doing with those hands. No one says “sweet girl” with that kind of revRemusce unless they’re already undressing you with their eyes. And Sirius Black? He doesn’t do sweet.

You're already pressed flush to his back as he settles in front of you again, heat rolling off him like fire. Your chest brushes his jacket, and your cheek hovers just near his shoulder. You can smell the smoke in his hair, the faint bite of leather and clove.

“You good?” he asks, glancing back just slightly, voice low.

You nod, barely.

He revs the bike and that filthy little smile is back. “Thought so.”

But just before he pulls off, he glances down at your hands, still clutching his sides, and says, “You might want to hold on tighter, baby. I don’t take it slow.”

And fuck.

You swear your thighs tense up around the seat like instinct, like survival. You want to say something back. You want to snark or flirt or bite. But you’re too busy being halfway undone by a man who hasn’t even touched you where it matters yet.

So you grip tighter.

And when the bike tears down the street, wind in your hair, engine loud in your ears, Sirius Black between your legs, the only thing you can think is: I’m going to hell for this.

The ride out of town is a blur of roaring wind and roaring thoughts. Your arms wrapped around Sirius’s waist, your cheek brushing his back, and the sheer warmth of him bleeding through the layers of leather and tension. The world is a smear of golden fields and trees flying past — but your brain? Loud.

Because fuck, the way his thighs flex when he leans into turns. The way he half-tilts his head sometimes, murmuring something under his breath like “you enjoying the ride, sweetheart?” without even needing to say it aloud.

He knows exactly what he’s doing. And you know exactly what you’re letting yourself fall into.

By the time you see the faded Lupin farm sign and the soft stretch of earth around the property, your legs are sore from gripping him and your head’s a mess.

Sirius slows as he pulls into the drive, engine purring now, low and idle, as if the damn thing knows how to tease just like its rider.

Gravel crunches beneath the tires. The house looms ahead—modest, sun-dappled, framed by apple trees—and out front, beside the barn, stands Remus Lupin.

And God help you, again.

He’s in a henley, sleeves rolled up over his forearms, chest straining just slightly at the seams. There’s a faint sheen of sweat at his collarbone from the heat, his golden-brown curls tousled, jaw clenched as he leans on the counter by the shed—talking to someone.

You squint a little, your stomach curling.

She's pretty. Like, effortlessly pretty. All soft eyes and airy sundress, laughing at something he’s just said while tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Remus is nodding, polite and charming, his hands moving as he explains something about produce or jam or fuck if you care.

Because you’re suddenly, violently aware of the fact that Sirius is still between your legs and your thighs are still aching with want — and Remus Lupin, tall and golden and gentle-looking, is smiling at another woman.

And worst of all? You want him to look at you like that. Even worse than that? You want him to look at you the way Sirius has been all damn day—like he could eat you alive and never get full.

Sirius kills the engine and glances back at you. His voice is low, amused. “What’s with the stare, sweetheart? That your Remmy?”

You bristle, sliding off the bike. Your dress hikes high again as you land, and Sirius’s hand definitely lingers on your hip a second too long as he helps you down. “You’re so annoying.”

He doesn’t answer. Just lights another cigarette and leans back against the bike like he’s watching a play.

You smooth your hair, trying to ignore how Sirius is blatantly eyeing the hem of your dress, and stride forward.

You march up the Lupin farmhouse steps like you’ve done it a hundred times before, even though your heart’s thudding out a reckless, bratty rhythm that has nothing to do with familiarity and everything to do with proving a point.

Your dress clings to you in the heat, riding higher with every step, and you don’t bother fixing it. Let them fucking look.

Remus is still out there, leaning against the porch railing like sin draped in denim, the late sun pouring over him in gold, and that girl’s beside him—fingertips twirling in her hair, laugh soft and sugar-spun, like she’s never once had to try, and maybe she hasn’t. She doesn’t look at you, doesn’t even seem to notice, but he does.

The moment your boots crunch against the gravel, his gaze snaps to you and stays there. It drags, slow and hot, over your frame like he’s searching for something he lost and only just remembered where to find it, like you walked out of one of the dreams he pretends he doesn’t have, the ones that leave him hard and desperate and too wound up to sleep.

You toss him a vague, disinterested wave, keep your chin up, and sashay right past the two of them like you didn’t just spend the last ten minutes gripping Sirius Black’s waist and thinking about what else those hands could do.

The breeze lifts your skirt at just the right angle when you pass, and you hope he sees the sway of your ass.

Inside the farmhouse, you make a beeline for the pantry, yanking open cabinets like you own the place, lips pursed, movements loud and pointed.

You’re not even really looking for anything in particular–fuck the cinnamon powder. You’re just mad, jealous, and turned on. All of it simmering under your skin like a burn you keep poking.

You hear them come in behind you—boots on floorboards, the shift of male bodies in too-small doorways.

“You always walk into other people’s houses like this?” Remus asks, voice warm but confused, like he’s trying to balance you against the version of you in his head—the soft girl who fed the geese.

You glance over your shoulder with a smirk. “If you can show up at my bakery any time you want, I can show up here.”

His brow twitches at that. Sirius lets out a low whistle from behind him.

And then, suddenly, it’s all a little too quiet.

Remus is staring at you like you’ve grown horns. His eyes flick down—slow, slow, slow—from your smirking mouth to your chest, where the sweat is gathering beneath the thin fabric of your dress, then lower, watching your thighs press together, the little rhythm you can’t stop, the ache in you practically glowing in the late afternoon light.

And you know he sees it. You want him to see it. Want him to finally understand what kind of game you’re playing.

Christ, you think, heart hammering. He’s actually looking.

You should be embarrassed. You should say something innocent and cute and bakery-girl sweet.

But you don’t.

You lean forward just slightly, pressing your hands to the old wooden countertop, swaying your hips back as you pretend to look at something on the lower shelf.

“Out of cinnamon again,” you mumble, purely for show, because you’re fully aware of the way both of them go still behind you—aware of the absolute filth that’s probably collecting in Sirius’s head and the deep, tightly-reined tension in Remus’s.

You straighten, turn with a little too much purpose, and glance between the two of them like butter wouldn’t melt on your tongue.

“You boys just gonna stand there staring or are you gonna help me find the cinnamon?”

Then you look at Remus.Your lashes flutter, your lips pout just slightly, like you’re daring him to do something about it.

He doesn't. Of course he doesn’t.

So you roll your eyes and push up from the chair with a dramatic sigh, hips swinging as you strut past them toward the pantry. “Fine, I’ll just help myself. God forbid one of you offers.”

Christ, Remus thinks, rubbing his face with a mix of exhaustion and frustration as you storm off to the pantry.

He can’t help but notice the way your short dress rides up, teasingly revealing that perfect, round ass—firm and daring him like a damn invitation.

That dress belong in the fucking trash or on a pedestal where Remus can properly thank it and worship it.

Inside the pantry, you make a show of standing on your toes, your dress riding indecently high as you pretend to reach for the top shelf. You hum to yourself—off-key, childish, annoying on purpose. You want him to hear you, you want him to snap.

Still nothing.

So you reach up higher, let your back arch, your legs press together in that spoiled, lazy way that says someone should be helping me right now.

You pout, much louder this time.

“Remmy,” you call out, all false innocence and dripping entitlement, “your shelves are stupid. Why are they so high? Honestly, it’s like this place wasn’t designed for anyone with a sense of proportion.”

There’s a pause. A shift in the air. You know what’s coming.

You just don’t know if it’ll be him or Sirius who breaks first.

Then: “Top shelf. Cinnamon’s in a jar with a blue lid,” Remus says, voice clipped.

You scoff. “I see it. I just can’t reach it.”

You spin around and lean against the counter, crossing your arms over your chest.

The pose pushes your tits up, makes your dress slip a little lower on your shoulder. Deliberate. “You gonna be a gentleman and help me, or are you just gonna keep staring like a perv?”

That does it.

Remus steps into the room, slow and controlled, but there’s heat underneath—barely leashed. Sirius stays leaning in the doorway, grinning like he’s watching a play written just for him.

“You always this difficult?” Remus asks, voice low.

You tilt your head. “Only when I don’t get what I want.”

The way you say it—sweet, teasing, a little cruel—hangs in the air like smoke. And you know he hears it for what it is: a challenge.

You wander a few steps toward the shelf by the window, pretending to scan for what you came for—what was it? Cinnamon? Apricots? Something dumb. Something you don’t need, not really.

You hum under your breath and let your fingers trail carelessly along the edge of the table. “Honestly,” you add with a dramatic sigh, “I thought someone like you would be more helpful.”

You hear Sirius let out a low chuckle behind you, probably still leaning in the doorway like a smug bastard. But you don’t turn to look.

You’re watching Remus out of the corner of your eye, watching the way his jaw ticks, how his fingers curl at his sides like he’s trying—really trying—not to react.

He does that a lot, doesn’t he? Keeps his composure. Wears that patience like armor.

But today? Oh, today, you want to peel that armor off and see what’s underneath. You want to see if he can snap.

Because he deserves it, you tell yourself. You’ve been nothing but sweet—so sweet—until five days ago. And then you ignored him. Cold-shouldered him like a fucking pro.

And yeah, maybe it was petty, maybe it was dramatic, maybe it was your own twisted little game of making him sweat. But he had it coming.

And now you’re here. In his house. In that tiny little sundress. Acting like you own the place.

You know exactly what you’re doing.

Remus hasn’t moved. But you feel the shift in him. It’s in the weight of his silence, the tight line of his mouth, the way his gaze drops to your legs—your thighs, your fingers, the hem of your dress. Like he’s cataloging all the sins he’s about to commit if he stops holding back.

And god, it’s thrilling.

You let out the tiniest huff, pout just enough to be bratty. “Ugh. This is taking forever.”

You stomp—stomp—over to the pantry like some spoiled little thing, throwing the door open with more force than necessary, and bend over, hips swaying as you scan the shelves.

You know what this looks like. You want to know what this looks like. You want to see how long Remus Lupin can last before he snaps the leash.

Because what you don’t say—but feel like wildfire in your blood—is that you missed him. Stupidly. Intensely. And you’ve been wanting to get under his skin the way he’s been under yours since the first time he walked into your bakery and complimented your cinnamon scones with that slow, unreadable look in his eyes.

You turn back around, half-expecting to still find him at the door—but no. He’s stepped closer.

Close enough that you feel the heat rolling off him like sunlight after stormclouds. His mouth is tight and his eyes sharp.

This is it, you realize. This is the breaking point.

And Remus?

God, he’s unraveling.

Because five days without hearing your voice had nearly driven him mad. You hadn’t stopped by with leftovers or pies, and the farm had felt colder without your footsteps, without your voice talking to the geese like they were friends. Without the smell of sugar and sass trailing behind you.

And now you’re here. Acting like nothing happened. Acting like you didn’t wreck him by simply being gone.

And worst of all?

You showed up on Sirius’s bike.

Wrapped around his best friend.

Wearing that fucking dress.

Remus is a patient man. But he’s not a saint. And every second you pout, and whine, and rub your thighs together like you're not even trying to hide the tension coiling inside you, it digs deeper under his skin. You’re all attitude and heat and need—and he’s drowning in the storm of you.

This girl, this version of you? She’s not the one who left him cherry pies and kissed his cheek after sending her apples from the orchard. She’s not the one who fed his chickens and giggled at his horses.

No. She’s bratty. Entitled, temptation in its purest form.

And Remus Lupin would sell the whole damn farm—barn, land, livestock, house—for just one more taste of your pussy.

But you don’t know that. You don’t know what you’ve done to him.

Not until you look up, meet his eyes—and see that all his patience has turned into something dark, and hungry, and shaking with restraint.

You run your tongue over your bottom lip, teeth catching the skin just enough to make his eyes flicker down.

And then you roll your eyes, toss your hair like you’re bored. “God, if I wanted a man who just stared at me, I could’ve stayed in Sirius’s lap.”

There it is.

That sharp, awful silence, like all the oxygen just left the room. You can feel it when it hits. Like lightning in the chest.

You didn’t even mean it, not really. Just a jab, a bratty little dig. But you knew it would hurt. Knew it would burn. That was the point.

And Remus—

Remus doesn’t say a word.

He doesn’t shout. Doesn’t bark.

He just moves.

Your back hits the wall in the next breath. His hand is at your waist, the other at your throat, not squeezing, just holding you there, keeping you still. Not letting you pretend anymore.

And his voice is low. Ruined. “Say that again.”

You blink up at him, heart pounding, mouth gone dry. But there’s still a smirk curled at the corner of your lips.

“I said…” you hum, saccharine and infuriating, “…Sirius is a much better ride than you’ve been lately.”

That’s it.

That’s the fucking match.

Remus exhales something like a growl, and the hand at your waist slides down—gripping, digging into your thigh, dragging your leg up around his hip like he needs you anchored, needs you open. His mouth is at your ear now, hot breath grazing your skin, and his voice is no longer calm.

“You think this is a game?” he murmurs, all grit and gravel. “You think acting like a spoiled little slut is gonna get you what you want?”

You gasp, breath stuttering, your fingers clenching at the front of his shirt like you might float away otherwise.

“Five days,” he mutters, mouth brushing your jaw. “Five fucking days of silence. Of you pretending I don’t exist. Of watching you climb on Sirius’s bike like a little tease, walking around in that dress like you’re daring me to break.”

He shifts closer—grinding into you, firm, deliberate—just enough to make your breath hitch. Just enough to make your head tip back against the wall.

“You want attention that bad, sweetheart?” he whispers, mock-gentle. “You want to act like a brat, make me jealous, throw your pretty little tantrum until someone fucks it out of you?”

You bite your lip, breathless.

“Then you should’ve just said so.”

Remus Lupin has finally snapped.

You scoff, pushing back against the counter with a defiant grin. “Yeah, you are. Got me pinned here and you’re still talking. Honestly, Remus, maybe I was wrong about you. Maybe you can’t handle me after all,” you tease, wriggling as you try to stand, but his hand presses firmly into your back, holding you in place.

The heat pooling between your legs is undeniable—you feel the dampness soaking through your panties. You clench your thighs, desperate for some relief, but the way he’s got you, there’s no chance of that.

Then it hits you—this is exactly how Remus must hold people when he’s trying to keep them in line on the farm. The strong, silent type who doesn’t need to shout.

Holy hell, that’s unbelievably hot to think about. So steady, so grounded, so damn reliable. The man who fixes fences by day and somehow always knows when you need comfort at night. Remus, who probably hides his desire behind that calm facade, who might even blush if he thought about ogling you outright—but that quiet restraint only makes you want him more.

And then he’s tugging your dress up, your panties sliding down your legs until they’re bunched at your knees, exposing your bare skin.

“You really are something else, you know that?” he murmurs, fingers tracing over the smooth curve of your ass.

Then, without warning, his hand slaps down hard enough to make you flinch—if you wRemus’t already trapped beneath him. It’s sudden, sharp, and damn intoxicating.

You’ve fantasized about Remus spanking you before, hell, you’ve been practically begging for it with all the stubborn, bratty shit you’ve been throwing his way these past few days.

“You act like you’ve got it all figured out—switching between this innocent girl act and that spoiled little brat whenever you think it’ll get me to look your way. I’m not dumb, you know. I see right through it. Just let you think you’re running the show, ‘cause honestly? It’s adorable how much you want to be in control,” Remus’s voice drops low, rough and teasing, as his hand comes down again and again, each smack burning with the promise of more.

You whimper—half indignation, half need—and Remus lets out a low laugh.

“Oh, now she gets quiet, c’mon sugar, don’t act shy now- let him hear you.”

There’s a creak behind you, floorboards shifting with the unmistakable weight of someone else stepping in.

You glance up through your lashes and catch Sirius, still lounging in the doorway, but now his grin has faltered—just slightly. His eyes drag over the scene with lazy hunger, like a man who’s seen this storm brewing and is finally watching it break.

Remus leans down, mouth brushing the shell of your ear. “Since you’ve been acting like such a spoiled little thing… maybe it’s time dear old Sirius gets a turn. What do you think, sweetheart?”

Your breath catches.

Sirius hums thoughtfully, pushing off the doorframe as if he’s just decided this is worth getting involved in. “You know, I was gonna be a gentleman about all this.” He saunters forward, boots thudding against the old farmhouse wood. “But you make it real hard when you’re like this.”

You glance over your shoulder, lips parted, spine still arched from Remus’s hand. Sirius’s gaze flicks down, then back up with a smirk. “Aren’t you just the prettiest thing when you’re being taught a lesson.”

You shiver.

Sirius’s hand closes around yours. “Come on, pretty girl. Let’s get you somewhere softer.”

They lead you through the quiet farmhouse, your feet brushing the old wooden floorboards, the air thick with heat and something unspoken. Remus’s room is tucked in the back—cooler, quieter.

The door creaks open, and you swear your pulse is loud enough to hear.

Sirius nudges you toward the bed with a wicked smile. “Let’s see if that bratty little attitude holds up when you're actually being taken care of.”

And gods, you're not sure whether you're burning from the anticipation or from the fact that—for once—you’ve got both their full attention.

Sirius drops you hard onto the bed before standing upright again, he and Remus standing side by side, smirking like they own you. The raw, dominant energy radiating off them makes your skin prickle with want and delicious fear.

“Isn’t she fucking gorgeous, Sirius? I can’t wait to break her in,” Remus murmurs, his voice low and rough. Your breath hitches, eyes wide and burning with heat as you try to steady yourself, pressing your thighs together, cheeks flushing red-hot.

You want to crawl away, but you know better. You’re their plaything tonight. Their little spoiled brat who’s been testing boundaries and pushing limits.

“Don’t get shy now, baby. You’ve been teasing us all day long, making us wait,” Remus leans over you, lips close enough to brush your ear. His voice is a wicked promise.

“You’re gonna take every inch of what we give you, and by the end, you’ll be begging for more.”

Sirius growls low, his hands sliding under the hem of your dress, pulling it up over your hips.

You sit up just enough for him to strip the damn thing right off you, leaving you naked in nothing but white lace.

You feel so exposed, so damn delicious, and they’re drinking it all in—the way your skin gleams, your chest rises and falls, the way your pussy clenches uncontrollably just from their hungry gazes.

They toss their clothes off without a care—boxers only now—revealing bodies carved like sculptures, muscle and strength you ache to touch and worship.

Sirius climbs back onto the bed, back resting against the headboard, and without hesitation, he grabs under your arms, hauling you up until your back presses hard against his chest. His arms are strong and possessive, holding you exactly where he wants you.

You’re straddling his lap, trembling with anticipation.

His calloused hands grip your thighs, prying them apart, and suddenly Remus is there too, lowering himself between your legs. His pretty brown eyes lock onto yours, dripping with want. Your breath catches. You’re drowning in the heat between them, your pussy slick and throbbing just at the thought of what’s coming next.

You want to scream, to beg, to lose yourself in the way they claim you like their most prized possession. Your body aches for them—every touch, every look setting your nerves on fire. This is exactly where you belong. Between them, broken and begging.

Remus kisses along your thighs, the warmth of his exhales teasing you, purposely skipping over your dripping cunt. You groan, bucking you hips toward his face, only to be held back by Sirius's firm grip on your hips.

“Ah-ah, sugar,” Sirius murmurs against your ear, voice low and teasing. “That ain’t how good girls behave, sweetheart.”

Your breath catches, both from his grip and the heat pooling low in your belly. You whine softly, already desperate, and Sirius chuckles, his palm splayed possessively over your stomach.

“Tell him what you want,” he murmurs. “Use that mouth you’ve been running all day, come on, baby”

“Please, Remus,” you whisper, your voice a breathy mess. “Please touch me. I need—”

“More than that,” Sirius coaxes, brushing his lips over your shoulder. “You were such a brat earlier. You think we’re just gonna give in without hearing you beg a little?”

Your cheeks burn, not from embarrassment, but from how much you want to be seen, undone, wanted.

Remus looks up at you with those amber eyes, gaze dark and hungry, but still so tender.

"Tell me what you need, love," Remus murmurs, dragging his nose lightly along your thigh, just shy of your aching heat. "Use that pretty voice."

“P-please,” you gasp. “I need your mouth—I’ve been so good, Remmy, I swear—”

“You think that was good behavior?” Sirius laughs softly against your neck, teeth grazing the skin there.

“You’ve been brattier than ever. Back-talking, strutting around town in that little dress. You’ve been begging for this.”

Your cheeks flame with embarrassment and arousal, your thighs trembling in Remus’s grip. His thumbs stroke you open gently, deliberately slow.

“She’s soaked,” he says, almost to himself, eyes fixed on you like you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted. “All worked up from nothing but a little teasing, such a slut.”

Sirius presses a kiss to your temple. “Look at you,” he murmurs. “Our pretty little plaything. You want to be ruined, don’t you?”

You nod helplessly, fingers fisting in the sheets, aching for more—anything. Remus leans in, finally, finally letting his breath ghost over the place you crave him most.

“You’ll take everything we give you,” he says, voice low and revRemust. “And thank us when you’re done.”

Remus's tongue delicately dancing up and down you slit before taking your swollen, needy clit into his soft lips, sucking hungrily.

You tangle your fingers in his tresses, pulling gently. Remus groans into your cunt, the vibrations bringing you even closer to the edge.

"You sound so fu-fucking good 'fa me, sweetheart," Remu stutters out, trying to speak and eat at the same time.

"You k-know it's rude to talk with your mouth full, right ahh.. right, Remmy?", you try to retort. Sirius's chest vibrates against your back with a chuckle.

His mouth hangs open, the gushing wetness of your pussy and the sounds you're making in response to his best friend devouring you fills the room. It's almost unbearable for Sirius to resist pushing Remus away and taking you all for himself.

"She's a sweet one, isn't she, moony?" Sirius raises an eyebrow at his friend, who peers up from between your legs and nods in response.

"Mhmm, she tastes so fucking good," Remus murmurs against you in response, his tongue still thrashing against you.

Remus teases one finger against your hole before plunging it deep inside you. Pumping in and out rhythmically, he finds your g-spot with ease.

He massages into you with the rough pads of his long, slender fingers. His lips latch around your swollen bundle of nerves, sucking greedily. You feel the coils tightening in your stomach, arching your back away from Sirius.

"I...ahh f-fuck..I'm s-so close, Remus," you cry out, trying to close your legs around his face. Sirius pries your legs apart and holds them open.

"Let go, baby. C'mon, be a good little slut...cum for him. Show him how good he's making you feel," Sirius whispers in your ear.

Remus pumps his fingers deeper into you, sucking even harder on your clit. The tightness in your tummy finally snaps, eyes rolling back in your head, a small yelp leaving your lips.

You feel yourself spray your release all over Remus's face. His eyes widen in surprise before he laps up everything you give him, relishing in the way your sweet juices coat his tongue.

You're shaking as he cleans you up with his tongue, riding the fine line between pleasure and overstimulation.

"Mmmm, you saw that Sirius?" asks Remus, "We found ourselves a squirter". Remus's tongue continues to lap you up. Sirius's eyes darken at that.

He pulls his digit out of your dripping pussy, presenting it to Sirius so he can taste you, too.

Sirius can't take it anymore. He's been rock hard against your back this whole time, fighting every carnal urge that's raking through his body.

When he finally gets a taste of you, the restraint he had been so desperately clinging to snaps.

He sucks you off Remus's fingers hungrily, eyes rolling back in his head at your sweetness.

Remus scoots back as Sirius pushes you onto your stomach, your chest against the mattress and hips in the air, his head dipping to meet your cunt.

He drinks up what Remus so generously left behind for him before straightening up again, sliding his boxers off. He positions himself behind you, teasing your clit with the head of his thick cock.

You groan at the sensation, the aftermath of your first orgasm still making your clit sensitive. You push yourself back against Sirius, only to be stopped by his hands taking a hold of your hips.

"Tell me what you want, sweetheart", he says, still teasing your clit with the head of his cock.

"I want you inside me...need to feel you stretch me out...please, Sirius," you beg, trying to push back against him again. Sirius chuckles at this.

"Dirty slut is learning fast isn't she? Being such a good fuck toy for us."

With that, he lines himself up with your dripping hole, and plunges deep into you, giving you no time to adjust to how thick he is as he drives himself deep into you. Your slickness from your orgasm is the only thing saving you from his thickness.

Remus leans down to kiss you, pulling his boxers off and discarding them. His long cock bounces out and sits rock hard in front of your face. You lick your lips at the sight of his pretty pink head dripping pre-cum, eyes half open, head bouncing from getting fucked into from behind.

"So fucking wet for me, sweetheart. You're taking me so well. Such a good little slut," Sirius gritted his teeth.

"C-can I please...oh-h fu-fuck...can I please suck you off, Remmy? W-want you to come down my throat," you stumble over your words, trying hard to keep your head upright as Sirius continues to drill into you, ramming directly into your sweet spot, his cock stretching you out so painfully, so perfectly.

Remus moans at your question. Because fuck were you such a sight for his poor sore eyes.

"Thought you'd never ask..go ahead, sweetheart. Be a good girl and let me fuck your mouth." His hand cups the underside of your jaw, keeping your head up for you.

You open your mouth and stick out your tongue for Remus, inviting him in. His hands tangle in your hair, wasting no time before plunging deep into your throat.

You gag around his length, eyes watering at the sudden intrusion.

Sirius is fucking into you so deeply, his powerful thrust pushing you deeper onto Remus's length.

Gagging and sputtering, you inhale deeply through your nose, adjusting to the pace before opening your throat for Remus.

"Jesus Christ, what a pretty pussy, she's fucking milking me," Sirius spits out, his unrelenting hips still plowing into you.

You can only moan in response, the vibrations running from the back of your throat into Remus's member, causing him to buck his hip, shoving his cock all the way down your throat.

"Such a pretty mouth..wrapped so tight around me..it's-it's so warm..o-oh fuck," Remus rambles, one hand on the back of your head, the other under your chin, holding your mouth open for him.

Your stomach begins to tighten up again, and you desperately clench around Sirius. One of his hands leaves your hips and reaches around to start rubbing vicious circles into your clit.

The added stimulation pushes you over the edge, and you cry out around Remus's cock, tears trickling down your face as your second orgasm rakes through you.

The sight of you succumbing to Sirius's relentless strokes while choking and moaning around his cock was enough to push Remus towards his own release, and he bottoms out in the back of your throat before shooting his come into your mouth.

His hips sputter and he hunches over, holding your face against his pelvis. Your eyes are rolled back in your head, your own squirting orgasm making it difficult for you to keep upright.

Remus pulls out of your mouth with a pop, your aching jaw still agape from Sirius continuing to slam into you, chasing his own orgasm. Your chest falls to the bed, unable to keep yourself up anymore, before you're lifted back up by Remus.

"Stay with me, pretty girl,," Remus coos.

"You're doing so good...let him keep fucking into you. You're taking his cock so well".

Sirius's head falls back, still pounding his hips roughly against your ass.

"I'm gonna fill you up, baby," Sirius pants. You turn your head to protest, but before you can utter a word, Remus's hand covers your mouth.

"Shut up and take my cum, slut. Be a good fuck toy and let me fill you." Sirius says through gritted teeth.

You moan against Remus's hand in response as you feel Sirius release inside of you, his hot, creamy ropes coating your insides.

He thrusts a few more times, letting your tight cunt milk every last drop out of him. When he pulls out, you feel your foundation waiver and you collapse onto the bed, your head falling into Remus's lap.

"You did so, so good for us, princess, lemme have a turn now, yeah?" Remus says, you head resting against his thigh, trying to regain your composure. You can only hum quietly in response, eyes fluttering.

Remus manhandles you and flips you around so that your face is in the mattress and your ass is perked up. He roughly spreads your cheeks apart and slips into your cunt with ease. You moaned out at the feeling of being overstimulated and fucked twice in a row.

“Fucking love this pussy,” He whined in your ear, the desperation nearly sending you over the edge, “Can’t fucking wait to feel you cum ‘round my cock. Do it better than anyone else.”

Remus’s nimble fingers slipped between your legs as kept up his brutal pace, his middle finger rubbing quick circles onto your sensitive, throbbing clit as he angled his hips to hit your G-spot so deliciously you were seeing stars.

The way his cock repeatedly slammed against that sweet spot deep inside you that had you creaming and crying out his name like you wanted someone to hear, and had you fucked utterly dumb.

“‘M close, Remmy — ‘m there!”

“Yeah, give it to me, baby. Let Remmy feel you cum on his cock — yeaaaah, such a good girl.” He coaxed, fingers speeding up ever so slightly and increasing pressure as your eyes rolled back, the coil in your stomach on the brink of snapping as Remus smirked against your neck, pressing open-mouthed hot kisses to your warm skin.

“That’s my girl.”

The phrase that once sent shivers down your spine in shame, was now pushing you over the edge to squirt on his cock.

You cried out in ecstasy as Remus bucked his hips harder into you, his cock driving deeper as you came harder than before, your juices coating this thighs.

“S-shit, baby, you squirtin’ again? Fuckin’ squeezin’ me so tight.” He huffed, grinding his teeth together as you milked his cock, feeling his own orgasm approaching as you writhed on top of him.

“Rem!” You whined, feeling suddenly overstimulated as he continued to ram his hot length into your fluttering walls, your eyes squeezing shut as you gripped his tense forearm.

“Sshh, baby, I’m there, God, ‘M fuckin’ cummin’,” He warned, his face tensing as his mouth fell agape as you clamped down on him once more, “Fuuuck, yeah, that’s it, yeah, take it, take it, take it—!”

Remus was extremely vocal as he let out a low groan, almost growling as he pumped his sticky load deep inside your willing cunt — pushing his cum so deep it squelched out the side of his cock and onto his already soaked thighs.

You whined deeply from your chest as you felt Remus fuck his cum deeper into you, wanting to make sure you took every drop.

“Shiiiit, sweetheart.” Remus laughed as he lifted you off his softening cock with a hiss, “‘Made a fuckin’ mess.”

You looked over to the side to see Sirius heavily panting as he jerked off to the sight of Remus fucking hard into you.

Gosh, it was so obscene, the way he was sweating and practically whimpering as he stared at Remus. These two really needed to fuck each other.

The two men look at each other before looking back down at your fucked out body. Remus rubs your upper back gently as Sirius massages your shaking thighs.

You all sat like that for a moment, relishing in the pleasure still coursing through your veins, the hot smell of sex sitting heavy in the room.

Suddenly, Sirius's deep, sultry voice cuts through the silence. "Don't quit on us now, sugar. We're just getting started," he taunts.

You barely have time to catch your breath before Remus is moving again. He presses a kiss to your temple—soft, deceptive—then pulls back with a look that’s pure wicked.

“You think that was punishment, sweetheart?” he murmurs, voice gravel and heat. “That was nothing but a warm-up.”

Your pulse jumps. That was a warm-up?

Remus crosses the room, opens an old cabinet, and pulls out a length of coarse rope—thick, strong, stained from years of real use. He tests the weight of it in his hands, like a farmer selecting the perfect tool.

Sirius lets out a low whistle. “Told you she was overdue for a real lesson,” he drawls, already shifting behind you. His arms slide around your waist, holding you steady as your body threatens to tremble apart.

“Hold her,” Remus orders, and Sirius grins against your neck.

“With pleasure.”

You don't even resist when Sirius gathers your wrists behind your back, firm but careful, while Remus climbs onto the bed with predator grace.

“We’re gonna tie you open and fuck you in both holes, how about that, baby?” Remus says, voice husky and low as he begins looping the rope around your thighs, spreading you just enough to make your cunt on full display for both men, practically gushing out with their cum.

“Gonna keep you right here, pretty and helpless. Just how you act when you’re trying to get your way.”

Sirius smirks. “No running, no hiding, no bratty little tantrums.”

Remus knots the last tie, then leans down, forehead nearly brushing yours. His voice is a dark, filthy promise against your lips:

“You wanted our attention, baby? You’ve got it. And now—you’re not going anywhere.”

Remus’s smirk deepens, fingers trailing slowly up the inside of your thigh like a warning and a threat all at once.

Sirius leans back, grinning like the devil, his hands still firm on your waist as he murmurs low:

“Buckle the fuck up, sugar—’cause you’re in for one hell of a ride.”

taglist: @lou-diaries @yuptha-tsme @lovelyygirl8

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zaynessbeloved · 3 months ago

Text

Gravity instincts

Synopsis: You’ve been pining for Colonel Caleb in silence, hiding your feelings behind friendship and stolen glances—until one lonely day in his apartment breaks your restraint. Drowning in the scent of his shirt and the ache of unspoken desire, you give in to your need.

Content warnings: Explicit sexual content, power dynamics dominance & submission (consensual), rough sex, praise & degradation mix, possessive/obsessive behavior, use of evol, mild voyeurism (security camera), slight dubcon vibe (due to voyeurism + power dynamic—but ultimately consensual)

Pairings: Caleb x reader

Word count: 5.9k

The stars never felt farther away than when he was near.

You’ve known him for years now—through turbulence and silence, distance and closeness. Caleb, with his unwavering sense of duty, with that sharp gaze that sees through everything except your heart. A colonel in the Space Fleet, a man responsible for keeping the galaxy stitched together—and yet, it’s the quiet moments between missions that unravel you.

You weren’t supposed to fall for him. Not like this. Not while standing at his side as a technician, tucked into the same command deck where he commands the stars with a single gesture. Not while sharing routine maintenance reports, debriefing sessions, and the occasional cup of coffee in the silence of the observation deck.

You were supposed to admire him. Respect him. Follow orders.

But then he started looking at you like that. Or maybe he always did, and you were just too afraid to believe it.

His Evol never quite stayed confined to his command. It lingered. Pulled. Tangled itself into the fabric of every moment you shared. It wasn’t the kind of pull you could measure in units or explain with science. It was slower, softer, the kind of pull that didn’t slam you into orbit—but whispered, stay.

And so you did. Through every mission, every battle, every long night where he returned bruised and exhausted, and still managed to smirk at you like you were the first calm thing he'd seen in weeks.

But lately, it’s become unbearable. Because no matter how long you stand by his side, you’re always a half-step away. Close enough to feel the warmth of his presence—never close enough to fall into it.

So you do something reckless. Not battlefield reckless. Not strategy-breaking reckless. Something softer. Petty. Aching.

You steal one of his shirts.

Not because you expect him not to notice. Not because you think it will change anything. But because you’re tired of pretending you don’t want more. And it’s the only way you know how to say I miss you, without breaking apart completely.

His place is quiet—sterile, in the way all military housing is—but he’s lived in this one long enough for traces of him to linger. The coffee mug he always forgets to rinse. The flight jacket half-slouched over the back of his chair. His scent, clinging stubbornly to the air. Warm. Subtle. Like cedarwood and ozone.

You’ve stayed here before—dozens of times, even. Sometimes after late-night shifts. Sometimes after a mission when neither of you had the energy to be alone. And sometimes just because it was easier to fall asleep on his couch with the hum of the city cars in the background than face the silence of your own quarters.

You were just friends, after all. Friends who trusted each other more than anyone else. Friends who had learned the hard way that war doesn’t leave much room for hearts to speak freely.

But today is your day off. And he’s not here.

He left in a rush that morning—called back to command before he even finished his coffee. A small part of you had hoped he’d stay. A bigger part was grateful he didn’t. Because it’s only in his absence that you allow yourself to feel the weight of what you’ve been burying.

The ache. The exhaustion. The constant pretending.

You drift toward his room like you’ve done a hundred times before, intending only to grab your datapad, maybe take a nap in the bed he always insists you use when he’s gone. But your fingers pause on the edge of the closet. Hesitate. Then move with a kind of guilty hunger.

You find it folded neatly on the second shelf. A dark, well-worn shirt with his name tag still faintly stitched at the collar. The one he always wears after missions, sleeves rolled up, collar loose. You swear it holds more of him than anything else in this entire apartment.

You press it to your face.

And that’s when everything unravels.

His scent is still there—faint but potent, like static in the air before a storm. It slides down your spine like a whisper. Not just the memory of him, but the ache of being near him and never touching. Of hearing your name in his voice but never on his lips the way you want it.

Your body reacts before your mind can stop it. And you let it.

Because you’re tired. Because you’ve spent too many nights curled on this bed pretending you don’t dream of what it would feel like if he touched you the way you crave. Because you’ve stayed silent while watching him flirt with danger, disappear into missions, return with bruises and blood and never once say I missed you too—but look at you like he did.

So you pull the shirt over your head, drowning in it. It smells like him. Feels like him. The fabric slips past your skin like a memory you’re not supposed to hold onto.

You lie down on his bed, the sheets still creased from where he slept. Your hands start to move.

And this time, you don’t stop them.

You imagine him. Not like he is at work—stoic, powerful, untouchable. But how he is when the world softens. When he forgets to wear the weight of his rank. When he smirks at you across the kitchen counter, teasing you for stealing the last pastry. When his voice drops in the quiet, calling your name like it means something more.

Your fingers tremble. Not from lust. From longing.

This isn’t about pleasure. It’s about the ache. The impossible closeness. The need to feel his warmth when you know you’ll never have it for real.

His shirt swallows you whole. Soft, worn cotton clings loosely to your frame, the scent of him draped over you like heat—masculine, magnetic, undeniably Caleb. It’s too big, the hem brushing your thighs, the sleeves falling over your hands. But it makes you feel closer to him. Almost like he’s here.

You settle back against his sheets, your knees curling slightly as you sink into the place he’s slept in so many times—where you’ve laid before, pretending you weren’t listening for his heartbeat in the quiet.

But today, there’s no pretending.

Your hand slips between your legs, tentative at first. Not from shame—but from how raw the ache is. It’s been building for months. Years, if you’re being honest. And it’s not just about wanting him—it’s the way he makes you want. The way he looks at you with that unreadable expression, all heat and gravity and something else that never quite reaches his lips.

You close your eyes and let yourself feel.

You imagine him like you’ve never allowed yourself to before.

His voice in your ear, low and rough, calling you a good girl in that quiet drawl he uses when the world slows down. The weight of his body pressing you down into the mattress, his fingers trailing up your thighs, firm and warm and sure.

Your breath hitches. Your touch grows bolder.

You imagine his mouth. The way he’d kiss you—slow and possessive, like he’s waited just as long. His teeth grazing your bottom lip, his hand wrapped around your wrist, pinning you down as he whispers, Is this what you wanted, baby? Wearing my shirt like that? Touching yourself in my bed?

You gasp, the heat building fast and dangerous, everything tightening under your skin. You can’t stop the soft moan that escapes your lips—his name, broken and breathless.

And you don’t know that he hears it.

Because a few levels below, the man himself has just returned from command.

Still in uniform, boots heavy against the steel floors, he exhales as the apartment door hisses open. He wasn’t expecting to be home this early—but the comms were quiet, and for once, there were no emergencies.

He reaches for the wrist panel by the entrance—his home security linked to the system, just in case something went wrong when he’s off-planet.

He doesn’t expect to see you.

On his bed. In his shirt. Hand between your thighs. Eyes closed. Lips parted. Whispering his name.

Everything stops. For a moment, he forgets to breathe. The screen blinks quietly, casting a pale glow against his expression. Blank. Tense. A beat of silence. Then another. He turns off the feed.

And he walks. Slowly. Quietly. Up the stairs toward the woman in his bed.

You don’t hear the door slide open. Don’t hear the soft press of boots against polished flooring. Don’t feel the shift in the air when he steps inside.

You’re too far gone.

Fingers buried between your thighs, breath catching on every gasp, every slow, deliberate drag that makes your muscles tighten and your stomach flutter. The shirt you’re wearing—his shirt—is hitched up around your hips, the fabric clinging to your skin with heat. It smells like him. Still warm with traces of cedar, ozone, and something darker. Something intoxicating.

Your other hand fists the sheets beneath you—his sheets—already damp with sweat and shame and longing.

You don’t even try to stop the sound that leaves your mouth. His name, breathless and wrecked. A whimper. A plea. You don’t know which.

You imagine him here. Not as the Colonel the world salutes, but the man who stands too close when he talks to you, who looks at you like he’s memorizing your every breath. The man who touches your lower back when you’re both pretending it means nothing. The man who haunts you.

You picture his hands instead of your own—larger, calloused, precise. You’ve seen what those hands can do to a battlefield. You wonder what they’d do to you, if he let go of all that control.

“Is this what you do when I’m not home?” The voice hits you like a thunderclap.

Deep. Low. Unmistakable.

You freeze. Your heart stutters violently, blood roaring in your ears.

He’s standing there. Just inside the bedroom, half-shadowed by the low lights. Still in uniform, the dark jacket unbuttoned just enough to show the black undershirt clinging to his chest. His eyes—stormy, narrowed, dark—lock onto you like he’s seeing everything.

And he is.

You’re sprawled on his bed, legs parted, breathing hard. Wearing nothing but his shirt and your guilt. Caught in the middle of a fantasy you didn’t know was real.

You try to speak. To explain. To move. But you can’t.

Not with the way he’s looking at you. Like he’s starving. Like you’re the sin he’s been trying not to commit for years.

His jaw flexes. His fists are clenched at his sides. And still—he doesn’t move.

“I’ve imagined you like this,” he says, voice rough with restraint. “On my bed. In my shirt. Moaning my name.”

Your breath catches. Your thighs clench.

“I’ve stopped myself,” he continues, stepping forward once—slow, measured, dangerous. “Every day. Every night. From touching you. From ruining you the way I’ve craved.”

Another step.

“But you come into my home,” he murmurs, voice dropping lower, darker, “put yourself in my clothes, on my bed, and touch yourself like you belong to me.”

You swallow hard. You’re trembling now, heart hammering in your chest. Not from fear. From something far, far worse.

“You don’t know what you’ve done,” he says.

His voice isn’t angry. It’s reverent. Like you’ve become something holy in his eyes—something he’s worshipped from a distance too long.

And now? Now he’s done watching from afar.

“I—” you choke on the word, scrambling for air, for thoughts, for something to say that doesn’t sound like begging. “Caleb, I didn’t mean— I wasn’t trying to—”

You sit up fast, heart in your throat, his shirt falling lower on your thighs like it’s trying to hide you. Your hand trembles as you press it to your chest, like maybe you can force your heartbeat to slow, like maybe this moment will shatter if you just say the right thing.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, still breathless, cheeks blazing hot. “I didn’t mean for you to see. I thought you were still at work, I just— I don’t know what came over me, I’m sorry—”

Your voice falters, unraveling with every shaky breath. You can’t meet his eyes. Not when your skin is still flushed, your thighs still slick, your body still thrumming with the desperate need that had built and built—only to snap to attention the second he spoke.

And god, you’re still wet. Still aching. Still ruined with the taste of him on your tongue, even if you’ve never really had him.

But the silence that follows your apology?

That’s what truly wrecks you.

Because Caleb doesn’t speak. Not right away. He just stares. Head tilted slightly, breathing slow, but his jaw clenched like he’s at war with himself.

And then—he laughs. A low, humorless sound that slides down your spine like ice.

“You’re sorry,” he repeats, as if the words are foreign. Bitter. “You think this is something you need to apologize for?”

Your gaze snaps up.

His eyes are darker now. Not with anger—but possession. Obsession. That hunger he always buried beneath rank and reason has cracked wide open, no longer hidden behind a smirk or a casual joke.

“You don’t understand, do you?” he says, voice low, gravelled. “You think I haven’t thought about this? Dreamed about it? You think I haven’t watched you sleep in that bed and imagined pulling that pretty little body apart with my hands?”

Your breath hitches—sharp and sharp again.

“You think I haven’t fought every fucking instinct in me to keep my hands to myself when you look at me like that? When you say my name in that soft little voice like you don’t know what it does to me?”

Your knees press together, a soft gasp caught in your throat.

“I’ve kept this part of me from you,” he says, stepping closer, one slow step after another. “The part that wants to keep you in my bed. In my clothes. Under my command.”

Your thighs tremble. Your fingers tighten in the sheets. You're still wet, still burning, and his words only make it worse.

“I’m not a good man, princess,” he breathes. “But I’ve tried to be. For you. I’ve tried to give you space. Time. Patience.”

His gaze drops to your bare thighs, the curve of them just beneath the hem of his shirt. You see his jaw clench again—so hard it looks like it hurts.

“And now you apologize to me,” he growls, a hand running through his hair, like he’s barely holding himself back. “While sitting on my bed, in my shirt, with that sweet cunt still dripping from your own fingers like you were made for me—”

“Caleb,” you breathe—half protest, half plea.

But it’s already too late.

His control is crumbling. And all you’ve done… is invite the part of him he’s kept buried for too long to the surface.

His eyes drag over you slowly—ruthlessly—like he’s committing every inch of you to memory. His uniform fits him like a second skin, dark and crisp and spotless except for the slight looseness at the collar where he always tugs it when he’s tired. The high-ranking insignia gleams on his shoulder, a cold contrast to the heat in his eyes.

You’ve never wanted to be touched so badly in your life.

But he doesn’t move.

Not yet.

He just watches. Listens to every shaky breath you take, to the soft rustle of sheets as you shift, thighs pressing together in a hopeless attempt to ease the throb between your legs. The ache that he caused. That only he can fix now.

“You’re quiet all of a sudden,” he says, voice like gravel and thunder. “Not so loud without my name on your lips now, are you?”

You flinch. Not from fear—but from the way his words twist inside you.

He knows. God, he knows everything now.

“You wanted this,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “Don’t lie. You thought about me. You were thinking about me inside you while wearing my shirt, weren’t you?”

You try to look away.

“Eyes on me,” he commands softly. “Or are you too ashamed to admit the truth?”

Your breath catches. Your heart is going too fast, the room spinning in the haze of your own arousal. Your panties are soaked, clinging to you, and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

“You were fucking yourself in my bed,” he continues, inching closer, voice low and deliberate. “Wearing my clothes. Saying my name. I want to hear you say it, princess.”

You shake your head, unable to breathe through the thick heat suffocating your chest.

He leans in just a little—just enough.

“Say it,” he breathes, tone tightening like a vice. “Say you wanted me.”

Your fingers twist in the sheets, your thighs shaking from the pressure, from the denial. Every nerve in your body screams for him. For contact. For relief. But you know he won’t give it—not until you admit it. Not until you surrender.

“Caleb…” you whisper, voice trembling, “please…”

“That’s not what I asked.”

His eyes are sharp. Unforgiving. Hungry.

“You’re going to look me in the eye,” he says, slowly unfastening the top button of his uniform jacket, the movement agonizingly controlled. “And you’re going to tell me that you wanted me. That you came into my bed, in my fucking shirt, because you were too wet and desperate to keep pretending you didn’t think about me when you touched yourself.”

You’re panting now, knees drawn up, body flushed and aching.

And he knows. He can see how wrecked you already are. How you’re squirming, clenching around nothing, leaking through your underwear just from the sound of his voice. From the image of him, powerful and poised, standing over you like you belong to him.

You can’t take it anymore.

“I wanted you,” you gasp, the words ripped from you like confession. “I wanted you, Caleb—I couldn’t stop thinking about you—I always think about you—”

He exhales through his nose, jaw tight, like he’s been waiting an eternity to hear that.

“I need you,” you whisper, broken now. “Please.”

And finally—finally—his restraint snaps.

Your confession hangs in the air like a live wire—raw, exposed, and trembling. It’s the truth. And now that you’ve said it, you can’t take it back.

But Caleb… he’s far from satisfied.

Not yet.

The shift is subtle at first—a quiet hum beneath your skin, like pressure in the air right before a storm breaks. You don’t notice it immediately, not until your body sinks ever so slightly into the mattress. Like the bed has grown heavier. Denser.

Like something is pulling you down.

Your breath stutters.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, tone low and lethal as he drags his jacket off slowly, revealing the sleek black shirt beneath. “But not good enough.”

You stare at him, heart slamming against your ribs, limbs heavy and hot with tension.

“Caleb…” you whisper.

He lifts one hand, fingers loose, and you feel it—a subtle flex of pressure in the air around you. Your wrists press gently into the sheets without being held. Your back arches slightly without your control. It’s not overwhelming, not enough to scare you. But it’s enough to make you feel it. Him.

“You think you get to say it once and have me come running?” he asks, circling the edge of the bed like a predator. “After all this time, after all the nights you’ve laid here and pretended you didn’t want me?”

The gravity pulses again—soft, deliberate, like an invisible hand stroking over your body. Your thighs twitch. Your breath shudders.

“I want to hear you beg,” he says.

You’re already half-gone—mind fogged with heat, hips subtly rolling as you try to relieve the aching throb between your legs. The pressure of his Evol presses down again, just enough to keep you still. Just enough to make you feel helpless.

“Say it again,” he commands, his voice now just inches from your ear, low and dark. “And mean it this time.”

You bite your lip, breath catching. “Please, Caleb—”

“No.” The word cracks like a whip. “Not like that. You want me? You tell me exactly what you want. Use that pretty mouth. Or you’ll stay like this—needy and untouched.”

His words punch through you, hot and sharp.

You writhe beneath the weight of him—not his hands, not his body… but his power. The controlled pressure of his Evol makes your body tremble with frustration. You can’t move the way you want to. You can’t even touch yourself now.

“I want—” you gasp, voice thin and desperate. “I want your hands on me— I want you to touch me—please, I can’t— I need you— Caleb, please, I need you so bad it hurts—”

He lets out a breath—low and hungry—and suddenly the pressure vanishes.

Like a switch flipped.

And you gasp, your body free again, breath flooding your lungs.

“You should’ve said that sooner,” he growls, already crawling over the bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. “Now lie back, princess.”

His hands finally land on you—hot, real, and no longer restrained. One hand grips your thigh, spreading you open, while the other pulls the shirt higher up your body.

“You wanted this?” he murmurs against your neck, mouth trailing fire over your skin. “You’re going to take it now.”

And this time? You will.

His hands are on you—finally on you—and everything else disappears.

He spreads you open like he owns you, like he’s done it a thousand times in his mind, each movement exact, hungry, controlled. The heat of his palms burns against your thighs as he kneels between them, dragging the fabric of his shirt higher, higher—until it’s bunched at your waist and your soaked panties are the only thing between you and his mouth.

And god, the look on his face—like he could devour you whole.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice molten as his fingers trace the wet outline of your underwear. “So fucking wet. Is this all for me, princess?”

You whimper, nodding helplessly, your body twitching beneath the ghost of his touch.

He exhales sharply through his nose, jaw tight, like he’s the one about to lose control.

“I’ve dreamed about this,” he growls, pulling the fabric aside to reveal the slick mess underneath. “I’ve thought about your cunt wrapped around my fingers more times than I can count—and now you’re laid out for me, dripping, desperate…”

He sinks two fingers into you with a sudden, slick thrust.

You cry out, back arching, stars bursting behind your eyelids. The stretch, the pressure—him—it’s too much and not enough at once. He groans softly under his breath, eyes fixed on where he’s inside you. “Fuck, you feel even better than I imagined.”

And still, he doesn’t speed up.

He moves slowly, deliberately, fucking you open with long, measured strokes. Watching your every reaction. Your every gasp. His Evol hums in the air again—subtle but present—pulling your hips closer, making it impossible to escape the rhythm of his hand.

“You wanted to be ruined, didn’t you?” he murmurs. “Wanted to come in here, put on my shirt, and make yourself fall apart thinking about my cock.”

Your moan is all the answer he needs. He curls his fingers inside you, finding that spot that makes your legs shake, and presses hard.

You shatter.

Your voice breaks around his name, your body convulsing under his touch as your climax rips through you like lightning—violent, needy, raw. And still, he doesn’t stop. His fingers keep moving, coaxing every last tremble from your body, watching you fall apart like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“God, look at you,” he mutters, leaning over you now, his chest brushing your thighs, his breath hot against your neck. “You’re perfect. Mine.”

You grab for him, desperate for something to anchor you, but he catches your wrists and pins them above your head—not with force, but with gravity. You gasp, trembling under the weight of his Evol. Your body is still twitching, hypersensitive and spent—and yet, you’ve never felt more alive.

He leans in, his forehead brushing yours, and for a moment you see it—the crack in his armor. The soft part of him that’s completely ruined by you.

“I tried to be good,” he breathes, voice rough now, thick with emotion. “I tried to keep my hands off you. Tried to pretend I didn’t want to bury myself inside you every time you smiled at me.”

You blink up at him, dazed and dizzy and so, so full of him.

“But I’m not pretending anymore.”

He lets go of your wrists. Grabs your thighs. And pushes them open wider.

“You’re mine now,” he says. “And I’m not letting you go.”

Your chest is still heaving when he moves back over you, his body heavy with restrained power, his gaze locked on yours with a feral kind of focus. His fingers are slick with you, his touch still lingering between your legs like a ghost—hot, consuming, impossible to forget.

You can’t stop trembling. And then you whisper, voice raw and wrecked. “Don’t stop.”

Caleb stills. Just for a breath. And then he smiles. Not soft. Not sweet.

Dark.

His fingers trail along your inner thigh again, lazy now, like he’s memorizing the shape of your need. “Oh, princess…” His voice drops into a low rasp, dragging through you like velvet. “You’re not done. Not even close.”

He kisses the inside of your knee, then higher, and higher—until you’re squirming again, body hypersensitive but already greedy for more.

You reach for him, still shaking. “I want you. Please, Caleb…”

His hands grip your hips hard, pinning you back into the mattress.

“You want me?” he murmurs, leaning in close, breath hot against your ear. “You want me like this? When I’m in control? When I’m fucking obsessed with the way you fall apart for me?”

You gasp. You shouldn’t love how it sounds—but god, you do. You nod, voice barely a whisper. “Yes… I want all of you.”

His hand slides slowly back down between your legs, two fingers teasing your folds again, gentle but commanding. “I bet you thought about it,” he growls, mouth at your jaw now, nipping at your skin. “Didn’t you?”

You blink up at him, dazed. “What…?”

“Me.” His other hand grabs your chin and turns your face to his. His gaze is molten. “At work. In my uniform. All cold and composed and untouchable while you sat there pretending you weren’t soaking wet under your station console.”

You let out a soft, broken whimper.

“You did think about it,” he says, satisfaction curling in his voice like smoke. “You thought about my hands on you while I barked orders. Thought about crawling under my desk, didn’t you? Obeying every word I said like a good little soldier.”

Your breath stutters, your hips lifting into his hand again. His fingers slide against your entrance, teasing—never giving. You’re already soaking again, so needy you could cry.

“Say it,” he whispers against your throat. “Tell me what you thought about.”

“I—” You swallow, body twitching under the weight of his words, of the ghost of his Evol still lingering around your limbs. “I watched you and I… I imagined you taking me in your office. Still in uniform. Rough. Like you couldn’t wait.”

He groans, low, like it’s been ripped from his chest.

“You like me rough, baby?” he breathes, voice no longer in control. “You like me when I’m like this?”

You nod, desperate. “Yes—yes, Caleb—please—”

That’s all it takes.

He grabs your thighs, pulls you down the bed in one swift motion. His mouth crashes into yours—hungry, claiming, filthy—devouring every sound you make. He presses the head of his cock to your entrance, thick and hot and bare, dragging it slowly through your slick folds.

And then he pauses.

“You want this?” he asks, voice hoarse. “You want me to ruin you for anyone else?”

You’re breathless. Frantic. “Yes. Caleb, please—fuck me—”

He pushes in. One slow, devastating inch at a time, watching your face the entire time as your lips fall open, your back arches, and you shatter again without even meaning to.

He sinks into you slowly—so slowly it feels like your body might split apart just from the stretch. From the size of him, the weight of him, from the unbearable pleasure of finally, finally being filled by the man you’ve wanted for so long.

Your lips fall open in a silent gasp, your head pressing back into the pillow as your back arches off the bed.

“Fuuuck,” he groans, low and wrecked, forehead pressed to yours as he bottoms out. “You feel… god, you feel like heaven.”

He doesn’t move at first. Just stays there, buried inside you to the hilt, holding himself still like he's barely hanging on.

And you realize—he’s shaking. Not from effort. From restraint.

You feel it in the way his fingers grip your hips just a little too tight. The way his jaw flexes. The way he moans—low and broken—when your walls clench around him, already begging for more.

“I’ve wanted this,” he whispers against your lips, voice rough and shaking. “So fucking long… Thought about it every night, thought about you on your knees, on my desk, under me in this bed—”

He starts to move.

Slow, deep thrusts that make your breath catch, that force little gasps from your mouth with each one. The sound of your bodies, of wet, slick need meeting brutal control, fills the room with something filthy and reverent all at once.

You cry out, nails clawing at his shoulders, but he doesn’t stop—won’t stop—just keeps driving into you with long, consuming strokes that reach the deepest parts of you. That stretch you in ways you’ve only ever dreamed about.

“You’re mine,” he growls, biting down on your shoulder hard enough to leave a mark. “Mine. Say it.”

“I’m—fuck—yours, Caleb, I’m yours, please—”

He grunts, snapping his hips harder, faster now, burying his face in your neck like he needs to breathe you in to survive.

“You gonna come for me, baby?” he whispers, voice almost gentle now, contrasting the way he’s pounding into you. “So fucking tight—so goddamn perfect—come on, give it to me.”

His hand slides down between you, fingers finding your clit with the same precision he uses on the battlefield. And it’s too much—the stretch, the pressure, the way he’s whispering your name like a prayer torn from his chest.

You come undone.

Your body clamps around him, shaking, spasming, screaming his name as the orgasm rips through you like a flood. You see stars—real ones, behind your eyes—white-hot and endless, your entire world collapsing inward.

He follows with a guttural groan, hips jerking erratically as he thrusts deep, grinding into you, spilling himself inside with a rough curse and your name broken on his lips.

He collapses onto you, his weight grounding you, both of you drenched in sweat, breath ragged and uneven. His hand finds yours, fingers twining together like it’s the only way he can anchor himself.

He doesn’t speak right away.

He just holds you. Inside you. Around you. Against you.

Then— “I’m never letting you go,” he says softly, fiercely, his lips against your cheek. “You’re mine now. In every way that matters.”

And you believe him.

Because even in the silence that follows, you can still feel his gravity pulling you in.

Your body’s still trembling beneath him, boneless and soaked in sweat, skin flushed and glowing with the aftershock of your climax. Caleb’s still inside you, softening slowly, his weight pressing you into the mattress like an anchor—his breath ragged, his hand stroking lazily up and down your thigh like he can’t believe you’re real.

He lifts his head slightly, his lips brushing your temple.

“You okay?” he murmurs, voice gravelled and wrecked. “Didn’t hurt you?”

You nod, dazed, still high on the intensity of it all. “No. I’m okay.”

He smiles—just barely. A small, almost reverent thing. He leans down to kiss your shoulder, slow and lingering. And for a moment, you can feel it—the part of him that loves you in silence. That worships you even when he won’t say it out loud.

But then you shift beneath him. You roll onto your stomach. Slowly. Deliberately. And you look back at him over your shoulder, your eyes half-lidded, voice soft—but sharp.

“I’m not done.”

Caleb stills. His hand on your thigh freezes.

You reach back, tug his wrist just enough to make your point. “I don’t want soft.”

His breath catches. You arch your hips slightly, offering him the view—the slick, swollen heat of you still pulsing with need. His shirt is still bunched at your waist. Your skin’s glowing. Your mouth is parted. And you’re inviting him.

“Be rougher,” you whisper. “Please.”

His pupils blow wide.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he growls, kneeling behind you now, his cock already twitching back to life as he takes you in from behind. “You think I haven’t imagined this? You think I didn’t dream about what I’d do to you if I ever let myself go?”

You glance over your shoulder again, smirking. “Then show me.”

That’s all it takes.

In a blink, his hands are back on you—gripping, claiming. He spreads your thighs roughly, one hand pressing into the small of your back to arch you deeper while the other wraps tight around the base of your neck.

“Mine,” he growls.

And he pushes in again.

Hard.

You gasp—loud and helpless—as he fills you again in one sharp, punishing thrust. The stretch, the angle, the force—everything is overwhelming. Perfect. You cry out into the sheets, fingers clawing at the mattress as he starts to fuck you in earnest.

No gentleness. No hesitation. Just skin against skin. His hips slamming into yours. His hand wrapped tight around your neck—not choking, just holding. Dominating. Keeping you right where he wants you.

“You wanted this?” he pants behind you, every word punched between thrusts. “This is what you think about? Me taking you like this—owning you?”

“Yes—fuck, yes—Caleb—”

Your voice cuts off into a cry as his grip tightens slightly on your throat, just enough to make your vision blur, to make your body burn brighter with pleasure.

“Say it again,” he demands, his other hand sliding up your spine, holding you in place. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you sob, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes from how good it feels. “I’m yours, I’m yours, please—”

His thrusts get faster, harder, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing through the room, mingling with your cries and his groans and the slick, desperate rhythm of your bodies colliding.

You’re so close again. So unbelievably close.

“Come for me again,” he growls, voice wrecked, as he pounds into you from behind. “Let me feel you—fucking take it, baby—”

And you do.

You break apart under him again, harder this time—louder. A scream torn from your throat as your orgasm crashes through you like a supernova. Your body convulses, squeezes him so tight that he curses and thrusts once, twice more before spilling into you with a roar, his hips slamming against your ass as he empties himself inside you.

He collapses over your back, chest heaving, arms shaking, holding himself up just enough not to crush you.

He doesn’t speak for a long time. Just breathes. Against your skin. Inside you. Around you.

Then— “I think I’ve completely lost my mind over you,” he mutters.

And the way he says it—quiet, hoarse, honest—undoes you more than anything else.

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