#but there’s only so much frustration they can hold onto v how many times can the exarch sincerely apologize

[impossible-rat-babies]

eyrie losing their emotional support not wife in post-stormblood like boy howdy you didn’t know how much you relied on her huh

[ltbarnes]

Back to December (2/2)

Summary: Your new job as an assistant for the CEO of a big, shiny company was supposed to be a good thing. Instead your ex from uni who completely ghosted you out of nowhere several years ago happens to be one of your superiors. It doesn’t help that he’s only gotten more handsome over the years. But you hate him for leaving without an explanation, and he seems to hate you too. Everything is just fucking great.

Pairing: ex!Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

Word count: 7k

Warnings: OFFICE AU (Ghost is not ceo but he’s up there in the company somewhere), exes to enemies to lovers, harassment, past emotional violence/threats, blood, smut (p in v), oral (f receiving)

A/N: Took me a few weeks but it’s finally here ;) you guys don’t understand how happy it made me when so many people loved the last part!! makes me so excited to write more for the cod fandom! (I have not proofread this because I was too excited to publish it so there might be errors and weird stuff lol)

Part 1

Masterlist

The car ride is quiet. He glances your way whenever you wince. You watch his hand gripping the stirring wheel tightly, fingers drumming along anxiously with the faint beat of a song coming from the radio.

It's a nice car. Like, you would not afford this even if you saved up for years. You knew Simon was influential in the company, but this...it almost scares you. He's fucking rich. Probably going to laugh at you when he pulls up outside of your apartment building.

This is the first time you have ever been in a car with him. You wish things were different. Mostly that your eyes weren't so puffy from crying. And that he wasn't your ex and you weren't working together.

A red light forces him to slow down into a stop, the only sound now being the wind picking up pace outside. It's so quiet for a few seconds that you barely have the courage to breathe.

"Why did you fuck up my entire office? Whole day was ruined," Simon speaks from nowhere. Your lip twitches, fighting the urge to smirk despite the pain tormenting you.

"How'd you know it was me?"

"Of course it was you. No one else in there knows that I'd have a bloody breakdown over my files being out of order," he mutters.

You let out a quiet chuckle, shaking your head. "It was petty. But...I was mad. About the coffee-thing." Your voice grows softer with each word, merely a whisper by the end.

Simon clears his throat, shifting in his seat. "Yeah, uh...not my finest moment."

A thick silence falls over the car once more. None of you dare to talk about the thing that actually needs to be brought up, the dark cloud hanging over your shared past. You are not really mad at each other over coffee.

The drive takes much longer than usual because of the heavy rain. You're shivering despite the heat being on. It's been thirty minutes once the wheels slow down right outside of your apartment, and you instantly move to get out after throwing a sincere 'thank you' his way. It's all you can muster.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Simon asks, not even making an attempt to answer to what you were saying.

"What do you mean?" You stop, looking over your shoulder with one hand on the door. You just want to go inside, away from his gaze before it all gets too much.

Simon unbuckles his belt, getting out of the car. Rounds the entirety of it until he's opening your door, leaning down to look at you with a frown.

"You're hurt, for fuck's sake, Y/n. You can't take care of that yourself, no way."

You sigh out of frustration, shaking your head while looking away from him. "Why are you being nice to me, Simon?"

That seems to halt him in his actions. Simon blinks, pauses for a few seconds, before opening his mouth again. "Don't know. But I'm in a chipper fucking mood, so just let me get you out of the car, okay?"

You huff, giving no protest as he takes a hold of your waist to assist you out onto the curb. "You're not in a good mood..." you mutter under your breath. He just scoffs.

Simon sits and waits for you in the kitchen as you wrangle yourself out of your wet clothes into an old sweatshirt and a pair of pyjama shorts. For much too long you stand in front of the mirror, staring at the newly formed bruise on your upper arm. You have to take a few shaky breaths to force the tears back before you limp back into the kitchen.

This outfit of yours is the last thing you want to wear around him, but it's what the situation requires. But did you really have to be so dramatic and fall onto your knees before? This is going to take weeks to heal. And now you have Simon sitting on your chair waiting to patch you up. Simon.

"The first aid kit is in the bathroom, I'm just gonna go get—" You point with your thumb.

He's on his feet before you even have the chance to finish the sentence. You barely even processed the fact that he's discarded his suit jacket and shirt, now walking around your home with a white tank that does no good job at hiding his fucking massive muscles. His arms are covered in tattoos that he definitely didn't have when you last saw him. Fuck.

Simon returns just a minute later, already rummaging through the box for...something. You don't really know what's required for a wound like this. He was right about you not being able to take care of it yourself, which you hate. Loathe, actually.

"Sit down," he tells you, dragging out a chair from the table as if you are his guest and not the other way around. The strangest thing is that you listen, without a single protest. He seems to still have that power over you.

You can't take your eyes off of him as he kneels down, grabbing a hold of cotton and some liquid-thingy you didn't even know you had in that kit.

"Is that gonna hurt?" you ask, his hand one inch from touching your knee. Simon sighs, blinking as if he's going to lose it soon.

"Well, what do you think? It's alcohol in a bleeding wound. Of fucking course it's gonna hurt."

You grimace, biting your cheek, before inching back just slightly. "Then I don't wanna do it," you whisper.

"Oh, for fuck's sake. Grow up for once, will you?"

"What do you mean ‘for once’?" you seethe, retracting yourself entirely from his proximity as he rolls his eyes.

"Well, c'mon, what you did today was just...fucking childish." Still sitting on his knees, but it feels like he's towering over you the way he speaks.

"Uh—like you acting like your coffee was cold when it clearly wasn't just to humiliate me wasn't childish too! You started it!"

You rise to your feet, turning away from Simon out of frustration.

"Sit down, Y/n."

"No! I won't...let you in my apartment to order me around and...and—"

"Just sit down," he seethes, getting up to his feet. Now he's really towering over you. You hate it.

You continue walking away towards your bathroom, letting out a wince as you put too much weight on the bad knee. You keep walking anyways.

"Y/n, for fuck's sake!" Simon follows you. He could have been ahead of you if he wanted to already, but he stays behind for some reason. "Why won't you listen to me?"

His yelling makes you turn around with so much anger in your expression. But the anger can't hide the tears pooling in your eyes—nothing can.

"Because you left me!"

Silence. Thick, anxious silence as he stands there dumbfounded. His chest is heaving from your altercation.

"You left me without a single word, Simon! Not even a fucking hint!"

His previous stunned silence turns into a bitter chuckle, one hand on his hip and the other running over his chin as he shakes his head. You see the change in his eyes—irritation turned into real anger.

"Not a hint, huh?" he scoffs. "You could've given a fucking hint that you were sick of me before you went and fucked Graves and half of his team behind my back."

All of a sudden the roles are switched, and you're the one stunned silent. A person who can barely process the words you just heard—did you hear right? Could Simon ever say that to you?

"I was so happy that night. Just wanted to celebrate with my team and my girl—searched the whole party for you, you know?" Simon shakes his head, still that cold, deprecating chuckle on his lips. "And then I find you eating up Philip fucking Graves' face and two of his friends. Fucking two of them, Y/n!"

Agressive flashes of fear-filled memories attack you along with the line of Simon's retelling of that night you go back to so often. Of what you could have done differently, of the anger you felt that he just had to make things worse. Water was up to your neck, pressing on your lungs, and his abandonment pushed your head under the surface.

"You get your fucking boyfriend to back down or we'll leave your pretty body half-conscious on his doorstep."

"Please, just let me go. I'll talk to him, I promise. Please." You were sobbing, the emotions heightened by the vodka in your bloodstream.

"Such an obedient little puppy, huh? No wonder he spends all his time fucking you instead of hanging out with the team." Philip's laughter filled the room, looking over his shoulder to his friends who found just as much amusement in the situation as him.

"Nothing to say, huh?"

Simon's voice shatters your deep train of thought with the sheer bitterness behind it. It makes the tears fall faster.

"You...you saw that?" you ask weakly, your voice frail as if you have been crying for hours. Your arms come up to shield yourself from the invisible presence of them, hugging your torso as if it helps.

"Yeah. Yeah, I did. It was fucking hell, seeing the girl you love cheating on you with three guys. So I'm sorry if I've been acting like a bloody prick, but I can't just pretend I'm not still so fucking angry at you. Don't come crying here saying that my behavior isn't justified when you know damn well why I'm mad at you."

All these years. So many sleepless nights obsessing over every detail of your behavior during your relationship, and this is the answer. You have been so angry at him over leaving, and you never thought you would understand why. But you do, and it breaks your heart even more.

Blood is smeared all over your leg as you look down, and that still doesn't hurt as much as the fact that Simon has gone around for years hating you, thinking that you cheated on him. You loved him so much. Betraying him is the last thing you ever would have done. You understand Johnny's reaction now too—he thought you cheated on his best friend. That's not something you just forgive. It's your job to be mad at the people who wrong your friends.

But a nagging voice in the back of your head tells you to be angry. Simon walked past that dark bedroom, saw what was happening, and left. He could have saved you. It's an unfair thought to have. You can't be upset with him for misunderstanding. He couldn't have known about the threats dealt out in that room, or that the passionate kisses he witnessed was in reality seething, harsh words and a much too up and close Philip Graves. But it still hurts. Still haunts you, having three massive rugby players crowding you in and promising to beat you to a pulp.

A loud sniffle comes from your lips, drying the tears away from your face with the back of your hand. Blinking to rid yourself of the water on your lashes. You have to tell him. Simon looks about ready to leave.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," you say breathily. Your voice cracks in the middle of it.

"Sorry?" he shakes his head, lifts his eyebrow as if assessing the word. It's clear that's not enough for him.

"I'm sorry you thought I cheated all this time. I understand why—" A hiccup,"—I get why you left."

Your choice of words changes his demeanor. From hostile, clenched jaw with a fire simmering underneath the surface to hostile, clenched jaw and confused.

"I didn't kiss anyone, Simon. I didn't—I didn't do anything with Philip, or any of his friends." Broken words, distorted by the constant movement of your chest and throat as your body desperately fights for you to let out the sobs. Not yet. "They wanted me to get you to quit the team, and I couldn't...I couldn't fight back. Not against all of them."

Nostrils flare, lip is bitten down on. A veiny hand runs over a mouth. Blinking. Hands shake with contained...fury? You don't know who it's directed at.

"What the hell are you trying to say?" he seethes, taking a step forward that makes you take one back.

"We weren't kissing. They were threatening me. Said I'd be left on your doorstep bleeding and bruised if I didn't convince you to stop going after the Captain position. I was so scared, Simon," you say, voice cracking pathetically on the last sentence.

He’s quiet for much too long. You can’t read him, standing there so exposed and vulnerable and he’s silent. That’s why his outburst is so sudden.

"Fuck!"

You flinch, inching backwards as Simon turns around yelling. Not once have you heard him scream this loud. So you stand there, rooted in place, tears streaming down your face as he tugs at his hair with his hands. His chest heaves as if he just ran five miles.

You tremble too. The first sob comes out. It's a sad, pathetic sob that you try to muffle with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. Futile. Simon turns around. You can't see his expression through the blur of your tears.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you repeat, burying your face into the palms of your cold hands.

You almost jump as strong arms pull you into the tightest hug you have ever lived through. It's an urgent one, a desperate one. It's warm. Your cheek gets mushed against his damp shirt, hand encasing the back of your head as his chest rises up and down with his rugged breaths.

You lose the single crumb of composure you had left. If Simon wasn't a wall of a man he would have been dragged down with you as your legs lose the ability to carry you, just like in the alleyway. He notices anyway, slowly sitting the two of you down on the floor. Your knee is protected by a gentle hand keeping it from colliding with the hardwood.

"I am so, so sorry, Y/n," Simon tells you on a frail voice. It almost sounds like he's on the verge of crying too. You didn't know his voice could sound soft. "I am so sorry I didn't protect you. That I just—I just walked away. So fucking thickheaded—"

Your fingers clasp onto his shirt, tugging just slightly. It's your silent 'stop'. A reassurance that he doesn't need to blame himself. You understand.

"All these years I—I hated you for something you didn't even do. Fuck, I didn't even give you a chance to explain."

He shakes his head, his hold around you tightening subconsciously. It takes a few seconds before he realizes and softens again.

"Oh fucking hell. I got Graves suspended the day before 'cause I ratted him out to Coach about smoking fucking weed. Fucking shit, this is all my fault. I am so sorry," Simon croaks out. His voice will give in any minute to the guilt and frustration and anger and tears.

"Simon..." you whisper before sniffling, putting your hand on his chest. "Don't. Don't do this to yourself."

He shakes his head again. He will give himself a concussion soon from how much he's done it this night.

"It's not your fault. It's...it was horrible. But it was them, not you. Someone came and stopped it before they could do anything worse."

He takes in a sharp breath. You can almost feel the way his jaw clenches. "Anything worse? They put their hands on you?" he whispers bitterly. "Shouldn't have happened at all. I should have been with you earlier."

"Just some bruises from when they dragged me into that room. But I know you wouldn't have let it happen if you knew. Of course I know that, Simon," you say softly, sitting up just slightly. You don't know when your tears stopped. It's just your throbbing head and the runny nose left. "Simon, you were so protective of me. You cared so much—I know you would have stopped them if you knew. But you didn't know."

Dirty blond hair and his scruffy neck is all you're met with. He doesn't even look your way. And then he's suddenly on his feet, towering over your figure on the floor.

"You're still bleeding. Need to fix it."

You can't answer. Don't even have the opportunity to—Simon's hands sneak under yours arms and lift you up to a stand before you can open your mouth again.

"Simon..."

He keeps quiet. It's that brooding thing where he overthinks. Did it when you were together too. A lot. Simon carries a lot of guilt around, steals it from others and guards it safely within himself. You don't really know how he bears it all.

The sofa sinks underneath your weight as he slowly loosens his hold around your waist, placing you so gently onto the cushions. Might as well be made of glass to him. But then you think that it must be exactly how he views you right now—a delicate, frail thing who needs protection from any and every threat. You have already amassed cracks during the years, during the day even, and just one push will leave you to splinter.

Once again he kneels before you. This time you don't find it frustratingly hot. Now it's soft, a little sad even. There's a frown so deep in between his eyebrows you fear it might become permanent this time.

You don't say anything as you let him clean your wound. Maybe you hiss a little once the alcohol touches the broken skin, but make no move to protest. Simon might need this more than you. Okay, you don't want to die from an infection, but you could have done this with a lot less grace. You would have ten minutes ago.

"I still am, you know," he mutters after many, many minutes of silence. He's wrapping a bandage around your leg.

"What?" you breathe out softly, looking down at his concentrated frown.

"Protective of you," he answers. "I still care. Even if we're not together." Simon gulps, stops for just a second in his work.

"You are?"

His eyebrows rise for a second, corners of his lips threatening to tug upwards. "Didn't see me earlier in the lobby? I was gonna curse you out real fucking good. For my office."

"But you didn't."

"No. I couldn't, not when I saw that you were crying." His hand suddenly stops, resting on your good knee, before he looks up at you. "Why the hell were you crying, Y/n?"

Instantly you close off again, glancing away to escape that concerned expression that makes his eyes so dark and soft. It's an irresistible thing.

"Please, love. I need to—I need to make it better."

You pretend to ignore that Simon just called you love. Instead you focus on the fact that he's trying to compensate for that December night. For all the years you had a broken heart without knowing the reason why.

"Just...something that brought back some bad memories, that's all. Unpleasant encounter." It's practically mumbled, your answer, and you know Simon always hated when you mumbled. Wanted to hear your pretty voice loud and clear, he used to tell you.

His ever present frown grows impossibly deeper. Simon is speculating with himself, it's clear on his expression.

"With someone at work? Who bothered you, Y/n? Who the fuck made you cry?" he seethes, running his hand over his mouth as if to keep himself from saying something worse.

You shake your head. Your instinct tells you to dismiss it, say that it's fine. But maybe you shouldn't, for once. Just tell him that Shepherd actually said something that was far from okay. He was in the wrong. You shouldn't be the one to suffer in silence anymore.

"There was this—you know the man who always wears a Rolex and has the corner office? Shepherd?" you say meekly.

Simon's jaw clenches, but still his hand on your thigh is so gentle. "What the fuck did he do?"

"He...I ran into him on my way home. Collided right into his chest." You swallow air, looking down at the point of contact between you and Simon. "And he caught me. Didn't let go when I tried to go away. And he had this look in his eyes. Was so close, too. I couldn't breathe."

"Fucking hell," Simon groans.

"He said he just wanted to talk...but then he started commenting on my dresses. That he'd watched me 'strut around', as if I purposely put on a show for him, or something. Told me to come into his office on Monday and wear something nice so he would have something sweet to look at. I had to beg him to let me go."

"He the reason you've been clutching your arm the whole night?" Simon asks tensely, nodding down to where the bruise hides underneath your sweater.

You didn't even notice you did that. But it's sore when you move it. The answer to his question comes from your uneasy glance up at him that makes him close his eyes. You think it's to contain something—to calm down.

"He won't get fucking near you again, Y/n."

You gulp, blinking. "But he works there...he's one of my superiors."

"No. The fuck he isn't. He's not stepping a foot inside that building again."

"What?"

"Price will have him fucking murdered for even looking at you funny. Been looking for an excuse to get rid of him for years, and this...I'm so sorry, love. You shouldn't have to put up with that."

You shake your head, looking down to the point where Simon still has the bloodied cotton pressed against your knee.

"You would do that for me?" you ask softly, almost a whisper.

"Do fucking anything for you, Y/n. Would have even during all these years that I was too bloody stupid to reach out." With his hand on your thigh, he shakes your leg gently, enough to make you look him in the eye again. "You were my girl, you know? Swore I'd protect you from every fucker who even looked at you wrong, and not only did I fail at saving you from those fucking worthless pieces of shit who laid their hands on you, but I didn't protect you from myself. Will never forgive myself for that."

Simon's words makes your lower lip tremble again, and you let out something akin to a whimper and sigh before speaking.

"None of that is your fault," you say. "Even though I would've appreciated if you talked to me before just leaving back then, I understand why you didn't. If it was the other way around and I thought you were out with three girls, I would've been crushed. Wouldn't be able to look at you again without breaking into sobs."

He raises his eyebrows, shaking his head. It's clear that he doesn't take your words to heart, but there's still something in your statement that registers within him.

"You never told me that you cared for me that much." Simon clears his throat, as if the words are a lump stuck in his airways.

You sigh. You know it's true—you held back on saying those three words for months, thinking that the time had to be right and he couldn't possibly feel as strongly as you did. Then he broke up with you and you never got the chance.

"I wanted to. I wanted to tell you everyday, but I was scared that you wouldn't say it back."

Simon scoffs. "For fuck's sake, Y/n. I loved the shit out of you. Thought everyone could see that from the way I trailed after you like a lovesick puppy."

A bittersweet chuckle comes from your lips, shaking your head to yourself. Blinking away tears stuck in your eyelashes. "I should've told you sooner." It's a decibel away from a whisper.

Simon looks at you as if what will come out of your mouth is the most important thing in the world.

"I think I...I still feel that for you. A little bit," you admit. "It's pathetic that I'm still hung up on you after so many years, but it's hard, Simon. Seeing you everyday and not act like we used to."

"Don't you think I haven't wanted to bend you over my desk and fuck you every single day these past two weeks?" Simon seethes. "I've jerked off in the bathroom outside my office more times than I can count and literally cried like a pathetic jerk in Johnny's arms the first day you started work 'cause I was still so fucking hurt that you didn't love me as much as I loved you. I'm a grown ass man, Y/n, and it was years ago. That's how much you meant to me."

"You cried?" you ask breathily, your head empty except his words echoing. Bend you over my desk.

"I've sobbed like a fucking fool countless times over you. The weekend after I saw you—after I thought that I saw you with them—I went back to my mum's house and wailed like a baby into her chest." Simon chuckles, a bittersweet expression on his face.

"I'm sorry."

"No. None of that shit. I caused it. Should've just asked you instead of taking off. Wasn't man enough for you back then. I'm the one who needs to apologize."

You bite down on your lower lip, doing something akin to a nod as you glance away, out of the window.

"And now?" you ask. "Are you man enough now?"

"Careful, love..." Simon says, his voice strained.   "Don't give me hope."

"Hope for what?"

"You know damn fucking well what I'm hoping for," he answers gruffly. You gulp, lips parting to release a shallow breath. His brown eyes are nearly black, pupils blown wide from the intensity of his gaze. You know that look.

"Simon, you know I feel the same. You know it." It's nearly a whisper, what comes out of your mouth. Leaning forward just slightly, closer to his face where he's kneeling on the floor. "I already told you earlier that I still—"

Your back is pressed against the cushions of the couch as Simon surges up from his place on the floor. Calloused, tattooed hands grip your face gently as those pink lips you've dreamed about for the past two weeks devour yours desperately. Shuts you up real good.

"I've missed you so fucking much," Simon growls, a certain ferocity in his voice that makes him sound like a beast bowing only for his woman. He kisses you again. "Please. Please let me show you how fucking good I can be to you."

There's no real point in acting as if his words isn't the best thing you've ever heard. You're already panting and preening for him, so acting as if the answer will be anything but yes is futile. You nod furiously, holding onto his wrists.

"Yes. Please, Simon. Yes," you answer breathily, desperately.

The grunt coming from his chest makes your thighs clench together, resonating deeply within your core as the memories of how his touch felt all those years ago spark up every last nerv-ending in your body. Before you even know it, Simon has his large hands on your waist, lifting you up from the couch and sitting down himself. Your thighs straddling his, face to face and chest to chest.

"Ow. Simon, my knee," you say with a chuckle, leaning back enough to keep the pressure off your wounded leg.

"Oh, fuck. I'm so sorry, love. Are you alright?" he asks, an instantly guilty expression on his face. Didn't seem to pick up on the laugh from your lips. He looks like someone just kicked a puppy in front of him.

"I'm just fine, Si." Your hands come up to his face, feeling the stubble on his cheeks underneath your fingertips. "Maybe we shouldn't sit like this, though."

"We don't have to do this tonight. I'll wait for as long as you want me to," he tells you, pressing a chaste kiss to the inside of your wrist. It almost makes you cry. He always did that back in uni.

"I'll literally fucking burst if I don't have you inside me within the next ten minutes. We'll work around it. I don't care."

Simon chuckles. A sound that comes from deep within his chest, rumbling and warm and so familiar. It festers within you and sprouts, spreading safety and comfort through your blood. Makes you smile, genuinely. He stands up, your legs wrapped around his waist and his hands holding onto your thighs.

The bed sinks down underneath your weight as he lowers you down on the sheets, so careful to not touch your now patched up knee.

"Just as desperate for me now as you were then, huh?" Simon teases, his nose nuzzling into the crook of your neck as his massive frame hovers above yours.

God, your body remembers. It remembers him so well, surrendering to his rough, deep voice as it whispers into your ear. It's an instant thing you feel—safety and simultaneously giddiness. You giggle like a goddamn schoolgirl with a crush, sneaking your arms around Simon's broad shoulders as you nod.

"Mhm, I am," you admit. Without shame. "I've really missed you, Simon. I really have." Your words are softer than before, void of the teasing tone they previously held.

He sighs. Presses his chapped lips to the corner of your mouth, slowly moving down to your jawline, neck. Simon is the toughest, biggest man you know. Curses like a sailor and can snap you in half. But oh, he's so gentle with you. When he wants to, at least. You remember those nights when desperation overtook him, clothes ripping and the breath fucked out of you. And you loved those nights just as much as the ones where he would just trace his lips over your skin for an hour before even touching your by then sickeningly wet folds.

But after years and years of separation and an emotionally wrecking fight that finally led to reunion, gentleness and patience isn't high on your list right now. You want to rip his clothes off and taste him again and feel him inside of you and kiss him even more and touch every inch of his skin. Though, Simon keeps trailing his mouth down your neck, hand inching underneath the hem of your sweatshirt as he hums. The sound makes you giggle. Fucking hell you've missed him.

"Something funny, love?" Simon asks, raising a challenging eyebrow as he lifts his head from your skin.

"Just that sound. Been thinking it about it sometimes."

"Thinking about it, huh?" he probes, pushing your sweatshirt over your head, forcing you to raise your arms. A deep groan comes from his lips as the lace of your bra is revealed to him, the fabric delicate enough to show the outline of your nipple. "Oh, fucking hell. You tryin' to make me come in my goddamn pants, yeah? It's not nice."

"I didn't know you'd see my bra when I put it on this morning, Simon," you chuckle, gaze flickering down to see his frankly hungry gaze.

"Didn't put it on for someone else to see it, did you?" he asks, something akin to doubt in his eyes. Or maybe not doubt, but nervousness.

"No. There's no one else," you admit. "Haven't...been many others since you."

"Not for me either. No one is like you. Tried, but it was bloody useless. Fucking nothing is better than my sweet girl when she's wrapped around my cock."

His statement confuses you for just a second before his hand sneaks it's way underneath your pyjama shorts, cupping your pussy and feeling the embarrassing wetness already soaking your underwear.

"Let me taste you, love," he pleads. You're already squirming, bucking your hips against his hand in search for friction. All you can do to answer is nod, and the second after, your shorts are thrown to your bedroom floor.

"C'mon, sweet girl. Been without you for fucking years. You can give me one more. Just one more," he tells you, pumping his fingers into you deliriously, possessed by the squelching sound your slick and his digits emit.

It's been thirty five fucking minutes of Simon making you come on his tongue and his fingers and then his tongue again. He's currently on his second round of fingering the living breath out of you. You had forgotten how thick his fingers were, and now with those added years of use, more calluses and lines and wrinkles? You haven't been able to utter a full sentence in a good while.

"Holy..." Your head is thrown back onto the pillow, back arching as if you were in a porn video, thighs clamping down on his hand.

"That's my girl. There we go, there we go,” he mutters, in a trance by the sound of it and his lustful stare.

You have to push his hand away after almost a minute of him drawing out your orgasm by lazily continuing to pump his fingers into you, whining when it becomes too much.

“Insatiable fucker,” you mumble as you lay spent on top of the sheets, chest heaving and a light sheen of sweat on your skin.

And he hasn’t even been inside you yet.

Simon chuckles, that deep rumble that almost sounds like it scratches his insides in some way. A wet, shameless kiss is pressed to your thigh, before he stands up to his full length again. His poor knees must be aching after having been pressed into the floor for so long.

“Missed her. Can’t blame a bloke for wanting to spend time with his missus after such a long time, eh?” Simon teases, making you roll your eyes fondly.

“Just c’mere,” you sigh, smiling up at Simon again, the same way you did at 20. Or maybe not the exact same. Things have changed, you have changed. Simon has sure as hell changed. But it’s better. A deeper affection, a deeper understanding.

The blond giant climbs onto the bed, over you, hovering like a wolf ready to pounce yet a gentleness in his hold that draws away the sense of threat. His thumb cups your cheek, brushes over the skin under your eye. And then he kisses you, softly, something you didn’t he know he was capable of. Back then, it was always passion, urgency. Playful, desperate. This is longing.

You sigh against his lips, feeling his chapped skin and the stubble on his chin. It nearly brings tears to your eyes, the way you have this man over you again. It’s been so long and he’s dozens of pounds heavier with muscle, more tattoos on his skin and scars on his body. But he’s still Simon. And he’s yours.

“Condom? Please for the love of god tell me you have a condom,” he pleads, growls with need against the crook of your neck.

“In the drawer,” you giggle, stretching your arm out in its direction.

He wastes no time. His urgency makes him clumsy, makes you laugh even more, as he tries to tear the wrapper open with his teeth and fails. Gives you a warning glare that does no good job at hiding his fond amusement, while resorting to opening it with his hands like a normal person.

Simon’s hands close around the back of your thighs, pulling your legs up until they press against your stomach. His tip brushes against your wet folds, but his gaze is on your face.

“Ready for me, sweet girl?” he asks, the deep timber of his voice sending literal shivers through you.

You nod.

“Words.”

“Yes, Simon. Please. Wan’ you inside me,” you plead.

“Mhm, know you do, sweetheart.”

It’s all the warning you get before he grabs a hold of his cock, coating it in your slick, before guiding it towards your dripping hole. Your breath catches in your throat, a whine of discomfort coming from your lips as his thick girth presses into you inch by agonizing inch. And yet it’s so good. Fucking hell, you’ve missed it.

“Holy fuck, I forgot—“ you say, not needing to finish the sentence for him to know the sentiment. You forgot how big he was.

"God you're..." Simon growls, keeping still as he bottoms out, savoring the feeling of your walls stretching around his thick cock once again. "You feel even fucking better. How the fuck did I go without her all these years?"

Tears prickle the corners of your eyes. Don’t know if it’s from the sting, the longing, the pleasure. You’re still all pliant and sensitive from the multiple orgasms he drew out of your earlier.

Simon starts to move, rolling his hips slowly into you. Letting you feel every ridge and vein of his cock sliding against your walls, drawing rumbles from his chest.

“Not gonna leave this pretty pussy again, no. ‘S all mine. Needa’ apologize for keeping her lonely for so many years,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. The corners of your lips tug upwards.

“Simon,” you whisper, hands entangled into his hair. He tilts his head upwards, looking up at your face. “Fuck me.”

A pleased smirk grows on his face, raising an eyebrow. “Is that so, huh?” he asks, squeezing your thigh, before snapping his hips into yours.

“Oh, fuck…”

Your pathetic bed creaks as Simon bullies his cock into you, the filthy sound of your slick being pushed inside of you filling the room along with the grunts and whines from your mouths.

It’s like a switch turned on in his head when you told him to fuck you, because it’s nearly animalistic. There’s no class or precision in his sloppy thrusts, just desperation.

“Fuck, so sorry, love, but I’m gonna come,” Simon tells you, clenching his jaw tightly with restraint. His large fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs as he holds them up, his heavy weight flush against you to keep you in a mating press. Despite his words, there’s no shame in them. Just an apology. He wishes he could savor this, but it’s futile. His cock wants something else.

“It’s…it’s okay,” you manage to get out between his thrusts, a smile on your face while his movements grow increasingly sloppy and hurried. “Come for me, baby. It’s okay.”

“So fucking perfect,” he growls, while his thumb finds its way to rub tight circles on your clit. Damn it if he doesn’t make you come one more time. He needs to feel you clenching down on his cock like that. “Gonna make you come again, baby, I promise.”

Your hands paw at his broad back, digging into the chiseled muscles while your thighs wrap around him, bringing him in deeper.

It’s with his face buried into the crook of your neck that he comes with a snarl, heavy breaths likened to the ones belonging to a beast blown right into your ear. Despite his movements stilling, his softening length remains inside of you while his fingers flicker your nub deliriously.

“Uh-huh, I see you, I see you.” He grins, taking note of the bucking of your hips, the way your thighs attempt to press together as they squeeze around his waist.

“Simon,” you whimper, and that’s all it takes for him to press down a little harder, do it a little faster. You let go, mouth falling open in a soundless gasp.

“There it is. Look so beautiful when you come on my cock,” he tells you, and you swear you feel him harden again inside of you.

But when you come down from the high, laying there spent and panting, he pulls out so gently. Presses a kiss to the swell of your neck before climbing off the bed and discarding the condom in the bathroom.

“Simon, can you get me a towel?” you ask tiredly, watching his naked figure through the open door.

“Was already on it,” he tells you, stretching his arm out through the spring with the towel in hand, drawing a chuckle from your lips. “Have to take care of my woman. Can’t leave her all messy from taking my cock like the sweet girl she is.”

“You’re so crude,” you say through giggles, Simon walking back into your bedroom.

“Only around you, love,” he answers, kneeling on the bed to dry you off.

“That’s a lie. A big fat lie.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The soft fabric drags against your skin, soaking up the trails of your wetness coating your inner thighs and your folds. So meticulous, careful with each movement. Neat-freak.

“I love you.”

His head tilts up, brown eyes keeping you still under his gaze. And then he smiles. Skin by his eyes crinkling, white teeth showcased, towel discarded onto the floor. He covers your body with his, arms sneaking around your waist to roll you on top of him.

“I love you, sweet girl. ‘S probably gonna be the death of me, but like hell if I’m gonna do anything else than love you,” he whispers, dragging the duvet over your bodies.

Your body goes soft, pliant, in his hold. Comfortable silence fills the non-existing space between you, his breathing the only thing you can hear. Your eyes almost shutter closed when Simon speaks up again.

"I am so fucking you in my office on Monday," Simon tells you, chin on top of your head, your cheek on his chest. You can't see his face, but you know there's a boyish grin on his lips.

You just chuckle tiredly.

"Mr. Price would literally kill the both of us if he found out."

"Tough luck, love. I'm having you on my desk. End of discussion," he teases, squeezing your hip gently.

"You're insatiable."

"And you're beautiful. And sexy, and gorgeous, and entirely fucking mine," he whispers, growls, into your ear. "So we're christening my office on Monday, yeah?"

"You're taking the blame if Price walks in."

"Gladly. By Monday afternoon, nobody in our office will have any doubts about who I belong to."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm. Future Mr. Y/l/n Riley. You better fucking believe,” he says. “Just gonna get Shepherd fired and gauge his eyes out first.”

“Simon.”

“Yes. Nobody fucks with my woman.”

TAGLIST: @keendreamnight @xxkay15xx @evie-119 @darkravenqueen98 @naxxsstuff @sirens-and-moonflowers @narcoticv3nus @igotmajordaddyissues @fallenkitten @darling006 @iloveloveeducks @accio-serotonin

[soaringwide]

PAC: Love reading - In what way are you self-sabotaging this relationship and how can you change course?

Today I wanted to do a Pick a Card love reading and focus on the ways you are self-sabotaging a specific romantic relationship, with a second part focusing on how to change course.

The idea is that sometimes we get in our own way and we can't see the pattern. The whole point of this reading is to realize what it is you're doing that is blocking yourself and how to better act in order to improve this relationship.

How does that work?

Take a moment to recollect yourself, breathe, close your eyes if you need to, focus on the moment. Look at the 4 pictures and select the one that draws you in the most. Not the one you think looks cooler but the one that creates that pinching feeling inside of you. The one that makes you feel it has something to say.

It is possible to feel attracted to more than one pile, just as it is possible to only find parts of the reading relevant. Remember that this reading is meant for many people so it won't be perfectly applicable to your situation.

PILE 1

How are you self-sabotaging?

Cards: IV of Pentacles + Dreams + Erotic Bliss + 9 of Pentacles Rx; Strength + Resentments + Loving Yourself + X of Cups Rx; X of Swords + Renewal Rx + Unrequited Love Rx + V of Wands Rx

Your pile has intense erotic feelings, perhaps even dreams, about this person, but reality doesn't match the height and perfection of your desire, in the sense that it exists mostly in your head. It makes you feel diminished and lacking and you retreat within yourself, shielding yourself behind your walls. You may be holding onto your sensual daydreams and enjoying them in private and you may find some bliss that way, but it is also very frustrating. Regardless there is a big sexual blockage here that's stopping you from expressing your desire towards your person, and it seems a big part of it stems from your own relationship with your body and sensuality.

You feel unsatisfied emotionally as well, but I think this stems from the fact that you are lacking in the self-love department. You rely too much on external validation for your sense of self-love and when you don't get that gratification, you feel rejected which leads to resentments. Again there's the imagery of building a wall around you, this time covered in barbels. You don't allow yourself to be vulnerable, keeping bottled up emotions surrounding rejection hidden within.

This is shown in the next message as well. You have this deep rooted fear of being stuck in an unrequited love, of being rejected and humiliated. I have this image in mind of a boat filling up with water and you keep trying to empty it but there's a hole and it keeps filling up at the same rate. There is no renewal (healing of yourself) possible because you're not fixing the hole and it keeps you in misery, in a state of constant struggle. There is also a component of comparing yourself to others and assuming you're not good enough for your person.

How to change course?

Cards: Knight of Swords + Forgive; 2 of Cups + Fear Rx; The Moon + Relieved Rx; Magic

I think part of you reaaaaally wants this relationship with your person but you're not accepting it. You need to understand that you're doing nothing wrong, that it is not shameful, it is normal and natural, beautiful and human even. You may be feeling guilty about this situation because you FEEL you're doing something wrong, and you really need to forgive yourself. Try to focus on the beauty of it instead.

You also need to get over your fear of intimacy. I see the two figures of the two of cups approaching each other mutually. It's a beautiful and sweet card, it's a card of union and happiness, and you know that's what you want, but you're so scared of it that you won't let it happen.

The overall message is to examine your subconscious for biases and shadows, in particular when it comes to fear of intimacy and sexual shame, so that you can relieve that pressure and come forward in love. Perhaps for some of you it stems from a lack of experience, so you might want to educated yourself from trusted sources to help you get a healthier and more balanced picture in your mind. But overall nothing will beat learning yourself, but you got to make way to learn without judgement and shame.

Desire is a beautiful power of nature. It is magical. It is yours. Stop underestimating or undermining it, or thinking it is not yours to have because it's not true. I'm getting that for some of you it might be stemming from religious trauma and shame regarding sex, so you might want to look into that as well in order to heal.

PILE 2

How are you self-sabotaging?

Cards: 6 of Cups Rx + Sorrow Rx; Page of Swords Rx + Fear of Abundance + Change; 8 of Swords Rx + Intuition Rx + Page of Cups Rx + Relieved Rx

The way you are self-sabotaging is, first, by not being able to let go of past pain surrounding love and to cling onto the past. Perhaps you are nostalgic for sweet memories that are long gone, something that felt pure and simple and that you feel you may never find again.

I feel that you somewhat lost your sense of adventure. You overthink about your past loss and make the false logical conclusion that you'll never receive anything good in matters of love, or that no change is possible. You are stuck in a negative, overly defensive intellectual stance which became like some type of reflex you have a hard time detaching from to progress on your journey.

It's similar on the emotional side since you seem to be over protective of your old feelings. Like, the past seemed so great you feel like nothing will ever compare. You can't seem to release and accept that something new and beautiful in a different way may arise. Which means you have a hard time opening yourself to new messages of love. The curiosity is buried under a pile of fear.

On that note, you are not listening to your intuition at all because it is so polluted by your negative spiraling thoughts. You feel disarmed but you don't see that you have everything that you need to break free. To be more precise, you know yourself, you know what you've been through, but you get lost in the maze of your own mind. And if we add the blocked feelings you hold onto, I see that the problem you have is not so much about external things but rather, the way you deal with your thoughts and emotions.

How to change course?

Cards: The Emperor Rx + Nurture Rx; King of Cups Rx + Your are Deserving Rx; The Lovers + Creativity Rx; 3 of Wands Rx + Anxiety + Manic; The Lover (oracle)

Interestingly, you got a lot of swords in the struggle part but none in the advice part, which makes me thing that the first things you need to do is get out of your head a bit.

With the Emperor, there is this idea that you need to become a good ruler to yourself. Right now you are some type of old tyran that keeps talking about the old times without caring for the present. You need to nurture your present needs, be kind and empathetic with yourself and take the action needed for your own good. How would you feel if someone treated you the way you are treating yourself?

With the King of Cups, there is an extra-emphasis on the realm of emotions. I think that part of why you emotionally stay stuck in the past is that you lack self-worth making you feel undeserving of love.

The Lovers popped up but I think it talks about yourself, about how you need to merge the gap within your own heart. It may seem like a convoluted and difficult task that requires skills and experience, but really, you just need to come forward as you are and communicate where you are at. Be true, be metaphorically naked in front of the other and let them see you for who you are.

Lastly, you are being warned about where you're putting your mental energy. It's like as I said, part of you is stuck in the past, but the part of you that focuses on the future is looking at it wrong. You're feeding it with distorted information, and this creates a storm of anxiety and erratic thoughts that keeps on escalating with no end in sight.

Last advice you got the Lover again (oracle deck) with the sentence ''it is safe to surrender to the good feelings''. So to wrap up with what i was writing earlier, rather than follow your fears and regrets, the best course of action is to follow your bliss! Feed your mind and heart with sweet things to create the change you're wishing for.

PILE 3

How are you self-sabotaging?

Cards: Ace of Swords Rx + Unknowing + Shame Rx; Empress Rx + Courage Rx; 8 of Swords Rx + Intrusive Thoughts; Page of Wands Rx + Bottled up + Manic Rx

There are some areas of uncertainty in this relationship that makes you feel confused about the situation. It's taking your power away a bit and makes you feel like you don't know what to think or how to act. But I think some of this has to do with a lack of communication that makes you think that this situation is unexplainable where it could actually be if you stepped out of that stance. I feel like you would feel ashamed to bring some subjects up but it's a faulty reasoning.

You lack the courage to express your needs and boundaries, to speak up about what would make you happy and fulfilled. I think you know clearly what you want and what you need but you're just not defending that and you're letting yourself get treated differently than you would need.

I think it makes you feel powerless, like you have no control of the situation, but you don't see that it's the result of a very deeply ingrained pattern of thinking that you can totally untangle if you put in the work.

Lastly, I think this lack of being able to stand up for your needs is leading to a lot of frustration and bottled up feelings that may result in outbursts of anger or fights that may look a bit erratic from another perspective. You might have a tendency to jump to conclusion when it's not what you need in the moment.

How to change course?

Cards: 10 of Swords + Creativity Rx + Wounded Heart; 4 of Swords Rx + Love; 5 of Cups + Trauma Rx; Page of Cups + Anxiety Rx + Forgive Rx

I think a big message is to air out your worries, talk about them or express them in one way or another so they can get resolved. You might even benefit from therapeutic art making I'm getting. But yeah you've got a lot of pain to process and you need to start working on that if you haven't already, and you might want to reach out for help in order to speed up the process.

Love can and will play a part in your healing journey, but you shouldn't have to hide you you are in order to live this love. Find those who inspire you to blossom in order to grow together and heal each other in an act of reciprocity. You need to learn to be authentic and not hide because you are scared you are going to be judged for something that is not your fault. Pay close attention to how someone makes you feel after you left them. Do you feel at peace or at war? Learn to listen to that feeling and you'll be guided towards what you need.

PILE 4

How are you self-sabotaging?

Cards: The Chariot Rx + Wish Fulfilled + The Protectress Rx; The Empress + Hope + 2 of Pentacles Rx + Energy; Judgement + Shame + 5 of Cups Rx + 8 of Swords

The first message is that you are extremely eager to see your wish fulfilled in exactly the way you want, not allowing things to run their natural course. In that situation, the desire to be in full control is not the way to go about it. It seems that this situation is winding path full of detours, and you try too hard to rectify the trajectory instead of going along the ride. The reason for this is that you're trying to protect yourself because you're scared of the pain inflicted by disappointed love, or love that has no place to go, but you don't see that this over-protective behavior is the very thing that inflicts you pain.

The second message talks about depletion, about an imbalance within yourself that stops you from standing in the full power of the Empress, who embodies grace, abundance and safety. The oracle card ''Hope'' is quite signification here, as it shows a hand crossing fingers to make a wish, illuminated by rays of light. I think that the very thing you're not allowing in your garden is hope. If we link that to the previous message, it's your lack of hope that make you frantically try to do things in a specific way, because you will like if you don't act NOW you will lose everything, because you lack faith that you will get this love in your own time. I don't think this hope is totally dead though otherwise you would have given up, but you don't let it blossom enough, you're stepping all over it in your awkward dance to juggle too many things at once.

The third message talks about your struggle to overcome your own limiting patterns and beliefs. I think you've been through past losses and defeats regarding love and you feel somewhat cursed regarding that area of your life. Like things are never going to get better and you're doomed to be alone forever. You feel really ashamed about this situation, thinking there must be something wrong with you. The card shows a hand floating in the emptiness, with an open eye crying. It's like, you have so much to give but in so much pain that all that flows are tears. You feel isolated and powerless and you direct that towards yourself. You feel like you're unable to see or act and that creates immense tension within yourself because you want to break free, but you're doing it wrong by resisting this transformation that needs to happen within yourself first and foremost.

How to change course?

Cards: Temperance + Reflection + Optimism Rx + Space, time and self; Ace of Swords + Anger Rx + Slow Down + 4 of Swords Rx + The Servant Queen; Yin and Yang; 10 of Wands + Knight of Cups

I think you would benefit from being more patient and let things flow more. Let things progress gradually. There is this idea that you are guided towards what you need and you need to learn to listen to this guidance more. Spend time thinking about what it means to you and develop that, find that inner balance and harmony, that gentle optimism. Things will grow in due time.

You have a tendency to be restless and this is exhausting you. So I see that one big thing you need to do as well is being mindful of your energy levels and take time to rest, cool and slow down. The clarity you need will happen naturally once the clouds have parted and you're in a better headspace. Right now you're just going round and round making dust, let it settle.

You are worthy of love, of receiving beautiful things, you need to understand and believe that. Especially when we saw that the patterns and beliefs that were holding you back where rooted in those past losses, you really need to heal that, not just for this love connection, but for your own well-being.

Really there's a strong overarching message that you need to trust your guidance more, to switch from an erratically active mindset to a more receptive and flowy one. The goal is to balance both energies, not to be one or the other exclusively.

Once you unburdened yourself, you'll be able to express and let your feelings flow without restrain. I think that's the goal for you and what you're not able to do at the moment. But I was shown what comes before that because you can't run into this with the mindset you currently have. You really need to shift it before you can embody the Knight of Cups.

[milkycarnations]

Kinktober 2022

|Week Four| Homicidal Liu x afab!Reader | strip tease, mutual masturbation, begging | 752 words

kinktober masterlist | body appreciation, subby Liu/soft dom?, vibrator. sweet n' soft, edging, overstim, cum eating, there is a huge lack of sexy words, I can only legally say pussy so many times,

Written for @just-a-creep-babe's #creepkinks. I like soft big men.

You eyed him carefully as he slipped his shirt off. His hands looked soft and gentle and you imagined how they'd feel on you, slipping past your legs and playing with the heat between your thighs, rubbing and pinching your nipples, you thought of it all. He had lost his sweats and boxers not too long ago when he made a show of popping his dick out of them. He was so hard, his pants looked as if they had shrunk a few sizes. Now, he was resting against the footboard with his legs open, staring at you standing next to him. He was already needy: a bead of precum dripping from the tip of his cock.

"C'mon," he motioned for you, "Sit down in front of me."

You did what he asked, plopping down with your back against the headboard. You spread your legs open for him, matching his pose. You both faced each other, exposed in a way you've never been before. You took in the sight, admiring the scars lining his torso and his arms. God, he was so sexy. There was a wet spot on your panties that you knew he had noticed.

"Please, take them off. I want to see all of you," he pleaded.

Not arguing, you lifted your legs into the air and slowly tugged them off. Slick clung to the fabric. As you caught him staring, you felt your face heat up. Why had this felt more intimate than just touching each other?

Liu started to grope himself softly, his gaze fixated on your pussy. He looked drunk, eyelashes wet with frustrated tears, heavy lids, and soft moans falling from his parted lips. Occasionally, he'd glance up and make eye contact with you. He had such a needy look in his eyes - one that was asking you to touch him. You hadn't begun touching yourself yet, but you could feel your body start to tremble.

"Please, don't make me ask anymore. Play with yourself. I want to watch you." he let out a breathy moan as he started to pump his cock in his hand. You leaned over and pulled a vibrator wand out of your bedside table. Once turned on, the sound of it buzzing filled the room. Liu sped up, rutting his hips into his hand.

"Yeah, c'mon. I want you to feel good for me, baby."

You spread your fingers into a v-shape and held yourself open. Easing in, you pressed the wand against your clit gently. You were already so sensitive from at least an hour of yearning for him and touching each other through clothes. Every thrum of the wand made your hips buck involuntarily. A soft whine fell past your lips. Liu followed suit. He sounded so pretty.

"Just like that. Fuck. Please." he let his head slump back as he watched you. He seemed desperate, fucking his hand quickly and thrusting up into the air.

The vibrator made your legs tense as you worked yourself up to your orgasm. You set your feet onto Liu's legs and propped yourself up better. At this point, both of you were moaning loudly for each other.

"Fuck,"

You heard Liu blurt out, taking his hand off his cock for a moment.

"Almost came," he muttered.

He had insisted on cumming together, while you watched each other. He was holding it out, edging himself for you. You didn't want to keep him waiting any longer. You turned on a different setting, making the vibrator pulse faster. It was too much for you and you knew you were bound to cum soon.

You watched as he continued jacking himself off unprompted. It was rough and messy and he seemed impatient.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck please," he whined out your name, "please tell me you're almost there?"

You could only nod at first, wordlessly saying yes.

He threw his head back, panting.

"I'm gonna cum. I can't hold it back anymore. Cum with me please,"

As he spoke his sentences started to break up until he could barely speak. You quickly followed suit, going limp as you rode out your orgasm. After a few seconds, you turned the wand off and let yourself sink into the bed.

You noticed how Liu made a mess of his legs and stomach. You leaned forward, centering your face above his cock. Squirming beneath you, he grabbed onto your shoulders as you lapped up the cum on him.

"Think you can go for a round two?" you asked.

[arueternity]

How would the ST Boys + V react to you crying because of them? Sorry. I'm in my feels and it popped into my head. -💙

Hello~ I promise I'm not dead. Just been dealing with midterms and all that fun college stuff. Anyways here's this... So sorry if it wasn't exactly comforting. <3 Vessel

Vessel has been stressing over Sleep more than normal

Its gotten to the point no one can stop his studies to make him eat or take care of himself

You’ve began to worry about him and have tried to talk to him about it, but every time he brushes you off

After the 6th attempt it began to get violent and angry.

You had yelled some choice words about him not caring about you or himself, that he’ll end up dead before long

Vessel ends up stopping whatever he’s doing to watch the tears roll down your face

It killed him on the inside to see that fact he caused those tears

“Look at me, love…” He says while wiping the tears from your cheeks, “I’m sorry. I didn’t notice just how much you needed me. How much I’ve been stuck up in this…” Vessel sighs and gestures around the room signifying what he meant. He runs a hand under his mask and groans softly, the days finally catching up to him. You watch him quietly, anger slowly leaving you at the sight of how stressed he seems to be. “No Ves,” You sigh with guilt eating away at you, “I didn’t see how much this is stressing you out…”  You reach for him, wrapping your arms around his torso. He allows you the touch, maybe to comfort you but maybe it's to comfort himself. Vessel gently rests his head against yours in a loving manner. His hand coming to wrap around your back and pull the two of you even closer than before. You sit in silence for what seems like forever, but an eternity of peace and love. Once you look up, you are able to notice the soft wetness to his eyes. “Lover, are you okay…” He nods but doesn’t trust himself to speak. The stress of dealing with Sleep and upsetting you finally crashed onto the man. You stand straight and place a loving kiss on his jaw line. “Let me help you next time…”

II

Due to the influx of worshippers, the boys have been practicing a lot more then normal

II especially wants to make sure his parts are perfect, wanting to give his everything to the show he loves.

He spends days practcing till his arms are sore and his hands are numb

He has gone through so many pairs of drumsticks and he keeps calling you to get him more

But after so many times of retrieving more sticks, it starts to get to you.

He hasn’t looked at you for longer then 2 secs and haven’t even talked to you besides asking for his equipment. 

You go to hand him the last pair the store has, he doesn’t even bother looking up when you tell him the information.

It hits hard, the pack is meant to bond and here he is isolating not only himself but you. 

Tears pool in your eyes and your nose fills up with snot.

“II, please it's weeks since you’ve done anything but play…” Your voice cracked as you raised the volume. He glances at you before bringing his eyes back to the drum kit in front of him. Frustration and loneliness burning like a wild fire in your heart. “II if you don’t stop fucking playing!” You scream over the beat of The Summoning. Finally he stops playing and really looks at you for the first time in a while. “Fuck baby.. Hey… No stop..” He drops everything he’s doing and stands to rush to you. Tears finally fall from your eyes as a soft sob leaves your throat, “I’ve been doing so much but I don’t even get a simple thank you!” II carefully pulls you into him, placing gentle kisses on your cheeks. He lets you cry all while rubbing your back and holding you as close as possible. Once the tears begin to slow and all that is heard in the practice room is a soft sniffle, “I promise everything you do… I’m thankful for… I love you  I didn’t realize…”

III

Everyone knows the bassist is always bouncing around on stage.

Well he is extremely similar when it comes to his private life

He is always goofy and a ray of sunshine that sometimes gets on people’s nerves.

III will play jokes on you whenever he notices you feeling upset or generally down. 

Sometimes it does help but sometimes you just wish your personal bassist would sit and talk to you 

No matter how many times you’ve tried to have a conversation with him about the relationship, he brushes it off like there is nothing to talk about. 

It is extremely upsetting and finally, you snapped.

Corning III during one of his joking moments and told him everything that was on your mind.

He stared down at you in extreme confusion and slight hurt, his back pressed against the door of your door. “Sugar… What’s going on? Uh, you seem upset?” You exhale and pinch the bridge of your nose while tapping your foot. The little movement does nothing to ease the anger in your system. “Of course I’m upset! I’ve been trying to talk to you about something for days now! Yet you brush me off !” III flinches back at the outburst and watches as tears of frustration fall onto the floor. “I-I didn’t know you were trying to talk to me…” He trails off avoiding your fierce glaze. A soft whimper falls from his mouth when your tears begin to fall faster. “It's like you don’t even care about me III!” He sucks in a harsh breath and makes a rash decision. III pulls you into him and locks his arms around you, refusing to let go no matter how much you struggle. You scream in slight frustration because sobbing into his chest. “Am I just not good enough for you… why can’t you just love me…” The creature lifts his mask above his nose and kisses your lips passionately. “Of course, I love you Sugar… I just struggle with… this,” He motions to the two of you, “I’m not great with feelings but I don’t wanna lose you… tell me everything... Please.” He begs softly while looking into your eyes lovingly.

IV

You loved your goofy guitarist, held him higher than the moon

He was always the calm-ish one out of the group, keeping to himself and whenever he needed to

Sadly sometimes the quietness of IV became worrisome.

His anxiety getting the best of him, his guard staying up to keep the whole “calm and stoic” impression

You tried to talk to him about this, but he would always say he is fine and brush it off

It was clear he wasn’t okay, his normal dancing on stage during into just a small bounce in his step

His kisses and touch becoming short and almost emotionless 

It hurt you to know he wouldn’t talk to you, no matter how hard you try

The ritual had gone well, everyone cheering and obviously having the time of their lives, everyone but IV. Your lover had been off in his little corner of the stage. You sat waiting backstage preparing to help clean and pack up. IV was the last one to join you backstage, his eyes calm but holding a clouded-over look. He ignored you, ignored everyone trying to congratulate him for the performance. You knew how he got, you knew he wouldn’t talk to anyone about this. With a sigh, you walked to him and grabbed his sleeve wanting to drag him into one of the private dressing rooms. He allows you to pull him, not wanting to even cause a scene. Once in the room with the door shut, you cross your arms glaring up at him with worry and anger. “IV, I’ve had enough of this. What. Is. Going. On.” He blinks at you in confusion before patting your head as though you were a dog. “Nothing love, I’m fine there is nothing going on.” You take a deep breath and hug him tightly. You shake in anger and hold him, “There’s nothing wrong, there’s nothing wrong!” Your voice shakes with sad anger, “You always say this and you never talk to me!” IV sighs and pushes you off him carefully as he moves to place his hand on your cheek. “I don’t want to worry you, you are already stressed… I don’t want to add onto it.” You whimper softly, a single tear falling from your face. Your lover stares at the tear falling down your face and gently wipes it away. “Shh it’s okay…” IV places his forehead against yours and hums softly. “IV please just… Tell me what’s going on with you.” You reach out grabbing at his shirt with a tight shaky grip. “It's just…” 

V

V had always had anger issues, lashing out at anyone who was in his way

If someone were to piss him off, he would attempt to walk away but sometimes it’s not enough

Sometimes just sometimes, III loves to push V’s buttons to set him off

The worst you’ve seen from your lover was when he punched 3 fist-sized holes in the wall

Everything was so fast and so loud, his voice raising the more he was pissed

You knew it was best to stay away from him when he was like this, not wanting his anger to be directed towards you. 

But of course, there were times like now when you happened to get in the way

“I swear to FUCKING god! III broke my guitar!” V yells while he tosses his nearly shattered guitar. You look up from your position on the bed, you stare at him in confusion and slight fear. He sighs in frustration and kicks the door closed causing a loud slamming sound. You jerk at the noise and move further back onto the bed. Knowing it is best to stay quiet you say nothing at the man’s rage. V’s eyes catch your movement, noticing the way you flinch at every noise he makes. “Oh so now you’re going to act like you’re scared of me? What the fuck!” You cover your mouth quickly attempting to quiet the soft whimper that falls from it. He smiles angrily and sucks on his fanged teeth, eyes flaring up with emotions. V takes a step closer to you, cornering you against the bed and the wall. Your breath quickens, tears begin to quickly form and fall down straining your face. He pauses, face falling at the sight of you so scared of him. V attempts to reach out of you carefully but pulls his hand back when your crying turns into loud sobs. Your hands tremble as you quickly gather your things and run out of the room. V is left standing in the middle of the room in shock taking in what he has done. Then and only then does he notice he had kicked a hole in the door. “Fuck…”

[achangeinpriorities]

I’ve been tagged by frequent partner in headcanons @sophiainspace for the Last Huzzah To This Hyperfixation fic meme, which is appropriate as I am also likely giving a last huzzah to the Arrowverse! (Incredibly reluctantly, kicking and screaming against my brain all the way, but what can you do)

My first fic for this fandom was Your Move, on 30 November 2019, an incredibly creepy prelude-to-Eowells/Hartley that set the stage for many of my later works

My favorite fic I’ve written is…oh so many choices. The one I go back and reread most often is If You Wanna Fight (We Can Go All Night), which is playful smutty Coldwave—with an honorable mention to With Benefits, in which aro Len and ace Mick end up doing affection at cross purposes

My fluffiest fic is probably Day In, which is a Flashpiper domestic fluff interlude in the middle of a fairly angsty series—I can throw in rest-point fluff sometimes!

My funniest fic is, hands down, Floordrobe Malfunction, which is exactly what it sounds like: Lisa/Cisco/Hartley get caught in the middle of V-polyam shenanigans and end up switching clothes

My saddest fic is Worse When It’s Late, one of only two fics I went into the knowing they couldn’t have a happy ending. (The other is At All Costs, which is just about as bad)

A fic I almost didn’t post was Worse When It’s Late, just because it was so much darker than my usual fare. I’m proud of how it turned out but I was terrified of how people might react to it

The fic I most enjoyed writing is probably still Tam Len, because I loved the worldbuilding and the characters ended up taking on a life of their own, to the point that several plotty things just…resolved themselves in the end, entirely driven by the characters!

My favorite ship is…oh boy. I have loved so many ships in my time in this fandom. Coldwave maybe? What’s not to love about Coldwave—they’re queerplatonic partners in crime who would rather die than admit a Feeling. I adore them

My favorite femslash ship is probably something with Nora West-Allen? Nora/Spencer maybe…or Nora/Spencer/Joss—all of whom I wish I’d written more of (and had more plans for, before the muse forsook me!)

My favorite OT3 is Coldwestallen, because no matter which way you slice it somebody is getting ganged up on by two people who are too similar for anyone’s good, and the resulting dynamics are impeccable

My favorite non-romantic pairing is…well. If I wanted to rules-lawyer this, I’d say Coldwave, because the aro Len headcanon remains strong. However in the spirit of the question I’m gonna say Barry and his dads, both as they interact with each other and as they interact with Barry’s partners about him. There were a lot of meaty, messy dynamics there that I wish I had explored more (and that I had plans to, before the muse evaporated)

My favorite character to write is Leonard Snart, by a long shot. I vibe with his strange strange brain. He taught me so much in my time writing him. I still want to study him under a microscope. I’m going to hold onto him for a long time even if the hyperfixation is fading

My favorite neurodiversity fic (I love that this is a category, Soph) is Pride In The Little Things, with post-diagnosis feels. It’s rueful, because I think there’s often an element of that following a diagnosis, but it’s hopeful too

The fic I most clearly remember writing is Complication, a Coldflash-to-Coldwestallen fic that was meant to have more to it and got cut down for the sake of making a deadline. I’m pleased with how it turned out, but there’s another universe where it was a much messier slow burn

My favorite written-out-of-spite fic is Unplanned, in which I took out my frustrations with the ‘Mick’s head pregnancy’ plotline of Legends s6 (feat. supportive Gideon who understands what dysphoria is)

My most read fic is No Hero (No Less Loved), one of my older Coldflash fics—one I’m not overly attached to, in truth, but benefitted from being a popular pairing and having a lot of chapters to add to the hit count

My least read fic is Pride In The Little Things, my newest fic with a very rare pair indeed (Lita/Jerrie Rathaway, my and @blueelvewithwings lil ship). I didn’t expect it to get many hits at all, so seeing it with even this much interaction is surprising

The WIP I most regret not finishing is an unpublished sequel to Complication that would have built off the ideas I cut from the original fic, including appearances by Joe and Henry, and also explained why Len was so weird all throughout Complication. I hope to force myself through finishing it eventually!

My favorite gen fic is Found, a Rogues-as-family fic that was meant to set the stage for more in-depth stories that never happened. It still stands on its own pretty well though

My crackiest fic is Critical Fail, a ‘Team Flash plays D&D’ fic written at the behest of an IRL friend (who, to my knowledge, never ended up reading it—ah well, it was still fun!)

And a bonus holiday fic is By Candlelight, with Coldwestallen celebrating both a contemplative Hanukkah and a rowdy West family Christmas

I believe my co-conspirator @blueelvewithwings has already been tagged, but I’m also going to tag @a-redharlequin who has been my instigator, cheerleader, and also partner, who I wouldn’t have found without this fandom. I love y’all and I’m so happy to have spent three years plotting together!

[notquitecanon]

The Love Hypthetical

For Emergencies Only pt 3

First Prev

Tw: one joke v*mit ment, enough fluff to give you a tooth ache, very melodramatic, matches the vibes of pt 1 better

Beautiful beautiful beautiful boy

There were many mature ways to handle the things that happened. Pretend it never happened, have a mature and earnest conversation, find a new job where you didn’t make out with your boss…. Probably at least a half dozen other perfectly plausible solutions you could come up with if you would give it five minutes of rational thought.

However, rational thought didn’t play well with your current thoughts about Dr. Egan Spengler. Hell, even between your mortification verging on self loathing, you couldn’t help the burning tips of your ears nor the dopey grin that would twist up when you thought about either kiss you shared. Just the very fact there was more than one to think about almost made you forget the scientist had not shown any meaningful interest before or after either kiss, truly hadn’t spent any time with you since before the first one. At the very least, you had stopped attaching meaning to all the little things you used to think might mean he saw you in a different light than he did.

So, to hell with being mature. You not only worked for men who unironically called themselves ‘ghostbusters’ but also had pretended to date the resident reclusive scientist on not one, but two occasions that both resulted in borderline vulgar make out sessions. Mature had plummeted off the Statue of Liberty and sank to the bottom of the bay.

This was all the long winded justification you used to reinforce your quick tempered decision to call in for the next day. Left a voicemail so neither Janine nor Peter could question you too severely. You didn’t think you could face them at work the next day. After all, you doubted you’d get much sleep.

You didn’t sleep. Not a wink. When you closed your eyes, the incident at the club wouldn’t stop looping though your head. And when they were open, it was like the kiss at the firehouse was projected onto your ceiling like a movie with no emergency exits.

And yet when you rolled over and stifled your frustrated groan into your pillow, all your brain could show you were replays of that woman toying with the zipper on Egon’s jumpsuit and snippets of him not so subtlety avoiding and evading you for the past week and a half.

In all your self pity, loathing, and wallowing, you missed the first round of rapt knocks on your door. The second round, however, did pierce through your angst and your pillow. You snapped the pillow to your side, eye brows furrowed as you threw your blankets off- you were uncomfortably warm anyways. Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you slid your feet into your favorite fluffy slippers, listening for another moment.

Another round of knocks came as you slowly stood, checking the clock on your night stand- 2:21 AM.

“(Y/N), I heard your voicemail I know your home and my estimation is that your still awake.”

Nope.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to feel childish as you dove back under the covers with a strangled yelp. His deductions be damned. It didn’t matter if it was Egon, a Supreme Court judge, the Queen of England, Jesus, Gozer, or any other God for that matter…

If anyone was to ask, you weren’t home. you were asleep. Better yet both- asleep some where that wasn’t the apartment that Egon was currently standing outside of. You thought holding the blanket over your face.

"(Y/N), I can hear the bed’s springboard from here. These apartments are former tenements with extremely thin walls."

How could you forget that?! You scolded yourself as you went rigidly still- your bed rewarded you with a spiteful squeak. Due to your dangerously thin walls- a fire hazard, honestly- you heard the man sigh.

"I believe its far past time for us to have a conversation," He called through your door and your stomach dropped. Oh God, he was firing you, or worse ,"(Y/N), I understand if you don’t want to engage with me, but I hope you’ll at least listen to me."

It would seem you didn’t have much choice. You peeked your head to from the blanket as Egon paused for a moment, clearly waiting for a response. When he didn’t get one, he continued.

"It appears that we- I- have made a mess things in my endeavor to further understand yours and my own emotions and instincts, " He started, voice uncharacteristically earnest. Slowly, you sat up, letting the blankets pool around your waist. Maybe you weren’t getting fired.

"I have valued intelligence and intellect over all other attributes and values, often because I find that I interact differently with the word than my peers, emote differently… feel differently than my peers. I’ve always known this and never has it truly bothered me, perhaps its the reason I never took time to familiarize myself with certain social rituals." He admitted, for the first time since you’ve known him, struggling to find the right words.

This level of vulnerability, of open honesty, was new- enticing as it was nerve wracking . Egon never lied and was always serious, but that didn’t mean he always showed all his cards. Maybe that’s why you couldn’t help yourself, just as slowly you slipped off the bed, creeping through your bedroom and living room. This time, you carefully and mindfully avoided every squeaky floor board and groaning doorway. As if if he knew you were listening he might withdraw again.

"I didn’t deem them of note, or substance, so when…." Egon trailed off again, his shadow under the door shifted, clearly uncomfortable, nervous you decided "When I met you, despite my extensive knowledge of psychology, none of it prepared me for field experience. None of my theories or hypotheticals had prepared me for when it was me who experienced them."

When he met you? You mouthed the word in repetition, eye brows knitted up, sneaking so close that you could press your cheek to the door, plans splayed beside you turned head, as if sheer proximity would allow the words to soak in.

Judging by his shadow and the volume of his muffled voice, he was just as close, probably having to turn his head so his nose wouldn’t brush the wood.

"So I pulled back to the familiar, observing, hypothesizing, watching how you interacted with me and adjusting my variables accordingly, how I reacted to your actions," Egon paused again to take a deep breath, all this self reflection was taxing, "so much so that sometimes, often times, I forgot to feel and experience them for myself."

He paused for another moment, chuckling lowly, you weren’t sure if it was for your benefit or his, but he tried a joke, "Peter has always said I’m too far in my head, that one day something was going to hit me in the face and I wouldn’t notice it. I never thought that was possible until I met you."

You snickered silently at the joke, leaning more against the door- even without realizing you yearned to be close to him. Another beat of silence- you hadn’t realized how anxious this had made you until in his silence you could hear and feel you heartbeat filling up the pause. So loud you worried Egon could hear it, never the less he continued, his voice softer this time.

"I never envied Venkman’s people skills, or even Ray’s emotional depth… until I met you."

You tried to temper your tiny gasp as more clues fell into place, eyes threatening to get misty. If Egon noticed, he didn’t comment instead sighing again, seeming to steel himself.

"I knew from the moment I met you, I felt differently about you- even beyond the basic biological responses. I’ve tried to keep a scientific mind, but for the first time I couldn’t. And beyond that, I didn’t quite know what to do or how to go about those- these- feelings. I confess, I still don’t."

The went quiet again. You wanted to pry more words out of him to still you shaking hands, brain whirling with all these confessions but he wasn’t done. You were surprised you could still hear him over the your pounding heart that had somehow taken residence in you chest, throat, ears, stomach as well as other places simultaneously.

"I have come to realize why- why I enjoy physical contact with you when it irks me from others, why I worked my schedule around spending time with you, why I appreciate when you go out of your way for me or wait to eat with me, why I didn’t want to pretend to be your partner." He listed, you could almost hear the soft smile in his voice. He paused one last time.

"(Y/N), I-"

You couldn’t bear it any longer. The butterflies in your stomach had undergone evolution or maybe mutation- you weren’t quiet sure the scientific term, maybe you’d ask Egon later. At the very least, they all learned a unanimous Irish gig to stomp around with. Your palms were sweaty against the splintering wood, stomach doing flips, knees jelly, head spinning and racing- if you didn’t see him right that moment, you very well might exploded, or on a lesser scale at least throw up.

So, you swung the door open with such force that you almost fell over trying to land yourself back in front of him. Egon had startled at the sudden action, wide eyed and breathless as he took in your sudden appearance. You noticed he wasn’t in his jumpsuit from earlier, instead he had traded it out for his typical day wear despite it being well into the early hours of the morning. Though, he wasn’t wearing his coat- uncharacteristic of him to not be prepared, had his decision to come here been so hasty?

With the same scrutiny, he observed your matching satin pajamas (a self indulgent choice on your part for your planned night of wallowing), unable to stop the slight smirk at your fluffy slipper clad feet.

So consumed in the overwhelming urge to see him, you hadn’t spared a thought to what you might say after his very well executed admission. And now, without the door separating you, you stood so close that even looking up at him it was through your lashes. All you managed was little more than a whisper, barely a squeak, "…Hi."

Almost as mindlessly, with an out of character grin goofy, he responded in his deep baritone, "Hello."

His own voice seemed to remind him while he was here, he nodded mostly to himself as he took a deep breath, holding your gaze.

"After months, I’ve come to the conclusion that I am in love with you."

You felt jubilant- and maybe a bit faint- so you braced yourself against the door frame as you smiled up at him. He was watching you with wide eyes, arched brows, chin dipped down to meet your face. For once, unsure of himself.

"And if my hypothesis is correct…" He trailed off, nodding down to you, "(Y/N), can I kiss you?"

Maybe it was the sleep deprivation or perhaps the week a half of self doubt you’d put yourself through, but despite the confession- reassuring your feelings had always been reciprocated- you couldn’t stop the crinkle of your eyebrows. Both of your other kisses had a purpose, a reason… an act to hold up. But now that no one was watching, you couldn’t stifle the question that slipped from your lips.

"What for?"

Egon’s own eyebrow broke their arch to furrow before he caught your meaning. He was sincere as he used the tips of his fingers to brush yours.

"Well, my theory is that if I love you, and you feel the same way-"

"I do." You didn’t mean to say it out loud, especially accompanied by the frantic nodding, so you tried to recover by adding a slightly less chaotic, "feel the same way, that is."

Egon just smiled again, comparing his long fingers to you smaller ones before lacing them as he continued his theory.

"-Then I don’t require a reason to want to kiss you. Provided of course-"

You couldn’t help it, you cut him off again- a rather rude habit you were developing. It didn’t matter, he loved you. This time you interrupted by pulling his lips quickly down to yours as you tugged him inside, he just barely managed to push the door shut before you had all but collapsed the to of you onto your couch- all the while managing not to separate, brilliant teamwork if you did say so yourself.

While your lips moved in tandem, hands were wandering, exploring each other- hair, faces,shoulders, back, waist legs… This kiss, not for anyone else’s eyes, was solely for the two of you. Fingers tangled in his surprisingly soft curls, you repeated your earlier discovery, tugging on the longer bits to further deepen the kiss. Once again, he groaned, almost a growl you realized, audible this time without music blaring to drown it out. It was one thing to feel the reverberation but In combination with the delicious sound the scientist made….

It lit a fire in you, made you greedy- you wanted to pull more of those sounds from him just to see if you could. With your newfound greed, you decided that you werne’t near close enough- despite having his tongue in your mouth. So you pulled yourself from between his legs to be all but on top of him, knees straddling his waist, so he had to tip his head back and you, yours, downward.

At this position, Egon had little choice but to rest hands on your waist so you didn’t topple the two of you over. He wasn’t quite sure he trusted the structural integrity of your sofa. Your hands, however, had the freedom to wander- nails trailing across his scalp, down his neck, across his broad shoulders, and then back around to hold his face.

After finding proper balance, he allowed his hands to trail almost devastatingly slowly from your waist down your sides before landing on the plush back side of your thighs. You gasped at the sudden squeeze of the tender flesh.

Egon grinned against your lip, delighted with that new discovery but decided that compared to your rapid heartbeat that you weren’t getting nearly enough oxygen, so he took the opportunity to pull away- chuckling when you pouted and collapsed back on the sofa.

As usual, he gave you is signature look of observation- noting your kiss swollen lips, flush face, heaving chest, clothes askew. His eyes were dark, appreciative yet still soft. Carefully- amusing since he had just made out with you for the third time- he took you hands in his, pressing a gentle, chaste kiss across your knuckles as you just stared back at him starry eyed.

“(Y/N), I have no use for any more games or false pretenses. I have a lot to learn about romantic pursuits, but it was you who made me want- crave- that knowledge. If you’ll have me, of course.”

He made it sound like such a burden, you giggled, scooting a little closer again so you could press a much more calm kiss to his cheek before resting your forehead against his. His glasses pressed uncomfortably into your face which only made you smile more, “Egon, I’ve liked you since I met you and after that first kiss, I’m pretty sure I went head over heels”

You pulled back pretending to think about it for a moment, “which, I believe, with both our feelings reciprocated and acknowledged, officially labels us an ‘item’ as they say.”

The scientist nodded for a moment as if mentally going through his checklist before oh so seriously answering, “I concur.”

“In that case,” you started rather innocently, smoothing over the wrinkles your desperate wandering hands had put into his shirt earlier, “There are many things we could do for no other reason than we just because we want to. And considering I’ve already called in to work tomorrow and you’re my boss…”

You trailed off again smiling as he chuckled, pretending to think over the offer before startling you, quickly pulling you to your feet, leading you off back towards your bedroom with a mischievous grin.

“I concur.”

___

And fin, a trilogy complete. Just two idiots in love who can make out whenever they want

Anyways tagging ppl I think care: @thegeekisheere @maraudermap000 @mzing14 @fanfictionedagain @egonspenglersweetie @nadja-antipaxos @egon-spenglers-glasses @twinkiethievery @enbyoddity

[grxcisxhy-wp]

𝖼.𝗁. | 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗇𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗅

back to masterlist

pairing ; c.h. x reader

requested ; no

summary ; high sex with cal

warnings ! SMUT ; smoking, kind of fwb to lovers, thigh riding, p in v

word count ; < 1k

a/n ; wanted to write something for cal and this is what i came up with. it's very lowkey and kind of all over the place but i'm tired so it'll do

You and Calum sat next to each other in his backyard passing an almost finished blunt back and forth. Over the past hour or so you two had just been talking about random things that came to your hazy minds. As you take the final hit of the blunt, putting the butt of it in Calum’s ashtray on the small table between you, you said, “Have you ever had sex when you’re high?”

“Like how high?” Calum asked, hand reaching down to pet Duke.

“As high as we are now.” You looked at the darkening sky as you waited for Calum’s relaxed mind to come up with an answer.

“Not sex,” Calum finally said. “But I have masturbated.”

“Was it good? Like better than normal?”

Calum nodded.

“What was different?”

Calum spared a glance your way before answering. He admired how you managed to look good without even trying. How your dazed expression was dreamlike, and the tiniest of smiles rested on your face permanently.

“It just felt better,” Calum said. “Maybe because I didn’t have as many things on my mind.”

“Do you think I could try it?” you asked, turning to look at Calum.

“What do you mean?”

Instead of answering him you stood up and walked over to where he sat. You perched yourself atop his lap so that you were straddling one of his thighs. Calum’s hands moved to rest comfortably on your hips.

“Can I ride your thigh?”

Calum nodded but you were already moving your hips before having an answer. Calum guided your movements with the hands on your hips. You placed your hands on his shoulders for stability as you felt the pressure in your abdomen build. You lazily moved back and forth on his thigh, enjoying the friction against your clit.

Calum watched you in awe. In all honesty, he was surprised the two of you hadn’t done this before. There had been a few occasions where the two of you had been intimate, just needing to release some sexual frustration. The two of you were close enough that it didn’t ruin your friendship, but Calum had found himself wanting to have you all the time. Sometimes not even intimately. He wanted to hold you and make you smile like no one else could.

And that scared him.

But he wasn’t fearful when you looked like something straight out of a fairytale on top of his thigh, using him to get off. He could tell you were close by the way your face scrunched up and your movements were fastening. His hands tightened on your hips, helping you grind harder into his thigh. You came with a soft string of moans and a few obscenities.

“That was so much better than normal,” you panted, a smile creeping onto your face. You looked down noticing the strain in Calum’s pants that hadn’t been there before you’d climbed in his lap. “Looks like you enjoyed it too.”

Calum chuckled, hands slipping underneath your shirt, his thumbs rubbing circles on your bare skin. “Maybe, but I think I’d enjoy it more if you’d take your clothes off.”

You smirked. “Only if you do the same.”

You slowly pulled your shirt over your head, exposing your braless breasts. Calum followed suit, taking off his loose top and throwing it on the concrete. You leaned in to kiss him as his hands found their way to your tits, his hands cupping them and them fitting perfectly in his grasp.

Your hands moved from their previous position on his shoulders, trailing down his bare chest to the waistband of his pants. Your fingers teased the hem of his pants, running back and forth, never quite giving him what he wanted.

You disconnected your lips from Calum, ignoring his groan of disapproval as you stood up to take your pants and underwear off. While you did that, Calum took the opportunity to remove his own pants. By the time you were completely naked so was Calum, waiting patiently for you to climb back on top of him.

You positioned yourself over his length, sliding down slowly and basking in the guttural groan Calum let out. You had thought getting yourself off on his thigh while high had been mind-blowing, but with him inside of you, you knew that nothing could compare to this feeling.

You lazily rode his cock, moaning every now and then when you came down on him and his tip hit just the right spot. Calum’s hands couldn’t stop roaming your body, trying to commit everything in this moment to memory. He couldn’t have cared less if you were the only one who came, just as long as you kept touching him like that.

Your hands scratched down the expanse of his chest and you loved the way he tensed underneath your fingertips. His hands finally found a solid place on your ass, helping to lift you up and down on his cock at the same pace but with more force.

“You’re so amazing,” you mumbled, feeling yourself getting closer.

Calum sat up, burying his face in your chest, neck – wherever he could get his lips on. He groaned into your skin as he felt you clench around him. You gasped shakily into his ear as you came, eyes rolling back, and you swore you saw stars. Nothing had ever felt that good.

“Oh, my God,” Calum groaned as he came inside of you. “God, I fucking love you.”

You smiled; the weight of his confession not fully comprehended by your hazy mind. But you knew that the next words that came from your mouth were a sincere response to his own.

“I love you too.”

[ppersonna]

my only wish - knj | m

“ santa can you hear me? i have been so good this year. and all i want is one thing. please tell me my true love is here ” - my only wish (this year), britney spears

✹ summary- There are few things you hate most in this world. Hornets, unnecessary fruit pieces in otherwise perfectly good jello, certain shades of orange… But nothing takes the cake more than two simple things. Christmas. And Kim Namjoon. So why did you agree to pretend to be Kim Namjoon’s girlfriend at his family Christmas party? Bah-Humbug.

✹ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

✹ pairing- kim namjoon x reader

✹ word count- 15.1k OOF

✹ genre- smut, fluff, tiny tiny angst if you squint, enemies to lovers, fake dating au, idiots to lovers, brief mention of YoonMin

✹ warnings- penetrative sex, unprotected sex (dont do it), daddy kink lolol, namjoon has a big dick, oral sex (m/f receiving), cum swallowing, light cum play, dirty talk, light degradation (very light tbh), praise kink, lots of mentions of joon being a beefy boy, masturbation,

✹ a/n- its here!! finally! my contribution to rockin around the christmas tropes. big big big shout out to @ladyartemesia​ @xjoonchildx​ @untaemedqueen​ @underthejoon​ @yeojaa​ @snackhobi​ for being my co collaborators. and a warm shout out to @wwilloww​ and @hobi-gif​ for being some very lovely betas. thank you thank you! i hope you enjoy!

There are few things you hate most in this world. 

 Hornets, unnecessary fruit pieces in otherwise perfectly good jello, certain shades of orange…

 But nothing takes the cake more than two simple things: 

 Christmas. 

 And Kim Namjoon. 

Christmas, in your opinion, is nothing more than a consumerist holiday, anchored on ensuring you’re guilted enough from November 1st to the 25th of December to spend your hard earned money on shit your friends and loved ones won’t even use. It’s a time for people to pretend they love giving and caring, while shoving you out of lines in stores, buying up all the groceries as if it’s the end times, and forcing party after mindless party for “celebration” that ends in seeing your boss drunk and pants-less by the punchbowl. 

 And don’t even start on Kim Namjoon. 

 On paper, he’s your colleague, to put the terms friendly. In reality, he’s your opponent, your adversary. He’s annoying, rude, stuck up, and not to mention a douchebag heartbreaker. He’s everything you hate wrapped in one disgustingly handsome face. 

 The man never misses a chance to steal a case from underneath your nose, rub the praise he receives from your bosses in your face, and look ridiculously delectable in his tight suits that he insists he wears around the office. He absolutely infuriates you. 

 And now, as you sit in the company-wide meeting, your heart sinks as you realize the worst thing about Namjoon—he’s about to get the promotion you’ve been vying for your entire career.

 That position was as good as yours—at least, you had thought.

 That was until lead counsel, Seokjin, stands in front of all the attorneys present and calls out Namjoon’s name, commending him on winning his latest case—the case that you had done the bulk of the work for. Seokjin even tells the rest of the lawyers in the room that Namjoon is “someone to watch” with a glint of pride in his eyes. 

 The smug smile Namjoon sends in your direction as he teasingly nibbles on a pen with his sultry mouth is enough to make you want to tear his eyes out and use them as olives in the martini you sorely needed.

 Namjoon smirks as he walks past you once the meeting ends.

 “Make sure you watch me, baby,” he whispers into your ear. 

 His hand rests on your lower back and you hate how much he aggravates you, and hate even more so that he frustrates you sexually as much as he does intellectually.

 Unfortunately, your body can’t keep up with your mind’s distaste for the elder lawyer. His presence around you makes your blood vessels tighten and your head feel light—nipples prickling against your bra when he winks at you.

 “Asshole,” you whisper under your breath as you pack up your notebook.

 “Oh, ___!” Seokjin calls out just as you’re about to leave the all-glass meeting room.

 Your head suddenly screeches to a very frustrated, sexual halt when you turn to face the lead counsel of your company.

 “Yes, Mr. Kim?”

 “I’ve got a case for you.”

 The smile on his face makes you relax. Maybe he sees your potential. Maybe he’s testing you just as much as he’s testing Namjoon. Maybe you’ll be the “one to watch” and you can rub that right in Namjoon’s perfect, stunning face.

 A thick manila folder slides across the oak table towards you from Seokjin’s hands. The impressive volume of the dossier makes you giddy with anticipation.

 “I know you won’t let me down.”

 You nod, nibbling at your lips, before bowing to your superior and dashing out of the room as fast as your Louboutins can handle.

 It’s not until you sit at your desk, a cramped little cubicle next to Park Jimin, your best friend and paralegal assistant, that you open the folder.

 Your heart sinks as your eyes hurriedly rush over the title page.

 Personal Injury Suit.

 A dejected sigh leaves you as you throw the folder onto your desk and slouch back in your ergonomic office chair.

 “What’s up, pussycat?” Jimin smiles as he rolls his chair over to your side of the cubicle. “Namjoon got you worked up again?”

 You groan as you take off your reading glasses, setting them aside to rub at the burgeoning headache building at your temples. You had momentarily forgotten all about Namjoon in the hurried hope that you’d land a case of significance, something you could finally use to prove yourself.

 Instead, you gained yet another in-and-out, settle outside of court case. Likely some elderly geriatric suing a corporation for too-slippery floors.

 “Another fucking personal injury suit,” you whine as you thrust the folder into the lithe paralegal’s hands.

 He looks over the documents and sucks his teeth.

 “Man, Seokjin really has it out for you.”

 You level a look at your best friend, before nodding and holding your head in your hands.

 “Namjoon is getting all the good cases! He gets the media attention, the litigation deals, everything! It’s like I’m not even given a chance to show what kind of lawyer I can be when I’m stuck with all the nursing home and car accident suits!”

 Jimin bows dutifully, nodding his head as you express your woes.

 “I can do more than just personal injury litigation… and Seokjin knows that! It’s just that Namjoon keeps getting all the air-time!”

 “I know, babe. I know.”

 With one last sigh of disbelief, you take the folder out of Jimin’s hands and sit upright at your desk.

 “Well, I guess if I’m going to be a personal injury lawyer, I’m going to be the best fucking one yet. Let’s get to work.”

 “Yeah! Fighting!” Jimin cheers.

  Namjoon sighs as he listens to his mother blabber on and on through his phone. He leans back in his chair and surveys the wide expanse of his corner office.

 Seokjin gave him this space, an upgrade from the desolate cubicles when he won his last big case, Kim Taehyung, artist v. the city of New York. He can’t help but smirk as he glimpses you from his window, pouring over a case file. He notes the curve of your back in the silk blouse you’re wearing and the way it tucks into your pencil skirt. He wishes he could see the outline of your ass and watch as it sways back and forth when you walk.

 “I just don’t understand why you can’t ever bring anyone home for the holidays!”

 His mother breaks him from his silent reverie of detailing every aspect of your backside.

 “You know your grandmother will not be alive much longer! And all she wants is her only grandson to be happy and in love! And a few grandchildren won’t hurt!”

 “I am her grandchild, Mom.”

 She’s silent for a moment.

 “Well, I wouldn’t mind some grandchildren either.”

 He groans again and presses his fingers to his forehead, a headache bubbling up behind his eyes.

 “Don’t you act like that, young man! You have a big empty house, big car, big life, and no one to share it with. I just want you to be happy.”

 She continues on and Namjoon can’t help but let her words sink in.

 He has it all. Expensive luxury apartment, enormous bed, gorgeous kitchen, money to spend on traveling and enjoying life. Yet he spends most of his time here, stuck in his office. He’s utterly alone, regardless of how many social guests he tries to entertain, horrid dates he attempts to go on. He’s always left alone, and he feels it deep at the very bottom of his heart—the loneliness and desire for a companion.

 “Mom! Mom!” He interrupts her diatribe on the futility of his adult life. “Stop!”

 “Namjoon, I’m just conce-”

 “I’ll bring home my girlfriend for the holidays, okay?”

There’s a stunned silence on the other end.

 “A girlfriend?” she asks, tentatively. “Really?”

 “Yeah,” he breathes, wincing already at the lie he’s spoon-feeding his poor mother—all in the name of getting her off his back. “She’s kind of shy, so I didn’t want to tell you about her yet, but now seems like the best time. I’m... I’m even thinking of proposing.”

 The words come out of Namjoon’s mouth before he can stop them. His mom bursts into screams of delight, and he can tell she’s running to his beloved grandmother to tell her the news.

 “Oh, Namjoon! This is all we’ve ever wanted for you. I’m so proud of you! I can’t wait to meet her! Oh, goodness, I can’t want to tell your father. Goodbye, son! I’ll see you two soon!”

 She hangs up before Namjoon has a chance to even breathe.

 “Fuck.”

 He drops his phone to his wooden desk and grimaces. 

 How the hell is he going to find a fiance in the next 3 days before the holiday break? 

 There’s Jennie, his ex.

 He thinks about it for a moment, before quickly dismissing it. No, much too clingy and possessive. She’d take it to be real, and he’d be stuck with her.

 His last hookup, Jihoo?

 No, too aloof. His mom would never buy that they were a love-sick couple on the brink of engagement.

 A crash outside his office startles Namjoon, making him stand and exit the large corner suite.

 The commotion is coming from your cubicle, where he can see you’re struggling to use the decrepit computer. The crash must have been from you slamming the keyboard to the desk, causing the individual keys to pop off the board.

 “Shit! Jimin, help me put this keyboard back together!” 

 You shimmy out of your chair and onto your knees, an excellent sight for Namjoon if he wasn’t so concerned about your well-being.

 The paralegal is standing above you, watching as you kneel to gather the pieces of the obliterated keyboard.

 “Oh no, honey. It’s against my personal constitution to be on my knees unless it’s for a handsome man.”

 “God, Jimin, come on.”

 “Hey, it’s not my fault you hulk-smashed the life out of that poor keyboard.”

 Namjoon smirks, turning back into his office and sliding into his desk. He easily opens his MacBook and emails Yoongi in IT, requesting a brand new computer for your desk—no holds barred. He wants the top of the line for you.

 He suddenly has just the person in mind to be his fake fiancée. 

  A brand new, gorgeous computer is at your desk the next day you arrive.  You nearly spill your hot peppermint mocha when you see the sleek machine atop your old plastic desk instead of the broken clunker that was there the day before.

 “What the hell?” You ask Jimin as you set your coffee down gently as if any movement might scare the new computer away. “Did you order this?”

 “I love you, but I would never order you something this nice.” 

 You can’t help but roll your eyes as you sit down to marvel at the modern machinery. At least Jimin is honest.

 “Maybe I’ll call Yoongi and ask him where it came from,” you wonder aloud, hand hovering over your phone.

 “YOONGI?” Jimin screeches, eyes suddenly wide and crazed.

 “Yeah? The IT guy?”

 “I know who Yoongi is, you dumbass! Here, let me call him! I’m your assistant!”

 He scrambles to grab the phone out of your hand.

 “You literally refuse to do anything I ask.”

 Jimin smiles cherubically, completely ignoring your confusion. He’s suddenly the picture of a model employee.

 “Don’t you worry! I’ll be right on it!”

 He hops from your desk with your cell phone gripped tight, and saunters away to a secluded area out of your eyesight.

 “What the fuck is going on today?” You ask out loud, settling into your chair and unloading your bag of files.

 “How's the new computer?”

 The sudden intruder makes you jump, nearly spilling your coffee, yet again.

 “Fuck!” You shriek as you attempt to right yourself and the dangerously hot liquid sloshing in the paper cup. “You scared me!”

 The chuckle that comes from behind you makes your stomach flip. You know that laugh. You could recognize that laugh a hundred miles away, in a hurricane, with headphones on.

 That laugh is the sultry demon himself, Kim Namjoon.

 “I—How did you know about my computer?”

 Namjoon takes a knee, bringing his face to your level in your chair. He’s close to you, so dangerously close. You can smell the Giorgio Armani cologne applied to his pressure points—the heat of his skin warming the scent and mingling with his own subtleties. Your eyes nearly roll back in your head. He smells so comforting—like a home you never knew you were missing until he arrived.  

 “I saw it when I walked in this morning.” 

 He breaks you from your daydreaming of warm, firm hands caressing your body and you’re thrown headfirst back into reality—the reality where you can’t stand the man mere inches from you.

 You push back from where you are and stand, eager to get away from Namjoon’s sudden interest in close proximity. He smirks and rises from his spot, pocketing his hands in his tight cream suit.

 “Care to join me in my office for some coffee?” He asks.

 His office. The one he scored after he won the Kim Taehyung case. The bitter betrayal still lingers in your mouth. 

 For the longest time, you had been equal in every sense; both living in the dingy cubicles with the computers long-destined for retirement. Then, Seokjin awarded him with the corner office, the one with the view of the entire city. You’d never forgiven either of them.

 “I have my own coffee.”

 Namjoon smirks as he eyes your paper cup, clearly a quick grab from the 7-Eleven around the corner.

 “Looks fancy.”

 You purse your lips and clutch your coffee even closer.

 “Please,” he asks again. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

 Namjoon’s face loses its snark, and you’re curious about what could cause the man to become so serious.

 “Fine.”

 You motion with your arm towards his office, encouraging him to walk ahead. He smirks again, ah—there’s that smirk, before he turns and heads into the gorgeous corner room.

 He lingers by the door as you enter, waiting until you’ve crossed the threshold to close the door behind you. It surprises you. Something about being in a closed room with Namjoon sets you on edge. You can nearly imagine the man bending you over that fine oak desk, hiking your skirt up and spanking your ass until it’s red.

 “Coffee?” He asks as he moves towards the in-office espresso machine.

 “Are you fucking kidding me? You have a Nespresso in your office?” 

 All desperate and wanton thoughts of Namjoon sliding into you leave once you see the stainless steel contraption in the room's corner. Of course he has a $500 coffee machine in his office. He has everything you want.

 “You like it?” His question is cocky. He already knows the answer.

 “Fuck off.”

 Namjoon grins and turns the machine on, pulling out two mugs while you sip your now lukewarm coffee. It suddenly tastes disgusting.

 “So, what’s the deal, Namjoon?” You ask as he rests against the wall and waits for the coffee to brew. “You said it was important.”

 Namjoon nods, a more reserved look taking the place of his usual cocky grin on his face. His gaze turns down to his shiny dress shoes.

 “I need a favor.”

 “No.” Your answer is quick.

 Namjoon looks up at you in surprise.

 “You haven’t even heard it yet!”

 “Yeah, well…,” you huff. “I’m not interested in helping you.”

 Namjoon leaves his post by his elaborate coffee maker, forgetting about the piping-hot liquid drizzling into white mugs, as he stands in front of you. There’s that fucking cologne again. Why does he have to smell so good?

 “You’ve got to help me. Please.”

 His sudden closeness to you sets your brain off—your steely resolve begins to crumble.

 “Fine, I’ll bite. What is it?”

 His face lights up again. God, he has such a handsome mouth.

 “I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend for my family Christmas party.”

 If you hadn’t had such a good grip on the convenience store cup of coffee, it’d surely drop from your clutch and splatter on the expensive carpet of Namjoon’s office.

 Your eyes widen, and your mouth falls agape.

 “You—You what?!”

 Namjoon sighs and lowers his voice.

 “Look, I…” he struggles. “I told my mom I have a girlfriend, so she’d get off my back about it.”

 “And why am I suddenly your best option for that?!” 

 You step away from the man, determined to clear your mind as the scenario weaves its way through your head. 

 Namjoon’s girlfriend. He wants you to be his girlfriend.

 Well, his fake girlfriend.

 He would hold your hand. He would kiss you. He would touch your body in ways you convince yourself you don’t think of often. 

 “You’re the only girl I know who’s got a good enough poker face to go along with it. And honestly… you’re the only girl I really know well enough.”

 His last admission shocks you. Namjoon seems like the womanizing type—one to bring a different girl home every night.

 “That doesn’t explain why the fuck I would want to help you.”

 Namjoon steps back and moves towards the coffee machine again.

 “If you help me, I’ll take all your shitty cases that Jin is giving you.”

 Your eyes narrow at the tall man. It seems too good to be true.

 “How d'you know about them?”

 Namjoon shrugs and grabs a mug full of freshly brewed expensive coffee.

 “I can hear you complain to Jimin about it every day.”

 You grumble under your breath, sucking on your teeth as you try to process the terms of Namjoon’s deal.

 “So you want me to be your fake girlfriend for your family…” you muse.

 “Yes,” he agrees. “And I’ll do all your worst cases for the next 2 months. I’ll even give you my next big one. I know you want that.”

 God, he’s right. That’s all you want. A chance to prove yourself to Seokjin, to the company.

 With an aggravated sigh, you relent. 

 “Fine! But it better be a good fucking case. And, I’m using your coffee maker every morning.”

 Namjoon can’t help but chuckle, loving the fire in your voice. 

 “Deal?” He murmurs.

 He holds out his hand to shake on it, and it takes you by surprise how warm and soft his large hands are once you slide your own into his grip.  

 “Deal.”

 Jimin is not going to let you live this one down.

  Jimin doesn’t let you live it down.

 He’s sitting on your couch, legs crossed underneath him as he hoists his wine glass filled to the brim. He holds it away from his body as he shakes with laughter.

 “You’re telling me,” he wheezes. “That you agreed to be Namjoon’s fake Christmas girlfriend? You hate that man!”

 Flopping into the couch beside him, you sigh.

 “Yeah, well, it was my only option. He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

 “Okay, Godfather,” Jimin snickers. “Lord knows you still want to bone that man, anyway.”

 “Jimin!” You admonish. “I do not! And that wasn’t the deal!”

 He sips at his red wine with an impish smile. You hate it when Jimin looks at you like that, like he can see behind the lie you’ve so carefully crafted of your hatred for Namjoon.

 “Then tell me, what was the deal?”

 You fiddle with the stem of your own wine glass, sighing.

 “He’s offered to take all our shitty personal injury suits for the next two months. And he’s giving me his next big case.”

 Jimin actually looks surprised—as if he didn’t expect Namjoon to provide a deal so worth the cost.

 “Wow,” he breathes.

 You nod in reply, taking a large gulp of the pinot grigio in your glass.

 “You’re still going to fuck him though, I know it,” Jimin adds.

 You splutter your wine from your mouth, hand reaching over to gently slap Jimin on his taut abdomen.

 “Shut up!” You cry.

 Jimin looks proud of himself, sipping his red wine gleefully while he settles further into your couch. Wine nights with Jimin is the highlight of your weeks. Together, you bitch over cases, coworkers, dating struggles, and eat too much cheese and cured meats and nurse a hangover the following day with brunch.

 “Hey,” you say to Jimin as you set your wine down on the coffee table. “Did you ever talk to Yoongi?”

 Jimin’s cheeks immediately turn a shade of rouge.

 “Yoongi? Yoongi who?”

 “Oh my god,” you groan. “Yoongi from IT. You stole my phone to call him today? To ask about my new computer?”

 Jimin swallows a large swig of his wine.

 “Oh. Yes, I did.”

 “And?” You encourage the blonde to answer further.

 “And he’s doing well,” Jimin replies demurely.

 “Jimin!” You huff. “The computer?!”

 Jimin makes an ‘O’ shape with his mouth and bites his lip.

 “I… might have forgotten to ask.”

 Your mouth drops open.

 “You literally stole my phone out of my hands to call him! What did you talk about?!”

 There’s his blush again. The shade of pink on Jimin’s cheeks would be adorable if you weren’t so flabbergasted by his answers.

 “I have a date tomorrow night.” He takes another sip as you let the reply sink in.

 “Oh. My. God.” You gasp, a smile now overtaking your features. “You have a crush on Min Yoongi!”

 Jimin sets his wine glass down next to yours and turns to you.

 “I had no idea if he was into me! But when I called, I totally forgot why I was calling him and we sort of just… started talking and next thing I know, he’s asking me out to dinner tomorrow night.”

 You playfully slap at Jimin’s thigh.

 “You little slut—using my phone to get yourself a date. On company time!”

 Jimin sticks his tongue out at you, before grabbing a pillow and slapping you with the overstuffed cushion.

 “At least I didn’t agree to be his fake girlfriend!”

  It’s the sound of your phone ringing at 7:32 am that wakes you from your spot on the couch, wine glass still clutched in your hand.

 “What the fuck?” You grumble, eyes blearily seeking the offending object disturbing your sleep.

 Jimin grumbles next to you, kicking at your foot as if it will stop the phone from ringing.  

“Stop,” he whines and cuddles into his fetal position. “Turn it ooooff.”

 You locate your cell phone and groan as you recognize the name on the caller ID. Namjoon. What the fuck could he possibly be calling for? And why did he have to call at seven in the goddamn morning? 

 “What do you want?” You snap as you hold the phone to your cheek and throw yourself back onto the couch.

 “Well, good morning to you, sunshine.”

 Namjoon’s voice, as sexy and sultry as it sounds, still aggravates you.

 “Why are you calling me? It’s Saturday. Its seven am.”

 Namjoon chuckles and you fight the shiver that works through your spine at the sound.

 “I tend to keep human hours on the weekend.”

 You can’t hold back the sarcastic guffaw that escapes you.  

 “Okay, Mr. Perfect,” you sigh. “That doesn’t explain calling me.”

 Jimin kicks at your foot again. 

 “Stop talking,” he grumbles.

 God, Jimin is such a diva when he’s hungover.

 “Meet me at the cafe on First Street,” Namjoon says casually. “I’ll tell you when you get here.”

 “Right now?!” You ask, incredulous.

 “I’m literally already here. Hurry before your coffee gets cold.”

 You let out a whine that could rival a 5-year-old’s temper tantrum.

 “Fuck you. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

 There’s no care about your phone when you end the call and throw it to the floor.  Jimin grumbles and rubs at his eyes.

 “Why the fuck are you having phone sex with Namjoon so early in the morning?” He asks.

 “Jimin, I swear to God.”

 He wraps himself in the throw blanket and buries his face back into the couch while you stand and retreat to your bedroom to throw on some semblance of appropriate clothing for the occasion.

 “Fucking Namjoon,” you grumble under your breath as you change into jeans and a sweater. “Fuck him and his stupid, sexy face. And his unbelievable ass. And his stupid, probably enormous penis. Man, I hate him.”

 As you’re re-entering the living room and grabbing your important items (keys, wallet, lip gloss just in-case), Jimin pops his head out of his blanket cave.

 “Where are you going?” He asks, suddenly less annoyed and more pathetic. “You’re leaving me?”

 “I have to go meet Namjoon for coffee. I don’t know why, so don’t ask.”

 “You’re really going to let me suffer here? Alone? With no coffee?”

 You spin around to face your best friend, who’s giving you an absolutely soul-crushing pout and puppy eyes.

 “Yes. Call Yoongi.”

 His precious pout is wiped away, and a devious smirk takes its place.

 “Great idea!” He says as he digs around for his phone. “Be careful out there! It’s icy! Wouldn’t want you to slip and fall on Namjoon’s dick.”

 Your only reply is one singular middle finger in Jimin’s direction as you exit your apartment.

  Namjoon can’t help but smile as he sips his warm coffee. The cafe is warm and bright, despite the chill outside. 

 Things feel peaceful. Tender flakes of snow trickle down outside and frost up the shop’s window. There’s something about this time of year that strikes him down to the core. Something cozy, something warm.

 It’s odd to think this will be his first year not celebrating the holiday alone.

 Even if it is... well, fake. 

 The bell over the door chimes an arrival, and Namjoon can tell by the grumbles and grunts and stomps of snowy boots that it’s you.

 “Over here!” He calls, raising a hand and turning to face you.

 Wow, he thinks. You look gorgeous, even without trying.

 You hurry your way over to the booth and plop yourself on the opposite side, immediately lunging for the obvious mug of coffee waiting for you on the table. You don’t waste a minute gulping the liquid down your throat, then spluttering when you realize it’s still hot.

 “I thought you said it was getting cold!” You cry, airing out your burnt tongue. Namjoon can’t help but imagine that tongue sliding up and down his cock.

 Not now. Wrong time and place to get a boner.

 Namjoon smiles as he sips his cappuccino. 

 “I got you a fresh one.”

 You make a face, but your features soften. As if you’re pleased with the idea that Namjoon cared to freshen up your cup.

 “Oh, well--”, you manage. “Thank you.”

 Namjoon doesn’t reply, but merely tips his head. The silence is thick enough to cut with a knife. Normally, you’re both normally so wound up in aggravating the other that a moment of calm is strange, but not unwelcome.

 “So, why the early morning wake up?” You finally ask, fiddling with the handle of the mug.

 Namjoon settles his cup down.

 “We need to get to know each other. Deep shit, you know. The shit that lovers would know about each other.”

 He notices you, watches as you nibble at your lip. You try hard to hide it behind the mug you lift to your lips, but Namjoon notices. 

 “I’m hoping maybe we could spend the day together,” he adds. “I need to get some Christmas gifts for my family and… well, it’s rather lonely doing it on my own.”

 There’s a slight smile at the ends of your lips.

 “And you needed me at seven thirty in the morning to do that?”

 He stifles a laugh.

 “Like I said, I operate at regular human hours. Even on weekends,” he replies.

 With a dramatic sigh, you agree.

 “Fine,” you say. “I’m an open book. Ask me anything.”

 He watches as you settle into the seat of the booth, hands gripping the warm mug like it’s a personal heater. He notices you’re only wearing jeans and a sweater--no properly warm clothing for the snow storm ahead. He’ll have to fix that, and soon.  

 “What are you doing for Christmas?” He asks.

 You level a look.

 “Spending it pretending to be in love with you.”

 Namjoon can’t help but snort a laugh.

 “I meant after that.”

 You shrug as you settle back into the seat.

 “I don’t like Christmas. I don’t do much other than force Jimin to kiss me under the mistletoe and watch shitty movies with a gallon of boxed wine.”

 “Hmm,” he hums. “You’re sort of a Grinch.”

 A scowl comes over your face.

 “I am not! I just don’t buy into this whole ‘prove how much you love me by buying me things’ shit. It’s a big scheme, I tell you! Capitalist propaganda! They encourage you to spend all your money, and if you don’t, they shame and guilt you by telling you you don’t love your family enough.”

 Namjoon can’t help but laugh as you rant. It’s what makes you such a talented lawyer—your ability to feel a passion so deep within you you’re able to convince a stone-faced jury of your side.

 “Don’t laugh at me!” You cry. “I’m serious! My family doesn’t celebrate, I don’t celebrate. I’d rather just buy gifts for my loved ones when I see something they’d like. Why do we have to put a time of year on it?”

 He shrugs and scooches his mug around the carbonate table.

 “I suppose that makes sense,” he muses. “But you’re still a Grinch. And a Scrooge. You’ll definitely get visited by some Ghosts at midnight.”

 “Ha ha,” you snark sarcastically. “Hilarious, Namjoon. Don’t tell me you’re a big festive guy.”

 “Somewhat. It’s my Mom’s favorite holiday. It’s why she’s so bent out of shape about me having a girlfriend. Something about family and love and shit.”

 You nod, understanding him completely. Your own mother, despite her reservations towards the holiday, still makes a fuss over your single status. There must be some Mom code to obsess over your children’s woeful dating life.

 “Well, I say let’s get on with it then. Ready to hit the shops?” He asks.

 You’re mid-sip of your finally cooled coffee and you send a desperate look to the man in front of you.

“Already?!”

 “We’re burning daylight, baby.”

 Namjoon stands and you can’t help but feel a roar of flames in your belly at the pet-name. Your cheeks are surely flaming up and you admonish yourself for getting so peaked about such a trivial name.

 “Please don’t tell me we’re walking,” you murmur as you sneak a peek outside.

 The snow is falling down harder now, and you’re dreadfully underdressed for the weather.

 Namjoon tsks at your lack of outerwear, but then shakes his head.

 “No, we’ll take my Range Rover.”

 You roll your eyes and grimace.

 “Of course. You have a fucking Nespresso machine and a Range Rover. Asshole.”

 Namjoon doesn’t even think about it as he grabs your hand and laces his fingers in between yours. If anyone asked, he’d say it’s practice—to familiarize himself with the way your fingers slot between his own so it’s not such a foreign concept when he does it in front of his family.

 “Yeah, but I’m your asshole now, princess.”

 Christmas shopping with Namjoon is mostly painless.

 Normally, you dread the lines and the crowds and the confusion and the expense.

 But with Namjoon, you relax and banter away with the tall lawyer. You’re completely at ease as you walk through crowded aisles and sort through racks of cashmere sweaters and stacks of fuzzy blankets.

 “Mom will love this, don’t you think?” Namjoon asks, holding up a thick, exquisite looking blanket.

 You’re about to answer with an affirmative when you catch yourself. You don’t even know his mom. You’ve never met the woman. Why does it feel as if Namjoon is someone you’ve known your entire life? 

 Why do things feel so easy with him?

 “Sure, Namjoon,” you reply. “Seems like something most mother’s would be into.”

 He smiles at you. It’s a genuine smile too, one that nearly knocks you on your ass. Your body is sent into overdrive constantly. He holds your hand, he places his hand at the small of your back to guide you through a thick crowd. He calls you baby and princess and doll.

 It’s confusing.

 It’s amazing.

 You can’t tell if you love it or hate it.

 Namjoon pushes the shopping cart and walks beside you, chatting easily about his various aunts and uncles names that you likely must remember at some point but you just can’t think about anything but Namjoon, Namjoon, Namjoon.

 You hate him. He stole that corner office from you. He’s going to take the promotion you want from right under your nose. He has a goddamn Nespresso in his office and a Range Rover. 

 And yet, you can’t help but fall in place next to him and listen to him tell stories of his childhood, weaving tales of uncles who snuck him his first sips of alcohol and aunts who spoil him rotten. He’s easy to listen to, a natural story-teller. Your body feels warm, as if you’re sitting on a large hearth by a roaring fire. He’s comforting.

 It’s infuriating and wonderful all at once. 

 “And that’s when my cousin Jungkook got caught smoking cigarettes. My grandma beat our ass so bad I couldn’t sit for a day.”

 Namjoon finishes his story and turns to look at you. You’ve been staring at the man for nearly a minute straight now.

 “Hey,” his voice is soft. “You listening?”

 You shake out of the trance Namjoon’s deep voice sends you into.

 “Yeah!” You reply with a smirk. “Sounds like this Jungkook is a guy I’d like to meet.”

 Namjoon sucks his teeth and nudges you.

 “Hey, you’re my girlfriend, remember.”

 You stick your tongue out at him playfully.

 “Fake girlfriend. I’m still a single, desirable lady at the end of the day.”

 Namjoon hesitates before answering. He wants to reply something snarky, something sarcastic and witty. But he takes a moment to pause, allows himself to fully immerse himself in you. Even hungover, in yesterday’s jeans and an old sweater, you’re still an absolute catch. You’re the definition of desirable and Namjoon can’t help but allow himself to desire.

 “Hmm, is that what you call it?” He asks, now allowing the sarcasm to permeate his words. “I was thinking you’re more of the spinster, cat-lady type.”

 “Hey!” You pout as you slap at his arm. “I’m allergic to cats!”

 “But you don’t deny being a spinster.”

 “Fuck you, Namjoon.”

 He grins and pushes the carts towards the candle aisle, a sure-fire gift for his aunties.

 “In due time, my love.”

  By the time Christmas Eve arrives, you’ve spent nearly every day with Namjoon. At work, he brings you fresh coffee from his Nespresso and buys you lunch. You’ve even landed his big case, an incredibly complex lawsuit that will showcase your skills. Namjoon gives you pointers and space to talk through the case with him.

Namjoon is, in fact, simply being kind. And it unsettles you.

 Your heart and brain are at war with each other constantly. You should hate him, loathe him. He’s going to nail that promotion regardless of what you prove to Seokjin.

 But your heart tells you he deserves it. He’s an incredible attorney and has earned every ounce of respect. You want Namjoon to get that promotion just to see that smile on his face. He’d do incredible things as Seokjin’s protege to take over the firm.

 You hate to admit it, but Namjoon has melted the ice around your heart. And you’re dreading the day after all this is over, because it will be the day Namjoon stops holding you close and pressing soft kisses to your temple. It will be the day he stops pretending this is all real.

 It’s Christmas Eve and you’re sitting in Namjoon’s expensive Range Rover, plush leather seat toasty from the built-in seat warmer. You can’t help but marvel at the way the oncoming headlights brighten up Namjoon’s features as he drives you down a snowy mountain lane. They always hold the Kim family holiday party at Namjoon’s late grandfather’s cabin in the mountains, a quiet getaway for the family to gather and spend the night together to wake up on Christmas morning and gather around for presents and food.

 Which means waking up to Kim Namjoon.

 It’s something you’ve dreamt of often, but denied yourself any actual possibility of it. Namjoon was always out of reach, and it was easier to hate him for his success he rightfully deserved than it was to admit the feelings that were always inside.

 And now, although it’s artificial, you can’t bear to think of not spending your time with Namjoon anymore.

 You steal a glance again at him, and smile as you hear his faint humming. He loves Christmas music. You learned that early in the week during another early morning coffee and ‘get to know you’ before work. Namjoon couldn’t stop singing Mariah Carey’s classic pop song under his breath as it played over the speakers in the cafe. 

 “It’s so pretty up here,” you muse as you force your vision away from Namjoon’s gorgeous face to the snowy scenery outside. 

 The snow is falling gently, not enough to cause a blizzard but enough to make it seem like you’re trapped in a picturesque snow-globe. Leaving the city and entering the magical forest stirs an emotion inside you you hadn’t felt in some time.

 It’s Christmas Eve and there’s just something magical.

 Ugh. Unbelievable.

 Namjoon has even made you actually enjoy Christmas.

 He nods. “Yeah, it’s my favorite place in the world, I think.”

 “I can see why,” you sigh. “It looks like a painting.”

 Namjoon glances over at you peering through the window. His heart hammers in his chest hard as your glittering eyes bounce around from tree to tree, a pretty smile on your face. The diamond ring in his pocket feels like it weighs a literal ton and he nibbles at his lip.

 He bought it for the showmanship of it all, initially. It was his first purchase he made when he set up this whole rouse.

 But now, it feels real. It feels like he’s really about to get on one knee and ask you, the girl he’s absolutely head over heels for, to marry him.

 And then it will be over.

 He’ll make up some story to tell his mom about how it didn’t work out and you’ll go back to being his coworker, and nothing more.

 Namjoon can’t fight the sinking feeling in his stomach.

 Nothing more.

 He pulls into the driveway before you even have time to realize you’re there. He puts the car in park and smiles over at you. 

 He looks so cute in his puffy winter coat, hair pushed to the side and a smile that’s all dimples and cheeks.

 Fuck.

 “We’re here,” he whispers. “You ready?”

 Suddenly, the nerves of meeting your fake boyfriend’s entire family slap you right in the face. You hope that you’re a good enough actress to get Namjoon through the night and into the morning.

 “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

 He nods and squeezes your hand, an unspoken comforting ‘I got you’.

 Namjoon gathers his wrapped gifts and stacks them all in his arms, ignoring your pleas and giggles to help carry them in.

 “No, no,” he assures. “I have to make sure my mom sees me being manly and helpful.”

 As if on cue, the front door opens and Mrs. Kim is bursting out into the snowy night.

 “Namjoon!” She shrieks, completely overjoyed. The rest of the family is standing by the door, eyeing you carefully with smiles and whispers. You pray to whatever Christmas God that’s listening that you can do this.

 Namjoon sets the pile of gifts down just in time to wrap his delicate and tiny mother in his arms, hugging her tightly while she gleefully buries her face into her tall son’s chest.

 “Oh, my son, I’ve missed you.”

 Namjoon kisses the crown of her head and smiles.

 “Missed you too, eomma.”

 The scene has you misty-eyed and you swipe at your eyes to stop the tears. There’s no way you’re ruining the fantastic makeup you did for the occasion, but the reunion of Namjoon and his mother is heart-warming. He clearly cares for his mother more than he would outwardly admit. 

 Namjoon and his mother unwrap from each other and Namjoon turns towards you.

 “Everyone, this is ____,” he breathes. “My girlfriend.”

 His mother’s gleeful squeals now turn to you, and within an instant she’s gathering you up in just as tight of a hug as she did to her son.

 “Oh, darling, we are so happy to meet you,” she beams.

 The excitement in her voice makes you feel bad—like you’re conning an old woman out of her retirement. You’re instilling a sense of hope in the kind woman, and you can’t help but send Namjoon a look as you wrap your arms around her and return the embrace. His eyes sparkle with something you can’t read.

 “I’m happy to meet you too,” you smile as you pull apart. “Thank you for letting me come.”

 “No thanks necessary,” she admonishes with a wink. “We had to beg Namjoon to bring you. It seems he wants to keep you all to himself.”

 “Eomma!” Namjoon snaps. “Be appropriate!”

 She nudges you with her elbow knowingly, which makes your cheeks flame hot, before she leads the way back into the house.

 “Come in, come in! Let’s get out of this snow.”

 Namjoon encourages you to step inside with a gentle hand at the small of your back—a touch that makes your body light up brighter than a Christmas tree.

 “Thank you,” he whispers in your ear from behind. You can feel the warmth of his lips and your body reacts.

How is it that any simple act makes you desperately horny for the man? You pray for some respite from your sexual frustration over the next day. How are you going to last over 24 hours?

 Namjoon deposits his massive haul of gifts under the tree and returns to your side, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to bring you close. He introduces you to uncles and aunts and cousins. He even introduces you to his infamous cousin, Jungkook, who smirks at you in a way that makes Namjoon pull you in closer to his body.

 “Are you doing okay?” Namjoon finally asks after the rush of relatives greeting you dies down. He turns you towards him, to face him directly with his hands on either of your shoulders. “You’re killing it.”

 You can’t help but smile. Namjoon’s family is all incredibly kind and funny. They welcome you into the family with ease and it chips away a little more each time at your heart.

 Because this is all fake. 

 One day, Namjoon really will have a girlfriend to bring to Christmas and to show off to his relatives and it won’t be you. You’ll be back at your apartment, watching shitty TV re-runs and binging on Chinese takeout, as you do every year. It’s a jab at your heart each time the bitter truth rears its ugly head.

 “Yeah,” you nod. “I’m great.”

 “Look!” Jungkook shouts. “They’re standing under the mistletoe!”

 Namjoon blushes a shade of red that likely matches a blush on your own cheeks. Sure enough, the green branches of the mistletoe taunt you from above. 

 You’ve never kissed Namjoon before. In all the skinship and closeness of the last week, you’ve still yet to close the gap to kissing the man. 

 “Oh, come on Kook, that’s a stupid tradition,” Namjoon murmurs awkwardly, rubbing at the back of his neck.

 Jungkook smirks as he steps up next to you.

 “Well, if you’re not going to do it, I’d be more than happy to take your place.”

 Jungkook wraps a loose arm around you and gives you a charming smile. He must be very popular with the ladies, you think. That’s a charming smile.

 “Hey!” Namjoon grabs for your hand and tugs you out of Jungkook’s predatory gaze. “She’s my girlfriend.”

 Namjoon looks at you for a moment, assessing your comfort level with everything about to take place. His lips look so inviting, so plush and warm. Now that you’re thinking about kissing him, you can’t help but focus on the way his lips pucker so gently and naturally.

 And then it happens. Namjoon lowers his face towards you and it feels as if the world is in slow-motion. It’s happening.

 The first press of his lips is soft and conservative. You take a split second to register, but instinctively you press against his lips with determination and wrap your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss.

 He groans softly as you trail your tongue out to seek purchase in his mouth, and he opens for you without hesitation. His hands grip at your waist and bring your body flush against his. You can feel his cock twitching and rising from the kiss that’s gone from innocent and playful to passionate and deep. It feels like the world around you has stopped and the only thing that matters is Namjoon, his mouth, his body against your own. He tastes like hot chocolate and peppermint, and you want more, more.

 “Oh my god, stop,” Jungkook’s voice shatters your illusion of being all alone with Namjoon. “Now you’re just showing off.”

 Namjoon pulls away from you, eyes dazed as he tries to right himself. 

 “You two are just so perfect for each other,” Namjoon’s mother says, who’s suddenly appeared in Jungkook’s place. “Let me show you your bedroom.”

 “Oh, we’re sharing?” You ask without thought. It’s a large house, with ample bedrooms surely for you to have your own space.

 Namjoon nudges you in the ribs gently, eyes widening and mouthing a ‘what the fuck do you mean?’ 

 “Of course dear, don’t be silly,” his mother replies with an eyebrow waggle and a chuckle. “I remember when your father and I were dating. He would sneak into my room after my parents went to bed and keep me up all night long. Your grandfather would ask me if I had terrible dreams that night, because I looked so tired.”

 Namjoon makes a face. “Eomma, please,” he begs. “Please don’t talk about my parents like that.”

 As his mother guides you down a long hallway, your mind is whirring with too many thoughts of Namjoon, of sharing a bedroom with Namjoon, of seeing his sleeping face and waking up next to him. It’s all too much, too overwhelming. You pray there’s a couch in the room you could sleep on, because you’re far too weak and you’d rather fight the desperation in your body than face the fact that you want nothing more than to curl right into Namjoon’s strong arms and let him hold you all night to sleep.

 Fuck.

 “Here we are!” 

 His mother opens the door with grace, and flicks on the light. The room is beautiful in its simplicity. A king sized bed, a fireplace, and a balcony with a view of the sprawling snowy scene outside. It’s cozy and warm and decorated with its own Christmas tree.

 “Wow,” is all you can muster.

 “Aish, Mom,” Namjoon sighs as he drops his bags. “You didn’t need to do all of this for us.”

 Mrs. Kim holds his hand in both of hers. “Well, I know how special this Christmas is going to be,” she winks. “I want you to enjoy your time here. Now, I’ll leave you two alone for a bit. Dinner is in an hour, so ‘freshen up’!”

Another wink, and Namjoon makes another face. She definitely wants grandchildren, that much is for certain.

 She closes the door behind her and you’re left standing in the room, overnight bag in hand.

 “This is—Wow, this is amazing.”

 You’ve never experienced Christmas like this—with decorations and warmth and family. It’s as if the love of the Kim family permeates the very walls of the expansive cabin, like it’s built into the foundation itself. For a moment, you allow yourself to soak it all in. This is all yours. It’s your Christmas and you finally understand why so many make such a fuss over it. The results are nothing short of remarkable.

 “Yeah, she really does the most,” Namjoon laughs. 

 He takes the bag from your hand without your notice and you step towards the balcony to peer into the night. The landscape looks as if everything has been covered in soft marshmallow. The snow is untouched—picture perfect.

 “I’ve never had anything like this before.”

 Namjoon settles your bag and his on the bed, watching as you soak in your own wonder. The smile on your face is not one he sees often, one of pure joy. Namjoon swallows hard as he realizes he wants to be the one to always put that smile on your face.

 “Not such a Scrooge after all, eh?”

 You turn from the still-life view outside and back to Namjoon, where he stands at the foot of the bed. He looks so different outside the office. He’s wearing skinny jeans and a flannel shirt, his puffy jacket hanging by the door. No cream suit, no slicked back hair or shoes shiny enough to see your reflection. Just simply Namjoon.

 He’s no longer the man who steals the limelight in the office. He’s no longer the man you see as your adversary or your rival.

 He’s the man who’s showing you the magic of Christmas, the spirit of love and kindness that embodies the season.

 He’s the man you’ve fallen in love with.

 And yet, he’s the man who will leave once this is over and return to his proper life, and you to yours. He’ll return to sleeping with models and movie starlets, and you’ll return to binge watching Great British Bake-Off with Jimin and a carton of Chicken Tikka Masala.

 And Christmas will never feel as special as it does now. 

 So, you’re determined to soak in it for a little longer. It’s going to hurt regardless, so why not push that hurt off until tomorrow and allow yourself to pretend you live the lie you’re spinning for Namjoon’s family?

 “I think I’ll just freshen up and change into my dinner outfit, then?” You ask out loud, grabbing for your overnight bag and heading towards the ensuite.

 Namjoon, who expected a witty retort, takes a moment to reply.

 “Oh,” he coughs. “Yeah, sure. I’ll err—, I’ll just get ready out here.”

 You quickly escape into the bathroom, closing the door and resting on it as you exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

 The tension in the bedroom with Namjoon was too thick, too powerful, especially after the kiss you just shared. His cock had been there, straining in his jeans as you licked into his mouth. The kiss felt so natural, as if you had always kissed Namjoon like that. Your heart beats loud and hard in your chest just from the thought of it.

 You really needed to get a handle over yourself. You still have dinner to get through, and an entire night in a bedroom with Namjoon. A bed with Namjoon.

 No, you won’t allow yourself to go that far. You can pretend you’re his girlfriend, but all thoughts of his delectable body doing scintillating things to yours is strictly off-limits. You shake all thoughts of a thick, heavy cock sliding into your mouth and warm hands spreading you open, and set about fixing your makeup and changing into the gorgeous cocktail dress you purchased for the occasion. It wasn’t often you got to get dressed up. The emerald green velvet dress clings to your body and highlights your curves. It’s a sexy dress, definitely, but also appropriate for a formal evening with your boyfriend’s parents.

 Well, your fake boyfriend. Right.

 After fixing your hair and buckling your heels, you take one last glimpse in the mirror for good luck and exit the room.

 Your breath is nearly knocked out of your lungs as you see Namjoon. 

You’ve seen him dressed up for court and for TV appearances millions of times, but you’ve never seen him like this.

 He wears a blood red button up without a tie, a few buttons open to emphasize the casual look, tucked into the tightest and sexiest slacks you’ve ever seen. They hug his thighs and sit at a spot on his waist that you just know is rippling with cut lines from his work in the gym. His hair is tucked back with a bit of hairspray, and he’s fixing the sleeves of his shirt when he sees you.

 His eyes widen and his hands fall to his sides as he soaks in your appearance.

 An absolute vision.

 He can see the gentle valley between your breasts and the way your dress pushes up your cleavage and displays your collar.  The dress follows the delicate curve of your waist and hips and ends at your knee, but teases him with a glimpse of thigh that has him wiping his mouth in case he’s drooling. 

 “You look incredible,” Namjoon murmurs as you step closer.

“So do you.”

 You swallow hard as he continues closer to you, breathing harshly as he stands right in front of you. You could reach out and unbuckle his expensive slacks and fist his cock right there. You’d fall on your knees for him, if he asked.

 There’s a moment of silence as Namjoon’s face inches closer and closer to your own, each unable to verbalize just how desperate either of you feel for the other.

 “Namjoon, I—,” you start. You want to tell him. You want to tell him everything—that you don’t want this to be fake, that you want this to be real, and you want to be his and his forever.

 “Yes?”

 You swallow hard, shaken by just how close his lips are to yours. He’s inches away and all you can focus on is the way his plush lips look and how well they fit against your own under the mistletoe.

 “I just—, I really um, I’m just very…” 

 You’re not making sense. Comprehension of language is quickly soaring out the window because the only words you know are ‘Please, for the love of God, kiss me and make me yours’, but you can’t bring yourself to speak them out loud.

 Namjoon’s hand cups your cheek, as if he can tell what you’re trying to say.

 “Yeah,” he breathes. The inches between you turn to centimeters, to bare millimeters. Your eyes flutter close as you feel his breath dance over your lips and your heart beats so loud you’re sure the entire household can hear it. He’s right there and moves in to close the distance—

 “Knock Knock!!”

 The forceful, cheery voice of cousin Jungkook forces both of you to jump away from each other as if you’ve touched a burning stove. Your head feels light, like you’ve forgotten to breathe for the last ten minutes and you’ve suddenly taken in too much air.

 The wooden door squeaks open and Jungkook pokes his head in, a shit-eating grin on his face.

 “Auntie sent me to get you. It’s dinnertime!”

 Namjoon rubs his face frustratedly. “Yes, thank you, Jungkook.”

 Jungkook doesn’t leave, however. He smiles at you and winks. 

“Would you like an escort to dinner, madame? You look tastier than the roast beef downstairs.”

 A blush creeps over your cheeks as Namjoon storms to the door where his cousin laughs.

 “That’s enough, Kook. We’ll be down in a minute.”

 He sends you one more grin, then retreats from the door and closes it behind him.

 “Sorry about that,” Namjoon apologizes. You’re not sure what he’s apologizing for—Jungkook, or the moment before.

 “It’s alright. Let’s go?”

 Namjoon nods and holds out his hand with a smile.

 “Let’s go, girlfriend.”

  Dinner with the Kim family is as delightful as every other interaction with them has been. They’re polite and funny and ask questions about your life and your family.

 They ask how you met Namjoon (at work), what your favorite quality about him is (his smile and his ass), and what your first date together was (coffee at seven in the morning).

 You tell stories of Namjoon in the office, of your best friend Park Jimin who’s secretly trying to date the IT manager, of your parents and Christmases past.

 By the time dessert is served, Namjoon’s mother looks at you as if you’ve put the very stars in the sky.

 Namjoon doesn’t miss that look either. He can see the way his family is falling in love with you and somewhere deep in his stomach, he feels the guilt rising. All of this is a lie. Not only is he going to break his own heart, but every heart of his family member’s too. 

 “We’re all just so overjoyed that Namjoon has found someone to share his life with,” his mom speaks softly. It’s the first time she’s been thoughtful and quiet. She’s a woman who’s larger than life, you’ve found, so the softness in her tone strikes a chord. “You’re absolutely perfect for him. I’ve never seen him happier.”

 Fuck. 

 “Thank you,” you murmur sincerely to his mother. “I’ve never been happier.”

 Namjoon peers up from where he’s been pushing around his uncle’s famous chocolate cake on his plate to watch as you speak.

 “Truthfully, I never cared much for Christmas. I thought it was a rubbish holiday and spent it alone every year with a bottle of wine and some takeout. Namjoon really changed that for me,” you smile at the man and place your hand in his lap to hold his free hand. “He showed me more about Christmas in one week than I’ve felt in my entire life.”

 Namjoon’s mom wipes away an errant tear and he squeezes your hand under the table.

 “I guess the Grinch’s heart has grown 3 sizes, after all.”

 Namjoon’s joke lightens the soft mood, and suddenly there’s chatter around as the family members move about to wash dishes and clean up the mess of dinner. Everyone leaves the table except for you and Namjoon.

 “That was some good acting,” he whispers with a sad smile.

 “Right,” you whisper back, nibbling your lip anxiously. “Acting, of course.”

  You should have thought through the bedroom sharing thing more.

 Because sharing a bedroom is one thing.

 And sharing a bed is another.

 And of course, the only pajamas you thought to bring tonight is a very sexy long shirt that says “no coffee, no talking” with a bedazzled pair of shushing lips. That’s it. Just a single shirt. Not even a pair of shorts or pajama pants.

 You slip into the bed first, as far onto one side of it as possible. It’s a king sized bed, and it still feels too intimate, too close.

 Namjoon exits the bathroom after his shower, rubbing at his wet hair with a towel. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of flannel pajamas, leaving his bare chest on display.

 Sweet lord in heaven, you nearly cry out loud. He’s absolutely ripped, pecs defined and droplets of water from his hair streaming down. You want to chase each drop with your tongue and circle back again. You shut your eyes tight and clench your teeth. Why, oh why, does he have to look so fucking sexy at a time like this?

 Namjoon sees you at the edge of the bed, shutting your eyes closed like you’re a shy schoolgirl afraid to see a naked man’s body. He feels guilty for making you be here. He knows you’ve likely got better things to do than spend time with a man you openly hate.

 “I’m sorry,” he apologizes for nothing in particular. 

 You ignore it. Instead, you’re trying to think of every un-sexy thing in the world you can possibly imagine. Taxes, a bunch of bees, old people, shark attacks.

 There’s absolutely nothing that can stop the image of Namjoon’s perfectly sculpted body from bursting into your mind. You’re nearly pleading with yourself to just go to sleep and contemplate how hard you’d need to hit your head to knock yourself out as fast as possible.

 “I’ll sleep on the floor,” he says as he grabs a small throw blanket from the closet and throws it to the ground by the fire.

 It snaps you from your musings of how best to forget how badly you want to suck Namjoon’s cock through his pajama pants.

 “What?” You sit up in the posh bed and finally make eye-contact. “Why? It’s freezing. There’s a literal snowstorm outside.” You motion to the window of the balcony. What was once a gentle snowfall is now a full-on winter storm.

 “There’s a fire. I’ll be fine, I sleep hot anyway.” Namjoon’s voice is low and without energy. He almost sounds sad.

 God, is being with you that hard for him? You know you’re just the artificial replacement until he has the real thing, but you’d actually hoped Namjoon had found it as comforting and warm as you had.

 “Namjoon,” you sigh. “This is a king-sized bed. You don’t need to be waking up with back pain because you gallantly slept on the floor.”

 To emphasize your point, you tug back the blankets on the other side, beckoning him to join.

 He hesitates for a moment, as if he’s weighing the pro’s and con’s and sliding into bed next to you in his mind, then stands and pads his way on the plush carpet towards the bed and slips in.

 There’s an entire football field of distance between you two in the bed, but it feels like he’s right beside you. You imagine sliding in right next to him, wrapping your arms around his taut chest and pressing soft kisses to his stomach.

 You squeeze your eyes closed again. Stop it, you horny slut.

 “Thank you, again.” Namjoon breaks the silence. “I really appreciate you helping me out.”

 “Yeah,” you swallow hard. “Of course. What else was I going to do? Jimin’s probably sucking Yoongi’s dick right now, so I’d be watching baking shows alone.”

 Namjoon laughs for a moment, then quiets.

 “You know, I don’t even really want that promotion at work.”

 You’re surprised by the sudden change in topic, but you turn over to face Namjoon.

“What?! Really?”

 Namjoon nods and stares at the ceiling. “I don’t think I’m that good of an attorney to get it, anyway.”

 His statement makes you sit up in bed again, staring at the man in disbelief.

 “Are you fucking kidding me, Namjoon? You’re the best lawyer in the firm.”

 Namjoon says nothing, just turns to stare at you curiously as you continue.

 “You’re like… literally better than Seokjin, too. The way you handled the Taehyung case was nothing short of historical. Like, that was an impossible case, and you nailed it. That was your ‘OJ’ case, you know?”

 Namjoon barks a laugh.

 “My what?”

 “Your OJ case!” You use your hands to emphasize the importance of what you’re saying. “Like, they’ll write about you and how impossible the odds were of winning that case. And you won it! Not even Seokjin could have won that case.”

 He’s silent again, watching as you speak directly from your heart with all the fire and passion you feel about the things you care about. It’s what makes you such an incredible lawyer, too.

 “Wow,” he breathes. “Thank you.”

 You settle back down from your excitement, suddenly bashful at how fanatical you became.  

 “You’re welcome,” you murmur. “You deserve that promotion. And the office.”

 Namjoon smirks.

 “And the Nespresso?”

 Your eyes narrow and send a glare to him he can see even with the faintest of light in the room.

 “No, no one deserves the Nespresso, except for me.”

 He chuckles and settles down into his pillows.

 “Goodnight,” he whispers.

 “Goodnight, Namjoon.”

 There’s a beat of silence and your eyes flutter shut easily. It’s quiet, and all you can hear is the crackle of the log in the fireplace and the wind blowing past the balcony windows as the storm outside rages.

 “Oh,” Namjoon whispers again. “And, Merry Christmas.”

 You can’t fight the smile that creeps onto your face.

 “Merry Christmas, Joonie.”

  “Happy Christmas!” A voice bellows through your bedroom at approximately seven fifteen am.

 You groan, immediately grimacing and burying your face into your firm, warm pillow.

 “Nooooo,” you whine, trying to hide from the offending noise.

 Namjoon shakes awake, and notices Jungkook standing at the bedroom door once again.

“It’s time for presents!” He giddily explains. “And, they gave me the job of waking you two up.”

 “Of course,” Namjoon yawns.

 “You look a little wrapped up,” Jungkook smirks, eyeing your sleeping body. “I’ll give you two a minute. Don’t get distracted.”

 Namjoon rolls his eyes and watches as the door closes, before he turns his attention towards you.

 Somehow, in the middle of the night, you’ve scooched yourself to his side of the bed and draped your body around his. Your face is buried in his chest and your legs are haphazardly intertwined in his own.

 He bites his lip. His cock is rock solid, not just from his usual morning wood, but from the way he can feel your tits through your shirt, and from the sight of your pink panties. Namjoon wants to take them off with his teeth and bury his face in your delicious cunt, and his cock is nearly screaming at him to get on with it.

 “Hey,” he whispers to you, actively ignoring the demon that is his turgid length. “Wake up.”

 This causes you to cling harder to his chest, rubbing your sleepy face on him.

 “What is it with you and early mornings?” You ask, blearily raising your head to peer at him judgementally.

 Namjoon bites his lip, curious about your reaction to the tight embrace you’ve got on him. He doesn’t want to say anything, doesn’t want to break the spell. Frankly, he wants to push your sleep shirt up and stuff you full of his cum.

 “Merry Christmas?” He offers shyly.

 You take a full minute to recognize what’s happening.

 You’re no longer on your edge of the bed. You’re wrapped around the man like a koala, legs strewn over him without care and clinging to him like he’s a lifeline.

 “Oh!” You gasp as you jerk out of his grasp. 

 In your movement, your leg brushes over an obvious tent in Namjoon’s pants, making him groan softly. You shut your eyes, embarrassed at how disgustingly horny you are for the man who’s not even interested in you sexually.

 “Christ, I’m so sorry,” your cheeks flame bright red and you scoot further from him.

 “No, no, don’t be,” Namjoon wheezes as he tries to fix himself. “It’s fine. It’s more than fine. It’s great. It happens. Don’t worry.”

 He continues to stammer out reassurances as he leaves the bed and bolts into the bathroom to fix his unruly tented pants, leaving you sitting atop the bed washed with shame.

 “Fucking hell,” you whisper to yourself as you rub at your cheeks. “Get a grip of yourself.”

 Inside the bathroom, it only takes Namjoon a few fisted jerks of his cock and the mental image of you beneath him, begging for him, until he’s silently cumming on an expensive towel. He bites his free hand to stifle the moans he makes as his cock pulses.

 By the time he arrives back in the bedroom, you’ve changed into a hoodie and yoga leggings that accentuate your ass so delectably that Namjoon thinks about turning right back into the bathroom for a second round.

 “I’m sorry!” You nearly shout when he walks into the room. “About the bed. You were warm and I was cold. That’s all.”

 Nmajoon simply nods, doesn’t want to have to explain how he wishes he could wake up like that every day. Doesn’t want to describe in vivid detail how he’d wake you up with his tongue buried deep in your cunt.

 “Let me grab a shirt and we’ll head out, yeah?”

 Your eyes dance over the defined ridges of his body, a little crest-fallen at the idea that this might be the last time you see him shirtless, but you nod anyway.

 “Yeah.”

The ring box sits in a deceptively large box beneath the tree. Namjoon wrapped it last night and hide it at the very back. His heartbeat hammers in his ears as his family passes around gifts and opens each with squeals of delight.

 His mother gave him new ties for the office, ones that Namjoon prefers. She’s even gifted you with jewelry, which makes your eyes water at the sentiment.

 It all begins to be too much. It’s harder and harder to hold back the tears as each of Namjoon’s family members gives you gifts. It doesn’t matter the value, not at all. The fact that they specifically set out to include you in their gift-unwrapping makes your heart snap in two.

 This is all too much, it’s too real.

 It’s everything you never dreamed you could have. A loving partner who lets you sit in the space of his legs and rubs your arms soothingly. A family who goes out of their way to include you in the abundance of love and company. A cabin so warm and cozy.

 The tears don’t stop.

 It’s at the end of the gift exchange that you finally allow yourself to breathe. 

 “There’s one more,” Namjoon whispers as he moves from behind you and fetches a large box from behind the tree. “It’s for you, princess.”

 Curiously, and suspiciously, you eye him as he sets the enormous gift in your lap. You had done nearly all his Christmas shopping with him, and can’t remember a single thing he would have gotten for you.

 “I hope it’s the Nespresso from your office,” you snark with a smile. His family members all laugh and exchange knowing looks to each other.

 Namjoon doesn’t think he can breathe. He watches as you begin to carefully unwrap the large box, which reveals another box, slightly smaller. He can’t help but grin as you continue to unwrap the nesting-doll style gift until you’re down to the smallest one, the one that holds the ring box.

 With one last tear of paper, your eyes widen as you recognize the velvet box.

 “Oh--,” you breathe as you delicately pry open the gift.

 Inside sits a dazzling and gorgeous diamond ring. It catches the light from the fire and sparkles like a firecracker.

 “Oh my god,” you whimper as the tears flow again.

 He’s proposing.

 Namjoon settles himself onto one knee and tucks an errant piece of hair behind your ears.

 “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. I knew from day one that you were always the girl I wanted to marry,”

 Namjoon’s speech sends daggers to your heart. He’s so convincing for something so counterfeit. 

 “I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember, much longer than we’ve been together. You’re who I want to come home to every night, and who I want to wake up with every morning.”

 It hurts. It hurts so badly that you’re crying even harder as he continues to speak. His family must think you’re simply overcome with emotion and love that the crying doesn’t give it away, but inside you’re absolutely dying.

 There’s no way you can recover from this.

 Tomorrow, Namjoon will take the ring back to where he got it from and return to what he had before. He’ll leave you behind, broken and hopelessly in love with a man who faked a relationship so well that you fell for it, hard.

 “____, will you marry me?”

 You take several large, gulping gasps to reply. You can’t shatter the illusion. Namjoon’s parents are weeping with joy, while his relatives record the moment on their phones and wipe away errant tears. Even Jungkook looks soft, proud of his cousin for taking the next step in his life.

 Oh, how you wish this were all real.

 “Yes,” you lie with a smile. “Yes, Namjoon, of course!”

 Namjoon grins and pulls you to standing, gathering you in his arms as he hugs you tight. His family cheers and hollers in the background, and you sob into his shoulder as you cling to him.

 He easily slides the diamond ring out of the box and onto your finger, where it sits and taunts you. The weight is heavy, and you whimper at the realization that this will never be for you. It will sit atop a pretty model’s finger sometime soon, when Namjoon resumes his regular life.

 “Oh, my darlings, I am so happy for you!” Namjoon’s mother appears and wraps you both in a hug, weeping and kissing cheeks. “We must discuss planning!”

 It’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back. The tears and weeping turn to wracking sobs, which quiets the family as they watch you hold your face in your hands.

 “I’m sorry,” you apologize through your grief. “I—I just need a moment.”

 Without another word, you turn from the scene and bolt back towards the bedroom.

 It’s silent and Namjoon’s heart sinks. 

 This must be too much for you, too much for you to pretend to love him. He knew it was too much and he should have discussed it with you beforehand.

 “She’s just a little err--,” Namjoon tries. “Easily emotional. I’ll go check on her.”

 His family understands as Namjoon hurries towards the bedroom and gently opens the door.

 You’re sitting over your overnight bag, trying to shove any clothing into it you can, while you sob openly.

 “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I should have told you. I sort of... told my mom I’d be proposing to my girlfriend.”

 There’s pain in your eyes as you snap your head up to look at him. It nearly destroys him.

 “You should have warned me!” You gasp. “Namjoon, I can’t do this.”

 Namjoon lowers his head and shoves his hands into his pockets of his pajama pants.

 “I get it. I know you want to go back to your regular life. I can take you home now.”

 You’re silent for a moment, standing and moving towards the man.

 “Don’t you get it, Namjoon?”

 He raises his head to look at you curiously, brow knitted together with confusion.

 “I’m in love with you, you asshole!” You cry, pushing at his chest. “I can’t continue to pretend this is real anymore. I love you, I absolutely love you and I can’t go on watching you pretend you love me too. It’s too much for me to handle.”

 Namjoon’s world freezes in time as he watches you slide the ring off your finger. He grasps your hand to stop you, his eyes boring into your own.

 “I never had to pretend.”

 Before you can speak, Namjoon cups your cheek and pulls you in close, mouth sealing over your own in a desperate kiss.

 You don’t fight it, not at all. You sink into his grasp and kiss him back with fervor, with all the pent-up emotions you’ve held back all this time.

 “I’m in love with you,” he whispers as he pulls away from the kiss. “I meant every single word I said.”

 More tears stream down your cheeks, and Namjoon is quick to wipe them away with his thumb.

 “I know it’s maybe too soon for us to really be engaged, but I—I want that, with you,” he adds. “I want you to be my girlfriend… for real.”

 “Are you being serious right now?” You ask as your hands cling to Namjoon’s waist.

 He can’t help but to laugh, nodding in reassurance as he leans down to press his lips to yours in a tender kiss.

 “Never been more serious in my life.”

 “I can’t believe you’re mine,” Joon murmurs into the nape of your neck.

 You were supposed to be driving home to your apartment now, back to real life, but the snowstorm raged on and Namjoon decided it might be best to spend yet another night in the cabin. Together. As a couple. A real couple.

 You didn’t put up much of a fight.

 He’s pressing soft kisses into your tender skin as he closes the door to the bedroom.

  “All mine, all mine.” He chants it like a mantra. 

 You’re trying to maneuver your way into the dark bedroom, only guided by the light from the fireplace. Namjoon stops you and pulls away from your neck, eyes soaking in every inch of you.

 “You have no idea what I’ve been dying to do to you,” he speaks after a moment of appreciating your beauty.

 “Hmm, I think I have some idea,” you say, a finger at Namjoon’s chest, directing him towards the bed. “I’ve been dying to suck your cock, Joon,” you whisper in his ear as he makes his way backwards. “Will you let me?”

 Namjoon nods in a daze as he sits on the edge of the bed and watches as you kneel. Your eyes are full of hope, full of lust. It makes his cock harden further.

 “Please do,” he breathes. “I’ve wondered what you’d look like with your mouth full of my dick.”

 You smile as you tug at his flannel pajama pants, pulling them down thick thighs and calves until they’re completely off. Your mouth waters at the sight before you. Namjoon’s cock is thick, head weeping with pre-cum and straining hard against his taut chest. He’s been working out more, you can tell. His arms are full and strong, and his chest is so firm and defined. 

 He’s an entire three-course meal.

 Before you move closer to his cock, Namjoon stops you.

 “Take your shirt off.”

 You comply easily, already settling well into an obedient role. He discards the shirt to the side and marvels at your breasts. He can’t wait to mark them up, suck them until you’re crying.

 “Perfect,” he sighs. “You’re fucking perfect.”

 He allows you to resume your work, eyeing the length of his cock before wrapping a hand around it and gently pumping.

 “Shit,” he breathes as his head falls back. “I’ve dreamt about how it’d feel having my cock in your hands.”

 “What else have you dreamed about?” You ask with a teasing smile, bringing your lips to the tip to paint tiny stripes. He tastes salty, somewhat earthy, and the pre-cum that’s gathered at the top gets swept up by your tongue. 

 Namjoon can’t believe how lucky he is. Can’t believe how incredible it feels to have you here, licking at his cock like a lollipop. He’s enchanted by the way your delicate tongue swirls around his head, testing and teasing.

 “You look so good, princess,” he whispers as he tucks stray hair behind your ears. 

 You’re encouraged by his sweet-talk and soon descend to take his cock fully in as far as you can go. You’re definitely out of practice, but you steel yourself up to take him completely to the back of your throat. Namjoon’s desperate moans and cursing only encourages you further.

 Soon enough, you’ve started a rhythm of bobbing your head and swirling your tongue and pumping your hand down his thick length. The noises leaving your mouth are sinful—slurping and sucking and whining around him. Namjoon’s got a hand on the back of your head, holding your hair in a makeshift ponytail and coaxing your bouncing head further down his cock.

 “Oh, shit, baby,” he grits through a tight jaw. “I’m gonna cum baby girl, fuuuuckkk—oh god, yes baby, just like that.”

 You slurp and swallow around his cock as much as you can, head bobbing at a frantic pace while you cast your eyes upwards to the man to watch him come apart. He meets your eye contact and loses it at the fire burning in your beautiful eyes.

 “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he gasps as his cock pulses. “Cumming, baby—ohhhh, shit, take it all, baby.”

 After slowing your pace completely, you sweetly moan around his length as his salty cum splatters on your tongue. Bringing Namjoon to climax with your mouth is already one of your favorite hobbies, and you’re desperate to do it again.

 When he’s completely spent in your mouth, you pop off carefully and present your tongue to your boyfriend, who smiles.

 “You gonna swallow my cum, baby girl?” He asks, cupping your cheek sweetly.

 You nod in reply, and he groans as he watches you close your mouth and visibly swallow his load.

 “Fuck, that was so hot. Fucking kiss me already,” he demands, pulling you up gently by the hand and pressing his mouth to yours. He doesn’t care if he can taste himself still lingering in your mouth. In fact, he thinks your mouth should always taste like him.

 Namjoon holds you close as he kisses you, tongue diving around and seeking purchase in your mouth. His hands are roaming your body, cupping your breasts and caressing your curves. He can’t get enough. He doesn’t think there will come a time in his life when he won’t love touching you.

 His hand smoothes over the satin of your panties and he smirks into the kiss as he feels how wet they are.

 “Oh my,” he tuts as he rubs at your clothed slit. “All this from sucking my cock, princess?”

 It’s too late to be ashamed of it. You simply nod and whimper as his thick fingers rub at your core. You’re dying to feel those fingers inside you, scissoring you open to prepare you for his massive cock.

 “P-please,” you gasp, needing more of him. “Please, Joon.”

 He lets out a breath of contentment, loving the way his name sounds in your breathy moans. In one quick swoop, he flings your panties off and onto the floor and slides down to his knees where you knelt moments before.

 “I want to see this pretty pussy up close,” he murmurs as he lays you out at the edge and spreads open your thighs as wide as he can. 

 You’re gorgeous, absolutely mouth-watering. He licks his lips as he watches your folds drip with arousal and takes a delicate finger to trace the slit gently.

 “Fuck,” you gasp as he swirls his finger around your sensitive clit. It’s been so long since someone else has made you orgasm, you’re sure you won’t last a second with the man of your sexual dreams face-first in your cunt.

 “This is my pussy now,” he states as he leans in close and licks a fat stripe from your hole to your clit. “I’m going to make you cum every fucking night, baby. Gonna claim this cunt as my own.”

 You’re trembling from his words and his actions as he soon buries his face into your pussy and eats as if he’s a man starved. His tongue swirls around your hole before swiping up to your clit, making your back arch and keen off the bed. His lips wrap around your throbbing clit and sucks gently, lewd noises echoing off the walls of the bedroom.

 “Namjoon!” You squeal as he slides two of his fingers inside you and slowly pumps. They’re thick and perfect, and they’re better than you could have ever dreamed.

 “Cum for me, baby,” he coaxes as he licks at your clit. “I know you want to.”

 He’s right. You’re desperate for it and the string inside your belly that tightens with each thrust of his solid fingers has it nearing a snapping point.

 Namjoon speeds up, adds a third finger and fucks into you like a man on a mission. He watches your face pinch in agonized delight and is hypnotized by the way your tits bounce with each thrust up. His cock is rock solid again, aching to bury itself deep inside your womb and coat you with his cum.

 “That’s it, baby girl,” he breathes as he watches your body quiver. “Cum on my fingers, let daddy see you fall apart.”

 He presses his lips to your clit one last time and sucks, and it sends you reeling over the edge into bliss. Namjoon moans as he feels your cunt convulse and squeeze his fingers as if they’re his cock, and he nearly whines at how good it’s going to feel when he’s balls deep inside of you.

 “Fuck!” You cry as your back lifts off the bed and your legs shake. “Oh, my god!”

 Namjoon kitten licks at your pussy as you come down, cleaning up the juices that coat his fingers. He doesn’t break eye contact with you as he does it, sucking up your essence like it’s an expensive wine he won’t waste a drop of.

 “You’re so fucking sexy,” he says as you try to catch your breath. “I can’t wait to fuck you in my office.”

 The smile on your face turns lustful as you spread your legs open once again and present yourself to him.

 “Why don’t we practice right now?”

 Namjoon grips the base of his cock and gives himself a few pumps as he stares at your gorgeous body—laid out and ready for him.

 “Merry Christmas to me,” he murmurs as he presses a kiss to your lips and lines himself up.

 In one swift motion, he slips inside your juicy channel and buries himself to the hilt. You’re so wet and warm and tight that Namjoon falters and groans out loud.

 “Holy shit,” he cries. “Sweetest fucking pussy I’ve ever felt in my life.”

 Namjoon filling you up to the brim is something you’ve only ever dreamt of, and now that it’s happening you feel intoxicated. He’s so thick inside you, stretching you past what you thought you could handle, and the burn is so sweet.

 “Fuck me, Joon,” you beg as he continues to still inside you. “Please, fuck me, daddy.”

 It’s the magic word for Namjoon and instantly he’s snapped back to feral, ready to claim you as his own. He grips your hips tightly as he pumps in and out of you, delighted by the squelching juicy sounds of your cunt as he takes you.

 “That’s right, baby girl, I’m your fucking daddy,” he grunts. “Take this fat cock for daddy.”

 Your legs quiver with each thrust and Namjoon sucks a nipple into his mouth, nibbling gently on the bud which makes your body thrum with electricity. He’s marking you, claiming you inside and out, you realize. You whine and keen for him to continue, and Namjoon growls as he doubles his pace. 

 He thrusts into you without abandon, desperately seeking his release that will have him spilling his cum anywhere he possibly can.

 “Mmm, look at my pretty princess,” he groans as he stares at your blissed-out face. “Taking daddy’s cock so good, being a perfect little slut.”

 His words make your eyes roll back into your head. You’d never had someone speak so nasty to you while being so kind and praise-worthy that you don’t think you can now ever live without it.

 “G-gonna cum, daddy!” you cry as you feel your body nearing the edge. “Please let me cum!”

 Namjoon gasps for air and drops a thumb to your clit to rub circles on the sensitive bundle.

 “Yes, baby girl, cum for daddy. Cum on my cock, princess.”

 Namjoon’s unrelenting pace and thumb handily stroking your clit brings you to the end, sending you screaming into orgasmic delight.

 Namjoon nearly weeps at how good your cunt feels convulsing around his cock, walls coaxing him and gripping him tight as if your pussy is begging for his own release. 

 “Cum inside me daddy, please,” you beg as you try to catch your breath. 

 Namjoon needs no more permission. He gasps as your channel tightens around him impossibly and sends him into his own release. He whimpers as his cock pulses with ferocity, loads of cum splattering your walls.

 He doesn’t pull out. Instead, he rests his sweaty forehead on yours as you both try to catch your breath.

 “Holy shit,” you gasp as you feel yourself returning to Earth.

 Namjoon laughs and presses a kiss to your lips, before nodding.

 “Yeah,” is all he can manage.

 After a few shuddering breaths, you wrap your arms around your boyfriend’s naked body and hold him close, as close as you can.

 “If this is what Christmas is all about, sign me up.”

 Namjoon buries his face into your neck and kisses you sweetly, before lifting and giving you a playful smile.

 “I guess all Scrooge needed was a good fuck. Dickens got that part all wrong.”

Returning to work after the New Year was easier this year than it had ever been in your career.

 Namjoon was given the promotion. He told Seokjin he wanted to keep his corner office near you because he “likes the view”, and that he would give all his top cases to the best lawyer in the office—you.

 Jimin won’t stop screaming when he sees the diamond ring on your finger. You haven’t wanted to take it off since the moment you put it on. Maybe it’s not an engagement ring quite yet, maybe it’s just more of a promise. Either way, Jimin is ecstatic and confused as he shakes you down for answers.

 He walks with you to your desk, chattering away about his week with Yoongi, while you sip your convenience store coffee.

 “What the fuck?” Jimin asks as he notices something on your desk. “What is that?”

 As you round the corner, your eyes catch sight of a gleaming silver contraption on your desk, right next to your brand new computer.

 A Nespresso.

 A smile crosses your lips as you approach the expensive machine and notice a folded up card on top.

 Inside, the card is simple.

 “To the only girl in the world who deserves a Nespresso. Love, Namjoon.”

taglist - @ardoren​ @devilion14​ @bykookie​ @rageyoudamnednerd​ @holynamtiddies​ @thejooncrew​ @dee-ehn​ @yrc1963 @fireheart2003​

[inkykeiji]

do i make you scared? baby won’t you take me back

characters: dabi | todoroki touya, shigaraki tomura

genre: smut with a bit of angst sprinkled over it

notes: the second part of a companion piece to i can take you there but baby you won’t make it back. i’m really not kidding when i say this is almost entirely smut. uhhh virgin!tomura is a nasty nasty boy, please please please heed the warnings and stay safe! <3 | title credit: save that shit by lil peep

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), non-consensual branding (yes, branding in the sense that something is being burned into the skin), noncon/dubcon, dacryphilia, cheating, degradation/dumbification, emotional manipulation, cumplay/snowballing, cockwarming, size difference, generally toxic relationships

words: 7.1k

synopsis:

“Was it good?” he seethes, eyes narrowed sharply. You think you might be able to detect a hint of distress sown into his voice, but you have no time to meditate on the thought as he yanks again, pulling your head back further. “Was it worth it?”

Glistening tears stream down your cheeks and you exhale harshly through your nose, teeth gritted as you urgently try to stop crying.

“Fucking answer me,” he growls out the words, but he sounds almost…desperate? You’ve never heard his voice like this before, and it’s then that it finally dawns on you.

You got him back.

      ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          

To your surprise, you spend the rest of your night the day after the party texting Tomura, and every time your screen lights up with a message from him, it sends a whole flock of butterflies fluttering in your tummy. You should feel guilty, really, but you’ve never been in a situation like this before and it’s…exhilarating.

It’s risky, answering these texts when Touya’s a mere few feet from you, but it sends sparks shooting up your spine, the idea of getting caught doing something you’re definitely not supposed to, the very thought of how upset he’d be if he knew, making you feel giddy.

You guard your phone closely for the rest of the week, deleting messages exactly after you send them—Touya has taken it and gone through it in the past, so it wasn’t far-fetched to think he may try to do the same thing again. It wasn’t like he didn’t notice your nose in your phone, little giggles bubbling up from your chest as you responded to whatever was on the screen. You can see it in his eyes, the frustration building each and every time a soft laugh escapes your lips, eyes glimmering as you tap out a response.

You plan your impending visit strategically, in tandem with Tomura. He knows Touya’s unpredictable and seemingly ever-changing schedule better than you do, and you both know that there’s absolutely no way in hell Touya would ever willingly let you hang out with each other—he barely leaves the two of you alone when Tomura comes over to your house, so you can only imagine how livid he’d be if you even asked to go spend some time with him, just the two of you.

You wear your prettiest dress—Touya’s favourite dress, a deep, satiny crimson—two inches too short to be considered proper, the hem brushing your midthigh. It hides a pair of baby pink cotton panties you’re sure Tomura will like.

Your veins thrum with the combined mix of terror and anticipation as he lets you in, and the heady combination has your entire body trembling. Tomura gives you a look as you kick your shoes off, eyes narrowed as they scan your body.

“You comin’ down or something?”

“I-I’m not allowed drugs,” you admit meekly, eyes falling to your feet, toes wiggling a bit.

Tomura snorts, an amused little smirk on his lips as he mutters, “No, of course not,”

Long, slender fingers wrap around your wrist, his cold touch making you jump, giving a slight yank as he begins leading you. He lives alone, in an apartment his father pays for—which is surprisingly much tidier than you expected—and you can’t help but look around curiously, eager to learn more about him, glazed eyes searching for hints in the empty takeout containers littering the counter, in the few articles of clothing strewn around the place.

Brows knit together when he bypasses his bedroom completely—the door wide open to reveal a large bed with blue sheets tangled at the bottom—and leads you to a living room with plush couches and an ornate rug you’re positive he didn’t pick out by himself. His fingers release, and he plops down on the floor, hands curling around a gaming controller. Scarlet eyes drift to you, up your legs and to your face, and you resist the urge to shiver under his intense gaze—you’re sure he can see straight up your dress from this angle.

But he does nothing except look at you expectantly, not breaking his stare until you finally sit down next to him, daintily tucking your knees under yourself.

Then he’s shoving an extra controller at you almost aggressively, the sudden motion pulling a gasp from your throat, making you flinch away.

“Relax,” he rolls his eyes, pushing the controller at you again and shaking it a little in his hand, trying to entice you to take it. “I’m not gonna hurt you, or anything,”

“You…You’re—what?”

Tomura observes you carefully, scrutinizing now, eyes narrowing a little as they scan your face. You stare back at him dumbly, lips slightly parted. “What?” he snaps.

“But I thought—I mean, I want you to—”

“What?”

“That came out wrong,” you rush to say, shutting your eyes tightly in embarrassment. “What I mean is…Um, didn’t I come over so we can like, fuck?” your cheeks burn as you force the words out, ears ringing as blood rushes to your face, so loud you almost miss his sharp intake of breath.

Tomura’s eyes widen and he stares at you for a long moment before he checks his phone, scrolling through your messages. “You said…You wanted to play video games?”

You look at him, blinking in astonishment. “And you believed that?”

Tomura frowns a little, eyebrows knitting, slightly defensive. “Well, yeah?”

You’re at a loss for words as you stare back at the man sitting cross-legged in front of you, watching you closely. This is the guy Touya so desperately didn’t want you to be around?

Powerless to stop the little giggle that bubbles up in your throat, you inch towards him on your knees. “You’re kinda cute, y’know?”

Soft notes of tiger orchid and sweet sticky toffee waft over him, your body heat clinging to his skin as you settle beside him, thigh touching his knee. He seethes at you, and his fingers twitch around the controller, a hand moving to rake his nails against his neck.

You reach out, little fingers wrapping around his wrist and pulling it away from his flesh.

“Do you want to?” you ask softly, gazing at him through your lashes, bringing his palm to rest over your breast.

“Are you stupid?” he spits, fingers instantly tightening the moment they meet satin, the strength of his grip making you gasp. “Of course I fucking want to. Do you know how many times I’ve jerked off to you? Christ,”

Warmth blossoms in your chest at the confession, sparking a dull heat that begins to spread deep in the pit of your stomach. You’re flattered, even though you can hear Touya’s voice in the back of your mind, sharp and condescending, reprimanding you for being so easy.

“Yeah? What did you think about?” Your voice quivers a little as you ask the question, but that doesn’t stop his ruby eyes from darkening, his free hand dropping the controller to shamelessly rub at the bulge in his jeans.

“How cute your little cunt must be, how sweet it’d taste, how good those lips would feel wrapped around my cock as I fuck your throat,” his voice drops an octave as he speaks, low and dangerous as he kneads your breast hard—too hard, but adrenaline keeps the pain from registering.

He’s reaching for you now, pale hands pawing at your hips and dragging you over, forcing you to straddle his lap. A soft whimper falls from your lips as he instantly begins rolling his hips up, like he can’t bear to wait, fingers digging into your flesh as they hold you in place.

Neither can you, apparently, because you begin wiggling a little in his grasp, trying in vain to rut against him.

“You’re a little whore, huh? Even with a virgin, you can’t help but grind on a hard cock,” he smirks, lips at your ear. “A hard cock’s a hard cock I guess, makes no difference to you, greedy little slut,”

A mewl escapes your throat as you nod, hips pushing forcefully against his, grinding your little cunt against rough denim.

Wait, virgin?

“A v-virgin?”

“Yeah, lucky you,”

His words taper off into a growl, vibrating in his chest, hands leaving your waist to cup your jaw and roughly pull your face to his, lips crashing into yours. You emit a soft, startled noise into his mouth, and he swallows it greedily, tongue forcing its way through your parted lips and into your mouth, commanding your own tongue into submission almost instantaneously.

It’s nothing like kissing Touya. Your body follows your tongue, melting into him. Fingers grip your jaw, pressing crescent indents into the skin as he guides your head to exactly where he wants it to go.

It isn’t romantic. It’s harsh, and desperate, a mess of teeth and tongues fighting for dominance. A hand tangles in your hair and pulls, forcing your head back and revealing your arched neck to him. His lips trail down the column of your throat, leaving wet, sloppy kisses in their wake.

“I wanna fuck you already,” he whines a little, aggressively thrusting against your clothed core. You moan out an affirmative noise, nodding.

“One rule,” you breathe out.

“Hmm? And what’s that?” his lips are against your neck, tongue painting it in glistening saliva with slow, languid strokes.

“No marks,” you yelp out just as his teeth sink into your skin. It stings, Tomura keeping his mouth latched onto your neck for a few seconds, teeth buried in the soft flesh. His tongue laves over the mark before pulling away completely, and a shiver crawls up your spine as the bite is exposed to the cool air.

He’s giggling into your shoulder, nipping at the skin superficially. “Oops,”  

“Tomura!” you whine, making no effort to pull his lips from your neck. “Touya’s going to murder me,”

He laughs again, pulling back and rolling his eyes. “And, what? He isn’t already going to kill you for fucking someone else?”

There isn’t a moment to respond, though, not a second to try and explain how weird Touya gets about marks in particular, because then he’s crushing his lips to yours again, hard, fervent, bruising.

“Gonna cum soon if you don’t fucking do something,” he practically snarls into your mouth.

The very thought of Tomura cumming in his pants just from a few minutes of dry humping makes your entire stomach flutter, a flash of pure confidence surging in your chest as involuntary words tumble from your mouth.

“Oh?” you murmur, breath hot against his lips. “Something? Like this?” you begin gyrating your hips in tiny, quick circles, giggling at the groan you rip from his throat.

And Tomura hates how fucking innocent you sound, gazing at him with glassy eyes and swollen lips and a sinful little smile.

“Stop,” it’s supposed to be a command, an order, but it comes out as a broken whine, his hands latching onto your hips again as he forces you to move even faster, rocking into you.

“Doesn’t feel like you want me to stop,” you pout a little and he huffs out a curse.

It’s intoxicating, to be in a position of power like this. It isn’t your favourite—you’re much too shy and indecisive to be in a role like this all the time—but the novelty of it excites you nonetheless. Touya never lets you do anything like this, hates being teased with a passion, but Tomura seems to enjoy it, like it’s some sort of game to him.

“Little bitch,” he breathes out, though his forehead is resting against yours, eyes shut, soft grunts spilling from his throat.

“C’mon, Tomura,” you whimper, and now it sounds like you’re the one begging. “Make a mess in your pants for me? P-Pretty please?”

That’s all it takes to have his hips stilling, fingers pressing bruises into your skin as he grips you tightly, holding you in place and forcing you to grind against him ever-so-slightly as his cock throbs and twitches in his jeans.

You expect him to push you off immediately after, to shout and berate you for such behaviour, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leans back against the bottom of the couch, arms encircling your waist and bringing you with him.

It must be uncomfortable, to sit in those soiled jeans filled with cum, but he doesn’t seem to care, more interested in exploring your mouth with his tongue as you kiss lazily. You don’t mind, although your clit is aching and swollen, pussy fluttering around nothing every so often as his fingers explore your body, kneading your ass and tweaking nipples, your panties soaked all the way through and sticking to you unpleasantly.

And it’s due to this that your hips still manage to rock against his in minuscule movements that are more teasing than anything else, little micro-circles that have your drenched cunt grinding gently against wet denim.

It seems he has an impossibly short refraction period because, before long, his cock’s hard again, pressing up into your clothed hole. You whimper his name into his mouth and he breaks the kiss, lips red and puffy, shining with saliva.  

“Take my cock out,” he instructs, voice stern despite his slight breathlessness. You crawl off his lap and do as your told, popping the button, tugging the zipper down and pulling at the waistband of his jeans. He lifts his hips just enough to aid you in dragging them down to his thighs, cock springing free.

“Clean it up,”

It’s covered in cum, so much cum—too much cum, more than is normal—glistening in the low light of the living room. It twitches a little under your gaze, as if to say get on with it already, so you wrap a hand around the base and bring the head to your lips.

You start with kitten licks, tongue tracing around the head and playing with the slit, pulling a deep, throaty moan from him.

“Don’t—Don’t swallow it,” he rasps. “Clean me up and keep all my cum in your mouth,”

It’s difficult—his cum is much more bitter than Touya’s, and you gag a few times as it settles on your tongue, marinating in your mouth. You try your best to hold it in your cheeks and away from your tastebuds, working as quickly as possible as you lap it up, gazing up at him with teary eyes when you’re finished.

“What a good girl,” he spits in a patronizing tone, like it’s an insult. “Kiss me,”

It’s a demand you have no choice but to obey, a hand rooting in your hair and yanking you up to face him.

He all but smashes your lips together, fingers still wrapped tightly in your hair, holding you in place. His tongue forces its way through your lips and you greet it eagerly, desperate to get his cum out of your mouth.

Except he doesn’t let you pull away after you’ve passed the majority of his cum to him, the bitter taste still stinging your tongue. No, he uses the fist tangled in your hair to keep you still as he shoves his tongue into your mouth again, transferring the cum—now watered down a little with his saliva—into the warm cavern yet again.

You whine, and he chuckles, lips spreading into a grin against yours.

“Swallow it,” he whispers, pulling back just enough to watch your expression as you force it down your throat, face souring, eyes squeezed shut as your lips pucker just a little. “Open, lemme see,”

Your mouth falls open obediently, little droplets of water clinging to your lashes as you gaze up at him, waiting for approval.

“Good,” he practically purrs, eyes darkening as his fingers caress your face. “Now I want to fuck you,”

You’re nodding, but he doesn’t give you a moment to respond, beginning to manhandle you into the position he wants before he’s even finished speaking. The oriental rug is soft against your cheek as he presses your face to the ground, hands curling around your hips as he hoists them up.

“What cute little panties,” he breathes, dragging a finger along your clothed slit before yanking the material down to your knees.

It stings a little as he practically shoves his cock into your sopping cunt, not bothering to stretch you out—you’re not even sure if he knows he’s supposed to—but you’re wet enough that the breach is relatively easy, and the burning fades quickly as your little hole adjusts to the girth of his cock.

He begins thrusting immediately, and he’s rough, overeager, uncoordinated, the vicious snaps of his hips uneven and sloppy.

Truthfully, he’s only using you as a hole the first time, but you don’t mind—not really, anyway. Blazing sapphire sears through your mind, and you think about how furious Touya would be if he knew, if he could see the way you’re degrading yourself, letting yourself be reduced to nothing but a fucktoy for a nasty virgin to desperately hump away at, sacrificing your own pleasure for his.

Touya would never.

To Touya, making you cum is half the fun. He gets a rush from it, gets high off the way you go absolutely fucking stupid from his fingers and cock, how quickly he can turn your brain to soup, rendering you a dumb little blabbering mess only capable of whining out the words niichan and Touya-nii. It feeds his ever-growing ego.

But Tomura is eager to please in a different way. He’s more selfish than Touya, sure, but he’s keen to learn all he can, curious and committed.

And, once he finally gets the hang of it, confident, too.

His thrusts gain more finesse as he fucks you, but he’s unable to keep up any steady rhythm, the tight fluttering of your pussy every time he grazes a specific spot inside of you making his hips stutter, forcing needy, guttural groans from his throat.

He cums quick—not that you expect any less from a virgin—with a deep growl of your name that has your stomach swooping, cunt throbbing around him again as he fills you with thick, burning cum.

You’re exhausted by the end of it, abused body melting into the lush carpet as your cunt throbs desperately, his cum slowly oozing out of it. Tomura snorts as he looks down at you, gentle hands tugging your panties down the rest of your legs and removing them completely, discarding them a few feet away.

“Up you go,” he’s murmuring as hands snake under your armpits and haul you up. You mumble his name and he hushes you, collapsing heavily on the couch with you still in his arms. Strong hands manhandle you into straddling his lap again, leaking pussy pressed against his softening cock.

The television hums to life, quiet main menu music floating through the room as the soft clicking of buttons sounds behind you.

You should go home now. You know you should. You’ve done what you came here to do, and now you should be leaving.

Should, should, should.

But Tomura’s so warm, and you’re so tired, muscles aching despite the fact that he did most of the work.

“Rest,” he instructs quietly when you begin to whine into his neck, fingers preoccupied with unwrapping a piece of watermelon bubblegum.

He’s so much softer than you expected—disgusting, but soft—and you can’t believe you spent months being terrified of him. You know this is probably the last time you’ll be able to see him in a long time—a fact that produces an inexplicable ache deep in your chest—so you allow yourself bask in the moment, just for a little, you promise yourself.

You obey his gentle command, snuggling up against him and permitting yourself to drift in and out of consciousness to the sound of aliens being killed and aggressive button smashing.

But then something hard is poking you—you aren’t sure how long you’ve been sitting here for now, long enough for Tomura to power through a few matches, at least—and that blistering heat flares again, beginning to coil tight in your tummy.

You shift a little, an involuntary whine slipping from your lips.

“What is it?” Tomura asks, eyes never straying from the screen, fingers never pausing. “You wanna sit on my cock, baby?”

Christ, yes. You mumble into his shoulder, nodding and rolling your hips in response.

He chuckles—a low, quiet sound rattling around in his chest—and allows you to sink down on him again, captivated by the soft moan you emit as you do so, crimson eyes gleaming and breathing slightly laboured.

“Ah, fuck,” he mutters when his avatar on the screen gets shot, redirecting his attention.

And it’s…it’s nice. Surprisingly nice. He’s cozy, and comfy, his breathing slow and even with every rise of his chest, despite the alien shrieks coming from the TV behind you. He smells like cheap cigarettes and artificial watermelon with just a hint of cedarwood, and you inhale deeply, letting the scent fill your lungs.

Touya rarely lets you cockwarm him; Touya doesn’t have the patience, Touya doesn’t have the time. You fall into a state halfway between asleep and awake, hips rocking against Tomura just enough to keep him hard, just enough to have you whimpering into his neck.

He could get used to this, he tells you. The confession is soft, a private little thought that just kinda slips out, mindlessly falling from his lips, but you could, too, you think.

It’s intimate, which is odd, considering you barely know him, used to be frightened of him. But it’s such a refreshing contrast to Touya’s intense, scalding flame.

Eventually, though, it isn’t enough, the teasing’s too much, and you need more.

Gazing up at him with glittering eyes, you begin to trail your lips up his neck, over his self-inflicted scars, slowly, hesitantly.

He inhales sharply, jumping a little in surprise, and you freeze, terrified you might’ve overstepped some invisible boundary you were not previously aware of.

“Keep going,” he whines, a little petulantly, hips wiggling against yours.

Lips resuming their ministrations, you place gentle, chaste kisses up the column of his throat and along his jaw, delighting in each soft sigh you manage to pull from him. The game playing on the TV suddenly halts, Tomura throwing the controller on the couch cushion next to you before large hands cup your face in a tender way you did not think him capable of.

Your mouths slot together, kissing messily, saliva glistening on your chins as you pass his watermelon gum back and forth between yourselves. It’s kinda gross, kinda filthy, juvenile and sloppy, but it’s fun, has the two of you giggling into each other’s mouths, a little breathless from it all.

“Wanna ride you,” you murmur, almost shyly, against his slippery lips.

“Yeah?” he rasps, just barely bouncing you in his lap. “You wanna use my cock to get off?”

“Yes, please,” the plead comes out as a pathetic whimper, and you squirm impatiently.

Finally, finally you get to cum. In this position, you have leverage over the angle of your hips, able to situate yourself just right, so his cockhead nudges exactly where you want it to.

He does nothing this time, just leans back and watches you with those dark, half-lidded scarlet eyes, hands idly exploring your thighs, occasionally raking his nails down them. He’s in a trance as he gazes at you, mesmerized by the way your eyes are starting to roll back, by the way each drag of his cock against that spot has you keening, by the way his name leaves your lips in broken little whines that have him gasping in response.

Your hips speed up, and you’re desperate, so desperate to cum, nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders through his thin t-shirt.

“Gonna—” he starts, breathless. “Gonna cum?”

You nod a little frantically as eager hips rock against him, his hands finally finding your waist and helping you move.

“Please,” he whimpers. “Wanna feel you,”

And it’s his begging that does it, that finally sends you over the edge, pussy clenching around him, convulsing almost painfully and gushing on his cock with a sharp cry of his name. He follows immediately after, painting your insides with hot cum as a curse hitches in his chest.

Your body collapses against him, going pliant and boneless as you both pant. Everything feels heavy—you haven’t had an orgasm that intense in a while—and the absolute last thing you want to do is get up and walk home.

Tomura can sense it. He can feel it in the way your fingers are knotting in his t-shirt, in the way your hips try to scoot forward, chest pressed against his tightly, and he wraps an arm around you, trying to keep you close for just a minute more.

Silence blankets the room as the two of you calm your breathing. You’ve been anticipating a certain sense of awkwardness to finally wash over you all night, but it never comes. Instead, it’s pleasant, and you hum a little, nuzzling your face into Tomura’s shoulder as skinny fingers brush through your hair.

“I don’t wanna go,” you say, and it’s so quiet, muffled by the material of his shirt, that he barely hears it. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to.

“Just stay,” he mumbles, resting his chin atop your head. “Text your dad some bullshit, or whatever,”

You want to. You’re surprised at how much you desperately want to.

“Touya will kill me,”

“Touya’s gonna kill ya either way, sweetheart,”

You suppose that’s true. Neither of you tricked yourselves into thinking that you’d actually get away with this. Touya will know the moment he sees you, will probably be able to smell Tomura all over you, but you can’t seem to find it in yourself to care, not in that moment, not when Tomura’s so comfy and you’re so sleepy and it’s all just nice.

Good, you think. It’s about time he gets a taste of how much stuff like this hurts.

And so you find yourself crawling into his bed, in one of his t-shirts, with bruises in the shape of his fingertips rapidly blossoming, heat seeping into your cheeks when he tells you he thinks you look cute in his clothes.

He latches onto you the moment you’ve settled into his mattress, long arms encircling your waist and dragging you towards him. One of your legs slots between his, and you have to stifle a giggle.

“Hard again, Tomura?”

“Shut up,” he says, no heat to his voice. “Can’t help it,”

His words echo your own, three simple words you’ve said so many times to Touya, and you feel a pang in your chest.

“Not my fault you’re too hot,” he continues, grumbling into your neck.

Honestly, you didn’t peg him as a cuddler, and maybe he isn’t—maybe he just wants to grind and hump against your thigh—but you welcome the warmth of his body nonetheless.

It doesn’t bother you, although it probably should, as he ruts against you, tiny broken moans and high, breathy whines being exhaled against your neck. But it’s so new, all of this is so new to you, and curiosity clouds your better judgement. While you’re pretty sure you should be shoving him away, reprimanding him for such behaviour, positive that’s what any normal person would do, you don’t. Little fingers thread in his hair instead, carding through silvery-blue fluffy tufts, reveling in the groan it pulls from him.

It doesn’t take long for him to cum, thick and sticky in his boxers, the material wet against your thigh. You’re impressed, both by how easily he cums, and how much he cums. You want to tell him, want to tease him about it a little, let him know you think it’s cute, but heavy, hazy fatigue begins to wash over you, and you fall asleep to Tomura’s soft breaths mingled with the sound of you phone buzzing, over and over and over again.

       ✰          ✰          ✰  

Your phone’s dead when you wake sometime in the early afternoon, and for that, you’re thankful. Anxiety floods your stomach, bubbling up in your chest acidly as you think about what’ll be waiting for you when you recharge it.

Tomura walks you to the door, which you find to be very odd behaviour, but sweet nonetheless, and watches carefully as you slip on your shoes.

“Uh, text me later, okay?” He sounds unsure for the first time since you’ve been with him, and your expression softens.

“I will, if Touya doesn’t take my phone away,”

And you pretend to miss the look on his face, the way his eyebrows knit as a hand comes to scratch idly at his neck, the way he looks almost worried. It’s fine. You’ll be fine.

       ✰          ✰          ✰  

He knows. The moment you step foot through the front door, he knows.

You knew he would, but it doesn’t make the glare scathing your skin any less terrifying.

He’s on you in an instant—you didn’t even know humans could move that fast—pinning you to the drywall, large hands wrapped around your wrists and forcing them above your head, keeping you trapped.

“You little slut,”

Unexpected anger flares in your chest, even though tears are already beginning to collect in your eyes, and you squirm in his grasp.

“I fuck one other person, and I’m the slut?”

You gasp the moment the words leave your lips, wide eyes searching his face and shaking your head frantically, would slap your hands over your mouth if they weren’t currently secured in his bruising grip against the wall.

The look he gives you is absolutely petrifying, blue eyes darker than the ocean—so dark they almost look black—his stare cold and hard as stone, sending sharp spikes of ice up your spine.

“You fucking reek of him,” he spits, face screwing up in disgust. You’re sure you do, too, after spending a good twelve hours in his bed, almost positive you can smell him in your hair, the remnants of cheap cigarettes and artificial watermelon clinging to you.

Patronizing eyes rake over you, zeroing in on the violet that’s bloomed on your neck. His nostrils flare as he stares at it, breath beginning to come in rapid, uneven huffs. His eyes slowly drift back to yours, an unreadable expression settling on his face.

It’s shock, and disbelief, and rage, and…and sadness? It passes too quickly for you to even tell, and then he’s pulling your wrists down callously, still gathered in his hand, and dragging you towards his room.

He all but throws you on his bed face first, breathing harsh and erratic as he exhales forcefully through his nose and climbs on top of you, knees on either side of your thighs. A large hand wraps itself in your hair and tugs, forcing your upper body to arch.

“Was it good?” he seethes, eyes narrowed sharply. You think you might be able to detect a hint of distress sown into his voice, but you have no time to meditate on the thought as he yanks again, pulling your head back further. “Was it worth it?”

Glistening tears stream down your cheeks and you exhale harshly through your nose, teeth gritted as you urgently try to stop crying.

“Fucking answer me,” he growls out the words, but he sounds almost…desperate? You’ve never heard his voice like this before, and it’s then that it finally dawns on you.

You got him back. Sure, he’s furious beyond belief, looks like he could kill you right here, right now, with his bare fucking hands—but he’s also extremely upset, if the slight quiver present in his voice is any indication.

“Yes,” you wheeze out. If it made him feel even an ounce of the emotional turmoil he’s put you through with his whores, then yes, it was absolutely worth it.

“You’re going to regret saying that,” his voice is low, threatening, calm. It’s disturbing, how quickly he can switch, and a chill of unease settles deep in your bones—once Touya stops with his growls and snarls, once his voice becomes monotonous and almost serene in a way, that’s when you know he’s really angry.

Shoving your head down into the mattress, he tells you to stay fucking put as he gets up and wanders over to his desk. He returns to the bed moments later with a tool that vaguely resembles a pen, hand tangling in your hair again as he pulls you up.

“You know what this is?”

You shake your head as best you can.

“It’s a soldering iron,” his voice is still composed and collected, sounding almost as if he’s explaining something to a child, but there’s a malevolent glint in his eye, a look you’ve never seen before. “It gets really, really hot. I just so happened to be warming one on my desk,”

He says it so nonchalantly, as if this is an object one would regularly keep in their bedroom or on their desk.

“It’s not supposed to be used on skin,” he shrugs a little, twirling the tool between his fingers. “But today, I think we’ll make an exception,”

“What?”

“Head down, ass up,” he instructs sternly, pushing your head into his pillows.

“Touya, wait—” you start, the rest of your sentence muffled by the sheets. His hand gives one firm shove—a warning to stay down—and then he begins shuffling around on the bed.

Careful to keep your cheek pressed hard against the pillow, you turn your head just enough to speak.

“Wh-What are you doing?” Your voice is trembling, thick with tears, dense anxiety building in your chest.

“I’m going to burn my name into your pretty little ass,” he responds simply as he positions himself behind you, yanking your panties midway down your thighs and sitting back on his heels. “A nice, pretty, permanent mark so you, and everyone else, never forget who you fucking belong to,”

“No!” you gasp, beginning to lift your head only to have him force it back into the pillow with a snarl. “No, Tou—niichan, I-I’ll do anything, please—”

“No, no, no, baby,” he says over your senseless babbling, voice almost gentle, thumb caressing your silky skin. “Don’t squirm, now,” he chides. “If you squirm, my hand might slip, and I might burn other parts of your body. We don’t want that, do we? Be a good girl for niichan and sit still,”

And so you do. You should feel ashamed, pathetic, revolted that he’s able to manipulate you so easily, that he knows exactly how to turn you into putty to be molded and shaped as he pleases, even when he’s about to sear his name into your skin.

It burns unlike anything you’ve ever felt before as he carefully carves his name into the supple flesh, saying the letters out loud as he does so. It’s a unique, stinging-stabbing type of pure agony, one that sends sharp pain radiating up to your lower back and down your thigh.  

Fingers curl in his dark sheets as you sob into his bed—chest-wracking sobs that have your entire body trembling, chest-wracking sobs that you so desperately try to hold back and swallow, to stay still, to be good for your niichan. Touya tells you to be happy, be grateful, that the temperature of his iron goes up so high.

“Otherwise, I would’ve had to go over it several times in order to make it really stick,”

It’s over quickly, though, a mere fifteen minutes later and he’s cleaning it with rubbing alcohol and gently taping thick gauze over it and uses this opportunity to take your panties off entirely.

“Good girl,” he praises as he hoists you up, manhandling you to straddle his spread thighs, careful of your now very sensitive bottom. “You did so good for niichan,”

And you can’t stand the way your heart weakly flutters at his praise. You can’t stand the way you instinctually bury your head in his chest, tiny fists forming in the material of his t-shirt as you wail, can’t stand the way he is still the only one you want comforting you.

His cock is hard through his jeans, and you can feel it pressing into your core as he shifts a little under you. It’s humiliating, but you’re powerless to stop your hips from moving in subtle little circles, grinding your cunt against the rough denim. And he lets you do it for a little, too, tender fingers petting your hair as he soothes your sobs, taming them to little sniffles and hiccups.

“Niichan’s gonna fuck you now, okay?” he asks softly, murmuring against your scalp, voice almost sickly sweet.

It takes you a moment to respond, eventually nodding your head.

A smirk spreads across his lips and he instructs you to get up, tapping the side of your thigh.

You lift yourself, walking back on your knees and giving him enough room to free his aching cock from the confines of his jeans before his hands find your hips again, dragging you back.

“Baby,” he breathes as his fingers spread your folds, his eyes darkening in a manner much different than before. “Already wet for me?”

Cheeks burning with shame, you nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck, whimpering a little as he pushes a finger into you.

“Don’t tell me,” he gasps tauntingly, voice dripping with artificial surprise. “You didn’t like being branded, did you?”

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head quickly. No, it wasn’t the branding that did it—not really, anyway. It was the aftercare. It was Touya’s cold hands gently tending to your injured bottom, Touya pulling you into his lap as he praised you and dropped kisses to the crown of your head, Touya getting hard from the punishment, from permanently searing his name into your flesh.

You should be disgusted with yourself, with how eager you are, hips wiggling a little only a few moments later as you whine out softly, “Niichan, cock,”

“Impatient,” he huffs. “Don’t get bratty with me now, you were doing so well,”

A pout forms on your face, still hidden in his shoulder.

“Jus’ want it so bad,” you mumble against him, beginning to slur your words. “Please, Touya-nii?”

He hums to himself, makes you beg just a little bit more, reveling in the way your voice begins to get desperate, all high and needy as you try to fuck yourself on his fingers, whimpering and begging with pathetic little please, niichan?’s.

“Is this how you want it? Huh? Wanna ride niichan?”

Mewling a little, you nod, rolling your hips into his palm.

“Words, sweetheart,”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “W-Wanna ride you,”

Finally, he gives it to you, lets you sink down on his cock, watching the way you wince as it stretches you, expression contradicted by your soft moans.

He forces you to begin bouncing immediately, doesn’t allow you to set the pace—he never does—smirking at those little pained cries spilling from your throat, though whether they’re because his cock or the five letters freshly burned into your skin, he isn’t sure. Maybe both; probably both.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, tone condescending. “Does it hurt?”

“Yeah,” you whimper, the threat of tears stinging your eyes.

“Yeah? Yeah?” his voice mimics yours, pitched high and whiny. “I bet it fucking does,”

A hand travels down to grope your ass—specifically, the cheek with the brand—squeezing hard as fingers dig into your skin. You cry out, tears finally leaking from your eyes, chest hitching as you sob out, “Touya-nii,”

“Don’t ever do something like that again,” he says in your ear, voice low and dangerous. “Don’t you ever go fuck another man because you’re mad at me, do you understand?”

Heat begins to coil tightly in your stomach at his smooth, dark voice. “Y-Yes,”

“Promise me,” he growls, grip tightening on your ass.

“I promise,” you’re weeping as he gives one more harsh squeeze, pain scorching through your backside, a loud yelp escaping your lips.

“Bet his cock didn’t feel as good as mine,” he sneers in your ear, panting a little. “Wasn’t as big as mine, didn’t fill you up the way mine does,”

“No, no, no,” you’re chanting in time with his thrusts, eyes rolling back in your head.

“Probably could—” a low groan cuts him off as your pussy flutters around him. “Could never make you cum the way I do,”

A loud whine rips from your throat, your head nodding as he continues his relentless thrusts up into you, never once faltering. Adrenaline and endorphins rush through your veins, high off the heady mixture of pleasure and pain.

“N-Niichan,” you gasp, nails digging into his flesh through the material of his thin t-shirt. “Niichan,”

“Gonna cum? Hmm? Gonna make a mess all over niichan’s cock?” he’s asking breathlessly, slamming into you at a rapid pace and using his thighs for more leverage, hands gripping your hips.

“Uh-huh,”

“Do it, then,” he commands hoarsely. “Cum on your niichan’s cock,”

And you do, helplessly, incapable of disobeying a direct order, creaming so hard your vision blanks for a second, overwhelmed by the extreme, potent mix of pain and pleasure crashing over you.

“Who do you belong to?” Touya’s nearly keening now, hips jackhammering, making your body twitch and shudder with every sharp thrust into your sensitive pussy.

“You,”

“Tell me again,”

“I belong to you, niichan,”

And those five simple words—those five simple words have him cumming hard, hips stilling and cockhead pressed firmly against your cervix, filling your cute little cunt with his seed as broken curses fall from his lips.

You’re both panting, covered in a thin, sheen layer of sweat, your hair sticking to your face and little droplets of tears still glistening on your lash line. He all but collapses back against the bed, taking you with him, cock still buried inside of you.

“And I’m yours,” he whispers into your hair, hugging you tightly—too tightly—to his heaving chest. “I’m yours,”

Laying in his arms, in his bed, with his name burned into your ass, you wonder if you’re destined to play this game for the rest of your lives.

He’s yours.

Are you stuck with him now, forever?

He’s yours.

Will you every get married? Ever get the chance to date someone else?

He’s yours.

Do you even want to?

Laying in his arms, in his bed, with his name burned into your ass, knowing he’s yours, do you even want any of that?

No. With your head resting against his chest, rising and falling with his gentle breaths, slender fingers combing through your sweaty hair, you realize that this is all you want.

He’s yours, and you’re his, and that is enough.

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

I really liked this prompt by @nuttynutcycle and felt the need to write something with it. Soo, here it is! (NOTE: the story starts before the prompt, so it appears in the middle.)

Warning: none.

~~~~ Flying through the air, Hero held onto Villain's body so hard they swore they could feel their knuckles cracking. All their limbs had tightly wrapped around the other as soon as they jumped out of the burning building, the hero's face buried in the other's shoulder to not inhale the smoke, and also so they wouldn't have to see the destruction around them.

The entire city had fallen into ruin, and the villain's henchmen were everywhere. Hero wasn't aware they had so many people working for them, as their enemy only ever had a couple of men with them. But- But this? This was an army.

Was that all part of the plan? Was Villain sparely using their minions to trick the hero? To make them think they weren't capable of something like this?

To make them think they couldn't possibly take over the capital city? Take over the country?

...

As the villain's boots thumped against solid ground, they loosened their hold on Hero, letting them crumple to the floor and frantically scramble away until their wounds forced them to stop moving. Villain had flown them both over to a nearby rooftop, which building had yet to catch aflame.

From their spot on the ground, the hero shivered under their nemesis' silent stare. As a fire burned brightly in the distance behind the villain, their form became shrouded in shadows, adding to their terrifying aura.

The silence was unbearable, and Hero decided to be the first one to break it.

"Y-You saved me." - The hero trembled like a leaf in the wind, head still swimming from the intensity of the last few minutes. "W-Why?"

Villain, still quiet, slowly approached them, making them tense up in anticipation. Hero's breathing grew shaky as their enemy knelt beside them and gently cradled their face with one hand.

"I want you there when I win." - The villain brushed their cheek softly, a small smile on their face. "Whether it's by my side or at my feet is up to you."

"I- I-" - the hero struggled to answer, stuttering out nonsense as they looked into the other's dark eyes. Villain's smile fell at their hesitance, and they flinched in fright as the criminal let go of their face and stood back at full height, towering over them again.

Taking deep breaths in hopes of calming their racing heart, Hero observed as their nemesis walked to the nearby edge of the rooftop, just a few steps away from their shaking body. Villain looked out over the burning city, one arm neatly held behind their back and the other one resting on the parapet wall protecting them from falling off the building.

Not that it mattered if the villain fell off or not. With how many powers they had, Hero was, at this point, pretty convinced nothing could hurt them.

"That would be the correct assumption to make." - Villain calmly said, still admiring the view.

Confusion decorated Hero's face shortly before they realized what had happened. Telekinesis. You can add that to the endless list of their abilities.

Expression still neutral, the villain asked, "Hero, do you want to know how I managed to pull this off?"

Honestly, the hero just wanted this craziness to end, but they'd be lying if they said that their curiosity wasn't eating away at them. So, like the cat that put his nose where it didn't belong, they replied, "I- I do..."

Slightly turning their head to look at their nemesis, Villain quietly explained, "I became a god."

Worry instantly gripped Hero's chest at the other's answer. What- What was that supposed to mean? They- They were a human! A powerful one, true, but... b-but a god? H-How-

"How could y-you possibly achieve s-something like- like that?"

The villain smiled again, and the hero really wasn't liking the look on their face. It made them feel weak, like they were only prey waiting to get caught.

"You're not like the others, Hero... Surely you've noticed over the years how I became stronger and stronger?"

Hero... Hero had noticed it. The process was gradual, barely visible unless you've been there from the start like they had been. It went from Villain getting shot, going into hiding, and reappearing a few days later fully recovered to Villain conveniently surviving deadly explosions or poisons. Until, eventually, years later, they were straight-up getting their limbs blown off and regrowing them instantly right before the hero's very eyes.

Shakily exhaling, Hero's mind floated to a memory from a few weeks ago, back when this hell had first started. They still remembered the dread that filled them at the sight of their nemesis floating high up in the sky, their voice bellowing across the city as they commanded their army. The sheer amount of power that came off Villain at that moment made the hero's knees nearly give out under them. At that moment, Villain was truly above everyone else in every sense of the word.

"Exactly." - the villain's voice suddenly sounded in their ears, and Hero jumped back as their eyes refocused and recognized that their enemy was suddenly right in their face.

The hero's breath hitched as Villain held their face again, this time with both their hands, as they lowly continued. "I've made myself unkillable, indestructible, invincible."

As a glint of possessiveness shined in the criminal's eyes, Hero's eyebrows furrowed in concern, the villain bringing their faces closer. "And I could- No. I will make you the same, whether you want it or not."

Trembling in the other's grasp, the hero questioned, "B-B-But h-how?"

Resting their foreheads against one another, Villain answered, "The same way I've made myself so powerful... The same way I've made my henchmen so loyal and unbeatable..."

Voice barely above a whisper, they claimed, "I will share my powers with you."

Hero froze, only able to keep listening as the villain caressed their cheek again and continued talking. "Not all of them, of course, but know that... where the hierarchy is concerned... you could be my equal, my partner."

Removing themself from their nemesis yet again, Villain loomed over them ominously. "And this is where my question returns, dear Hero."

Standing tall, arms neatly held behind their back, their mere presence demanded that the hero answer them as their shadow fell over them.

"Do you stand by my side and rule together with me, or... do you go from being the government's dog to being my dog... for all eternity?"

With tears stinging at their eyes, Hero pleaded, "V-Villain, please, just- How?! How c-can you share your-?!"

"It's a power that I stole."

"Wh- What...?"

Eyes shining brighter than the fire, the villain explained once more, "My power... The power that I was born with... Is the ability to steal the powers of others."

As they ranted, they looked off into the distance, for a moment getting lost in the past. "And over the years... I've gathered every power that I'd need and more."

Turning back to the hero, they ignored the fear in the other's eyes. "With time, I've learned how to mutate them, how to combine them to make them even stronger, to make myself stronger."

Done explaining, they squared their shoulders. "Now, answer me." - Villain growled out, odd desperation in their voice. "Will you lay at my side or at my feet?"

Hero stared at them for a long while, battling internally before ultimately, their gaze turned away from them, making them sigh in frustration. Clearly, they had to go about this a different way.

"Hero, you can't deny that we're not so different."

That got the hero's attention again, so the villain continued, "We both want what's best for this country."

Now it was Hero's turn to get upset, their face twisted into an appalled snarl as they demanded, "What's best for the country...?! HOW IS THIS WHAT'S BEST FOR THE COUNTRY?!"

They pointed at the destruction around them, nostrils blaring, as they paid no heed to the pain in their lungs, and Villain had to take a deep breath due to the other's stubbornness. Why did they have to be so difficult?

"Changes needed to be made. The system was broken, and you know it."

"W-Well yes, but-" - Hero faltered, trying to argue back, but their enemy cut them off.

"But what? Have you bothered to make a change, hmm? Bothered to take action?"

Not awaiting a response, Villain answered for them. "No, you didn't. You just followed your little orders, thinking that things would magically turn better."

"How is this better...?" - Hero croaked out, losing hope of winning this argument.

Frustrated, the villain yelled, startling the other. "GAH! JUST TAKE A PROPER LOOK AROUND, HERO!"

The criminal grabbed their nemesis by the arm and effortlessly dragged them over to the edge, making them look at the city, this time not through the lens of fear but the lens of truth.

As they finally took a real look at what was happening, a look not misguided by being down there in the heat of the moment, Hero noticed the way Villain's henchmen weren't attacking the civilians, but rather... escorting them away from the danger...?

They finally saw how the people willingly went with them, how they didn't even look scared of them. No, they only grew frightened when... when the heroes showed up... and... started mindlessly firing in the henchmen's direction..., not caring about the people who would... who would get caught in the crossfire...

...

...

"Do you understand yet, Hero...?" - Villain softly whispered, watching as their henchmen dutifully followed their orders, knocking the heroes out and capturing them, protecting the civilians from the necessary chaos.

"I want peace... I want equality... I want things to be right just as much as you do..."

As the wind softly blew against them, Hero turned to face their... enemy...? and was surprised to see tears spilling from their eyes as they continued.

"...But I can't make things right unless I'm in charge..."

Shaking, Villain questioned, "So tell me, Hero. Are you going to stand in my way? In the way of progress?"

With their fists clenching at their sides, the villain whispered painfully, "I don't want to force you to your knees..., but I will do it if I have to."

The hero looked at them, an array of emotions on their face, their own tears having fallen down their cheeks long ago. They opened their mouth to reply but failed to utter even a word. With conflicted feelings, their face scrunched up in thought, their gaze returning to the city below.

Villain stood beside them silently, awaiting their answer. Their body was more tense than the day they had opened fire upon the city. They didn't want to hurt Hero. They didn't. But... But if they had no other choice...

"Villain..." - the hero's meek voice barely reached their ears, but they stiffened nonetheless. "You..."

Arms suddenly wrapped around the villain's waist as Hero held onto them, muttering into their shoulder with an unsteady voice.

"...You better not make me regret this..."

With hope twinkling in their eyes, Villain asked, "D-Does... Does that mean you...?"

"I'll join you. I'll be at your side."

Relief flooded Villain's entire being at the hero's decision. They returned the embrace, tightly holding onto the other as if they would disappear at any moment.

"Thank you, Hero... And..., I'm sorry..."

Sorry? About what-?

Pain suddenly erupted in Hero's chest, their first thought being betrayal as their entire body burned with agony. They screamed and thrashed, trying to get away, but Villain held onto them with an unyielding grip, their heart aching at the hero's frantic shouts and thoughts.

Luckily, the whole ordeal only lasted about a minute, and Hero fell limp in the other's hold once it was over, breathing shakily, a few sobs escaping them from the unexpected pain and stress. As their heart rate began to slow back down and their mind had managed to calm down, they noticed that something was different and gasped quietly, as they felt something inside of themself.

Power.

So, so much power it made them shudder.

Was... Was this how Villain always...?

No, the villain didn't feel like this; they were stronger. Much stronger. Hero could feel it now, could feel the power thrumming inside their ex-nemesis. And as their mind focused, in the distance, all around them, they could sense Villain's henchmen, and even then, all the henchmens' and Hero's power combined was nothing compared to the villain's.

Villain was so much grander than all of them. They...

They really did become a god.

...

...

The feeling of a hand gently rubbing circles into their back brought the hero back to the present. Their eyes had closed at some point, so they fluttered them open again and lifted themself off the villain's shoulder.

Oh, when had they fallen to the ground? Both of them were on their knees, Hero's legs must've given out, and Villain probably lowered the two of them.

"I'm really sorry about that..." - the villain apologized again, a bit of concern on their face. "How... How do you feel?"

It was then that Hero noticed that they felt... good. Amazing even. They felt better than they ever had before. They were so full of energy, and their wounds had disappeared too.

"I-I'm good." - they eventually responded with a small smile. "And apology accepted."

With a smile of their own, Villain pulled themself to their feet, the hero moving with them. They stood there in silence for a few seconds, softly holding each other's hands. Both their gazes momentarily caught on one another's lips, but no. That could wait. After all, they had all the time in the world now and... some more pressing matters at hand.

Calling forth their power, the villain slowly lifted themself into the air, Hero following suit, listening intently as their partner instructed them on how to use their new powers. Together, they went off, conquering the country and at last making things right.

[amysteriousmessenger]

May I request some fluff RFA headcanons? 🥺🥺

I hope these are okay!! I added Saeran and V just for the sake of it!! <3 these will be a random mixture of with and without MC!

Random Fluffy RFA + Saeran and V Headcanons

Yoosung Kim Fluffy Headcanons

He asks you to marry him in LOLOL, since there’s an expansion pack where you can set up a little house for extra storage. He gets really nervous and a bit sweaty about asking you to do it, he takes it oddly seriously and Zen almost passed out when he thought that you were actually engaged.

He tries to make you coffee every morning, especially if he’s trying a new style out. He thinks it’s really fun and he loves to greet you with it for breakfast. After a while, you come to associate the faint smell of coffee with Yoosung. 

At the start he starts sneakily using little bits of your shower gel because they smell so much nicer than the one his gamer student budget allows him to buy. Eventually, he’ll just cave and buy a bottle of the one that you use because it means he gets to be reminded of you all day and it’s a lot better for his skin anyway.

If you play with his hair when his head is in your lap, he’ll absolutely fall asleep. Yoosung is a little bit like a puppy in that way, it just makes him feel so happy and loved.

Zen/Hyun Ryu Fluffy Headcanons

Zen’s a big person for morning kisses, especially sleepy ones. He’s an early riser and definitely feels extra needy in the morning. He’s also always the big spoon, he likes to feel as though he’s protecting you even when he’s asleep.

Whenever you’re crying and cover your face so he can’t see, Zen’s the kinda person who would gently pull your arms away so he can get a look at you and figure out what’s wrong. He’ll kiss at your eyes and cheeks until you either stop crying, or let him get close enough to pull you in so you can cry on his chest. 

He loves doing skincare on you. If he thinks you’ve had a hard week, he’ll do your moisturiser, clay mask, face mask, eye mask- you name it, Zen wants to pamper you with it. He knows the importance of skincare and he thinks it’s a great way to relax and pamper you. 

Zen’s ‘Happy Place’ that he thinks of when he gets stressed is the two of you, beers in hand, spending an evening in the kitchen trying to cook food. He can hear the laughter, smell the ever-so-slightly burning food, taste the traces of beer on your lower lip. It just makes him so happy to think about and he can feel the desperation in his limbs to sprint home at full speed and make the daydream real.

Jaehee Kang Fluffy Headcanons

Saturday mornings are Jaehee’s favourite out of the whole week. She’s just worked 5 hellish days and Saturday is the day where she gets to have a bit of a lie-in. Usually, Jumin doesn’t ask her to come into the office on weekends and it’s usually just a case of working from home. Jaehee tries not to oversleep too much because she doesn’t want to throw off her schedule but sometimes she can’t help but pass out for 10 hours straight and undisturbed. 

She really enjoys bubble baths with you. When you first start doing it together, she’s a little shy at being seen undressed so intimately, but she still really enjoys the time alone with you. It’s a great way to unwind and she likes being so close to you.

Jaehee isn’t much of a cuddler when she’s asleep, she tends to just sleep flat on her back out of exhaustion. However, if you wake up for any reason during the night, you’ll frequently find her hand holding yours, whether she did it consciously or not. 

She collects really nice and cute stationary. She doesn’t really take them to work because she doesn’t want to be seen as unprofessional, but once she runs the coffee shop, she gets to write in her little hot-drinks-themed stationary and decorates the little cups with tiny stickers for the frequent customers and especially for whenever Zen comes to visit.

Jumin Han Fluffy Headcanons

Sunday mornings are Jumin’s favourites. He usually wakes up really early by routine, but on Sundays he spends a little bit longer curled up in bed with you and Elizabeth the Third, watching you both sleep. Jumin’s also usually the big spoon if he’s sleeping on his side, but when he sleeps on his back he typically still has one arm around your waist so you’re pulled next to him with your head on his chest.

He personally donates to many different cat shelters all over the country. He takes the money straight out of his own bank account and gives generous monthly donations to make sure that there’s enough funding to both feed the cats already there, and take in extra cats of the streets along with getting them adopted. Jumin’s staff actually has a company policy that if they adopt a cat from one of the shelters that Jumin supports, the vet and adoption fees are covered by him, he counts it as philanthropy.

Jumin has a bottle of wine in his cellar from the date you met, the date you first kissed, the date you got engaged and the date you got married. He hasn’t quite decided when he’ll share those wines with you, he just knows at the moment that he wants to keep them for a very special occasion. 

When he’s bored at work but he can’t call you because you’re busy, he pictures taking you to one of his vineyards on the weekend. He’ll picture your smile, you adjusting your hat and lightly squinting against the sun, you smiling at him over your glass of wine. Then he’ll tell Jaehee to clear his schedule for the weekend.

Saeyoung Choi Fluffy Headcanons

Your arms around him, holding him against you, is pretty much the only thing that can bring Seven out of an anxiety attack. If you’re not physically with him, he crawls under the duvet on his bed in hopes of still smelling you. He’ll call you and look through selfies with you that he has on his phone until he calms down. 

Seven frequently tries to make you food. He’s never had to cook for anyone before and he doesn’t really cook for himself, so it’s a lot of trial, error and frustrated takeaways. You try to eat whatever he makes though because you can really tell that he’s put his heart into it and you want to show him that you appreciate the effort he’s making.

He loves you feeling his biceps and gushing over how strong he is. He’s not even particularly ripped but you can tell he has strength in his limbs and seeing you give him any kind of physical approval makes him m e l t instantly.

He’s both the big and little spoon, depending what mood he is in. Sometimes he wants to hold you close and never let go, but sometimes Seven needs a little bit of support too and want to feel like he’s needed by you.

His absolute favourite dates are the arcades, the cinema, bowling and carnivals. He has far too much fun on the bumpercars and he absolutely has it out for you, you spend most of the time trying to escape him.

GE Saeran Choi  Fluffy Headcanons

GE Saeran always makes very over the top hot chocolates for the both of you. He has an arsenal of whipped cream, syrups, chocolate shavings and sprinkles. His hot chocolate is better than any you could buy in a store. He’ll make one for you whenever you ask, and then sometimes just to surprise you if it looks like you’re having a bad day.

GE Saeran ends up getting two cavities in his first few years of living freely. He does look after his teeth, but he let his sweet-tooth go little bit wild with all the new foods he got to try, it was all so new and fun to him, he just wanted to try everything! He took much better care of his teeth after that, but the trip to the dentist was quite a weird one since he’d never been before. 

Slight Angst: Saeran always serves your food first and makes sure there’s always extra helpings if you want it. He usually puts a little bit more on your plate than what you would usually eat. He never quite gets over the guilt of taking your food away at Magenta, so he spends the rest of his time making sure you have more than enough to eat now.

He likes to constantly buy you little gifts that he sees when he’s out and about that remind him of you. A little notebook in your favourite colour? A little forget-me-not necklace? A candle that smells like your perfume? He’d added them all to his cart. 

After lip kisses, Saeran loves giving cheek and hand kisses to you. For him, he really loves getting head kisses and he thinks it’s extra cute when you plant a little kiss onto the tip of his nose.

V/Jihyun Kim Fluffy Headcanons 

V usually wakes up first, unless he was working late in his studio. He wakes you up with a kiss to the forehead, a cup of coffee and soft words. After he’s put your drink on the table, he’ll climb back into bed with you and cuddle until you’re properly awake.

He actually enjoys baking with you. Well, he likes to help you bake and then he gets to do the decorating. You usually bring a cake to any RFA hangouts and it’s always very obvious when V’s helped you bake because it feels like he goes out of his way to put a piece of gallery-worthy art onto a cake with food colourings and icings. He thinks it makes it tastes better, and you have to agree. 

In recent years, V’s been considering trying a more plant-based diet. He thinks he’d like to try vegetarianism, but he’s frequently spend periods of time as a pescatarian, especially after he’s come back from travelling. It also means that he gets to practice cooking more too.

[blu-joons]

DAD SEVENTEEN A⇴Z HEADCANON ⇴ Xu Minghao

A ⇴ AFFECTION

Being affectionate around you and your bump is a big thing for Minghao, he’s keen to try and be around your bump as much as possible in whatever capacity to try and bond with your baby and make them familiar with him.

B ⇴ BUMP

In trying to form a bond with your baby, Minghao will often end up spending time in the evening talking to your bump and getting them familiar with the sound of his voice. You can only sit back and admire Minghao as he talks, chuckling to yourself at the voice that he puts on to appeal to your baby, surprised that his voice can go as high as it does.

C ⇴ CRAVINGS

Your cravings were one of the things that fascinated Minghao the most, whilst he knew that it was inevitable that you’d get cravings at some point, he never began to imagine that you’d crave some of the foods that you did. Foods that you hated suddenly became your favourite foods in the world, and Minghao just couldn’t get his head around it.

D ⇴ DUE DATE

It was important to Minghao to make sure that you were as prepared as possible just in case your baby decided to arrive on their due date. Your baby bag was packed well in advance, as a just in case, and your nursery finished with plenty of time to spare. Rather than a due date, you could often be mistaken for thinking that you had a due month with how organised Minghao tried to be, making sure everything was in place just to be sure.

E ⇴ EMOTIONS

Taking care of you was the most important thing for Minghao, regardless of fine you often tried to argue that you were. You enjoyed trying to do things for yourself, but as the months passed, the less you could do. Minghao loved stepping in and being able to help you whenever you found difficulty, but with that, he also understood the frustration that you felt towards suddenly being so incapable of doing so many basic things.

F ⇴ FAMILY

You both tried to keep as in contact as you possibly could with your families, sending messages every single day so that they could keep up to date with how things were going. If they hadn’t heard from either of you for some time, your family group chats would be filled with messages of concern, usually from your mums, who wanted to make sure that the two of you were alright and coping as well as you could by yourselves.

G ⇴ GENDER

From the very start of your pregnancy, the two of you had decided to wait and see until the end. Minghao loved to guess throughout your pregnancy as he read through old wives’ tales, but the uncertainty of knowing whether to believe in what they suggested or not always left him excited to eventually find out too.

H ⇴ HEARTBEAT

The beat of your baby’s heart was Minghao’s very sound to hear in the world. He didn’t care for music, chatter, or anything else, for the nine months that you were pregnant, not a single sound made him happier than when he was able to hear the gentle thuds of your baby growing healthily inside of your bump.

I ⇴ “I LOVE YOU”

His actions often let you know that Minghao loved you the most, he was very aware and usually able to pick up on the fact that you needed help before you even asked. Having him around to take care of you was a blessing, and you sure felt loved having someone as kind as Minghao around, never listening to him complain once.

J ⇴ JEALOUSY

Even though Minghao much prefers to describe himself as protective over you and your bump, a fair few others would argue that he can get jealous from time to time. He’s not the biggest fan of people having their hands around your bump for too long or getting too close to you, especially when that means that he ends up being pushed away. When he feels like someone has outstayed their welcome, Minghao will definitely push his way back to the front.

K ⇴ KICKS

The kicks of your baby are a surprising source of inspiration for Minghao, especially when he finds a bit of a beat in them. It’s something that he always ends up carrying with him into the studio the following morning, saving it to his laptop in the hope that maybe he might be able to come up with a little something from them.

L ⇴ LABOUR

He’s your biggest support during labour, you were sure that you would have never gotten through it if it wasn’t for Minghao by your side. He was calm and he was composed, even if he was terrified on the inside, the perfect voice by your side to comfort you and reassure you. Even though he was a little nervous too, Minghao knew he couldn’t let you see that, and instead kept he smile on his face and his hand holding onto yours.

M ⇴ MORNING SICKNESS

No one was keen on sick, Minghao definitely being one of them, but he was even less keen on leaving you to battle your bouts of morning sickness alone. And so, every single morning he’d make sure to be there for you and refuse to leave your side until he had managed to tuck you back up in bed with a smile too.

N ⇴ NURSERY

Designing your nursery was one of Minghao’s favourite things to do, he loved to use his creative mind to come up with the perfect theme that he was sure your baby would love, and the two of you would enjoy building too.

O ⇴ OBSESSION

Minghao was obsessed with your hands, he loved how they would almost always instinctively relax over your bump when they were free, holding your bump with pride and excitement over what was to come for you both.

P ⇴ POST BIRTH

He was very wary about you doing too much too soon after you gave birth, but Minghao tried to trust in you and hope that you would listen to your body. He made it clear to you that he wanted you to put your baby first, but if you wanted to try and do a little more, he wasn’t going to hold you back from doing so.

Q ⇴ QUESTIONS

If he’s been away from you at work for the day, Minghao will always come home and ask you if he has missed anything first of all. Any milestone, big or small, he wants to hear about it and make sure that you’re alright too.

R ⇴ RANDOM FACTS

Documenting your pregnancy was one of Minghao’s biggest passions, with the aim of creating a photo wall in your nursery to look back on too. You’d often walk around the house and find him with his camera in hand, ready to snap you hard at work or candidly going about your day whilst trying to ignore him.

S ⇴ SCANS

Holding your scans was something that Minghao never took for granted, he loved being able to see your baby growing and knowing that they were growing healthily too. He’s very observant of your scan photos and looks into them with a great amount of detail, even if you struggle to make sense of the things that he finds.

T ⇴ TEST

You both had sensed that something wasn’t right with you for some time, and after waking up throwing up one morning, Minghao knew that the two of you had to take a test, just for your own peace of mind.

U ⇴ ULTRASOUND

Being with you at your appointments was immensely important for Minghao, the last thing he ever wanted to do was leave you at one on your own.

V ⇴ VISITS

The boys couldn’t wait to come by and visit, bringing food and essentials over almost as soon as you got home so that you had no excuse but to let them in and thank for taking such great care of your new little family.

W ⇴ WAITING

Minghao verges on patience more than impatience, he enjoys seeing your bump grow and the process rather than just the result at the end of the nine months.

X ⇴ XXXX

He loves to kiss against your bump in between sentences whenever he talks to it for two reasons. One, in the hope that your baby will be able to pick up on it, and secondly to reassure you how great your bump looks too.

Y ⇴ YOU

You were his inspiration, Minghao couldn’t believe how incredibly strong you were.

Z ⇴ ZZZ

Every night Minghao waits until your asleep before allowing himself to sleep too. He knows he can rest in no time at all, but when your bump is restless, he tries to do whatever he can to make sure that you can rest too.

---

Masterlist

[somnambulants]

Can i request readerxnatasha first time? All good if you don't write smut though xx

she’s the sunset in the west

word count: 1.7K notes: i kinda combined this with another prompt: "intertwining your hands with your lover while making love" bc im feeling v soft today lmao hope you enjoy!  warnings: allusions to lack of bodily autonomy/coerced interactions. 

minors pls don’t interact! 18+ only!

Sex has always been a weapon for her.

Natasha knows she can get whatever she wants from whoever she wants if she just flaunts herself in front of them enough to get their attention. She’s not naïve; her whole life has been set up for her to use her body to get what she wants.

It’s something they teach you in the red room from the time you can walk: your body is your biggest weapon. No one will anticipate you coming.  

And it’s true. 

No one ever sees her coming. 

Natasha has walked into many rooms and turned many heads and managed to take out multiple targets with all eyes on her and without anyone batting those eyes because they were so distracted by her.

It’s where the term black widow comes from. You see her but you don’t see her.

And that’s how she lives her life, with people seeing her but not seeing her. It’s what makes her such a good spy; such a good assassin. People might know she’s dangerous from the second they see her but they’ll be dead and she’ll be long gone before they realise exactly just how dangerous.

No one seems to see through it.

Until she meets you.

You, who met her while she was half naked and soaking wet, everything on display, after a mission had gone slightly wrong and didn’t even blink twice as you shrugged off your own jacket and handed it to her with a kind smile while some of her own teammates struggled to keep their eyes to themselves.

She’s pretty sure she fell in love with you right then and there, with your eyes on the ground, pointedly averted, a faint pink flush staining both of your cheeks and crawling down your neck.

--

Your relationship with Natasha is great. Amazing, in fact. You don’t think you could ask for better or more.

There’s just one thing really.

Sometimes you don’t feel like she’s really there when you’re being intimate. In the moment. Sometimes it’s as though she’s going through the motions and just doing what she feels needs to be done. Or what she thinks you want her to do.

Like right now.

She’s kissing you like she’s on autopilot. You love kissing her and you’re enjoying it, no doubt about that, as you sit splayed across her lap with her arms around you like a cage. 

 You love it. And her.

It just doesn’t feel quite right. 

You know, subconsciously, there must be a reason you’ve been dating for all these months and haven’t had sex yet. You know Natasha has had a lot of sex and you’re not exactly inexperienced yourself in that department.

And yet, every time you get close, she’ll suddenly push you away and make an excuse to leave. 

You know there must be a reason. You just don’t know why or how to broach the subject with her. 

Or you thought you didn’t.

“Why don’t you want to have sex?”

You don’t mean for it to slip out and you cover your mouth as soon as it does, but the damage is already done.

Below you, Natasha, hands still on your waist – at a perfectly decent height, as though she thinks your parents might walk in and catch you at any second – freezes and looks at you with wide eyes.

“I – I do,” she says after a second, stuttering a little over her words. It would be amusing in any other circumstance to see Natasha Romanoff, the most unflappable person you’ve ever met in your life, struggling for words.

You stare at her until she swallows and looks away from you. “I do,” she repeats, quiet in a way that is distinctly non-Natasha like. “I’m just not used to this.”

It doesn’t make sense to you, what she’s saying but you stay quiet, sensing she’s building up to something and not wanting to interrupt her when it seems like she’s opening up to you about something important.

“I don’t know how to do …,” she waves a hand in between you wordlessly. You know you must look as confused as you feel because she lets out a huff of frustration. “I don’t know. This –It’s hard. For me. To do this with someone I care about.”

She looks so defeated as the words leave her mouth. You suck in a breath as realisation starts to sink in, feeling nauseous at the implication you’re getting from what she’s just said.

“We don’t have to do anything, Nat, ” you say quietly, tilting your head so she has to look at you as you speak. “Not now. Not ever…. if that’s not something you want. I’m sorry if I --”

“No! No!” she interrupts. She seems to have pinpointed where your thoughts have gone and she leans in, looking at you seriously. “No. Of course I want to. I just don’t know how…I’m used to..”

She doesn’t have to finish. You know exactly what she means and for a second, you’re overcome with such vibrant anger at the thought that no one has ever treated her the way she deserves.

You want to make sure she never feels like that again.

“Okay,” you say slowly, as a plan formulates in your head. You’re not sure if it’s the right thing to do but Natasha is looking at you uncertainly, like she thinks you’re going to up and run at any minute so you have to act fast. “Okay, if you’re sure. Can I try something? Please?”

Still looking uncertain, Natasha nods straight away. You lean in to kiss her gently and she immediately reciprocates, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss as though you’ll pull away at any moment.

After you break the kiss, you slide off her lap and then off the couch all together, kneeling down so you’re in front of her.

There’s confusion in her eyes as you do but you don’t address it until you’re settled.

You place your hands on her thighs. “Tell me to stop, okay?” The if you’re uncomfortable goes unsaid but you know she must be able to see it written across your face because she nods, biting her lip.

Hands still on her thighs, you kiss every spot you can reach and are delighted as she lets out a little laugh.

Encouraged, you continue until you reach her thighs.

Watching her carefully, you shift, helping her out of her underwear and pulling it down her legs. As you do, she looks back at you evenly, a little smile now playing around the corners of her mouth.

Internally, you breathe a sigh of relief. This was the right move then. You’re sure of it now. 

This is the most relaxed you’ve seen her like this, you think. You hate that you hadn’t noticed any of this earlier.

But at least, you can do your best from now on by knowing what to look for.

You move your hands, and seeming to read your mind, she meets you in the middle, letting you intertwine your fingers on either side of her thighs as you rest your head on her stomach, watching her for any signs that she isn’t as comfortable with this as she seems. “Okay?”

You can’t see anything in her eyes to indicate it isn’t but still, you wait until she nods, giving you the green light. 

“Yeah,” she says, as you lean back down. Her hips buck a little at the first touch of your tongue against her and she lets out a little breath, biting her lip as she looks at you with darkened eyes: “Yes.”

You continue, encouraged by her little moans and sounds that she makes no attempt to stifle, wasting little time detaching one of your hands to press a finger into her and inhaling sharply as you feel how wet she is around you.

Your actions are rewarded with a moan that quicky turns into a high-pitched gasp as you add another finger quickly after.

You thrust into her, picking up speed as she moans, shoving her hips onto your fingers eagerly in a plaintive request for more. She gets louder as you add a third and you feel her stretch around you. Louder still, when you brush over her clit with your thumb. 

“Okay?” you ask again, a little teasingly. No doubt hearing it, she glares down at you but can’t quite hide the smile on her face, pushing her hips up to meet your fingers.

The smile quickly crumbles in favor of a small cry as you thrust into her harder. Her eyes flutter a little and she bites down on her lower lip. “So okay.”

With your fingers now inside her, you turn your attention to her clit, laving your tongue with it and trying not to grin when she cries out, squeezing you so tightly it’s hard for you to keep going at the pace you are.

She squeezes your hand, digging her nails into your skin as her thighs lock around your head and keep you in place.

In response, you double your efforts and are rewarded as she starts to fall apart above you. 

There’s blissful white noise in your head as she arches her back with a moan – filthier and louder than the rest, as she comes -- cutting off your air supply entirely to the point that you wouldn’t be surprised if you blacked out.

You wouldn’t mind. In fact, you think this would be the best possible way to go.

When she finally releases you, you stay where you are, ignoring the cramp in your legs and rest your head on her stomach again, gazing up at her as she comes down, still twitching occasionally.

She runs her free hand through your hair rhythmically as her chest rises and falls, trying to catch her breath. 

She looks like, for lack of better words, a mess. Hair sticking to her neck, cheeks flushed. She’s still wearing her bra, but the straps are now falling down, off her shoulders.

You think you probably don’t look any better yourself.

She’s so beautiful you think you could stare at her for the rest of your life and not get bored.

You squeeze the hand you’re still holding and her eyes flutter open, meeting yours immediately. “All good?” you ask softly.

She lets out an incredulous sounding little huff, pulling you up so you’re in her lap and she can kiss you.

You moan as she licks the taste of herself off your lips.

“Very much good,” she says, playfully, when you pull apart to breathe for a second.

She kisses you again, deeper and more intensely before shoving you away and reversing your positions. “Your turn.”

[catxsnow]

FIVE TIMES DICK GRAYSON HUGS

Request: How about ideas about hugs and cuddles from Dick? Fluff is an important part of a balanced fandom after all

Warning: fluff, mentions of sex but pg, mentions of blood

A/N: A little bit of a different layout but soft nonetheless 

Word Count: 2.2k

i) Dick Grayson in the mornings

Dick always has trouble getting up in the morning. He doesn't like the bright sunlight breaking through his blinds or the loud crashes of his neighbors from getting ready in the mornings. Sleep always calls for him the moment his alarm goes off and he despises the idea of actually having to get out of bed.

He finds himself grabbing at any excuse just to stay a few moments longer. Maybe a 'I showered last night I don't need to this morning' or 'I'll make coffee at home today so I don't have to wait in line'. Any little thing to be able to sleep in for just five more minutes.

It's even more impossible when you're staying with him. He finds himself turning off his alarm only to roll over and snuggle into you. Big arms wrapped around you, legs tangled. He's got the most ridiculous bedhead in the world but god is it adorable on him. Dick's still half asleep and he can't even bring himself to leave a kiss on your cheek.

More times than not he falls back asleep again. It's hard not to when the love of his life is asleep in his arms. However, he often gets in trouble too. Showing up late for work or getting an angry phone call from Bruce or the team that he's not there.

It's impossible to get him off of you too when he's sleepy. Dick becomes completely dead weight and half his body is always on top of yours. Waking him is just as hard. Once he's asleep somewhere he feels safe, he's not getting back up. Mumbles in his mornings voice, squeezing you tighter, he's completely adorable when he's trying to sleep.

“Just a couple more minutes baby.”

Dick likes to blame the reason he gets stuck in bed so often on you - but truth is that's all on him. He's always struggled to get up in the morning and after long nights of being a hero, it doesn't help.

ii) Dick Grayson coming home from a long day

It doesn't matter where you are or what you're doing, if he's had a terrible day at work, he's swooping you up and carrying you to bed. He doesn't do that very often, only when he's on the verge of a breakdown. So, when he does pull a little stunt like that, you know that he's upset.

“I missed you today, my love.”

He pours his heart out during those times. Venting to you about his issues, his feelings, how frustrated he is that he can't change what's happened. It's heartbreaking to see him like this because he's trying so hard to keep himself together when he's clearly breaking at the seams.

Dick doesn't want you to see him when he's vulnerable and weak like this. He's always supposed to be the strong one. He's supposed to be the one who always knows what to do, who's always going to have a plan. Truth was, he couldn't be that person - at least not all the time. On the days that he couldn't, he looked to you for answers.

He'd find himself wanting you to encase him completely. Dick's safe in your arms, no matter the situation. He knows that this is the time that he can truly break down and you'll always accept him. There's nothing that he ever needs to worry about when he's with you.

Blankets mountain over you both. Dick's got his head on your chest, sometimes your stomach when he's curled up even more than usual. When he's in his bad moods, it's like he needs to hear your heart to remind him that he too is human. He can only handle so much before he snaps. His arms are tight around you, keep you so close that sometimes it's hard to breathe.

In those moments it feels like his hold on you is the only thing keeping him sane, the only thing that's keeping him grounded to earth. Dick has his times where no words can fix his issues, but your actions can. A simple hug, kiss, hand rubbing his back that reminds him that not everything in this world is out to get him.

It's those times that you know to be extra loving with him. Tell him how much you love him, how you adore what he does for this world, how important he is in your life.

iii) Dick Grayson after a night of patrol

Every night, the only thing he has to look forward to is coming back home to you. No matter how many times he gets beaten down, he knows he has to get back up to get home to you. Dick knows you're waiting for him, worried out of your mind as whether or not he'll make it back alive.

So, when he gets back, stripped of his suit and a shower that washes away his dirt and grime of the night, he finally makes his way into bed with you. His body aches from the hits he got, even when he's in the warmth of your bed. He's exhausted by the time he gets home to you, and it's a struggle to even clean himself up.

No matter how tired he is, how sore he is, he always pulls you into his chest to give you a kiss. It's his way of telling you that he's made it home safe, even if he's barely hanging on some days. It's a silent 'I love you' when he can't get the energy to say it out loud.

When he holds you close at night, it's his only way of being able to fall asleep. He doesn't think about the horrors he's seen at night when he's with you, he doesn't think about how much trauma he's been through. All Dick can think about is you, everything that there is about you.

“I’m glad you’re safe and back with me, Dick.” 

“I’ll always come home to you.”

His nightmares don't plague him. He doesn't wake up randomly throughout the night. Being with you lets him be in peace.

When he cuddles you at that point in his day, he envelopes you completely. His arms are tightly wrapped around you so you're flush against his body. Dick nuzzles himself into the crook of your neck and his legs are perfectly lined up behind yours. He's found himself reliant on you to be able to fall asleep.

In the winter, when it gets cold out, Dick just absorbs your body heat. He craves it when he's out as Nightwing. The cold winds bite at his skin and he's consumed with the memory of your body warmth. He hates feeling cold when he knows that he could easily quit early and come back to you.

On some lucky nights - or maybe unlucky if you look at it - when his body is really sore, you'll offer up a massage. Dick can never say no. You'll find yourself sitting on his butt as he lays on his stomach. Scars and wounds lacing the skin on his back and his tense muscle aching for your touch.

Dick falls asleep like that all the time, no matter what. You could be telling him about your day or even he'll be telling you about his and he'll fall asleep mid-sentence. He wakes up refreshed every time you offer to do it for him, and more times than not he'll always find a way to repay you back.

iv) Dick Grayson on rainy days.

He loves having rainy days with you. Not necessarily rainy days - but the kind of days that he gets to be free of worry from the outside world and just focus on you. Hours upon hours that he gets to relax, often for the first time in months. Those days always seem like a blessing to him, especially when he gets to spend them with you.

Watching movies where he gets to cuddle you on the couch. The both of you laying on your sides. Dick's pressed against the back of the couch with his arms tightly around you so that you don't fall off the edge. He leaves annoying (adorable) little kisses at the back of your neck and a lot of the time tickles your sides.

Or you'll be in the kitchen, baking cookies or brownies, or whatever Dick wanted that day. He's always standing behind you, arms around you and chin resting on your shoulder. His eyes are glued to your movements, adoring how you can make something so mundane so beautiful at the same time.

On days that the rain is pouring outside, Dick will drag you outside - whether it be a balcony, a rooftop, to just the streets. He's got you out in the freezing cold where the rain is soaking your clothes and your clinging onto him for any remnants of body heat.

Dick wants to give you that cheesy, cliche, kiss in the rain. He wants to hold you, to kiss you, to tell the whole world how grand his love is for you. Hands cupping your cheeks, lips molding perfectly to yours. He can feel the drops of rain slipping between you, but it's never enough to get him to pull away. The cold ignites through his body but the warmth of your kiss, your touch, everything there is to you is enough to pull you back in for more.

“You’re an idiot.” 

“I’m your idiot.” 

Dick spends the rest of the day clinging to you - or more so the other way around. It's his fault that you're frozen to the core and he's going to be the one to fix it. He doesn't mind, not when it gives him the opportunity to just be closer with you.

v) Dick Grayson after sex

He can't get enough of you. Dick Grayson can never find a way to express his love completely. No words, no action, nothing in this world would ever be enough to show how vast his love is. Out of breath, sweat covering his skin, he'd still pull you in for more kisses, more time to show you that he loved you.

Sometimes Dick would have an arm tucked behind his head, the other stroking back and forth along your back. He loves post-sex cuddles with you. He's still on a high with you, absorbing your activities with a smile on his face.

His entire focus is on you. Kissing you, loving you. He's checking to make sure that he didn't hurt you in any way. Dick Grayson becomes the most caring person towards you - more than his usual self. His sole priority is making sure that you feel loved, safe, and happy.

Laying on your sides, facing each other and just talking about anything and everything are his favourite moments. He can't keep his hands off you - in a non-sexual way. Cupping your cheek, drawing into your arm, watching the goosebumps roll against his skin as the cold starts to fill you both.

A smile never leaves his cheeks. Not for a second. How could he when his entire view is focused on you? He's sneaking in for a kiss at every chance he gets - and when he's not his hands are on you. They're playing with your fingers as you talk or brush against your body.

“How did I get so lucky with you?” 

Cuddles with him after sex always seem more intimate than the moment itself. He gets the opportunity to talk about his heart's desires or his fears. He feels like it's his prime moment to be able to express anything that he's been feeling because it's when you're most willing to open up too.

It's a time of reflection. For some reason, these conversations always come up after your most intimate moments. It's the concept of growing together, not separately or apart. His future is you, it's always been you, and he's making sure that you both want it to stay that way.

Bonus: Surprise Hug

Getting home early from a mission or managing to sneak away to see you even just for couple minutes, he loves to surprise you with a hug from behind. You’ve learned by now how his body molds to yours, the calming scent of his cologne as he gets close to you - it’s never a worry who’s hugging you because you know his touch by heart. 

He loves to hear the joy in your voice when he shows up. The excitement that you get just for making the effort to show up for even a few minutes in the middle of the day or a couple hours early getting home. There’s nothing better than the warmth that spreads in his heart because of you. 

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[treesnutsandleaveswrites]

Stay Close

pPairing: The Bad Batch x Reader (Polyam)

Summary: After working non-stop, you go on a mission with the Batch and you get to be on the field with them this time. (Polyam series pt 6)

Warning: ANGST, some fluff, mentions of slavery, depictions of violence, blood and injuries

Word Count: 2190

A/N: I FINALLY KNOW CROSSHAIR'S LITTLE THING ON THE SHIP IS CALLED A GUNNER'S MOUNT CUZ OF THE RECENT EPISODE HAHA

pt v, pt vii

XXXXXXX

It had been a week ever since your break in Coruscant. That time and the moments that followed have been playing in your head non-stop ever since you got back to Kamino. However, once you got back, you were swamped with work. You were one of the only non-clone communications officers based on Kamino, so you had to deal with some data that came in from off-planet bases. It was frustrating to say the least and most of the clones who dealt with communication for their squadron left most of their work unprocessed, so you basically had to clean up after them. Due to work being unprocessed and sorted could cause a malfunction or even a virus to attack the computer system on Kamino. That would result in multiple horrible outcomes if the separatists get access to anything on the clones or any other upcoming projects the Kaminoans were working on for the Republic.

It seemed like you were living in that communications room because none of the boys really saw you anywhere else. It concerned them greatly and they decided to intervene before you die from overworking yourself. You were typing away on the computer when the door slid open which let in the batch one by one. You didn’t bother to turn to acknowledge them as you were sorting out multiple files.

“Mesh’la?” Hunter called.

“Hm.” You responded nonchalantly, still working.

“You’ve been at this for 93 hours, 34 minutes, and 20 seconds.” Tech explained while looking at one of his devices, “Working at this rate is concerning and unhealthy, especially for a simple being like you.”

“Huh… so if a clone were doing this they’d be able to work just a bit longer?” You asked, not looking away from the computer.

“What he’s trying to say, cyare, is that you need to take a break…” Echo insisted, placing one hand on your shoulder.

“I’m almost done, I swear.” You murmured, looking over data being transferred.

“Lucky for you, darling. I’ve created a program to help sort stuff out.” Tech went to the computer and plugged a small goober into one of the ports on the console, “It’ll notify me when it’s done sorting.”

“Come on, ad’ika, time for rest!” Wrecker moved to pick you up and carry you out of the communications room while the others followed.

You all arrived to their room and Wrecker tossed you onto one of the bunks, which caused you to laugh gently. You sighed, relished the feel of the bed under you, then it dipped slightly. You looked to see Hunter with a gentle smile on his face, which you returned before he pulled you up onto his lap. You pushed off the bandana around his forehead which caused some hair to fall into his face so you pushed it away for him. He held you closer, placed his face into your chest, and sighed.

“You alright, Hunter?’ You murmured, caressing the hair on the back of his neck.

“He’s missed you, like the rest of us have.” Echo smiled while cleaning his mechanical hand.

“It wasn’t like I was off-planet. I was just working.”

“Well, the idea of you working usually involves being with us most of the time.” Tech explained, “So it was odd not seeing you for such a long period of time.”

You hummed before kissing Hunter’s head, “I missed you all too…”

The next day, all of you were sent on an important mission. The Kaminoans didn’t give you much detail, only saying that it was urgent. You sat on the Havoc Marauder, looking over the map of the planet on your holopad.

“We have to be careful, this planet is famous for raiders, thieves, and smugglers.” You stated, looking everything over.

“We’ve handled much worse than that combined!” Wrecker laughed while slapping Tech’s back, almost causing him to drop the device he was holding. You shook your head, made your way out of the cockpit, and found Crosshair cleaning the parts of his sniper rifle.

“Do you think it’ll come to that?” You murmured, crouching beside him.

“Have to be prepared for anything, sarad. Especially on a planet like this.”

You nodded gently, picking up one of the pieces, “You should teach me…”

“How to put it together, or how to shoot?”

“Both… but we can take it one step at a time.” You looked at him with a smile.

He hooked your chin, “Well, let’s work on your aim without a blaster first. And test how good your eyesight is. When we get back to Kamino, I’ll show you the shooting range.”

“Kamino has a shooting range?”

Your question caused Crosshair to smirk as he finished cleaning all the pieces.

You shook your head with a small laugh, “I guess I don’t know Kamino as well as I should.”

He nodded gently and helped you up. Before you could move away from him, he grasped your wrist. His smirk was gone, his eyes were now focussed, and his stature became tense. He raised his other hand to cup your cheek and look into your eyes.

“You stay close to us…”

“I know, Cross…”

He nodded before going to the gunner’s mount to wait there until you landed. You strapped in as you were arriving at your destination. Once you landed, you all geared up and got ready to tread through the town to reach your target. You wore simple civilian clothing because it wasn’t safe to be wearing a Republic uniform full of outlaws and mercenaries. You pulled up the hood of your cloak over your head before nodding to Hunter. You all then left the ship and headed into town.

Tech was using a tracking device while you walked the streets, he was babbling on while you and the others looked cautiously at your surroundings. There were multiple stalls along the edge of the dirt street, selling many different things including spice, weaponry, and droid parts. You were in the center of the batch, and they urged themselves closer as if to shield you from danger. Hunter turned his head to you, which caused you to nod reassuringly. Even if you couldn’t see his eyes through the visor of his helmet, you knew he was checking up on you. You all then turned into a vacant alleyway to discuss how you will find the target faster. The boys discuss different strategies and you tried to listen to them, but then the crack of a whip caused your attention to be caught outside of the alleyway. One of the vendors was holding the weapon and using it against a young twi’lek. They were speaking two different languages, so the chaos was uncontrollable. You winced while watching and couldn’t stand it any longer. The batch noticed at the last second that you had rushed out of the alley to stop what was happening.

“Lodestar!” One of them called to you, but you ignored it and blocked the vendor from hitting the young twi’lek again.

“That’s enough!”

The vendor growled, “The little slave was stealing from my stall!”

You quickly placed down some currency, “Now it is paid for.”

The vendor took the money and scoffed, “They are lucky this time. Next time, I will tell their master.”

You shook your head and urged the twi’lek away from the stall. Then you crouched down and looked at the child’s injuries, whispering gently. You were lucky enough to be familiar with many languages due to your past, so making conversation with the young twi’lek wasn’t hard. Footsteps approached the both of you, so you let the child run off and turned to see the batch. It was going to be no surprise that they were upset with you, so you said nothing and followed them. Tech had found the location of the target, so you all moved quickly. You had to separate due to the package you had to retrieve being heavily guarded. You were with Tech, helping him monitor the motion inside of the small building where your package was being held. You scanned the holopad before speaking into your communicator.

“Careful, Hunter. There are multiple bodies coming toward you.”

“See them. Find how many are guarding the package.”

Tech diligently moved the camera and you watch on the holopad.

“There,” You signalled Tech to stop and looked over the thermal radar, “Five that I can see, Hunter.”

“Cross, what’s your status?”

“None up top. All clear here.”

“Wrecker, Echo?”

“Almost have the grate open.” Echo responded.

“Charges are all set.” Wrecker confirmed.

You winced gently, looking down at your arm where the whip had caught you. You thought it was only a graze on the fabric, but it was deeper and blood was staining your sleeve. Tech saw it and was about to say something, but then there was noise near where you two were hiding. It was one of the guards and he was sniffing around. Your eyes widened and you looked to Tech before placing the holopad in his hands carefully.

“Our location is about to be compromised, I’m moving now.” You said quickly before climbing up to the roof of the building next to you. You looked over the ledge and kicked a small piece of rubble, getting the guard. He looked up and saw you. You smiled gently before running along the tops of the buildings. He ran along the street following your trail.

“Cross, I’m coming to you.”

“Excellent.” He responded and he started to set up his rifle before you reached him. You jumped onto the roof where he was set up and turned to see the guard shot down. He then stood up and looked at you. You sensed the disappointment.

“What?”

“You were reckless today.”

“I stayed close.” You shrugged, looking at the cut on your arm. He grabbed it gently and looked at it.

“How did you not notice that?”

You were quiet while looking at him, but then a small glint caught your eye and you gasped before pushing him away from you.

Blaster noises distracted the team from the mission, knowing it came from your and Crosshair’s location. Hunter had retrieved the package and had come out of the grate where Echo and Wrecker were..

“Lodestar! Come in!” Static.

“Crosshair!” Silence.

Then, guards started to rush around the corner. The three batchers rushed away and Wrecker had set off the explosives he placed around that area.

“Tech, head back to the Havoc Marauder! Echo and Wrecker will meet you there!”

“What about you?” Echo asked.

“I’ve got to find Crosshair and Lodestar.”

Hunter handed Wrecker the package and they went their separate ways. Hunter managed to get to one of the rooftops and rushed to where you and Crosshair were. He jumped onto the roof where you were and saw the dead alien, a blaster next to him. Then his eyes led to familiar white hair.

“Crosshair!” He rushed over to his side and saw you laying in his lap, unconscious, with a blaster wound on your side. He immediately noticed the race of Crosshair’s heart, and sensed his growing shock, so he placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“We have to go. We have to get back to Kamino.”

Crosshair nodded before letting Hunter pick you up and rushed with him back to the Havoc Marauder. They arrived back to the ship.

“Tech! Echo! Get us out of here now!” Hunter called as he boarded the ship with you in his arms. Wrecker was frozen with shock when he saw you.

“Ad’ika.” He whispered.

The ship moved quickly out of orbit and it was only a few minutes before everyone gathered together. Tech and Echo were rendered silent when they saw you on the floor with Hunter by your side as he exposed your wound.

“I need a bacta patch, now!”

Crosshair was the one to move to get it and give it to him. He took his place on your other side and helped Hunter.

“So...so pale…” Tech whispered, almost speechless as he looked at your condition.

Hunter was getting extremely overstimulated with everyone’s heartbeats and breathing, but he tried to focus on you. Tech was right: you were extremely pale, but as Hunter sifted through the different pulses reaching his ears, he found your weak one. He cupped your face.

“Mesh’la…” He called, “C’mon, mesh’la.”

“Can we lightspeed jump to Kamino?” Echo asked Tech.

“I...I don’t know…”

“Figure it out, Tech! Hurry!” Wrecker pleaded, his eyes averting from you to him.

Crosshair was extremely quiet with his eyes only on you. A million thoughts ran through his head. It felt like minutes before he spoke.

“Do the jump.”

“What?” Tech asked.

“Do the jump, now.” Crosshair repeated.

“We don’t know if it’ll make the wound worse.” Echo explained.

“If it does, we’ll be at Kamino!”

“Cross, it’s too dangerous-” Echo started. “We have to, or else the Kaminoans will have no patient, and we’ll have a dead officer!” Crosshair snapped, gripping your hand in his.

The rest of the squad looked to Hunter, who nodded.

“Do the jump.”

XXXXXXX

Sorry for the wait haha -Tree <3