▪︎No matter how good the hero is, he is still a villain in someone's story▪︎
--------------------
A story of anti-heroes. Two people with a strong dislike for the world learn to thrive together in an arranged marriage.
•••••••••••
A brother with a s...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Please ignore my attempt at writing the song. It's cringe and horrible. You can imagine any other song in place of it, I just didn't want to copy any lyrics so I wrote some on my own.
🎶
Sometimes, life is so good you wonder if you died and entered heaven. So here I am, thinking the same. My career's taking off, my in-laws are extremely supportive and sweet unlike my own parents. My husband is great, he has managed to retain his wits and dry humor and has no longer banished me to a dry and boring marital bed.
So maybe I did die. Vivaan probably killed me. Impaled me right onto that godforsakenly perfect dick of his and murdered me in the best possible way. Life seemed.........blissful.
The said husband was putting the fore mentioned marital bed to good use at the moment too. I arched my back, shoving my tits up against the hard ridges of his chest. Vivaan bit onto my neck, his thumb running circles onto my clit as he shoved his dick upto the hilt. He was in so deep I could feel him in my bones.
Goosebumps erupt on my skin and my spine tingles when my orgasm crashes into me like waves against the shore. I scream his name and my vision blurs. My euphoria hazed brain still makes out when he throws his head back and fucking moans my name like a player. My husband falls beside me, his eyes stare up at the ceiling while I do the same but at him.
He turns and traces my jaw with his finger. "You okay, baby?" I nod. I am ridiculously tired and extremely sore but rest assured, more than satiated and I could finally have a good sleep now that I've had my orgasm. He made it a point to give me atleast one everyday.
He has starved me enough of them, it's his job to provide now. My peace, my stupor crashes to it's untimely demise just as our window breaks. A scream nearly lodges out of my throat but I keep it in. Vivaan get up and wraps a sheet around his torso. He walks up to the window and whatever he sees there has him clenching his jaw hard.
"What is it? Who did it?" He shakes his head lightly, as if shaking a thought away. The action was small but I noticed it all the same.
"No one. Just some drunk teenagers playing around. They drove off." He picks the rock up from the floor, scrutinizes it from all sides and then throws it back out into the garden, from the now broken window. Even a daft person could tell he was lying.
I do wanna know about him. I want to peel back every layer that makes him who he is but I can't force it. That would only push him away. And I've finally gotten him, all to myself. Call me selfish but I care for peace in our marriage above all. He says his stories are not worth knowing and I think that's bullshit. But I never call him out on it. Those are his stories, his secrets. I can't force the past out. There is a reason it was left behind. I wouldn't enjoy scraping new wounds over my husband. Though I seriously wish he would tell me who gave him those scars so I could skin that very person alive.
