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saintodo · 2 years

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𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐒

SYNOPSIS. working at the gym has its benefits. the biggest one being the hot milf that comes in on a near-daily basis: mikasa ackerman.

NOTE. this is for clo’s (@delirieum) collab “merry milfmas!” thank u for letting me join clo n ‘m so sorry that this is so late

PAIRING. milf mikasa ackerman x gender neutral reader

WORD COUNT. 4.2k

WARNINGS. dom reader, sub mikasa, age gap, explicit content, semi-public sex, mirror sex, finger sucking, cumming in clothes

Upon graduating from college, you enter the workforce excited to finally put your major to use. Unfortunately, it doesn’t take long for you to discover that you really fucking hate any occupation associated with your degree. If only you had made that realization earlier, you lament while digging the heel of your palms into your eye sockets, you would have saved yourself a fuckton of money. Oh well. Too late for that. You eventually accept that all that you can do now is move forward if you don't want to wake up dreading the oncoming day for the rest of your life.

So, you quit your shitty job and rethink your life plan. A lot of research and a reevaluation of what it is that you really want to do leads you down the path of getting certified as a personal trainer and landing a job at one of your local gyms. You would have never thought you’d end up working as a personal trainer after graduating from university, but you’re pretty content with the way your life has turned out.

There are plenty of upsides to your current occupation. You’re basically your own boss so your hours are flexible and your earnings are controlled by you. You take pride in your title, and it brings you great joy to connect with clients and help them reach the goals they’ve set for themselves.

However, the greatest benefit of your job isn’t how much money you make or how flexible your hours are. No, the greatest benefit of your job takes the form of a person by the name of Mikasa Ackerman.

When you’re not busy conducting one-on-one training sessions or leading small group exercise classes, you normally help out at the front desk of the gym. It’s easy enough: all you have to do is sit behind the computer and check people in. Mikasa Ackerman just happens to be one of those people you check in.

It’s hard not to take notice of her. The woman is older than you, by how much you’re not sure, but you’d guess by a good number of years. Even though she’s definitely more than a few years your senior, she’s fit as fuck. She wears these tight little athletic tank-tops and form-fitting leggings that cling to her every curve and show off all of her tight muscles. She’s absolutely gorgeous in an effortless sort of way like she’s unaware of how hot she is.

She comes in almost every day to work out accompanied by who you believe is her daughter. The little girl who can’t be any older than six years old is the spitting image of her mother, after all, so you’re pretty confident in your assumption. Your suspicion is confirmed by your friend Historia who works in the childcare facility that’s a part of the gym.

Although Mikasa’s obviously a mother, you note the distinct absence of a ring on her left hand.

That alone doesn’t tell you she’s a single woman, but you’ve overheard her making small talk before and have gathered enough information to lead you to believe that she and her daughter’s father are separated. That helps ease your guilty conscience of checking out what could have been a taken woman.

Your limited conversations with Mikasa Ackerman always occur when you’re helping out at the front desk. (If you happen to somehow always be available to work the front desk around the time that Mikasa Ackerman comes to check-in, that is nobody’s business but yours and your boss’.) You’ll greet her and her daughter with a cheerful welcome when you see her pass through the open entrance. She’ll return your greeting with a quiet hello while her cute kid will give you a toothy grin and an exuberant hello. You got to admit that the obvious difference in personality between them is really cute, considering Mikasa’s daughter is the carbon copy of her.

Your interaction with Mikasa is always brief and polite before she goes off to bring her daughter to the daycare service provided by the gym. You’ve entertained the idea of flirting with Mikasa just to see if it would go anywhere but you really like your job and don’t want to get written up for harassment or anything of the sort.

When you informed Sasha of your dilemma, she laughed in your face and told you to grow a pair. You rolled your eyes and sarcastically thanked her for the great advice. Even if you did take Sasha’s advice of “growing a pair” into consideration and flirted with Mikasa, you have no idea if she would be receptive to your advances.

So you resolve yourself to silently admiring Mikasa Ackerman any time she comes to work out. When there’s a lull in the number of patrons entering the gym, you’ll discreetly glance over in Mikasa’s direction. She has a certain routine you’ve noticed that she follows like clockwork. For most of her gym visit, she lifts weights in the far corner of the building. Your eyes follow the way the muscles of her arms flex with each curl she does and the beads of sweat that drip down her forehead. Your throat goes dry when she halts her set and uses the bottom of her tank-top to wipe her face, revealing a tight set of abs that glisten in the harsh light of the gym. Whenever that happens, you’ll avert your gaze away before anybody can catch you, especially Mikasa, and busy yourself with pretend work.

Your routine of admiring Mikasa from afar is effectively changed when she inquires about a one-on-one training session. To say you’re shocked would be an understatement. You’ve seen Mikasa Ackerman work out: she clearly knows how to use the machinery correctly and knows the proper techniques to maintain her incredible physique. You quickly overcome your surprise to respond to her question.

You quietly clear your throat to recompose yourself. “When would you like to schedule your session for?” you politely ask with a practiced smile gracing your face. On the computer in front of you, you pull up your work calendar.

In front of the desk, Mikasa looks down at her own calendar displayed on her smartphone’s screen. Below the edge of the countertop, the dark-haired woman’s daughter fidgets in place, tightly clutching her mother’s hand. Your smile softens, becoming a little more genuine at the cute sight. “Would this Thursday at 7 p.m. work?”

You tear your eyes away from where Mikasa and her daughter’s hands are interlocked and bring your attention back to your computer screen. “This Thursday at 7 p.m.,” you hum, contemplatively. You barely glance at your calendar. “That should work!” Even if you were booked, you would have made it work somehow.

You fill out the time slot with the necessary information that Mikasa provides you with. “Well,” you say after all that’s dealt with. “I’ll see you this Thursday, Miss Ackerman. I hope you have a nice visit today.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you then,” she says with a slight dip of her head. As Mikasa walks off, her daughter gives you an enthusiastic wave goodbye, which you return with equal fervor. You chuckle to yourself, smiling lightly. Mikasa’s got a really adorable kid.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Sasha slides behind the front desk next to you, playfully bumping you with her hip. Her messy ponytail bounces over her shoulder as she shoots you a wide lopsided grin.

Resting an elbow on the flat countertop, you turn your attention to your coworker and friend. “Guess who just scheduled a personal training session with me?” you ask, wiggling your brows for effect.

“No fucking way,” Sasha exclaims, jaw dropping wide open. You’re quick to shush her for her sudden increase in volume. She sheepishly smiles when some of the gym’s nearby patrons glance in your direction. “You’re telling me Mikasa the Milf signed up for a one-on-one session with you?” She hisses in disbelief below her breath. Her eyes gleam with excitement for you.

You restrain the urge to rub at your temple. “Sasha, please do not refer to her as Mikasa the Milf when we’re around people, it’s unprofessional,” you sigh in slight exasperation. Mikasa is one hundred percent a milf but you’d prefer if your patrons didn’t overhear you or Sasha calling her that. The corner of your lips slowly quirks up. “But if you must know, yes,” you say, smiling.

Tendrils of light brown hair fall out of Sasha’s ponytail to frame her face as she vigorously shakes you by the shoulders. “Dude, that’s great! Are you going to try and ask her out or something?”

You place your hands on Sasha’s shoulders to get her to stop shaking you so hard. You’re sure that your appearance is a little more rumpled than it was just a second ago. “Sasha, I gotta keep it professional. Although Miss Ackerman is very, very attractive, she’s now one of my clients,” you say, more so to convince yourself than the brunette standing before you.

“Mm, I think you should still ask her out but I’ll leave it alone for now.” You sigh in relief that Sasha’s dropping the issue for the time being. You know that soon enough she’ll go back to pestering you about "growing a pair" to ask out Mikasa.

“Thanks, Sash. In other news, how are you and Niccolo doing?”

Her eyes brighten immediately at the mention of the chef she’s been going out with recently. You listen to your friend ramble about how fantastic things have been going with the blond doing your best to be attentive, but in the back of your mind, you’re thinking about Thursday evening.

The rest of the week passes you by in a blur. You lead a larger number of small group classes and meet with your regulars, which helps take your mind off of Mikasa Ackerman and the private session she’s scheduled with you. You still can’t quite understand why someone like her would be in need of a personal trainer but you guess there’s always something new to be learned.

By the time Thursday evening approaches, you’re a little nervous. Who wouldn’t be? Mikasa Ackerman is a beautiful woman with whom you’ve only exchanged a few words here and there before. For the past fifteen minutes, you’ve been methodically wiping down some of the machines in an attempt to try and ease your nerves by losing yourself in the mindless task.

When the clock hits ten till seven p.m., you tidy yourself up a little, putting away the cleaning supplies in their proper place, and wait behind the front desk for Mikasa to enter. Punctuality is important, and you’d be highly embarrassed if you weren’t there to greet your client right away.

The door quietly swings open five minutes later to reveal a familiar dark-haired woman.

“Good evening, Miss Ackerman!” you brightly greet as she shuffles in through the doorway. You notice how her kid isn’t accompanying her today, which surprises you. Then again, it is late into the evening, and by now, childcare is closed for the day, so you guess it’s logical that she wouldn’t bring her.

“Good evening,” Mikasa replies. The corners of her eyes crease as she gives you a light smile. A rolled-up yoga mat hangs over the top of her shoulder, so you have a clue of what she wants out of tonight’s training session. You ask just to make sure.

“Is it possible for us to focus on stretching properly and practice some yoga?” Mikasa questions as you come around the side of the front desk to lead her to the room you’ll be using tonight.

You glance over your shoulder to shoot her an assuring smile. “Of course, Miss Ackerman. Whatever you would like for us to focus on, we can do.”

You guide her toward the back of the gym, away from the main facility, until you reach your destination. She quietly thanks you as you hold the door open to the empty training room for her. You enter after her, making sure to close the door all the way so the two of you won’t be disturbed. Although, you’re sure that nobody will come and bother you: the gym tends to be pretty dead around this time.

The space you’re using tonight isn’t as large as the ones that are typically used for cycling or Zumba classes, but it's a good size for a private training session. And besides, it has everything that you anticipate you'll be needing for the evening. On the far end of the room lies neat rows of dumbbells of varying weights as well as a medium-sized stack of extra mats. The hardwood floors are clean and shiny, freshly mopped from the night before. Floor-to-ceiling windows, which are tinted so darkly that you can only see through them if you're squinting real hard, that face the rest of the gym's interior make up one side of the room. Opposite the windows is a wall covered with large mirrors of which the edges seamlessly blend into one another.

"Let's get started, shall we?"

Mikasa swings her yoga mat off her shoulder and unfurls it in an area closer to the mirrors than the tinted windows. As she does so, you give her a quick once over. The woman is dressed in a pair of black leggings that hug her ass, which is nothing out of the ordinary, and a lightweight windbreaker. When Mikasa unzips the front of her jacket to set it aside, you realize that instead of pairing her bottoms with a tank-top, like she usually does, she's chosen to wear a tiny sports bra.

Holy fuck. Tiny isn't a good enough descriptor of the bra, it's positively minuscule. Mikasa's breasts look like they could spill out of their restraints at any given moment.

When Mikasa turns her attention to you after setting her windbreaker to the side, you're quick to look away from her chest. You internally pray that your client did not catch you checking her out.

You guide her through some easy warm-up stretches to get her limbs nice and loose before diving into the main portion of the session. You start her off with some of the more basic yoga poses with the plan to build her up to the more difficult ones by the end of the lesson.

"Great form, Miss Ackerman," you praise. You kneel beside the mat and gently press your hand into the small of her back, prompting her to dip a little bit lower. “Just make sure to keep breathing when you hold this pose so you don’t tense up too much.”

You scan her over to make sure that her form does indeed look good. Your throat bobs slightly and your eyes linger for a little too long on the curve of her ass. The black leggings Mikasa wears do nothing but accentuate how nice of a rear she has. You swear that she pushes her lower half into the air a little more, but you must be imagining things.

“Mikasa.”

“Pardon me?” you question. Through the mirror, you make eye contact with the woman. Her long bangs partially obscure her face, but you can make out a light flush coating her cheeks. You can’t tell if it’s from embarrassment or exertion.

“You can call me, Mikasa,” she clarifies.

Oh. You have a fair share of clients who prefer the use of their given name, but somehow, this feels more personal, more intimate. Maybe, it’s because the gym is quiet and you’re the only two in the room. Or maybe it’s because you have a raging attraction to the woman before you.

“Okay, Mikasa, let’s transition into the next pose.”

Her name easily glides off of your tongue, and she ducks her head a little lower when you say it. You’re positive she’s embarrassed or flustered given how the redness that’s coloring her skin deepens. It’s unfair for an individual to be so fucking cute and hot at the same time.

You push yourself up from sitting back on your haunches beside the mat and move behind Mikasa. Your knees sink into her yoga mat and brush against her calves as you place your hands on the waistband of her leggings, fingers barely grazing the edge of it.

“Lean down a little bit more,” you instruct, guiding her into the pose you have in mind. You’re startled when Mikasa’s ass grazes the front of your pants. You clear your throat, convincing yourself that the action must have been an accident. You shimmy a little further back to maintain professionalism and pick up where you left off in your instructions.

It’s only when Mikasa does it a second time, a little more forceful, that you realize the action was definitely purposeful and not an accident.

You wrestle with your conscience for a moment. Is it right of you to make an advance on a client? Probably not. Are you going to do so anyway? Absolutely.

“Mikasa.” The woman on the mat stills at the sound of her name rolling off your tongue. You squeeze her hips lightly, moving your hands a little bit higher until they fully rest on her bare skin. Warmth radiates off of her form, and you can feel the damp perspiration that coats her skin. You lean over her, pressing your chest to her back, to whisper into her ear.

“Am I misinterpreting?” Your voice trails off as you begin to run your hands up and down her sides. Mikasa’s ass is still pressed firmly to the front of your trouser as you wait for a response. You observe her through the mirror, watching as her eyes flutter shut behind the curtain of her bangs.

She releases a deep exhale. “N-no,” she quietly stutters.

You resist the urge to shudder at Mikasa’s confirmation that you haven’t misunderstood her actions. You cannot believe that the hot milf you’ve been lusting after for who knows how long is attracted to you. Sasha’s going to lose her fucking mind when you tell her.

You quickly shake that thought away. You can think about that later.

“Sit up for me,” you direct, recovering from the newfound knowledge that Mikasa Ackerman is into you.

She’s quick to heed your command, moving into a sitting position where her knees are jutting forward and her feet are pointing backward in the direction of the tinted windows that face the rest of the gym. The curve of her ass barely brushes against the tops of your kneecaps.

“Good girl.”

Mikasa’s cheeks color at the praise. She lowers her chin once more to allow her long bangs to conceal her flustered state.

“Ah, ah, ah,” you tut. You place a hand beneath Mikasa’s chin. Your palm rests on the column of her throat, and you can feel her harshly swallow when you tilt her head up to make her look at herself through the mirror. “Don’t hide now, Mikasa. I want to see you.”

Peering into the mirror, you take in Mikasa’s appearance. Her wispy baby hairs are plastered to her forehead, and her dark eyes peek through the gaps of her grown-out bangs. Perspiration clings to the entirety of her ivory skin and stains the sports bra she's donned for the occasion a shade darker. You haven’t even done anything and Mikasa already looks debauched.

You readjust your position into a more comfortable one, slipping your bent knees into the open space beneath Mikasa’s legs. A startled hmph sound falls from Mikasa’s lips as you tug her back by the hips until she’s fully seated in your lap. Her hands fly to your wrists to brace herself as her ass firmly brushes against your crotch.

“That’s much better,” you coo, keeping your gaze trained on her figure through the mirror. Mesmerized, you follow with your eyes a bead of sweat that trails from Mikasa’s forehead down and down until it disappears into the valley between her breasts. When your eyes flicker up to her face, she’s already looking at you.

“Tell me what you want, Mikasa.” Your lips brush against the shell of her ear as you maintain steady eye contact with her through the mirror. She shivers beneath your touch.

“Touch me,” she manages to say after a lapse of silence. “Please,” she tacks on.

Such a good girl, you think, commending her manners.

“Like this?” you question between the short, steady kisses you press to the side of Mikasa's neck. You feel Mikasa take a sharp intake of breath when you place your hand on her scantily-clad breast and begin to lightly grope the clothed mound of flesh.

"Y-yes," she breathily says, eyes fluttering shut as you feel her up. A silent gasp falls from her pretty lips when you pull the sweat-damp sports bra over her chest, freeing her tits from their confines. Suddenly exposed to the cool air, Mikasa's nipples peak, hardening further when you tweak them with your deft and skilled fingers.

“Open your eyes, Mikasa. I want you to look at yourself.”

It’s difficult for Mikasa to comprehend your demand amidst the pleasure you’re bestowing upon her. Her thoughts are all muddied, clouded with nothing but how good you’re making her feel. However, her eyes fly open when you pause from your gentle groping of her breasts and tugging of her nipples to harshly pinch one of the sensitive buds.

“Good girl,” you murmur once again when her dark eyes land on her reflection. Through the mirror, Mikasa watches with lidded eyes as one of your hands move from her breast to descend lower and lower down her body until your hand rests over her crotch, your fingers splaying wide apart to cover the entirety of her clothed cunt.

Your brows rise in slight surprise before you quickly regain your composure.

“You’re this turned on, Mikasa? Dripping wet from just me touching your tits a bit?” you tease, pressing your fingers deeper between her folds. Even though her leggings act as a barrier, you can tell just how aroused she is, given the fact she’s soaked through her leggings.

She moans as you slide your fingers back and forth along the seam of her tight workout pants, collecting more and more slick onto them and dampening her leggings further.

“Answer me,” you say after you receive no verbal response besides sounds of her pleasure.

“Yes,” she bashfully replies, dropping her head once more. Her face burns from your lewd words directed at her.

The hand that was groping her breast moves to the underside of her jaw. Firmly but not roughly, you grab the bottom of her face, forcing her chin up.

“If you look away from the mirror again, I’ll leave you high and dry,” you lowly threaten into her ear. It’s an empty threat, but you relish how she shudders underneath your touch and jerkily nods in understanding. You run your nose along the side of her neck before planting a soft kiss on her skin right beneath her ear. “Now be a good girl and watch as I make you cum.”

Your fingers move up along the seam of Mikasa’s leggings until you reach the area that has her moaning so loud you worry that someone might overhear your illicit activities. Never ceasing the circles you rub over her clit, you tap the fingers of your opposite hand against the plush of Mikasa’s bottom lip. Her pretty pink lips are already parted, drawn into a slightly open o. She grants you easy access, allowing you to stick your fingers into her mouth to quiet her down.

You groan into her skin when she immediately wraps her lips around your fingers and sucks. Her tongue runs over all the edges and joints of your fingers, dipping deep between them as well to thoroughly coat them in her spit.

“Fuck,” you curse, aroused more than ever by the erotic display. You quicken the pace of your fingers, rubbing her clit harder through her leggings, intent on seeing how pretty Mikasa looks when she cums. She nearly buckles over from the intensity, only managing to stay upright with your hold around her.

As if hypnotized, you watch as Mikasa grows more and more shameless the closer she approaches her release. Your fingers continue to rub her clit as she essentially rides your hand, grinding her hips down onto the heel of your palm.

Although her eyes flutter, Mikasa follows your directions and doesn’t allow her gaze to stray far from her reflection. Mikasa’s unable to control the way her hips buck into your hand. If she were more aware of the muffled moans and mewls coming from her or the squelching of her dripping cunt against your fingers, she would be mortified, even ashamed. But the only thing on Mikasa’s mind at this point is the need to cum.

And she does. With a garbled cry and a rock of her hips, Mikasa comes underneath your touch. You watch intently, willing yourself not to blink in order to not miss even a single moment of how fucking pretty Mikasa Ackerman is when she cums.

As she recovers her breath, you hope that Mikasa will book more private sessions with you in the future.

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boxofbonesfic · 3 years

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Title: Burn sequel to Siren

Pairing: Firefighter!Beefy!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky gets some use out of his bat.

Chapter warnings: violence, mentions of past abuse, toxic ex, stalking, tooth rotting fluff, mutual pining, smut, unprotected sex, friends to lovers, MINORS DNI!

A/N: i know i said this would be done in the afternoon, but i REALLY wanted a bomb ass smut scene, so it was delayed a bit. i’ve been getting a lot of asks about Firefighter!Bucky and Sugar, so i wanted to give y’all a spicy lil’ update 🥰

This is a work of FICTION, and it contains ADULT themes, so I assume once you’ve clicked through the link that you are comfortable with that. I do not give consent for my work to be copied, translated, or posted elsewhere, even if I am credited. This work is entirely mine, and unbeta’d, so read at your own risk!

🔥

Bucky sleeps on your porch for two weeks.

“What if they need you at the station tonight?” You asked the third night, not looking him in the eye as you toyed with the hem of your t-shirt.

“I’ll here the bell from here, don’t you worry.” He refused every time you asked him to go home, so you made it as comfortable as you could, giving him blankets and pillows as he stood watch over you. You don’t know what you did to deserve it, to have earned such protection, but when you ask Steve, he just smiles, shaking his head.

“Buck’s got his reasons. I’m sure he’ll tell you if you ask him.”

But then when Monday comes again, and you haven’t seen hide nor hair from Rich, not even a text, you finally convince Bucky to go home for more than a shower.

“I’m fine,” you say, even though the worry still gnaws at you like a dog with an old bone. “Seriously. He’s just trying to scare me.” It’s working. I’m terrified. You’d spent the last few weeks wondering if you needed to move again, if maybe leaving the country was a better option, since changing states hadn’t seemed to do you much good.

“If you need me,” he says again, resting a warm hand on your shoulder, his eyes intense, “You call.” You nod, even though you know you won’t. Maybe it’s stupid, but you’re afraid for him. You know he’s strong, stronger than anyone you’ve ever met—you’d watched him tilt your car a foot off the ground one handed when the jack broke as he’d fixed a tire—but… You knew what Rich could do, too.

Your hip throbs as if in memory, and lightly you trace the top of the scar that pokes out of the waistband of your shorts. I’m sure the doctors remember too. You watch Bucky’s big red Dodge pull out of the driveway, and somehow the house feels emptier for the lack of him. The scent of fresh coffee makes your mouth water and when you trace the source of it to your kitchen, there’s a steaming mug and a note.

Don’t forget to lock up.

-Bucky

You can’t help but smile—he’d made it just how you liked it too, black with just a little sugar. It’s strange how that small act made you feel more ready for the day, more adept at dealing with its challenges. Perhaps it was because for the first time in a long time, even when you were with Rich, you didn’t feel… alone.

🔥

The week flies by—your shifts at the record shop moving equally quickly. You’d all but forgotten the lingering feeling of dread that had been plaguing you as you checked the doors and windows one final time. You didn’t normally close, but Dotty had asked you to on account of her grandson’s fifth birthday, and you couldn’t say no to that. You hum softly to yourself as you lock the till, the late summer sun coming in bright and orange through the glass.

It’s still so beautiful outside despite the hour, and as you walk home from the shop you sigh. Beans would have loved this. You know he’s safe, living his best doggie life on a farm in Georgia, but you miss him. Better than letting Rich blow his brains out because he wouldn’t stop defending me.

You try to shake off the disconcerting thoughts, focusing on the feel of the warm sun on your skin, the smell of grass, the sound of children playing. Your thoughts drift back to Bucky, and your face warms. You’re wondering how many times he’d watched you make your own coffee to know so well what you liked when you hear it—the slow roll of tires.

You don’t think about it at first, it’s a highly pedestrian street in a small city—there’s a thousand reasons a car could be driving slowly. It’s when you still hear it after your second turn that ice prickles along the back of your neck. Your throat goes thick as you swallow, and peek over your shoulder. It’s a black SUV, nondescript in every way that counted, rolling slowly behind you. Moving far, far slower than the speed limit, it crept along the pavement.

You clutched yourself and sped up. It wasn’t following you, it wasn’t. You repeated it like a mantra, over and over until the words blurred into gibberish in your head. Three more blocks and you were jogging briskly as the car sped up, and tears pricked at your eyes. It wasn’t Rich’s car, but anyone could rent one, couldn’t they?

Your heart is hammering, pulse roaring as a horn blasts behind you and you shriek, covering your ears. You don’t know what business you push into, but you shove your way inside, tears streaming down your face. Your hands are trembling as you dig your phone out of your pocket, and you don’t think as you call the first person you can think of, the first person to make you feel safe—

“Bucky?”

🔥

The owner of the Asian import and grocery store is kind enough to let you mill about by the register as you wait, and when you’re brave enough to peek outside, the SUV is nowhere in sight. You didn’t see Rich, didn’t hear his voice, but… it’s him. It has to be.

The bell on top of the door jingles loudly as Bucky bursts into the shop, turning sideways to fit through the narrow doorway. His eyes dart around in a panic, and relief fills them when they settle on you. He crosses over to you in two large strides, and he grabs your shoulders, looking you over.

“What’s wrong, sugar? Where is he?” He’s wearing his uniform pants, and when he hugs you, his skin smells like smoke. Guilt churns in your gut with sudden intensity, as you regret having called him at all. He must have just gotten back to the station when you’d phoned him, panicking and sobbing. Now that it had been about twenty minutes, you felt silly.

“I… I thought Rich was following me,” you admit, looking down at your sandals. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even see him.” You turn to the woman behind the counter. “Thank you, Mrs. Chin.”

“Any time.” She replies, nodding conspiratorially at Bucky. “I see him here, I’ll give him a good smack.” Bucky leads you outside where his truck is idling, but stops you before you get in.

“You don’t have to apologize. I told you to call me,” he reminds you, and you frown.

“I just… I’m probably overreacting. Jumping at shadows. And you, you just got back, you’re probably exhausted and—”

“For the love of God, sweetheart, I don’t give a shit.” Your mouth hung open as he cut you off, and it snapped shut audibly. “I don’t care if you stub your goddamn toe, you call me, you hear?” Bucky squeezes your shoulder, and winks. “Can’t have anybody followin’ my best girl home, can I?”

You stand there aghast until he chuckles, walking around to the other side of the car, and you force yourself stiffly into the passenger seat. The ride home is quiet and companionable, though to you, it’s nerve-wracking. My best girl. His best girl.

Bucky pulls into park just in front of your place, killing the engine. “I’m gonna go grab some stuff from the station, I’ll be back in a minute. You want to come with?” He asks, and you know it’s so you don’t have to be by yourself. You’re tempted to go under the guise of greeting the team, but you resist. It’s only been a week since he’d been there constantly, and yet you missed him.

“No, I’ll be fine. You don’t… You don’t have to stay again, Bucky.”

“Someone followed you. I do.” The conversation is over, and he hops down from the truck. You do the same, clamoring down to the ground. “Lock up, okay?” He reminds you, and you shake your head. You’ve never been one to leave your doors open, especially not now. You head inside, dropping your purse on the hall table as you shut the front door. You kick your shoes off and wander upstairs for a shower, wondering what you’ll make for dinner for two, when you pause.

The light is on in your bedroom.

Maybe I left it on.

Goosebumps break over your arms as you descend into cool fear for the second time that evening. You step forward quietly, peering around the doorframe—

And there he is. His back is to you, but you’d know those broad shoulders, the slicked back wave of jet black hair anywhere.

“You really thought this was far enough, love bug?”

You’re barely breathing, and when he turns to look over his shoulder at you with those coal dark eyes, a little sob bubbles up between your lips. The nickname makes you nauseous, and you’re suddenly back. Back in your old apartment while Rich screams drunkenly at you—you’re back in the bathtub as his hands wrap around your throat; You trust me, don’t you love bug? You’re a deer in headlights as he advances toward you, one, two steps—

You turn to flee, your bare feet slapping against the hardwood as you sprint, but Rich is so big, his legs long and his reach so much greater than yours. When he crashes into you, tackling you to the ground, your head smacks against the wood and you see white for a painful second.

“Nice little place you got here,” he spits, straddling your waist. His weight forces the air from your lungs, and you struggle to inhale as he presses down, smiling nastily. His long, spindly fingers are on your chin, forcing you to look up at him even as your vision swims. “Where’s your ring, love bug?” His fingers dig into your jaw. “Told you you were never supposed to take it off, but it looks like you need a refresher in your lessons, hmm?”

“G-get away from me,” you wheeze, struggling beneath him. You’d taken self defense classes, learned to walk with sharp objects through your fingers—and all of it was terrifyingly useless when he had you pinned like this. You beat against his chest and he laughs, though it’s satisfying when you rake your fingers down his cheek, and skin comes away under your nails.

“You little fucking cunt!” He shouts, and the back of his hand meets your mouth hard enough to split your lip. You taste coppery blood, tears welling in your eyes. “Should’ve never left,” he growls, his other hand finding your throat and pressing down, down hard. “Never fucking should’ve left me—”

CRACK!!

You’re only dimly aware that Rich’s weight lifts abruptly from your body after the sickening sound of something hard meeting flesh and bone cuts his tirade short. Bucky’s panting at the top of the stairs, the bat clenched tightly in his metal fist. You suck in a breath of your own before coughing and wincing.

He stops to check you, turning your jaw this way and that as he presses a kiss to your forehead. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. I’m sorry, sugar. So sorry.” He says it over and over again, stroking your messy curls. He’s trembling, his fists clenching and unclenching as his unsteady breaths fill your ears. His body is tense behind you, coiled and ready like a spring.

“M’okay, Bucky,” you say, reaching a shaking hand up to grasp the one resting on your shoulder. Rich groans as he staggers back to his feet, cradling the left side of his head. The setting sun offers little light, and your vision swims when you try to stand, but you can see blood dripping through his fingers. Bucky leaves your side to stand over you, the bat at the ready.

“Get the fuck out.” It’s a low, menacing growl that makes you shudder, and you watch Rich’s hackles rise. He staggers to his feet, leaning against your wall, and he chuckles darkly. You know he won’t stop, won’t stay down—it’s why you’d left. Restraining orders had done nothing—flimsy fucking paper. Cop presence around your building had only deterred him for so long before you couldn’t take it anymore.

Easier just to run.

Rich wipes blood from his mouth, and spits it carelessly onto the floor. “Little whore has you fooled too, huh?” Bucky surges forward, and you cower back against the wall. He reaches Rich easily, and when he swings, Rich is ready for him, ducking down and landing a solid blow against Bucky’s side. You suck in a harsh breath.

“Bucky!”

His face tightens, but he soaks the blow, dropping the bat. “No weapon now, huh, asshole?” He’s not ready for the hit from the metal fist, and you hear the crunch of bone breaking—a rib or two—as Bucky’s own punch lands with force. He lets out a strangled moan, dropping to one knee as he clutched his middle. Bucky doesn’t relent, wrapping cool metallic fingers around Rich’s throat and hoisting him up.

“You think you’re a big man?” Bucky snarls, slamming him against the wall. His body flops like a rag doll, his limbs flying messily as he wheezes. His eyes flick to you, and you watch Bucky’s fingers tense, tightening. “You don’t fucking look at her. Look at me.” Rich garbles something, and you don’t know if it’s assent or complaint, but it doesn’t much matter when he’s hanging limply from Bucky’s grip like a strangled chicken.

“You don’t look at her. You don’t talk to her. You don’t text, you don’t call, you don’t write. You don’t look her up on social media, you don’t google, you fucking forget her, you understand? Nod if you understand.”

There’s silence, and you wait. You don’t think rich will respond, he won’t allow himself to be beat like this—but when Bucky’s grip tightens again, he chokes loudly, and his head dips.

“And if I see you—fuck, if I even think you’ve been around, I will kill you. I will bury you and no one will ever. Fucking. Know. Nod, Rich.”

He does.

“Sugar go call the cops.”

🔥

It’s late when the officers finally clear out of the house—it’s not enough just to take Rich into custody, they have to check every corner of the property, just to be sure he didn’t do anything else. You’re exhausted, a blanket draped around your shoulders as you stare numbly down into your rapidly cooling cup of coffee. Bucky’s talking the lingering policemen, and Nat is sitting with you at the kitchen table.

“Hey, you want a little whiskey in that?” She jokes, and you smile thinly.

“Got any?” You watch with amusement as she produces a flask from her overlarge pocket. “You just… keep this on you?”

“For special occasions. I think this counts.” She pours liberally into your mug, and when you take another sip, the liquor settles warmly in your belly. You’re halfway finished with the mug, feeling warm and less jumpy as Bucky, Sam and Steve do their own perimeter check—laughable, but sweet.

You say goodbye to them on the porch, Natasha herding Sam and Steve off while you stare down at your hands so as not to meet his gaze.

“Thank you.” You bite your lip. “I…”

“Don’t apologize,” his large hand is warm, even through the blanket when he touches your arm.

“No, he hit you! I… You fought because of me. It was dangerous, and I… I never should have put you in that position—” And then the mug is falling from your fingers to crash with a sharp tinkle against the wood because Bucky’s grabbing you with a softly muttered aw, hell, sugar—

And his lips are so soft against yours you could cry a little. Well, you are crying, but it isn’t from that. “Was so fuckin’ scared,” he murmurs, pressing kiss after kiss to your lips, your chin, your cheeks—“Saw him on top of you, you weren’t moving—“ He lets out a choked noise, and you’re drawn into his embrace.

Oh.

You slowly bring your arms up to hung him back, your fingers tangling in his henley. His best girl. And then you’re kissing him too, the blanket falling, discarded just like the mug. His tongue passes over the split in your lip, but the pain is sweet and he soothes it. You can’t believe you didn’t notice, a million touches, a million soft words, he’d slept on your porch for half a month—

An excited hoot from across the street makes your face burn, and Bucky laughs against your lips.

“No, no, don’t stop now, we’re gonna get chairs!” Sam shouts, and you groan, burying your face against Bucky’s chest, your nose brushing his dog tags. And as if you aren’t embarrassed enough, Bucky sweeps you into his arms, hooking one easily under your thighs as you yelp.

“No free shows, Wilson!” He yells over his shoulder, and you giggle.

“Bucky the blanket—“

“We’ll get it later.” He kicks the door open and then shut without dropping you, and presses you against it. He looks like he’s about to take rough possession of your mouth again, but before he does, Bucky pauses. “Is this okay?” He asks softly, stroking down the side of your face with his thumb. “I can wait, we don’t have to—”

It’s your turn to interrupt and you shake your head, hushing him with a finger. “Gimme somethin’ else to think about, Buck.” You don’t have time to giggle at the way he curses, leaning his head back before his mouth finds yours again and he makes good on your request. Bucky tastes like whiskey and cinnamon, and you can’t get enough, moaning into his mouth as you press as close to him as you possibly can.

You tilt your head up as he noses along your jaw, content to smooth his hands over every part of you he can reach; softly cupping your breasts through your shirt, fingers playing at the waistband of your jeans, squeezing and kneading the cheeks of your ass with increasingly pleased growls.

“Much as I wanna fuck you right up against this door, sugar, I think I want you somewhere softer,” he huffs against the shell of your ear, and you nod dizzily. Your head is foggy again, but this time from the weight of his large hands, the cool press of his metal fingers against your nipples, swollen and pressing hard against the fabric of your bra. “Couch. Go.” He delivers a little slap to your ass and the little moan that escapes your throat surprises the both of you.

He’s half a step behind you the whole way, and by the time you make it to the living room, he’s on you. Guiding you down to the pillows with sure hands. His fingers are undoing the button on your jeans, tugging them down your legs as you lift your hips to assist. Bucky’s nostrils flare at the sight of your panties, black and lacy, the crotch stained with your slick. You feel embarrassment heat your cheeks as cool air meets your scantily covered folds, but Bucky licks his lips hungrily, his eyes dark as they meet yours.

“Tell me to stop,” he says lowly, his palms flexing on your thighs as he holds them apart. Your pulse is so loud in your ears you’re surprised you even hear him, and you lick your lips. His eyes follow the movement hungrily. “I want you so bad—” He pauses to steady himself, closing his eyes and taking a breath. “Tell me.”

“I don’t want you to stop, Bucky.” The words are barely off your tongue before he’s pressing his tongue to your—barely—clothed slit, lapping against the damp fabric. Your sharp exhalation of breath becomes a whine as his fingers the fabric aside and he tastes you, groaning into your folds. Bucky delves into your tight entrance with his tongue and you shudder, your hips rolling as your eyes slide shut.

“Eyes on me, sugar,” he growls, and when your lids snap open and your watery gaze meets his, he practically purrs. “Good girl.” The words make your cunt clench as a fresh wave of slick coats his tongue. “Want you to see me taste my pussy.” Oh fuck. His tongue circles your clit and only his hands on your thighs keep you from arching up off of the pillows.

You feel like you’re melting under the pressure of white hot pleasure coursing through you, and all you can do is babble, trying your best to do as he said, keep your eyes open and on him. Bucky’s slate ocean eyes are locked on yours from between your thighs, hungry, satisfied noises escaping him as he devours you. Every time your lids begin to droop, Bucky pulls away, leaving you panting and moaning and painfully unsatisfied.

You feel like an overfull cup, pleasure trickling maddeningly from you as you try to hold it all in, writhing and moaning in his hold. And Bucky… Bucky’s looking at you like he’s seeing you for the first time, his gaze reverent and his touches gentle and insistent.

“What’s wrong, sugar?” He taunts, laving a trail of wet kisses on your inner thigh. “Tell me what you need.” The smirk on his face both enflames and enrages you and you whine.

“I n-need—fuck, Bucky—” He doesn’t let you finish, his tongue returning to your folds as your fingers thread themselves into his hair. You can’t get the words out, and every time you try, you feel a slow smile spreading across his mouth as he laps at you, doubling his efforts. You’d be irritated if you weren’t so desperate, and when he pulls away again, an agonized whine makes your cheeks heat when you realize it’s coming from you.

“Poor thing,” Bucky says lazily, dragging his teeth down your inner thigh and moaning softly in pleasure when you hiss. “Can’t even get it out, can you, sugar? Got you all twisted up, huh?” He coos, and leans up on his knees to loom over your trembling, slouched form. “Shirt off, now. The bra too, sugar.”

You hurry to comply with the order given in his low, gravelly baritone like your life depends on it. Your pussy throbs hungrily, your thighs sliding slickly, noisily together as you pull the t-shirt over your head, and unhook your bra. For a minute you’re unsure what to make of Bucky’s expression, but fresh heat blooms in your belly when he palms himself roughly though his jeans and begins tearing at his own clothes.

“Fuckin’ beautiful.”

Its like he’s trying to touch you everywhere, with everything all at once. His hands are cupping and kneading and pinching, lips and tongue on yours, your breasts crushed against his chest. His cock pushes insistently against your belly, and your eyes flick down before widening. He’s so thick and leaky, the fat head of his cock pushing up through his foreskin. A thin strand of his own precum trails from the throbbing tip to the skin of your belly, and you bite your lip.

You reach down between you to wrap your hand around his throbbing length—an almost impossible feat—and begin to stroke, spreading precum down his shaft with your thumb, tugging at his balls before returning to task. Bucky’s head falls to your shoulder where he utters a muffled curse against your neck.

“Awh fuck, sugar,” he pants, nipping and sucking at your flesh. “So good, knew you would be—“ He bucks into your hand, his own closing around it for a moment before he pulls you away. “Lay down for me, sweetness. Lemme see my pretty pussy.” Your face heats. You’ve never been told to do anything like that before—hell, no one’s ever talked to you the way Bucky does, either, not like this. With Rich it had hurt, but Bucky you felt…

Prized.

You laid on your back, your lip once again caught in your teeth as you circled your thighs with either arm, holding yourself open for him. Bucky’s hand moves slickly over his cock as he takes you in, thrusting into his own grip as he praises you. “So perfect, So pretty, sugar, where you been hidin’ her?” And then you don’t feel nervous anymore. Not about your looks, your hair, your scar—none of it matters now, in this moment, with him.

You watch him squeeze his cock one more time before he leans over you. He presses your knees to your chest, opening you as he slides against your folds. You’ve never felt so empty, nor so ready to be so fucking full it hurts.

“Say ah sugar,” Bucky’s breath hisses through his teeth as the head of his cock nudges against the slick, tight ring of muscle. You’d known it would be a tight fit, but the pleasurable stretch borders so nearly on pain that it brings tears to your eyes—but you’d rather die than tell him to stop now. It aches so sweet as he parts you, his own mouth open slightly and eyes locked greedily on yours as he watches you take him. “Fuck, she’s already milkin’ me so good, so fuckin’ good,” he groans, his hips stilling.

Your eyes roll as he bottoms out, and you dig your nails into the couch cushions underneath you as he slides out slow—only to force his way back in with a shamefully slick noise. “Fuck, I, I can’t, Bucky—” You’re babbling. You don’t know what you’re pleading for, more or less, but when he leans over you, cooing, a wail wrenches hoarsely from your throat.

“You can take it, can’t you sugar? It’s okay. It’s okay,” Bucky repeats the words, groaning as he picks up speed. His balls slap wetly against your thighs, soaked with your own juices. You don’t even realize you’re cumming till it’s happening, your release spurting out of you as your back bows and you clench down around him for all you’re worth. You soak his thighs and the couch beneath you as he fucks you through it. “Good girl. Fuck, gonna make you do that every goddamn day.”

His own movements become stilted, his hips stuttering against yours as the aftershocks of your orgasm milk one out of him. The back of the couch groans as his metal hand tightens on it, and his other hand holds you still as he curses. “Fuck, sugar, tell me I can fill this tight pussy up, please,” he’s practically begging, and you spare no thought as you nod furiously.

“P-please Buck,” your words are interrupted by his thrusts as he fucks into you hard. “W-wan’ you to f-fill me up, fuck, please—”

He throws his head back with a shout, and stills, warm ropes of cum streaming into you as his cock jerks and throbs. Bucky’s head falls forward and he lets out a low groan, keeping you right where he wants you with a firm grip as he empties himself into you. You stay like that for a few minutes, gulping down air in the too-hot room.

Bucky slides out of you slowly, and you hiss. He leans down to press his lips to your sweaty forehead, and you feel him smile against your skin. You do too, even though it aggravates the split on your bottom lip.

“You okay, sugar?” He asks hoarsely, grinning down at you.

“Never better.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #firefighter!Bucky #Firefighter!AU #firefighter!bucky barnes #black reader #bucky barnes smut #smut #boxofbonesfic #Burn fic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #marvel smut

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stressedoutcanary · 2 years

Text

I Don’t Want To Know What It's Like (To Live Without You)

Bruce Wayne x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Explicit Language, Non-graphic mentions of Injuries and blood (Canon typical)

A/N: Look who decided to finally rise from the grave and write a hurt/comfort fic that is more comfort than anything else really.

I wrote it while obsessing over Ruelle's The Other Side but it's not as bad as the title makes it sound. Bruce just has poor self preservation skills that's all. Also fyi Reader is a magic user partially based on one of my ocs <3

•°•°•°•°

“If I didn’t know you any better Missus Wayne, I’d accuse you of trying to get me naked.”

That earned him a well deserved smack on the back of his head. With a half heated glare she snapped her fingers finally getting rid of the blood soaked Kevlar, the cracked cowl and the barely intact cape that he was in. She had seen him being much, much worse off than this. It was true. It was. That didn’t make the amount of torn and bruised skin any less nauseating to see.

“You and your blatant god-awful flirting”, she muttered under her breath, her brows creasing as her tongue clicked in open disagreement of what she saw in front of her.

While she was busy mentally cataloging the wounds that needed most immediate of her attention, Bruce craned his neck as far back as he physically could from where he was sitting on the cot and as he had expected, the entirety of his suit from the waist up which had disappeared with a whoosh, reappeared, not a second later in the bin at the far corner of the med bay. Turning back he shot one of his eyebrows up in a silent question.

“What? It’s not like you were helping me take that hunk of a suit off.”

She shrugged. Bending her elbows she brought both of her palms out towards his torso, stretching out in what little space was between them.

“I’ll be careful he said, don’t you worry he said.”

“(Y/N)…”

“Babe do us both a favor; shut up and for the God’s sake stop. moving.” She snapped even as willed herself to get to work. A part of her worried that her magic would hide behind the sheer intensity of her emotions she felt, while another part dreaded a worse outcome; lashing out uninhibitedly; God knows the simmering rage she felt deep down within was more than enough to catalyst that.

‘Your husband is in front of you. He needs you right now. There’s no threat here. He is in the cave now. He is home. So get yourself together and calm the fuck down for fuck’s sake.’

Obscuring her inner turmoil, she stole a glance up towards Bruce’s face. He had his eyes closed and the progressing relief being reflected on his face did wonders in draining out the tension lingering in her shoulders. The bastard though, chose that exact moment to crack open one of his eyelids, an amused smile making its way on to his face.

“Don’t. even.” She narrowed her eyes, fixing him a pointed look that all but said ‘I will happily throw your ass on the floor if you even try to voice your thoughts’

His jaw snapped close, relenting from making any teasing commentary residing on the tip of his tongue. He could feel how the fuzziness in his head started to dissipate and in its place came bone deep warmth. The kind one would get from a long hot shower after a good two hour workout. He sighed contentedly. With her he didn’t need to hide how he felt, be it pain or love, sorrow or happiness and everything else falling in between. He knew just how vulnerable that made him, especially for a person like him yet he could never ask or want for it to be any other way.

He watched her twirl her wrists with a practiced ease not known to many but came to her as a second nature, her palms engulfing in a vivid periwinkle aura that was all too familiar to him by now.

‘Home. It feels like home’, he’d told Diana once when she’d asked him. The answer was nothing short of confusing, but that was the closest he could come to describing it without stumbling over the words he was sure would never ever do justice to his lover; from the wisps of magic that often clung to her fingertips that gave her an otherworldly glow to the overflowing well of power deep within her.

His silent admiration came to a halt when he observed tiny beads of sweat starting to roll down her forehead as she continued pouring every ounce of her power into healing the bleeding flesh, desperately trying to knit everything back together as soon as possible; torn tissue, broken bones and all. Unable to keep the downward tug of her lips any longer, she continued to hover her hands over him, graceful yet frantic on the edge, fingertips ghosting over the bruised skin, barely touching so as to not upset the wounds further. She was getting more and more upset as she kept finding injury after injury which she could’ve sworn wasn’t there a minute ago.

“My love, you’re exhausting yourself”, there was no judgment in his voice, only an unwavering concern. He was stating a fact, something that she was made well aware of by her own body, every passing second.

Gritting her teeth she pushed through the waves of tiredness creeping in on her. ‘Just a little more’ she kept telling herself; kept repeating it like a mantra until she felt two warm and calloused hands firmly wrap around her wrists gently guiding them down from their outstretched position.

Bruce lifted one of his to cup her cheek, thumb soothingly running along the expanse of her cheekbone, “Can you open your eyes for me beautiful?”, he whispered guiding his other hand which was still holding one of hers up towards his lips, pressing a soft kiss to each of her knuckles.

‘Her eyes were closed? When did that even happen?’

It took her longer than she’d like to admit, for the question to properly register in her brain and she cracked her eyelids open, meeting with a thankfully less bloody version of her husband.

“There you are sweetheart”

She hummed, stepping closer so as to stand in between Bruce’s open thighs, leaving little to no space between the two. She bent her neck down to rest her forehead against his, breathing out heavily.

‘Showered with three endearments in a row, exactly how pathetic do I look’, she thought to herself, but a deep rumble of laughter vibrating through the man in front of her, told her she had managed to say it out loud. That and the words “Not as pathetic as I do” that soon followed as the laughter subsided, leaving a broad grin in its place. She separated just even to shoot him a glare, but went back willingly when he tugged her towards him with a hand on each of her thighs, silently urging her to straddle him.

“I do wish for you to be more careful you know, that’s all I ask from you, that’s all I will ever ask from you Bruce”, she whispered, after what felt like an eternity, not wishing to break the comfortably quite atmosphere of the med-bay.

He waited for her to make herself comfortable, hands settling on her hips before diving in for a deep kiss full of love, care and reassurance. When they finally came up gasping from the lack of oxygen, (Y/N) opted to rest her head against his chest feeling its steady rise and fall and along with thump of his heartbeat. She carded her hands through the locks of his matted hair, occasionally scraping her nails through his scalp with just the right amount of pressure.

•°•°

“I know and I understand that.”

“I don’t think that you do”, her voice went hoarse. She lifted her head and met his steady gaze. Bruce could say for certain any torture inflicted upon him would have been better than looking at the unshed tears in her eyes. Hell, he would much rather have Bane break his back again than to ever be the cause for such pain for the love of his life.

“Every time you come home bloody and broken beyond imagination, on the literal brink of death and I have to heal you myself I wonder whether it’ll be enough, whether this one would be the one time where you slip so far away from me that I won’t be able to pull you back. What if one day you need my help and I am all drained out, I barely held myself together we both saw that”, she scoffed “I don’t think you understand how much I fear the day that you call out for my help and my magic hurts you instead because I can’t get a fucking grip on myself.”

“Your magic would never hurt me; I trust it as much as I trust you.” He spoke softly, as if saying it was the easiest thing in whole world. “I, (Y/N) Wayne, love you and trust you with my life” A kiss to the forehead “with my heart” A kiss to the nose “and with my soul” A kiss to the cheek “and I’d be more than happy to remind you of it for the rest of our lives because I assure you my love that it is nothing but an undeniable truth of my life with you.” He completed with a chaste kiss to her lips, looking at her sheepishly as if he hadn’t just blown the metaphorical ground she always stood on, albeit all in good ways and with beyond pure intentions.

“I don’t…”she started but words felt heavy in her mouth. He spoke his truth so it was only fair to speak hers wasn’t it?

“I don’t want to live without you Bruce, I don’t even want to think about a time like that, that thought in itself scares me beyond words and I- I just can’t lose you Bruce, I can’t”, her voice cracked at the last word, a chocked out sob making its way out of her throat and with it went the last bit of self restraint Bruce had mustered to let her get everything off her chest. Wiping a traitorous stray tear that fell down her cheek, with the pad of his thumb, he pulled her impossibly closer, burying her head in the crook of his neck placing his lips soft but firm, on her temple.

“Shhhh. It’s okay. I’m okay. We’re okay” He kept murmuring in her ear, running his hands up and down her spine, until he felt the tremors wracking her figure subside and heard the sobs turn to small sniffs of her nose.

“You with me?”

“Always”, she mumbled nuzzling against his shoulder. Bruce nudged her just enough to get her to lift off her head, holding her chin with his thumb and index finger to prevent her from averting.

“Sorry for all that”, her voice raspy after crying as she gestured towards her face “Didn’t mean to have an emotional breakdown”

“Never apologize for how you feel. Ever.” He chided even as his hands around her tightened infinitesimally more.

“Now I can’t promise you that I won’t ever leave you because that is not something in my hands. What I can promise you is that I will be even more careful from now on and that no matter what I will always, always try my absolute best to come home to you in one piece”, he bumped his nose with hers, which if it weren’t for the gravity of his words would have coaxed an ear-to-ear smile out of her. Instead she let out a heavy sigh and Bruce could feel the previous tension which had been there ever since he stumbled out of the bat mobile and into her arms, seep out with every breath.

“That is all I ask, darling”, she whispered mirroring her statement at the start of their conversation. She moved forward, closing the gap and bringing their chests flush together. ‘I love you’s’ whispered against every brush of their lips.

Their bubble lasted up until they heard a loud snort in the background followed by a “You guys are so gross” and a much louder “I told you they would be making out by now! ‘Gravely Injured’ my ass”, Jason muttered the last part as he speed-walked back up the stairs of the cave.

“How mad do you think Alfred would be if I tripped him on his way up with an invisible rope allegedly made from my magic.”

“Dunno, but we’ll never know till we try now will we.”

The smirk on Bruce’s face matched perfectly with the evil glint in her eyes. It was also all the answer she needed as she immediately snapped her fingers and they were both rewarded with a loud thud followed by a “behaving like a couple of teenagers is so not cool guys! Oh stop laughing and help me up you Dickhead!”

°•°•°•°•

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne reader insert #batman reader insert #batman x reader #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne imagines #batman imagines #dc imagine #dc imagines #bruce wayne #batman #dc reader insert #dc x reader #dc comics #dc

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leviasu · 2 years

Text

Summary: after returning to the Human world, the House of Lamentation has been quiet and starved of your attention. Thus, subsiding to finding a substitute for it.

A better more explanation: they find your Article of Clothing.

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan.

In all honesty I don't even know, I just wrote this out of boredom and for my Own Self Indulgence, and I lost motivation half-way so it's kinda inconsistent. But till then was happy I finally finished this. And you could tell I put my whole Vixussy into Luci’s upperpart of the Scenario and less effort for the others 😭 sorry in advance 🐟

Lucifer

A sigh leaves Lucifer’s lips as He gazes at His D.D.D, Crimson eyes searching desparately for a Notification with your name to pop up. But when His hopes got up just even a bit, a notification of Dismay appears. Significantly ruining His once faint hope that you replied.

You had Returned to the Human world, your respectful realm oncemore. He did expect something like this to occur as you were firstly brought here for an exchange program to soothe and alleviate the bad circumstances between the Three worlds. Yet He never expected to get so close to someone that He once was Skeptical about. Oh how times have changed, it respectfully earned the title of nostalgia with how long time has passed by. You were still in contact with Him and His brothers and yet.. the prideful demon wishes to be selfish oncemore.

It was late in the evening, He had yet a pile of paperwork, envelopes, and more to cover up. Yet only a good chunk has been dismissed, which was progress yes, but significantly not enough progress to finish. to alleviate the Stress building up on His back, He pulls out His Bottle of Demonus that was Hidden from His secret stash, He usually keeps a couple or one hidden away from His brothers, as He is aware of their tendency to either Spike, or Steal any of the bottles. And the one He got out, It was a new one too at that, He pops it open as He starts pouring it in a small cup He strangely kept in His room.

He sighs before taking a sip of demonus that He poured for Himself to relax a little, which somehow did the trick. being slightly tipsy is better than shuffling through a pile of work sheets, and looking at His D.D.D nonstop. A break wouldn't be a bad idea now.. yet when He picked up the Cup, He couldn't help but feel a Familiar feeling bubbling inside Him at the mere thought, nostalgia.

You would always bring Him coffee within These Hard times to help Him stay awake, Hell roasted beans? If he remembers correctly, or If He even cared what the brand was. He still remembers the taste of bitterness on His tongue once He drank it. A warmth filling His chest as Realization struck Him till then, He couldn't help but send you a text afterwards. He continued to swallow the bitter yet tender drink that you made for Him. Every drop, and every aspect of your warmth provided by the drink, which He greatly adored.

Yet that Bitter liquid was now replaced.

The warm yet tangy liquid fills His mouth. puckering it slightly with the Taste as He gulps. Thinking about you as He swallows the last drop before placing the glass down. Taking a slight glance at the Empty Chair besides the desk in a fortune.

A Chair He never expected to mean alot to Him, He places down the cup as Memories start driving by.

The chair you always tend to seat yourself to watch over Lucifer Himself. To make sure He doesn't furthermore tire himself out as you were Ordered by Lord Diavolo to ensure He gets enough rest by His concern and yours too. yet He always finds you sleeping by then rather than watching Him.. oh how it brings back so much nice memories. As if His body reacted on its own accord, He reached out an arm to the chair. barely touching the rim as He desparately tried to caress your cheek that was once there for Him to hold and touch. yet His attempt remained fruitless as He snapped back into reality, the chair lacking your figure as the Image of yourself Faded away from Lucifer’s grasp once again. How peculiar. Everything He seems to see reminds Him of you alot.

He should really cut the demonus down.

He let out a long yet sorrowful sigh. He really did miss you, even if He wanted to go to the Human world just to be with you, even if He really wanted too. it wouldn't be possible.

He placed the Ink pen down and rubbed his forehead to feel the relief of His work; paperwork can wait, the Selfishness growing and aching within Him was far more stronger than any force He can yet think of.

He didn't know why, but yet once again, His body moved on its own, making His way to your now Empty room for some... Reason. Mainly finding something that can be perceived as Purchase.

opening the door and seeing it remain so dark when it was once before vibrant. the sheets and pillows stayed furnished, a contradict to what they were before: out of the place. It seemed like an irregular sight for Lucifer to see, that your body wasn't there anymore hidden in the sheets. Yet He shook the thought away and quickly resumed what He was here for.

He was desparate in anyway to atleast get something for Him that you had, that was covered and permeated with your scent that Can act as a substitute for your absence. Even if you took everything you had and sure you didn't forget anything, He was still adamantly trying His best for a sense of your warmth once again. After a bunch of merrily attempts, He almost gave up and just went back to His room. But He remained persistent And His next destination was your closet.

Of course, as Expected. It was nothing elsemore than just empty clothing hangers, and a small, empty box where you last kept your Candy stash. It was suprising. But the Smell of candy was still embedded in your Closet. It had seemed to never leave after quite awhile. He was disappointed at the view, yet Expected all of it. not longmore when He saw a lump of a particular Article of clothing that you wore, right by the Corner of the Familliar Empty box, hiding the cloth.

His crimson gaze slowly was pointed towards the Clothing. ‘Huh.. seems like you forgot one thing.’ He thought to Himself.

He slowly picked it up, admiring the Cloth’s features and How He remembers you wearing it ever so slightly. before taking in its scent whether if it was still embedded with you. His eyes close before taking a whiff of the cloth He's holding, a article of clothing you once worn..

It still smells like you...

Lucifer slowly then caressed the Material softly, His fingertips gracefully tracing the outline of the fabric before standing up.

A door shuts behind Him as He makes His way to His room, Crimson-like eyes never leaving the Fabric in His hands. a small caress which slightly made the A/C dishevel. His once dry-lips now curving a small content smile.

Maybe this was the effect of the Demonus.

----

Mammon

He doesn't need a Human to entertain Him, pfft. He’s the great Mammon! Nothing can make Him upset, not even some lousy human that was only Here for an Internship program! He should be happy that you're back to your Realm safe and sound... Right? Right..?

He wouldn't deny that ever since you've returned back, He felt lonely. Very lonely without you. of course His scoldings from Lucifer and small quarrels with Leviathan and His younger brothers never change, yet He felt a little.. unsure, about all of it, since considering that You would break the Quarrels- it's difficult to accept it's change.

He was sitting on His couch, staring at the Poker card on His Hand. Twirling it around ever so slightly to get a good look on it. At this time, He would usually be at your room, or stirring out another Bet in the Casino. But mostly the first option. but things have been how they were before you even went to devildom, the norm for the brothers, and for Mammon.

But is that really the case?

Was it really?

Mammon wouldn't deny that He got new Habits ever since your internship in The Devildom.

He always barges into your room before, smiling happily when you tell Him to knock ever so slightly, telling you things along the lines of “Eh! It's fine! You get to see the Great Mammon right? That's a better sight to see!”. Of course you returning to the Human world didn't mean He still can't contact you. But your time with Him was limited, and He had a short period of time before the D.D.D. Goes to one of His brothers. Leaving His sentenced unfinished and unheard.

“aughh..!” Mammon groans as He threw a pillow across the room in a small fit, can't He be selfish? Can He be in the wrong for wanting you to return to the devildom and stay with Him forever? Can't He be selfish for once?

He has tried numerous times to try and live His daily life without a flash of your face ever so appearing at anything, even trying to Gamble it all out didn't work, which indeed was suprising, even if He won, or lost a bet. It didn't matter, He still missed you. And wanted relief with His insatiable request.

He wanted something that can Help soothe the missing feeling of you. He wants you back within His arms.. yet He knows it's impossible. He wanted to feel you, your warmth- you.

He couldn't find the Motivation to do anything and was left tired- especially when Lucifer Hung Him up the Ceiling, which was understandable in His defense on Why. Which is the reason He was left to reminisce about your time together.

He suddenly remembered Something as He stood up in an instant, pillows that were near him now falling on eachother: or on the floor, His once gloomy features now eye widened and a smile gracing His face.

He scurried throughout His entire room, dragging, checking underneath and in every nook and cranny.

And His hunt lasted a little longer than anticipated.

Ahah! He found it!

the Cardigan you left when you were once in His room, untouched and folded neatly, now getting thrown onto His hands- a reminder of your presence oncemore. He couldn't help yet hug the Cardigan tightly, as if it were you within His grasp once again.

Even if it wasn't the actual deal, even if it didn't radiate the same warmth you gave him when you two were to hug. He was still happy for remembering it. Something that belonged to you- something that you had. And it was now something He Has, a Reminder of you now, And He was thankful for His sharp (probably) Memory for remembering it.

His grip got tighter and tighter on the Cardigan.

He'll keep it, He'll keep your Cardigan until a miracle strucks, and you're now with Him again, it seems impossible yet He has hope inside Him, He proceededly then lifts the Cardigan to His nose. The Fabric Tickling it as He inhales.

It still even had your scent.. something that Reminds Him alot of the Human He loved...

He once pondered to Himself, on How you made Him fall for you.

Yet that thought can wait, as His D.D.D vibrates with your Contact name in it.

“Yo! Mc, I have to tell you something.”

——————

Leviathan

Gaming in His Aquarium like Room, talking to Henry, and scrolling through Akuzon to get the greatest deals of Manga, or any source of Anime figurines that Levi seems to like, yet lately. It seems like our Otaku is much more troubled for some reason, maybe perhaps a certain absence of someone was affecting Him?

Levi wouldn't Deny.. or maybe would, deny the fact that He felt more lonely without you. It isn't really much of a difference since He tends to shut himself in His room alot, ever since then.. but with you around, He seemed to find a reason to go to RAD, go outside with you, or even just go to see you. It was a daily activity for Him now. Text, Call, Ask, and Play. and He enjoyed every second you both spent together. He doesn't mean to exaggerate when He says He found a purpose in His life when spending time with you...; You were His player two- and seeing you suddenly return to your world after getting so attached- was like a punch to the stomach. Yet Levi had to understand the Fact that your stay was temporary, in an unfortunate case.

He couldn't even concentrate on the Games you both used to play, it felt like something was missing when He was Playing them on His own, He usually didn't care nor minded, yet this briefly affected Him overtime.

Yet He never thought about it negatively, He treasures the time you both spent with eachother. Cheering Him on games or vise versa, even He was still flustered thinking about the sudden kiss scene on the Anime. Something that you both recreated earlier on the flesh of the night. Happiness engulfing Him whole.

But now that's just a vivid memory left to crumble. Sitting near His tank, while a Hand placed on the glass barrier, preventing the water from touching Levi’s room.

He chuckles to himself. “I look pathetic right now, don't I. Henry?”

The Fish only swam in response, not giving a verbal answer yet Levi continued to Communicate with them, Spewing out words He dare wouldn't say in your face, or Else He would've been a flustered mess. But He couldn't help but talk positively about you, or vent due to your absence. Henry was merely just bubbling around like regular. Yet Leviathan found that as a communication of trust. He trusted the Goldfish alot, as it is His only friend before you came.

It was late in the night. And usually at this time, He would be up gaming. And Yet He choose to sleep early, not finding the Sudden Motivation to take in Games to immerse himself in the evening, or midnight. yet it was a difficult attempt as He grew a habit of staying up so late- messing up His natural body clock. so instead, He lays down while looking at the Giant tank, where Henry was swimming around in, the blue light kissing His appearance. He squeezes the body pillow tight as He sighs.

“Mc...”

A mutter, a request. Almost desparate. As it's embarrassing to admit, He wanted you to be the pillow instead. He wants to lay on you while you comb His Hair, slightly making it messy. scratching His scalp while He sighs in content, a blush decorating His face as the affectionate gestures were relaxing Him whole as you smile at him.

He couldn't want anything else, Yet it was merely a Euphoric Fantasy. He would've stayed up or probably fallen asleep a few moments ago If you're in a call with Him. Yet Lucifer scolded the Others, including Him about said topic. A few arguments were made and so were protests from Him, and almost everyone, Yet there was no stopping Lord Diavolo’s requests unless you wanted to Be tied up on the Ceiling. Possibly worse, fed to cerberus. An empty threat leading everyone to silence.

Levi couldn't contain His selfishness. He really needed your presence besides Him... Yet He desparately tried to manage, until it was His turn to await for your call, to hear your comforting voice oncemore.

He couldn't bear to wait. He couldn't bare to hold onto these profound feelings. He wants to be there with you yet He couldn't. As the Blanket wraps Him in a warming embrace, He clutches the shirt you left behind. Tightly to never let you go.

And Thus, The Avatar of Envy had Fallen asleep, unaware of the unsuspecting Visit tomorrow.

————

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yandere-daydreams · 2 years

Text

Title: Dead Meat.

Written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!OC x Reader.

Word Count: 2.0k.

TW: Cannibalism, Kidnapping/Imprisonment, Force-Feeding, Mentions of Injury/Blood, and Slight Bondage.

You couldn’t feel anything below your left knee.

Well, you could barely feel anything anywhere, to be fair. Your fingertips were numb, your skull was hollow, and your mind spun in dull, idle circles – going nowhere and doing nothing. You could think if you tried to, string words together in a way that you were sure would’ve had a meaning if you ever managed to spit them out, but your tongue felt heavy and your jaw was locked in place, every part of you either too tense to move or too limp to control. It took you a moment to realize your eyes were open, that you were staring up, towards the ceiling, your attention centered vaguely on a motionless fan. Sunlight streamed through an open window, clouds of steam rose from an uncovered pot on the stovetop, and yet, your entire body felt cold, like all the warmth had been carved out of your veins and replaced with something else, something still. Something dead, if not for the fact that you would’ve felt so much better if you actually were.

He was there, too, rummaging through the pantry built into the far wall, humming in a way that made you want to cover your ears and curl into yourself. Clearly, you could see him when you forced yourself to sit up, as well as the wooden chair you'd been laid over, your hands bound to its arms with lengths of twisted fabric. You usually weren’t allowed to leave the cellar, not during the day, not with such improvised restraints. You usually didn’t like to leave the cellar, not while he was working. Not if it meant you’d have to watch.

You didn’t struggle, didn’t make any real effort to resist or escape, but you shifted, attempted to straighten your back, and your shoulder knocked against the back of the chair with a slight, stifled thud. It was quiet, barely audible, but it was enough to earn a glance over his shoulder, a breath of a laugh. You attempted to hold still, to shut your eyes and pretend you were still unconscious, but he was already starting towards you, already wearing that awful smile – more teeth than anything else.

“Finally,” Eve started, positioning himself behind you and resting his hands on your shoulders. There was a gentle squeeze, a kiss to your cheek, and he lingered there, looming over you like some dark, hungry thing. “You were supposed to wake up hours ago. I was beginning to worry that I’d cut a little too deep.”

Cutting. Slicing. Cooking. His hair was tied back, and he was wearing that apron, the one covered in dark stains and fresh, tacky blotches. You glanced towards the kitchen counter, to the wooden cutting-boards stocked with slabs of raw meat, then downward, to your lap, to your legs. You let out a small, shallow sigh when you saw that your left calf was still attached to you, albeit partially obscured, everything below your knee wrapped completely in white cloth. Bandages, you realized, with more thought than it should've taken, specks of red and pink just beginning to soak through. You couldn’t feel any of it, the injury numbed beyond all types of pain, but you couldn’t stop yourself from cringing, from adverting your eyes as your throat went dry and you vision began to blur. He’d have to clean the wound, later on, and you could only hope that you wouldn’t have to be awake when he did.

His gaze flickering over your expression, Eve let out another shallow laugh, leaning down to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. You could feel stubble rubbing against your skin, accompanied by warm breath and another kiss, this one lingering a second longer than the last. “Poor baby. I tried to be gentle, but you toss and turn so much in your sleep – I might’ve gotten a little rougher than I meant to.” His tone was sympathetic, affectionate, but both layered on so heavily, so thickly, you couldn’t take it as anything but a patronizing coo, meant to make you feel small and weak and little else. He was never harsh with you, never so much as raised his voice, but you thought you might’ve preferred it if he had been quick to anger, if all he ever did was lash out. At least then, he wouldn't bother trying to talk to you. “It doesn’t hurt too badly, does it?”

You started to shake your head, but he caught your chin. “Ah, ah – use your words. I need to hear your pretty voice.”

You swallowed, dryly. The words sounded distant, even to you, as weak and as fragile as he must’ve thought you were. “I… It doesn’t. I’m alright.”

“That’s perfect. The last thing I want is to cause you any pain, love.” You felt Eve lift his head, saw his gaze drift to your injured leg. You went stiff before you could stop yourself, but he only laughed, letting you go and moving back towards the counter, as he spoke. “Don’t worry, that’s all I’m going to take right now. That’s where a lot of people go wrong with this kind of thing—”

In the corner of your eye, you watched him pick up a meat clever that looked a little too small in his hands, its blade already covered in red, wet blood. You knew that you shouldn’t look, that it’d only make you feel worse, but it took so much effort to move, and it was so difficult to think, and you couldn’t imagine tearing yourself away, even as he began to cut into raw muscle and tissue. It hurt in a vague, abstract way – all ache and no catharsis. You half-expected there to be stabbing pangs, a fresh burning somewhere in your injured leg, but there was nothing, absolute void. It was dead meat, something that’d already been torn off and severed from its source. It didn’t belong to you, anymore. What he did to it didn’t matter.

Or, that was what you were trying to tell yourself, at least. You probably could've believed it, if you'd had a little more time.

“They rush. They take too much from too many places, and they expect it all to be the same.” Fuck, he was talking about that again. If you hadn't known any better, you would've said that was the part he really liked – the aesthetics of his grisly hobby, the idea that he was somehow better than the monsters and maniacs who bathed in blood and kept coolers packed to bursting with buckets of viscera and rotting corpses hung on rusting hooks. When he first took you, when you were still delusional enough to think that there was anything you could do to make him let you go, he’d spend hours ranting about it, holding you to his broad chest as he rambled on and on about how you shouldn’t be afraid, about how he was going to savor you for as long as he possibly could. As if that made him any less of a sadist. As if you’d find it comforting to know he was going to tear you apart, piece from piece, and keep you alive long enough to do it over, and over, and over again. “They don’t know how to pace themselves. They don’t have any self-restraint. They wouldn’t love you, not like I do, and if you were stuck with one of them…” He trailed off with a light chuckle, shaking his head. “We shouldn’t think about that. Stress spoils the taste.”

He bent down, fished a cast-iron pan out of a cabinet with a padlock hanging from the handle, waiting to be used on another closet door, another empty meat locker. The chill had thawed, and the kitchen’s heat was beginning to get to you, to work its way under your skin and make your mind that much uncooperative. Minutes later than you should’ve, you forced your eyes to shut and let your head roll back to rest against the chair’s spine. You were aware of your mouth opening, but the sound of your voice was as surprising to you as must’ve been to him. “Are you going to kill me?”

He glanced over his shoulder, his grin teeth and little else. “Need a little more sleep? I just told you – I’m not that wasteful."

“That’s not what I—” The faint click of a gas burner switching on, the bubbling pop of meat falling into boiling oil. You dug your nails into the chair's arms, doing what little you could to hold yourself steady. “Are you ever going to kill me? Or, am I just going to be here until die, and you’ll be cutting me up forever, and—”

“Don’t push yourself.” His tone was light, but the order was strict. You closed your mouth instantly, gritting your teeth and locking your jaw into place. “Do you want to know why I can’t hurt you, darling?”

He did hurt you. He hurt you by keeping you here. He hurt you by doing this. You were missing a piece of your fucking leg because he couldn’t stop hurting you.

But, you only nodded, staying silent for a moment before catching yourself and correcting your mistake. “I do.”

He didn’t respond to that, not at first. A small, smart part of you hoped that he never would.

There was another round of seasoning, another minute or two of cooking and cutting and mutilating what he didn’t have the right to touch. By the time he finished, what little strength you had was already beginning to wane, making it near-impossible to do anything more than blink as he pulled another chair up in front of you, as he held something up to your pursed lips. A strip of meat, lodged on the end of a sleek steak knife. Seared, but barely. Just a few seconds past bloody.

Immediately, bile rose up in your throat. A new wave of nausea washed over you. If you weren’t strapped down, you might’ve collapsed, let your body put you out of your misery before your mind could force it to. “Get away from me.”

“Don’t be stubborn. I’m just giving you what you asked for.” He was always so calm. He was always so patient. You wished, more desperately than you’d ever wished for anything, that he’d snap, falter, leave you little more than a body to be gutted and dismembered. You wished that he’d just get it over with. You wished that he’d even try to be that nice. “Open up, baby. This will only be as bad as you make it.”

You wished he would kill you. You wished he would kill you. You wished he would kill you. “Don’t— No, no, don’t touch—”

He didn’t give you a chance to finish. The blade cut into your bottom lip and scraped against your teeth as he shoved it into your open mouth, drawing it back just as quickly before dropping it altogether, letting it clatter to the floor. You tried to spit the meat (because it had to be meat, because it couldn't be anything else) out, but his palm was already plastered over your mouth, and he was already hushing you, too, already laughing as he took you by the shoulder and coaxed you forward, as he murmured meaningless nothings. You gagged, your body lurching forward, but he only held you still, only smiled. Only watched on, drank in your revulsion and your terror like a fine wine, hand-brewed and aged to perfection.

You didn’t chew. You didn't think. You swallowed it whole, choked the meat down despite the way it clawed at the inside of your throat, despite the way you heaved when it was over, when Eve had gotten what he wanted. “You did so good. You’re always so good for me, aren’t you?” When you stopped moving, your body going completely limp, he pulled back just far enough to cup your face, to lean towards you. “You’re the best fucking thing I’ve ever had. That’s why I’m never going to use you up. That’s why I’m going to take care of you. That’s why I have to love you, like this.” He kissed the top of your head, lingering seconds longer than he absolutely had to. “You understand, don’t you?”

You nodded, but all you could taste was ash and blood.

#yandere #yandere love #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere prompts #yandere oneshots #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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touchofdawn · 2 years

Text

@radixnt-gxrden

Diluc stood before the grand cathedral with its towering spires and glittering stained-glass windows, and idly wondered whether having the cathedral built so tall was someone’s way of getting “closer” to Celestia and to the god that the city worshipped. They had no idea that said god was likely playing songs outside of his tavern to earn enough coin for a glass. If they did, they’d likely think twice about sending him their prayers.

But he was not there to join in the worship of Barbatos. A note from the Seneschal had been received the day before at the winery. A matter of “dire import” that required his presence personally at the cathedral following the morning service. He had little regular contact with the Seneschal, save for the occasional event that invited his presence to Dawn, but they had discussed matters regarding the Fatui in Mondstadt before and any matters regarding the safety of Mondstadt and its people he would, of course, treat with the utmost urgency and gravity.

The morning service emptied out, each attendee hurrying out to open their shops or see to their work, and Diluc swept inside as the last stragglers passed by. The nuns were busy about their work, tidying after the crowd. Diluc gave them a polite nod as he made his way down the aisle to the front where the Seneschal was in hushed conversation with his youngest daughter who, upon seeing him, quickly disappeared.

Odd.

“Seneschal, I hope I am not interrupting,” Diluc said as he finally stood close to the man. With his tall hat and glistening robes, the Seneschal seemed just like a smaller version of the ostentatious cathedral.

“Not at all, Master Diluc. We are most honored by your presence. Please, join me in my office. We’ll be joined by our Acting Grand Master shortly,” replied Seamus, guiding Diluc to a door at the back of the cathedral that led to a large office.

“The Knights are involved in this matter?” Diluc asked as he stepped into the office, feeling a prick of annoyance at the back of his neck. He stood beside one of the bookshelves in the office and idly glanced over the titles on the spines. Of course, he never expected to be requested to help directly in the defense of Mondstadt, having resigned from the Knights, but he’d been perhaps too optimistic about the possibility of not involving any Knights at all.

Diluc sensed a note of nerves in his tone as Seamus answered, “Not precisely… Only Jean. Please, have a seat. She should be joining us any moment.”

#;threads #(the jeanluc dream we all needed)#swirlofpassion #radixntgxrden

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sepublic · 2 years

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It’s fascinating to me that Darius seems genuinely protective of his mentor’s image and reputation, out of a sense of real loyalty and fondness for him; Actual principle instilled by his teacher, a guard to the Golden... Guard. Which makes Darius’ criticism of Hunter’s misdeeds and blind obedience over it feel more compelling, because to Darius, this kid who didn’t earn the title and only has it by nepotism is just. Parading around with his mentor’s image and name, without any understanding nor respect for what it means, he basically appropriated it thanks to Belos. Hunter wearing a flimsy, bootleg copy of the Golden Guard’s sigil that he can’t even make look good is just the cherry on top; It feels genuinely disrespectful to someone Darius knew and held dear, someone personal to him. For all we know, Darius is still grieving to an extent?

He’s still kind of a gatekeeper, but considering the compelling relationship we’ve seen between Luz and Eda, I wonder if that’s a good frame of reference to work with; If Luz grew up and found this nepotism kid using the Owl Lady title without having actually earned it, acting in ways contrary to Eda’s values as a person, basically appropriating the aesthetic for coven propaganda. It’s not a one-to-one situation since the previous Golden Guard presumably DID still work for Belos, and Luz isn’t as judgmental of a person as Darius.

But still, I think this perspective gives him more nuance, given how this episode is about judging and misjudging people, your perceptions of them; And getting to consider their perspective and where they actually come from, the context of who they are because this one glimpse you have isn’t necessarily representative. Besides, is the golden guard even an actual rank, or someone’s personal title that Belos stole for himself and gave to Hunter, without any permission? That would add to Darius’ indignity, if the Golden Guard persona was someone else’s personal invention that Belos has basically begun to take credit for, since he IS a colonizer; ‘Honoring’ the name by making it official sure, but still very much making what was supposed to apply to just one person into a role in his system.

Anyhow, I freaking LOVE Darius. He’s literally only been in two episodes (technically three but as a brief non-speaking cameo) and there’s already just... SO MUCH depth and implied background, story, and motive to this dude. Parallels and foils, relationships that define Darius, from his mentorship by the Golden Guard, his feelings about Hunter; His disdain for Belos’ flaws and endorsement of the Abomatons; His camaraderie with Eberwolf, and finally his rivalry with Alador, whom the latter is likely going to give us more insight into in Reaching Out. And that episode will likely expand on Darius’ thematic relationship with Amity, which might evolve into an actual in-universe interaction between the two; And what he represents for her, compared to Alador!

Darius also introduces us to a new and advanced type of Abomination magic, expanding on that spell set compared to the minions we’ve seen before; One unique to himself that says a lot about Darius, and conversely says a lot about other Abomination witches we see by contrast and comparison. He seems more dedicated to the ideals of the Golden Guard than Belos; Both Golden Guards now, it seems, so there’s this gray nuance to his allegiances and morals.

Darius has such brief screen time but he uses it so well and establishes so much in so little. I love his highly-opinionated personality that borders on pretentious and gatekeeper, he’s so effective and amazing y’all. Any Sport in a Storm wasn’t just Hunter and Willow’s episode, it was also Darius’ too, because you don’t judge an episode by its cover! It’s more than its initial promise of Huntlow, Wittebane and Gravesfield lore, and the Azura book club.

#the owl house #the owl house Darius #the owl house hunter #the owl house eberwolf #alador blight #amity blight

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whiteqnn · 3 years

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PURE [5] - Corpse Husband x Fem!Reader

A/N: It’s been a while.

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4

PURE [5]

“Did you guys find anybody?” Felix’s voice sounded out when the man repeated the same question for what seemed like the third time since he joined the call. The number of players showed 7 of them, which meant that they were still missing three people. Sure, they could start the game now, but it would be way more enjoyable and funny with a full lobby.

“Yeah, Toast will be here any moment. “Sykkuno replied right away. “He just texted me; he should join us in a few.”

“Cool. Anyone else?”

“I think Corpse was also supposed to join us, right? Not sure though why he isn’t here yet.”

“Oh, yeah, Corpse will be here soon too!” Jack suddenly chimed in with an explanation. “He said he needed to take care of something first, but he’ll be here before we start.”

“Great. But that means we’re still one person short.” Felix hummed when Toast’s little astronaut appeared in the lobby “Hey Toast."

“Hey man.”

“Do you have anyone coming?”

“I’m afraid not. I asked MrBeast, but he’s busy, so...”

“Well then, we can just start when Corpse is here, and maybe we’ll find someone in the meantime?” Dave suggested, earning a few hums of approval from the other players.

“Yeah, I think that’s the best option...” Jack agreed. But then his voice blared out in everyone’s headphones with excitement. “Ha! Corpse is bringing someone!”

“Who?”

“I dunno, he just texted me he has one coming and that’s all.”

“Hm, all right. Let’s wait then.”

***

Corpse fidgeted with his phone, glancing between its screen and the chat in his stream. People were already asking countless questions, but rather than answering them, he was waiting for Y/N to call him. He was nervous - the girl still hadn’t commented on his request.

The idea to invite her to the lobby wasn’t spontaneous. In fact, he’d been thinking about it for quite some time now, but never found the courage to actually ask if she would like to join them for the game.

It’s been almost a month now since that memorable phone call. A month since Y/N last played with her friends; a month since she considerably reduced her social media usage.

Sure, she was still active on her youtube channel, but not as much as before the whole haters situation. No matter how hard she tried to just ignore them and simply continue her career, she just couldn’t. There were still these nagging thoughts at the back of her mind, reminding her of all those people and their comments, their messages. It seemed like a good idea to take a short break and sort everything out.

Her fans understood it. They were obviously sad that her videos weren’t as frequent as before, but everyone knew what the situation looked like and that Y/N needed some time for herself.

Her audience knew it, and so did her friends. Especially Corpse.

The man kept his word and talked to the girl whenever she wanted to. Which, in the end, was almost everyday. Although at the beginning their conversations mostly focused on her current problem and dealing with it, their topics broadened over the time.

At one point though, Y/N started worrying that maybe she’s annoying him with her so frequent calls. She thought that she shouldn’t bother him that much - even if talking to him was what really helped her cope with her problems. He already had enough on his plate, and sharing her own concerns with him suddenly seemed like a very selfish thing to do.

But she quickly realized how wrong she was for thinking like that. When one day she didn’t call, figuring out that she should stop troubling him with her own issues, she was very surprised when Corpse reached out to her himself. He expressed how worried he got when she didn’t call, and when she explained what was the reason, he spent the next fifteen minutes lecturing her that she should never think she’s bothering him.

From that day on, they talked every single day. And they talked about almost everything.

Corpse enjoyed their late night-talks more than anything. He liked to listen to Y/N talk about the things she finds exciting, her hobbies, and her dreams. Hell, she could talk about what she ate for breakfast, and he would still listen with interest.

And even though they haven’t seen each other in person, even though she still hasn’t seen his face, they managed to get really close during those past weeks. For an outside observer (who also didn’t have access to Twitter) they would seem like a couple of very good friends.

But not for Corpse.

He couldn’t pinpoint when exactly did it happen. They were talking one evening and Y/N was telling him about the TV series she had finished watching recently. He listened intently and watched as her facial expressions changed from excited to frustrated, as she was enumerating everything she liked and disliked about the series finale.

And then he suddenly got this weird feeling in the pit of his stomach, and simply couldn’t take his eyes off her.

He tried to play it off and act as if nothing changed, but he couldn’t stop his heart from doing backflips whenever she laughed at one of his dumb jokes or called him partner. It was still a running joke between them and among the group of their friends, but there was something in the way she said it that made him instantly smile like an idiot.

He also started paying more attention to the hashtags on Twitter and Instagram. #PartnersInCrime was still rather popular, even though it was a month since anyone last used this phrase on stream. Corpse also found out that #Y/Nforthebride was trending for some time; he even managed to stumble across a few fanarts.

There was this urge to send them to Y/N, but he was too nervous that it would make things awkward between them... After all, he didn’t know how she felt about that whole shipping thing.

That’s why he decided to just leave things between them as they are, and be happy that he’s at least her friend.

Corpse nearly jumped out of his skin, when he was brought back to reality by the sound of an upcoming FaceTime call. Y/N’s photo appeared on his screen, her smiley face which he had assigned as her contact photo. His lips corners curled up in a smile almost unwittingly.

“Hey Y/N/N” he said after answering the call.

“Hi Corpse” she smiled softly upon hearing his voice. Although the screen on her side was dark, she didn’t mind not seeing Corpse’s face. She respected his wish to remain faceless and enjoyed their conversations anyway.

“Whatcha doin’?”

“Just editing the new video. I guess I’ll upload it in the morning... but I’m not sure yet.”

“Well let me know then, I wanna be the first one to see it.”

“Sure thing, Corpse” she chuckled, lowering her gaze bashfully. Corpse just looked at her face for a moment, unable to stop smiling to himself. Then he remembered why they were talking in the first place.

“So... have you seen my text?” Y/N sighed at his question but nodded her head slowly. “And what do you think?”

“I don’t know, Corpse...” she ran a hand through her hair in a nervous gesture. “...if that’s a good idea, I mean.”

“Well, it’s been a while. No pressure though, if you don’t wanna play then it’s totally fine.” he quickly clarified. “I just thought it would be fun if you joined us, even if just for a moment. I’m sure everyone would go crazy.”

Her smile widened slightly at his words, but she still didn’t look convinced. Sure, it was tempting to join them. She wanted to do it each time Sean or Felix bombarded her with messages and codes to the lobby, both inviting her to join the group in the game. But then she remembered how people reacted to her appearance in their streams... and suddenly it didn’t seem like such a good idea anymore.

“We’re gonna play on Polus...” he added after a moment when she still didn’t say anything. “That one map with the planetary base... there’s a lava pit, y’know. Just saying...”

She laughed wholeheartedly at his words, remembering their last game when Corpse jumped into the lava for her.

“Sykkuno’s gonna be there as well” Corpse continued. “And I promise I won’t kill you this time.”

“Even if I’m the last player alive?” she joked.

“Even then, Y/N.”

Corpse stifled a laugh, as she cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes slightly as if trying to spot him in the darkness.

“Are you streaming, Corpse?” she then asked.

“Not yet. I’m gonna start the stream as soon as you say yes, though.”

“Oh c’mon” she laughed at his words “That’s emotional blackmail!”

“Maybe. Is it working?” he asked.

Y/N let out a heavy breath and ran a hand down her face. Corpse watched in anticipation as she seemed to have some internal battle with herself. He hoped that she’s gonna agree, he really missed playing with her.

“All right, then.” she suddenly said, and his breath hitched in his throat. “I’m gonna stay for a few rounds I guess...”

“Wait, really?” he asked, a smile on his face only widening.

“Well, yeah, partner.” she replied, which made his cheeks go warm “Your imposter techniques haven’t been very effective lately... Someone needs to help you out, or you’re gonna lose your title of the king of the Imposters.”

“Oh, is that’s how it is now?” he laughed in fake shock. “I wouldn’t have to worry about losing the title if my accomplice hadn’t left me all alone!”

“All right, all right.” she giggled at his accusations. “Your accomplice is on her way to support you.”

Corpse smiled even wider at the sound of her laughter. Her eyes shined with happiness when she was giggling, which only brought out their E/C color. The fact that his stupid babbling was the reason for her smile was making him feel extremely proud of himself.

“But just so you know... I still have no idea how this map works, so I’m afraid I’m gonna need you to guide me around it...”

“Y’know you could as well just say you want to hang out with me...”

“Corpse!” she laughed, her cheeks blushing in embarrassment.

“Just kidding Y/N” he chuckled at her reaction. “Of course I’m gonna guide you, don’t worry.”

“Okay then...” she said after a moment, looking at the screen again. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. Will you send me the code, please?”

“Sure I will, Y/N”

“Okay. See you later, partner” she smiled brightly.

“See you, partner.”

When Y/N ended the call, Corpse let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He sighed in relief and ran a hand through his hair, before moving to sit behind his desk.

It was only after he started the stream that he realized he was blushing. Not only because Y/N would join them, but because there was also another thing he wanted to ask her about, but didn’t find the courage to yet...

***

By the time Y/N turned on her computer and started the game, Corpse has already sent her the code, and there was a Discord invite waiting for her as well. She bit her lip nervously as her heartbeat quickened.

Was she nervous? As hell.

She did everything she could to avoid being in unnecessary spotlight since she started receiving those hate messages. Perhaps escaping the problem wasn’t the best solution, but it definitely was a comfortable one. People wouldn’t have a reason to hate on her if she disappeared.

But then she couldn’t say no to Corpse. And truth to be said - she really missed playing with her friends. From what she’d seen on Twitter, the lobby would be filled with those she’d already played with, so she wasn’t that nervous before the game. What she was nervous about though, was how people would react.

Accepting Corpse’s request was something she did due to the sudden rush of courage. And now there was no coming back.

She knew Corpse would understand if she changed her mind... but she heard how excited he was when she had agreed. She couldn’t do it to him.

So, once she’d taken a deep breath and put her headphones on, Y/N accepted the invite and braced herself for the inevitable chaos that was bound to take place in the call. She decided to wait with joining the lobby though - at least until they realize she’s with them.

“..the fuck you’re talking about?!” Felix’s voice was the first thing she heard, which made her roll her eyes with a smile. “It’s not my fault I sound like that! At least I don’t have a liar voice like Rae!”

“HEY!” the girl yelled “I don’t have a liar voice!”

“You do, you’re using it even now!” Jack argued, much to Rae’s dismay.

“What is going on here” Corpse’s deep voice sounded out suddenly.

“Oh, you’re here! Finally” Sykkuno immediately welcomed him with his always happy voice.

“Yeah, sorry that I’m late guys.”

“No worries, man” Pewdiepie spoke up again. “We were just talking about playing the voice card and that you’re basically the only one who can do it.”

“Not fair at all!” Rae chimed in, making Corpse chuckle.

“The voice card...” he hummed after a moment, before adding. “I wouldn’t really say I’m the only one though...”

“Well who else then? Everyone else either starts laughing or have a liar voice” Dave asked, and Rae scoffed at the last words.

“Well what about my guest?”

Y/N inhaled sharply, realizing that now she should probably reveal herself.

“Oh, right! Who you’re bringing man?” Sean asked with curiosity.

That’s when Y/N typed in the game code, and her white astronaut appeared in the lobby.

“Wait, who’s- HOLY SHIT” Sean all but yelled, when realization hit him. Y/N laughed loudly at his reaction, and her voice only seemed to prove to everyone that she really was there.

“KIDDO WHAT THE FUCK” Felix reflected Jack’s response, yelling over his friend.

“Oh my god, hi!”

“What a surprise!” Y/N managed to catch Sykkuno’s words. “It’s so amazing to have you here, Y/N/N!”

“As I live and breathe.” another voice spoke up, and Toast’s little astronaut came face to face with her white bean. “My lifelong nemesis. Back here snap my neck again, huh?”

“Yeah, happy to hear you too, Toast” Y/N giggled at his words, then she adressed the whole group. “Hi guys.”

“Okay I did not expect that in the slightest” Sean laughed happily “You’re here kiddo!”

“I am” she smiled from ear to ear, even though they couldn’t see her.

“Wait- Corpse, is that the thing you had to take care of?” her best friend asked Corpse with suspicious voice.

“Well...” he trailed off and cleared his throat, making everyone laugh.

“That’s so great Y/N! We missed you so much!” Rae thundered over the bickering of the boys. “The game hasn’t been the same without you...”

“Agreed. I suddenly stopped dying.” Toast commented, making her roll her eyes with a laugh.

“I don’t know if I should be happy or fucking scared right now.” Felix laughed nervously. “With Corpse and Y/N? We’re fucked now, guys.”

“I promise I’ll go easy on you, I haven’t played in so long I think I forgot all my strategies...”

“Yeah, sure.” Toast’s forever suspicious voice made her smile wider. “Just don’t kill me in the first roung, okay? I won’t vote you off just stay the fuck away from me you little murderer.”

“Okay, I promise I won’t kill you...”

She couldn’t stop herself from laughing, and the smile remained on her face even when they started the game. It only seemed to widen, when she saw the sign Imposter on her screen.

Only to giggle hysterically when she realized that Toast was the other imposter...

And so the game went on with Y/N and Toast cooperating like perfect serial killers. Corpse did as he promised and guided her through the map, both of them being closely followed by Sykkuno. Because of that she’d just sabotage the map most of the time to give Toast opportunities to kill their friends, but eventually managed to sneak out when her two fellow crewmates were doing their tasks. It just so happen that Pewds was walking past her, and she might’ve accidentally snapped his neck...

“Goddamnit! I knew it! I fucking knew it was you!” Sean yelled once the game was over and Y/N saw the sign VICTORY on her screen, her small character standing next to Toast’s one. He was ejected at some point because Poki managed to walk in on him killing Rae, but Y/N remained undetected until the very end. Perhaps the fact that Corpse was one of the two crewmates who were left alive had something to do wtih it...

“That was rude” Pewds said in a whiny voice, clearly referring to their encounter which led to his death. “I was just happily walking around, doing my tasks like a good crewmate, and then boom! Y/N happened”

“I would say I’m sorry... but I’m really not” she laughed, making Felix gasp in shock.

“That’s what happens when you work with Toast!”

“Good game, Y/N. That was amazing” the man in question said appreciatively.

“Will you finally forgive me for killing you that one time if I say that being imposters with you was cool?” she laughed nervously.

“Actually... Yeah, I guess we can bury the hatchet now. AND we should team up more in the future.”

“Great!”

“Excuse me, what?” Corpse’s voice made the whole lobby laugh. “I don’t remember us cancelling our partnership, Y/N.”

“Corpse...”

“Are you trying to steal my accomplice from me Toast?”

“Well she’s a great partner in crime after all...” Toast deliberately used the phrase, making Corpse gasp.

“Hey! She’s my partner! Find yourself your own, Toast” Corpse joked, making Y/N laugh bashfully, her cheeks warming up at his words.

“Yeah yeah, I remember, don’t worry man. No one’s gonna take your partner in crime away from you...” Toast’s teasing voice made them all laugh, Corpse and Y/N included.

For the next few rounds Y/N played as a crewmate, running around the map with either Corpse or Sykkuno and doing her tasks. During meetings they joked and laughed, and for a moment, she stopped thinking about what people watching her friend’s streams might think about her presence. After all, there was at least a small chance that they didn’t think about it at all, and simply enjoyed watching their favoirte youtubers. Just as she enjoyed playing with her friends.

Oh, and by the way, Corpse kept his promise and didn’t kill her even when she was the last player alive...

It was soon time when everyone started slowly leaving the lobby, having played for over three hours. Y/N also said her goodbyes to the others and promised that she’d join them to play a game called Raft next week.

When she turned her computer off and threw herself on her bed, Y/N immediately grabbed her phone to call Corpse. He answered right away.

“Well hello, partner...” she rolled her eyes with a smile when he accented the last word. “Or should I say, traitor, instead?”

“Corpse... you know I would never betray you...”

“Well how can I be so sure, now that I know how cool it is to be imposters with Toast?” she knew he was joking, she could almost hear the smile in his voice.

“Not nearly as cool as it is with you, Corpse” Y/N grinned from ear to ear when Corpse scoffed.

“I spare your life so many times and that’s what I get in return? You cheat on me with Toast?” he said in disbelief “I’m disappointed, Y/N, I really am.”

“I would never!” she laughed through her words, even though her cheeks were now red because of Corpse’s words. “You’re the best partner in crime, Corpse, I wouldn’t trade you for anyone else!”

Not only in the game, she thought.

“Hmm, alright. Let’s say I believe you.” he said after a moment of thinking.

“I mean it, Corpse...” Y/N said after calming down from her laughter. “I... I really wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me? For what?” he asked, genuinely surprised.

“Well, first of all for inviting me to today’s game... I really had lots of fun, it was great to play and talk with the others. And I wouldn’t be in the lobby if not for you...” Y/N mumbled, before verbalizing her previous thoughts. “And I also wanted to thank you for just... you know... being my friend. My real life partner in crime. I just wanted you to know I’m really glad I met you...”

Corpse was silent for a good few moments, and Y/N started panicking that maybe she said something wrong, or maybe he found her spontaneous confession funny, or worse, dumb. She was almost ready to somehow laugh it all off, when his voice cut her off.

“Thank you, Y/N. It really means a lot to me too.” he sounded like he had some troubles with speaking, which made Y/N furrow her brows in worry.

“Is everything okay, Corpse?”

“Yeah, I...” he stuttered, then laughed nervously. “I just didn’t expect that and... yeah. It’s not something I hear on a daily basis, especially from someone like you.”

Someone like me?

“But what you said... it’s mutual.” he said after a moment, and Y/N couldn’t stop herself from grinning like an idiot. “You’re the best partner in crime I could ask for. And not only in the game.”

She could as well just pass out there and there...

“So uhm... there was one thing I wanted to ask you...”

“Yeah?”

“I was wondering if maybe... you know, if you’d have some time... and if you’d want to of course... would you maybe like to visit me here in San Diego?”

Yeah, passing out seems like a good idea.

***

This is not the last part.

TAG LIST:

@golden-chan @pillowjj @afuckingunicornn @love-and-virtues @ignooynim @crapimahuman @hannahjsworld @laugh-like-the-moon @fallengoddess772 @kingric03 @dolphinpink310 @paigeyisme @bunnychano3o @dxrtygxrl28 @z-nyx @baby-iyania @trashygeek @qmalley @yn-dreamlife @queenshadow142003 @daughterofsmokeandbone23 @my-little-art-world99 @yoongi-holland @rinarecommends @psychoticunicornsblog @goldensunshinestyle @unstableye @pastelvixenbeauty @weallneednamjesus @benakenalove @corpsesimpp @xenos-sonex @jellicorn05 @must-be-a-weasley-92 @keijikunn @infinitely-kate @thisshitisfuckingdifficult @summerbbygirl @mygirlviolet @eat-your-veggies @evans-dejong @jeffxx @weepingdonuthumancookie @myinnergayistakingover @i-love-scott-mccall @thecanterburywitch @annshit @blood-of-fandoms @namjoons-crabssss @guadu-chan @harleyharleycrow @stormyskys13 @soft4kei @ukai-hoe @that-chick212 @campcampie @cookiewhoree @ukiyolixx @princess-skate @newtaholic-staygold @unknown-and-invisible @cherry-piee @marvelenthusiast3000 @apples-of-february @lovelybrit @wineandionysus @faepetersen @vincent-stargogh @idalinette @ggsmashgg @browneyespinkhair @uwucorpse @fluffylittellama-blog @yoshigguk @queentorresstuff @becihadshawn @winged-reader @x3musicismylife @musubipost @missdox @honeyames @dark-o-room @izthefangirl @l0verl0ser @laurenfangirlsout @asianfrustration13 @hopelessfluff @sacrifice-me-please @stopicouldhaavedroppedmycrossant @sleepingalaska @strangenerdsstuff @otakuartist05 @blossom-702 @astream-ofconsciousness @mythicalamphitrite @infinitelycharmed23 @ s1utforfictionalcharacters @ abrokenlink @ lestrangeesme @laazullii @ avesagittarius @ smiithys @zenx2003 @vintagexparker @write-from-the-heart @goalexis123 @ trrcelovesyou @rebloggingeverything @homosexualjohnwayne @xprettyqueenx @just-a-stan @tenebrisirae

#corpse husband #corpse imagines #corpse x reader #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband x reader #youtubers x reader #imagine

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fandoms-anime-reviews · 2 years

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Well, it’s that time of year again. The time to reflect on everything and really stop and think. 2021 had a lot of highs and lows when it came to anime, but through it all, we all came away with something grand.

A song. A story. A memory. 2021 gave us so many amazing things. And now, as we begin to close out the year, I want to share with you all my personal faves that I watched through it all.

Keep in mind, not everything in my list of what I watched was from this year. Some of it was from last year. Others are far older. But every title I watched this year to completion was time well spent. And these are my opinions on what I watched. I’ll keep it all under the read more so that this doesn’t take up your entire dash.

Now with that, let’s get to the list!

HERE IS FANDOM’S PERSONAL ANIME AWARDS FOR SHOWS THEY WATCHED IN 2021!!!!

BEST SCI-FI goes to Planetes

This was a toss up between Planetes and Astra: Lost in Space, but I felt that Planetes just beat out Astra. A series about space garbage men that has truly stood the test of time that more people should check out. If you enjoy stuff like Cowboy Bebop or Wolf’s Rain or shows with similar tones, then you’ll like this show.

BEST FANTASY goes to To Your Eternity

Listen, I know there were tons of Fantasy shows out there this year. And I tried to keep up with them. But the one that I feel earns the title of Best Fantasy goes to this show. Fushi’s journey and the world he inhabits is incredible and you will not be disappointed.

BEST MYSTERY goes to ODDTAXI

What more do I need to say? There are few anime that I would say are 100% Perfect. This is one of them. No detail is overlooked. No amount of character interaction is filler. Everything has a point and purpose to the great end. If you haven’t seen it already, what are you waiting for?!

BEST SHORT SERIES goes to Pui Pui Molcar

It’s a stop motion show about sentient Guinea Pig cars. Need I say more?

BEST DRAMA goes to GANKUTSUOU: The Count of Monte Christo

It’s the Count of Monte Christo. In space. With aliens and funky artwork. And it somehow works. I don’t know how better to sell it.

BEST SLICE OF LIFE goes to Yuru Camp

Cute girls do camping things and it was honestly the show I needed when I finally hit the burnout of the last 2 years.

BEST OST goes to Vivy: Fluorite Eyes Song

This soundtrack was far too good and was worth the hype alone. But paired with the animation and it was absolutely elevated.

BEST SEQUEL goes to Uma Musume Season 2

I tried so, so hard. This year had so many good sequel seasons. But the one I felt was the strongest was this one. I still stop and think about it from time to time. And its a season that stands on its own. It’s simply fantastic.

BEST COMMUNITY goes to Shirobako

Bringing back this award, this is in regards to characters and setting and how they interact. And the community of the setting of Shirobako are simply amazing to watch and I wish these people were my fellow co-workers.

BEST ONGOING goes to Ranking of Kings

I HAD TO GET THIS SHOW ON HERE SOMEHOW AND IT WILL PROBABLY MAKE MY BEST OF 2022 IF THE SEASON STICKS THE LANDING.

Best Romance goes to Science Fell in Love, so I Decided to Prove It

Two nerds who are so into science that they need to use science to prove they are in love. Shenanigans ensue. It’s too cute.

BEST FRIENDSHIP goes to Astra: Lost in Space

There were a lot of great anime I watched this year that I felt deserve this award, but without spoiling anything, the friendship between the crew of the Astra is something that I felt deserved recognition the most.

BEST FIGHT goes to Kyojuro Rengoku VS Akaza from Demon Slayer: Mugen Train Arc

I STILL GET THE FEELS OVER THIS FIGHT OKAY?!?! I WILL NEVER RECOVER FROM THIS!

BEST ISEKAI goes to Ascendance of a Bookworm

It was a close race between this and Realist Hero, but I felt that Bookworm had a more solid open ending that both allows for further story, as well as leaves a viewer satisfied in the case a new season cannot be produced. (Luckily, both are getting new seasons soon, but point still stands.)

BEST COMEDY goes to Zombieland Saga Seasons 1 and 2

Zombie. Idols. Need I say more?

BEST INSERT SONG goes to Dawn Breaks from Given

It was so, so hard to pick an insert song this year, but I felt this song had more of what I was looking for in terms of something both emotional and memorable. If you haven’t listened to it, please do.

BEST OP is a DRAW! This award goes to ODDTAXI and PRETTY BOY DETECTIVE CLUB!

Listen, these two have amazing animation and very fitting songs that perfectly encapsulate their respective shows and what to expect from them. Both are worthy of watching on their own.

BEST ED goes to BEASTARS Season 2.

The animation and the music are both just so soothing and are a welcome change of pace compared to the action and suspense of the main show and OP.

MOST UNDERRATED goes to Kemono Jihen

Horror. Mystery. Found Family. Criminally under watched. Please give it a watch.

MOST HEARTWARMING goes to The Saint’s Power is Omnipotent

This anime was just gentle. Soft. Warm. A nice romance and sweet fantasy isekai.

MOST DELICIOUS goes to Restaurant to Another World Season 2

It’s hard to watch this and not get hungry.

GUILTY PLEASURE goes to Fairy Ranmaru

I will not justify this one. It’s just pure, unapologetic, queer fun. It’s not good, but it’s not bad. It’s just fun.

MOST ADORABLE goes to My Senpai is Annoying

Look, I’m a sucker for the “Tiny-Grumpy-Human and Giant Goofy Teddy Bear” dynamic, okay? Sue me.

BEST REWATCH goes to Akudama Drive

I cannot describe how much better this show gets with every rewatch, okay? Just...give it a watch if you haven’t already.

MOST EMOTIONAL SCENE goes to Episode 1 of To Yuor Eternity

My feels...will never recover....

MOST FUN DUB goes to Sk8 The Infinity

HEY BITCHES AND BROS AND NONBINARY HOES!

This dub just gets me.

The DESERVED BETTER award goes to Way of the House Husband

If ANY anime adaptation should have gotten the One Punch Man treatment, it should have been this one. You’re better off ripping the audio from the show and placing it over manga edits. I’ve never seen an anime that made me think a premise wasn’t funny the way this one did.

MOST DISSAPOINTING is also a draw! This award goes to B: The Beginning- Succession and Higurashi no Naku Koro ni Gou/Sotsu

With B: The Beginning, it was just disappointing. I hardly remember anything from the season. I keep waiting and waiting for a part 2, wondering if maybe there’s something I’m missing. The music was boring, the fighting wasn’t memorable. I wish they’d just either left it at one season or actually stopped to consider “is this any good?”

With Higurashi Gou/Sotsu, however, this is one that the more I think about it, the more I try to fit it into the overall narrative of Higurashi. The more I try to make sense of its themes and story, the more pissed off I get. This just feels like a giant spit in the face after being thrown into a pile of cow manure. Even if I were to take it as its own thing outside of canon, it just doesn’t make it any better. It’s not even worth it beyond the music.

And now, the ranking of:

THE TOP TEN ANIME I WATCHED IN 2021!

10) Pretty Boy Detective Club 9) Astra: Lost in Space 8) Gankutsuou - The Count of Monte Christo 7) Ascendance of a Bookworm 6) Planetes 5) Kemono Jihen 4) Uma Musume Season 2 3) Sk8 The Infinity 2) To Your Eternity 1) ODDTAXI

And there you have it! My rankings for anime I watched this past year! Were there some you think I missed? Are there any you think I should give a watch? Any your favorites? Let me know!

Thank you all for taking the time to read this post and I look forward to seeing you all in 2022!

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hoodiewithhorns · 3 years

Text

━ using your safeword scenarios p.3 !★

genre : hurt/comfort smut.

characters : f! reader x sakusa, matsukawa, kenma

p.1 + p.2 + m.sterlist + requests

(please read the rules before requesting ty.)

▼ cw : not proof read, use of safeword, neglect , unprotected sex, degradation , clit spanking ( 1 ), impact play ( sakusas part ), mentions of exe(s), caught masturbation (reader) , pillow humping, thigh riding, implied punishment, kinda crybaby reader, implied cockwarming, cheating (?), angst, established relationship, all characters are 18+, MDNI ▲

different safewords used this time <3

- ty to the anons and user @/please-take-me-to-the-moon for the scenarios <3

sakusa

word count : 1.4k

you knew better than to do this, humping your dearly beloved boyfriends pillow with just your cotton panties, a loose shirt with no bra under, like a bitch in heat, desperate for friction of any kind. You knew if he had caught you like this he would punish you that was guaranteed. however, in the literal heat of the moment you didn’t care. sakusa’s constant pattern of coming home the minute you were already fast asleep in your shared bed, never being able to fill the void of need in your little cunt.

〜　☆

Considering he’d let this slide since its been a month since you’ve two have done anything sexual, these thoughts only making you hump his pillow even more desperate leaving a pool of your arousal staining his pillow, with the occasional soft whimpers of his name. losing yourself in your own lust, You didn’t hear the sound of the door clicking open.

Sakusa, leaving his practice early since his performance was unfavorable by the shitty mood he was in, lashing out on his teammates for the smallest things they’d do and so many more. in short, his team suggested he’d stay home t’ill he cooled down.

“y/n? i’m home.”he walked around the empty apartment accompanied by the muffles of your soft moans, trying to find you as quickly as possible, obviously knowing it was you. he opened the bedroom door slowly and quietly. his eyes grew wide at the scene in front of him.

still not noticing his presence in the door frame you continued humping his pillow feeling your high approach, but leave you since you needed him.

“tch.” clicking his tongue at you in disapproval. you flinched letting go of his pillow to face him, feeling your heart race when you made eye contact with him, arms folded and a look of disgust planted on his pale face. Your eyes already filling up with tears knowing what comes next. “m’ y-yoomi! w-welcome home-”

“who the fuck gave you permission to touch yourself?” cutting you off, walking towards the bed, he pinned you down to the bed, arms on your sides, hovering over you with his dead, cold, heartless gaze cutting through you, as you tried to look away in shame only earning you a slap to the face to make you look at him. the sting causing you to choke out a sob. praying internally that he’d let you off the hook just this once. you were just needy for him.he has to understand that, right?

“answer me, right.now.”

“n-no one yoomi... i’m s-sorry please don’t wanna be punished!” you pleaded to him only making him more angrier. he grabbed your jaw making you whimper at the tight grip. scanning you top to bottom, eyeing at the wet patch on your underwear.

“then why did you huh? couldn’t wait until i got home couldn’t you? needy fucking thing.” he tutted, letting go of your jaw harshly, tugging your panties down to your knees already feeling impatient himself by how his cock hardened through his shorts. despite wanting to punish you, he wanted you. needed you to be precise.

the man hasn’t felt you in a whole month how could he not miss his girlfriends tight slutty cunt? removing his volleyball shorts letting his cock spring free, he strokes himself a few times before lining himself against your cunt, letting a small sigh when you felt his hard tip touch your soaked entrance.

feeling slightly relief you were finally gonna feel him after so long. That feeling of relief however didn’t last long when he slammed his fat cock inside you without warning. you let out a yelp, hands immediately going to his chest hoping for him to not bruise your cervix from how deep he was already. he growled when he felt your palms try and stop him, so he slapped your hands away roughly marking them red.

“b-but yoomi please it hurts..it h-hurts”

you figured he didn’t hear you. but he was too focused on punishing you to care if it hurt or not. so you pleaded again for him to slow down. finally getting a response from him.

“shut up you disgusting whore.you brought this on yourself, touching yourself while your boyfriends away.”

“...dirtying up his fucking pillow while he’s gone. how fucking pathetic.” he spits, slapping your clit harshly in attempt to get you to shut up. his degrading not having a hint of reassurance anywhere like it usually does when he fucks you. normally, he’d call you his “slut” or his whore but never ever calling you a disgusting one at most, what did this mean?..you asked yourself, mind going hazy with fear. feeling like your boyfriend finds you disgusting for your actions, and not a single trace of love or concern for you, not even noticing how you tried inching yourself away from his pace.

sakusa was a mean dom yes, but he cared about you and your boundaries and right now it seemed like he didn’t care about any of those.

too focused on his own pleasure, not realizing you slowly started to breakdown in front of him, hands to your eyes shaken from how hard he hit them, as more tears fell to stain your cheeks.

“n-no not disgusting..i-i’m...so sorry..sakusa..just missed you.” you muttered no longer feeling the long needed pleasure of his cock, only feeling a painful discomfort in your chest as if your heart was gonna burst out of it at any minute. he was caught off-guard by you calling him by his last name, but that didn’t stop the brutal pace on your sloppy cunt. repositioning his hand to your hips digging his nails in your sides, bound to leave marks to be seen in the morning.

“addressing me by my last name? what you think thats gonna make things better?”he muses, his pace speeding up making you whimper. you’ve just about had enough.

“germs! g-germs! no more, i don’t like this!! y-you’re hurting m-me sakusa... please s-stop..stop.” screaming your safeword, trying to get him off you, you pushed with the little strength in you with your fragile hands. it wasn’t enough but he got the message. blinking a few times to make sure he processed the current situation.

he sighed pulling his cock out watching you with wolf eyes as you softly cried to yourself, turning to your side. he didn’t say anything he just laid down beside you. sneaking an arm around your waist, face buried in your neck. he planted some soft kisses onto it trying to make you relax. if he was being brutally honest, he didn’t know what to do.

you never used your safeword and even if it didn’t show in his face, he was pretty frightened. watching you tense up and shake around him all because of him.

“ y-yoomi..im sorry-”

“don’t be.”

he rubs your hands with his thumb in slow but comforting circles, seeing its still red from being slapped away by him, along with him kissing your cheek to simmer down the sting from earlier. god he felt so bad, but was so scared at the same time, all he wanted to do was hold you close..

..and thats what he did, watching you curl up to his chest. The room was silent for a few minutes that felt like hours gone by. you looked up at him with the look you always gave him. Full of love and adoration even with puffy eyes and hurt in your chest you still loved him.

He looked down noticing the soft smile you gave him as if nothing happened. Titling his head in confusion he asks

“why are you smiling? aren’t you upset..at me?”

you shook your head at him, “no yoomi I’m not mad. My body kinda hurts yes, but I’m glad to have you home...i missed you so much I’m sorry i touched myself without permission...”

he lightly smiles at you kissing your lips softly.

“it’s okay. tomorrow we’ll have the day all to ourselves and we can do whatever you want my love. I’m sorry i was so mean... i was having a bad day and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

you paused leaning in closer to his chest as you mumbled.

“can we...take a bath together yoomi?”

“oh sure...here i’l carry you.”

needless to say, you forgave him and gave him one last kiss before going to bed.

kenma

word count : 886

kenmas work schedule was god awful since he was practically up to play games and just that leaving you feeling needy and neglected. you hated it.

but tonight you were just, so needy and couldn’t stand this constant neglect.

No matter how many times you touched yourself of grind against something it couldn’t compare to the way kenma would stuff you with his cock.

he wasn’t a super harsh dom leaning towards a mix of soft and mean, but he still prioritized your needs before his. and tonight you were gonna get that version of kenma.

walking towards the couch he was playing his games at slowly, with nothing but his hoodie and knee highs. you bit your lip standing in front of him, fiddling your thumbs out of nervousness. He titled his head to remove you from his line of sight to see the tv screen better making your heart ache just a little, being so used to it already.

taking a deep breath you sat in between on of his thighs wrapping your arms around his neck making him let out a groan of annoyance to your needy antics.

he continued to play his game acting as if you weren’t there and nothing changed. it all came to a halt when he felt you grinding on his thigh, letting out small cries of his name.

“baby.... please” you mumbled facing his disinterested face not even sharing a glance at you as he continued to move his thumbs around his controllers joystick. He didn’t even pay mind to the fact you were borderline naked either.

“five minutes pretty girl.” he muttered still too absorbed in his game. You pouted shifting your legs to be wrapped around him now, wet cunt on top of his crotch rubbing against him lightly. Making him flinch at the sudden friction. giving you hope he’d give you what you want now. you smirked continuing to grind against him making him bite back a grunt.

“ugh what are you doing?” he said clearly annoyed by your antics already.

your face became red while placing your hands on his shoulders slowly starting to grind against his growing bulge. “want your attention kenma please need you so bad.” you begged hoping he’d give you something anything really.

but being kenma, he went back to his video games. your pout returning once more. “but kenma, please i really really need you.” you continued with your antics and he paused his game, putting his controller on the coffee table.

“fine you want me so fucking bad?” he grabs you by the hips making you yelp as he throws you down the couch. back hitting the cushions while he takes your legs and wraps them around his waist.

he pulls down his sweats pumping himself a few times as he rolls his head back, holding back his grunts. he slowly slides his cock into you, being easy to do considering how wet you were already for him.

he groans as he bottoms out inside you starting steady, but slowly picking up the pace to be more..brutal.

“k-kenma..m’ feels good thank you thank you” you rambled out praises making him grab you by the throat to thrust into you faster.

“god you’re so fucking annoying bothering me because you wanted to get your cunt stuffed like a little slut while i fucking work.” he scoffs making your eyes shoot open at him.

“such a fucking annoying little slut.” he continues his degradation thr grip on your throat not loosening. you felt you eyes grow teary as he continued to call you more vulgar names with the sprinkle of him calling you annoying.

“ c-console...” you mumbled wrapping your hands on his wrists, making him let go of your throat. he froze getting closer to your face as he pulls out slowly.

“huh? Whats wrong does it hurt?” he asks rubbing away your tears with the pad of his thumb.

your lip quivered as more tears started to form. “...i-im annoying...?” you looked him in his eyes as more broken sobs leave you.

“I just wanted some attention kenma...you’re always so busy sometimes I don’t even think you remember i exist..” you muttered feeling small under his cat like stare.

he sighed kissing your cheek, falling to your. side feeling his breath hit your neck. “sorry baby i swear i didn’t mean it...you’re not annoying its my fault for not giving you attention.” he admits as you wrap around him.

“y-you promise you didn’t mean it?” you ask once more. he sneaks a hand under your head to lift you up to his chest, patting your head softly.

“ i promise. here why don’t you sit on my lap, we can do that thing you wanted to try last week...” he looks away embarrassed, you tilt your head in confusion but then realize what he was referring to. you nodded joyfully wrapping your arms around his neck, he adjusts himself for you to line up to take him. he slowly puts you back down on his cock. hissing at the returning feeling.

He smiled kissing your forehead lightly as he hugged you tight.

“better my love?”

“mhm mhm!” you said placing your head on his shoulder as you relax into him. slowly drifting away into sleep. its not much, but at-least it stuffs your very needy cunt.

matsukawa

word count : 615

what lead to this? you two were just on a simple date together at a nearby mall shopping together, looking at upcoming movies, stopping by a few manga stores and bakeries to treat yourselves. overall, just enjoying the time shared together.

that is t’ill the two of ran into your ex. issei watching the two of you talk to each other not realizing how uncomfortable you really were, hiding it with a friendly facade of course going unnoticed by him since he was practically death glaring your ex.

he was basically third wheeling in your conversation with your ex. you would side eye issei hoping he’d pull you out of your situation but it was too late since his mind was cloudy with jealousy and rage.

now, leading up to your current predicament. a heavy make-out now leading to a degradation fest.

“aw whats wrong little slut can’t take me, fucking pathetic much?” he teases pounding you at a faster pace. “can’t believe my own fucking girlfriend was just there being all friendly to her ex..what don’t tell me you still want him?” he muses making you rapidly shake your head.

“ no i don’t i swear issei..just wan’ you..”you muttered eyes growing puffy from how cruel he spoke to you as he continued to suggest away of how would get him back since it seemed like you missed him from how friendly you were acting.

growing quiet at his words trying to tune out his words. it’ll all be over soon anyways, you just had to hold on a bit you told yourself. of course you were an idiot for letting him keep going.

“ maybe i should go ask how kimi’s doing act all friendly and nice towards her.” you tuned into what issei had said in horror at what he just said.

kimi, his much prettier ex who t’ill this day wasn’t over him and he knew this. throwing it in your face as he darkly chuckled at you. you removed your arms that were wrapped around his neck pulling him close. and cupped your face in your hands at the thought of your boyfriend going back to his ex. leaving you alone again.

he wouldn’t right? even though she was much prettier in every feature she had compared to you. he wouldn’t right..? right?

“f-funeral...“you sniffled making him stop all his movements and lock eyes with you. your safeword ringing in his ears.

“hey..hey no i didn’t mean it...” he quickly pulls you towards him, pulling you out of him and hugging you tight. he rocks you softly back and forth in his embrace letting all your bottle up feelings burst onto him. he quick to comfort you and pepper a few kisses on your face.

“ issei..” you mumbled against his chest. he rubs your back looking down at you.

“yes baby..?” his voice shaken with worry hoping you weren’t too mad at him.

“ i-i don’t miss him.. i was only being nice..i was uncomfortable talking to him why didn't you..” he internally punches himself for being so blind and not being able to see by all your movements how uncomfortable you were just breathing the same air as your ex.

he was too blinded by his jealousy to realize his poor baby was scared. he mumbled a curse before apologizing.

“i’m sorry baby i didn’t realize he was making you uncomfortable i should've done something..” his eyes wander away from you.

“ i was just jealous..” he admits

“but issei.. you’re all i want.” you say kissing his cheek and he smiles gracefully.

“am i-i all you want sei?”

“ duh pretty baby. everything i want and need.”

matsukawas is so short i’m so sorry ahhhh but i hope u all enjoyed <3

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ppersonna · 3 years

Text

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.”

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#bts smut #bts fanfic #kim namjoon smut #rm smut #namjoon smut #ficswithluv #rockin around the christmas tropes #bts imagines #bts reactions #kim namjoon imagines

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