#and yes enjoy your veil of anonymity

[not-poignant]

oh god im having a moment. this may seem obvious but…i know that utr is set in australia…theres more than a few references….to australia.. and ….australian things..but i only now realised that means everyone has an australian accent omg 😭😭😭😭(me to my brain: “why didnt you tell me” my brain back: “girl are you forreal”) idk why this is so surprising to me…im slow. so all the conversations that happened…. happened with an aussie accent….temsen…gary….gwyn 😭 i know faber has more of a british accent right? idk why i remembered that but then didn’t think about calebs accent… this is amazing, its also embarrassing for me but i am protected by the veil of online anonymity so im just rolling on my couch going through past conversations in the stories re-imagining them. wait that means YOU also have an australian accent!! i LOVE australian accent!!!! almost as much as kiwi but then again i hear that one even less than aussie accents… 😂 oke have a good sunday..or wait what time is it over there?! have a good time from 9pm germany 🇩🇪 cheers mate

Ahaha, this was so great to get

Okay so firstly, I think it's fairly universal that most of us don't think of ourselves as having accents, so unless a character has a very distinct accent, I don't think of their accents at all. For that reason, I also have zero problems when people just imagine the accent that is normal to them!

Secondly, what most people know as the Australian accent is very particular to certain parts of Australia. Most people haven't heard a Perth accent, which is a lot milder overall than say, a Queensland accent. And class really influences how people talk. Like, most of these people aren't saying 'mate' for a reason, it's just not part of their daily language. So...in that sense, it wouldn't be accurate to imagine a standard television Australian accent either. It's kind of jokey, in the same way that people put on really overdone German or Russian accents, you know it's not always reflective of reality.

I love Kiwi accents too btw, so good. :D Early Flight of the Conchords forever!

But, yes, they are in Australia and they do have...Australian accents. Kadek's probably one of the most 'ocker', Faber is one of the fanciest speakers (as is Flitmouse, though he picked up his accent out of choice lol), though Gary's up there too because he came from a very educated and relatively upper class family (as is Efnisien, when he can stop swearing for five seconds!)

Characters who have a more standard Australian accent would be Janusz, Caleb, Nate, Kadek and I would say Anton's about in the middle.

But, again, if it's just easier and more comfortable to imagine whatever your internal 'generic accent' is - imagine that! For me that's actually like... a neutral English accent, for I think most people it's American! I don't even think my neutral accent is Australian, lmao, because I'm influenced by coming from a family of immigrants (Dutch + English + Russian) and watching a lot of TV growing up of which the majority wasn't Australian, and of course thinking of my own accent as just 'neutral' which it absolutely isn't.

Accents are weird!

[skzdarlings]

i do ; skz ; felix x reader

requested by anonymous: ' I would love if you could use these prompts...on Felix x fem reader:❛ i love that no one else has seen you like this, that no one else has felt you before, been inside you. they don't get to have you, but i do. ❜❛ you're mine. you've always been mine. ❜I love possessive Felix, istg i would give amything to have him' plus two anonymous requests for: 'i'd say you need someone to put you in your place' for felix.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: look this request was for possessive!felix and so possessive!felix i delivered. he is a little weirdo in this tbh. but i think after all my anti-rich-guy stories, i have earned the right for one problematic possessive mafia boss who throws his money and his dick around hahaha. so yes, possessive!felix, virgin!reader, wedding night, arranged marriage, felix being a criminal boss, insta-love. reader's backstory involves a verbally abusive/neglectful family. explicit sexual content. word count: 4000 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy <3

-

Your new husband is astoundingly pretty.   You expected a different face to be waiting at the end of the wedding aisle: harsh, old, scarred.  Maybe, if you let yourself fantasize, he would be handsome in a rugged way. 

You were not expecting Felix.  Slender, delicate Felix with his high cheekbones and freckles, his dark eyes and feather-soft blonde hair.  He smiled a dimpled smile as your father surrendered your hand. 

That surrender was a visual representation of a literal transaction.  You were a bartering tool to save your father’s business.  You knew an arranged marriage was inevitable when a few trades went sour and the company went bankrupt.  The family could only maintain relevancy and safety through a match to someone more powerful. 

Lee Felix is the heir to a very dirty criminal syndicate that blends in high society.  Everyone knows their money is blood-spattered, but they throw a good party and the jewels sparkle the same.

You knew his name long before the wedding.  Of course you knew his name.  But you did not know his face.  You expected a devil, not a vision of divinity, resplendent in white and gold. 

Your heart has not stopped racing since he first lifted your veil and kissed you with lips softer and gentler than your grandest fantasies. 

Now you are perched on a lavish bed in a beautiful penthouse suite.  The walls are windows, externally tinted but offering you a glorious view of the glittering cityscape at night.  You wonder how much of the city your new husband owns. 

Would that be an impertinent question?  It is not as though there is any real charade to play; this is not a love match and there is no sense pretending otherwise.  Enquiring after financial assets is arguably appropriate insofar as business goes. 

Then the door opens and your new husband enters.  All thoughts of business flitter into nothing, an insignificant detail next to your wedding night.  A night with this powerful and beautiful stranger.

“Are you nervous?” he asks in a voice so deep it keeps surprising you.  It suits his angelic appearance in a way, something so captivating about its low tones, effortlessly melodic.  But that melody is coloured darkly in its depth, scratching a shiver up your spine.  When he speaks, it feels like he is trailing his fingers up your back in a curious, searching touch. 

He looks at you with as much depth, dark eyes penetrating as he circles the bed.  He has been nothing but polite, but you can’t help but feel like prey being circled by a predator. 

Even more concerning, you can’t help but like it.  Since the moment he took your hand, his eyes have not left you.  It is almost overwhelming.  You have been invisible your whole life.  No one ever looked at you.  No one ever wanted you.  Your father scared off anyone who tried. 

Felix is not just anyone.  Anyone sensible would be scared of him.

You are also not just anyone. 

“No,” you answer.

“Really?”  He lifts a curious eyebrow. 

You are both in your wedding clothes, all white and gold.  Your veil is draped over a chair in the corner.  He puts his coat there too. 

He never looks away from you, rolling his shirtsleeves up his forearms as he approaches the bed.

“May I ask, why not?” he asks.  It’s a funny question, so polite but only posed because he knows his own reputation.  He knows what you must think of him.  The bloodshed, the ruthlessness, the merciless command he holds over his family’s legacy.  He might look unassuming, but he is not to be trifled with.  That gentle exterior could be unnerving to some people, even more than an outward brute. 

But you have dealt with those brutes your whole life.  An abusive father, cruel brother, an uncaring mother.  Hurt, neglected, ignored. 

Tonight, while you circled the reception to greet everyone, your father and brother pulled you aside.  Your mother had already berated you on the details of your appearance, but they were reprimanding you for every other misstep.

You almost burst into tears, tired and frightened.  You were so afraid you would never escape them.  Even at your wedding, on the cusp of a new life, they were dragging you around, kicking and screaming.

Then you felt a tap on your shoulder.  Bang Chan, one of Felix’s most trusted agents, stood there with a forced but cordial smile.  He looked at you and not your family. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said.  “Your husband is asking for you.  Please, come with me.”

Your father sputtered indignantly, unaccustomed to such blatant disrespect for his authority.  Chan said nothing to him, simply offered you his arm.  He also opened his jacket to flash the gun in his chest holster.  Your family had their weapons stripped before entering the reception.  It was a subtle reminder of who was really in charge. 

So your father and brother were left sputtering helplessly as Chan escorted you across the room.  Felix was sitting with some of his men, smiling his bright smile and looking like any happy young groom. 

That sunny face faltered when he saw your morose expression.  His glance passed to your family, a flicker of anger in his gaze.  Then he smiled at you and held out a welcoming arm. 

“Come here,” he said.  “Sit with me a bit.  Please.” That deep voice.  You felt it like a touch inside you. He had recited the scripted vows earlier.  This invitation was his first real address. 

You nodded.  Your legs were shaky from the confrontation, never mind the wobble from your heels.  Your feet hurt.  Sitting would be a relief if nothing else. 

There was an empty seat behind Felix.  It was the type of seat you were usually given: at the back where you could be forgotten. 

Once you were within reach, Felix grabbed you around the waist.  Your breath caught as you stumbled towards him.  He caught you and held you.  Then you were sitting in his lap, your dress draped everywhere, a glittering ivory prize perched safe and pretty on his knee.  He wrapped a possessive arm around your middle. 

It was more than a power play.  It was one thing to put you on his lap and show your family that he owned you now, but it was another for him to frown as he touched the painfully tight pearl belt around your waist. 

“Why is this so tight?” he asked, looking at you with concern.     

“I’m sorry,” you said automatically, in the habit of grovelling whenever someone took a disappointed tone.  “My mother,” you spoke softly, not wanting the rest of the table to hear. 

He leaned closer to you, offering you his ear directly.  A whisper was all you managed, unaccustomed to such attention.

“They’re real pearls,” you whispered.  “Very expensive.  Very fine.  Too fine for me.  My mother had the belt made small so I would remember to act worthy of them.  Sit straight.  Not over-eat.  You know.”

He frowned, his brow furrowing.  Instinct compelled you to soothe that displeasure, laughing like you were not upset.

“It’s all right,” you said.  “She’s right.  They are very fine pearls.”

“It’s not all right,” Felix said.  He looked at you, held your gaze in his own.  You found yourself counting his freckles.  “Do you like it?” he asked. 

Maybe it was his display of power.  Maybe it was his arm around you.  Maybe it was the freckles.  He looked so sweet, so sincere.  You could not bring yourself to lie.  Though you had defended your cruel family all your life, the truth fell from your lips in a rough exhale. 

“No.”  You felt tears in your eyes.  “I know it’s expensive.  I know it’s beautiful.  But I’ve never hated anything more.” 

He held your gaze, your watery eyes in the dark depths of his own.

Then he grabbed the belt by a thin material strand and yanked.  A couple pearls popped right off and scattered.  The rest dangled on the belt, an absurd amount of wealth in his hand. 

Felix tossed it over his shoulder like it was garbage. Then he wrapped his arm around your waist and held you against him. 

You chanced a look at your family.  They were scandalized.  Horrified.  And you breathed easier for the first time in a long time. You have long suffered the oppressive strangle of control masquerading as love.  His protective arm felt nothing like that pearl belt.

So you look at him now.  You strive to articulate all these feelings.  You are not used to speaking and having someone listen. 

“I can’t explain it,” you say.  “Maybe it’s foolish.  But I… I just feel like I was meant to be here.  With you.  Like this.”

Your heart jumps at his expression, a luminous pleasure that brightens this dimly lit room. 

“That’s funny,” he says.  “I feel the same way.”

You swallow as he sits beside you.  Slowly, touch by touch, breath by breath, he is bringing your bodies together.  His knee touches yours, his arm your arm.  He folds his hands in his lap but he is close enough you can count his freckles again. 

“I need to be honest with you,” he says.  “I’ve wanted you since I first saw you.  A year ago.  At the winter masquerade.”

You look at him with surprise.  All at once, his eyes come back to you, gazing at you behind a golden bird mask at the annual winter social.  You couldn’t place the handsome stranger at the time.  His hair was dark then, his face in a mask.  He did not speak.  His distinctive voice would have given him away. 

He danced one dance with you, the only person who danced with you all night.  You were later reprimanded for behaving like a slut, even though he touched your waist and nothing more.

“You were very kind,” he says.  “I watched you with the staff.  You were the only one in that whole room to say please and thank you to them – did you know that?”  He sighs and looks away, thoughts travelling beyond this room.  “I came from nothing,” he says.  “My family… we fought to get where we are now.  But I remember, you know.  What it feels like to be the smallest and least important person in the room.”

You sit straighter when he looks at you.  Oh, your heart has not slowed its thunder.  Excitement and affection swirl together in a motley tempest of sensation, touched by his words and yearning for more.  You thought you had been sold to an uncaring bidder, but Felix touches you slowly, like he would a very fine work of art.  His knuckles caress your cheek, the slope of your jaw. 

“I thought…” He looks at you reverently.  “I thought… I would do anything to preserve that goodness.  I would protect it.  Like your family wasn’t.”  His brow furrows now, a shadow of his face.  “They would have ruined you.” 

His hand continues, knuckles skimming down your throat, your shoulder, your arm.  You shiver.   He has a terrible scar, scoring the whole back of his hand.  A stark difference to your unblemished hand, your manicured nails against his calloused fingers. 

He says, “I know what it’s like to be ruined.”

You look from your hands to his face, his handsome profile, the slope of his nose and his soft lips.  He is still looking at your joined hands. 

“I wasn’t always like this,” he says.  “I’d give anything to have my innocence back.  But I can’t.”

He lifts your hand, cradles it between both of his like something precious.  Your breath catches when he kisses your palm, lips soft against your skin.  

“So I told myself, I would do anything to save yours,” he says.  He looks almost… afraid.  An expression you never expected to see on this man.   “So I destroyed your father’s business,” he says.  “It was all me.  I knew he would never give you to a man like me unless he had no choice.  He would have given you away to one of his friends and they would have broken you.  But you were already mine.  So I left him no choice but to see things my way.” 

“Oh,” you say, surprised beyond all words. 

“I wanted you to know before anything… happens… between us,” he says.  “But I understand if your feeling are complicated.  Or if you… fear me.”

Your father has often boasted how many men fear him.  It does not sound like a boast from Felix, rather something lamentable.  His face is shadowed in shame. 

“My feelings are not complicated,” you say.  He is still holding your hand in both of his.  You lay your other hand there, a complete joining. 

He meets your gaze, an intense and imploring stare.

“I’m not my father’s daughter anymore,” you say.  “I’m my husband’s wife.  My loyalty is to you.  My place is with you.”

“Yes,” he says, spoken on a breath.  His smile returns.  “Your place.  I’d say you need someone to put you in your place.  Your rightful place.” 

He springs off the bed like there is lightning under his feet.  He is all smiles and sunlight again, a beacon in the blue dark of this room.  You cannot help but bask in his warmth, bereft in the chill when he leaves your side. 

He takes something from his discarded coat pocket, a case swathed in velvet, soft to the touch.  You hold it, admiring the texture.

He kneels behind you on the bed while you open it.   Inside is the most breathtaking necklace you have ever seen in your life.  When you lift it, the chain is long, designed to sit low, loose around your neck.  No more chokers.  No more pearls. 

“Oh, Felix,” you say, breathless and amazed, then very embarrassed.  You are not used to such lovely gifts.  Even the pearls were a punishment.  “I can’t accept this…” you say, stunned.

“You can,” he says. 

He takes the clasp then strings the necklace around you.  His fingers on the nape of your neck have you shivering.  The necklace clasps in place, then his lips are on your neck, a chaste press that nonetheless lights fire under your skin.  “It was made for you,” he says.  “Like you were made for me.” 

He takes the zipper of your gown between two careful fingers, so slowly lowering it.  It feels like you are unravelling with it.  The zipper reaches the base of your spine and his fingertips dance across your bare skin. 

He steps off the bed.  He looks down at you, his eyes intense but his smile soft.  He touches your cheek, strokes his thumb across it lovingly. 

Then he is sinking to his knees in front of you.  You already feel weak as jelly, but your whole body goes soft and pliant when he gently grasps your ankle, when he slides your painful shoe off your foot and tosses it aside.  He somehow finds every sore spot and rubs it better. 

“This is how it works,” he says.  He is on his knees but somehow his presence looms bigger than you.  You cannot look away from the thrall of his gaze.  “You are my wife.  And when we are out there, I am your servant.”  He takes your other foot and removes that shoe as well.  He massages you gently.  “I will never deny you anything,” he says.  “You can ask me for anything. All right?  I will give you the whole world.  I will give you my whole heart.  In return, I only want one thing.”

“What’s that?” you ask, already breathless.

“I am your husband,” he says, “and in here, you are my servant.  Only I can touch you.  Only I will have you.  All of you.  In every way.  Always, starting from today.  Starting from right now.”    

“Yes.  Yes.  But I – I’ve never done this before,” you say, aching to surrender but fearful he will regret this.  Though you are knowledgeable, you are lacking in experience from years of isolation.  “I’ve been alone for so long,” you say.  “I don’t want to disappoint you.” 

“You don’t,” he says.  He lifts your leg, swoops down to kiss your calf, then higher: your knee, your thigh.  “You could never,” he says, guiding your leg to rest on his shoulder.  He gathers the volume of your wedding dress in his hands and pushes it up, up. 

You almost forget to breathe.  He kisses higher on your thigh.  Then he grabs the thin material of your white tights and rips them open.

“You’re mine,” he says.  “You’ve always been mine.” 

You fall back on your elbows, limbs already quivering as he tears through your underclothes as if impatiently ripping open a prettily wrapped gift.   With your expensive lace panties shredded and your tights in tatters, he pushes your skirts up and out of his way.  You hold them while he kisses up your thigh.  He runs his tongue along the seam between your thigh and somewhere much more sensitive. 

“No one else has done this to you?” he asks.  He already looks flushed.  Desperate.      

“No,” you answer.  You swallow hard.  “Never.”  You know some men do not enjoy providing this type of pleasure to their wives, so you are about to tell him that you have no expectations in that regard—

But then he is on you like a starving man, eyes closed and mouth open and licking through all that wet desire.  You fall on your back, pressing your heel into his back.  He groans, pressing deeper, tongue seeking, swiping, stroking. 

He grips your thighs possessively, holding you in place as he ravages you with his mouth.  He takes you up and over a blissful crest.  It leaves you a drenched and panting mess. 

He stands, wiping his arm across his wet mouth.  He does not look satisfied, eyes still hungry as he climbs on top of you. 

“My wife,” he says, like the word is sacred and impossible, like he thought a man like him could never say it.  “All mine,” he says, running his hands up your thighs, up your waist, touching every inch of you until he is cradling your face delicately in his careful but calloused hands.   

It makes your whole body clench up tightly, your breath stuttering as he kisses you.  You melt into the kiss, so different from the chaste peck of your ceremony.  It is a claiming kiss, the taste of you still on his lips, his moan in your mouth, his chest against yours as those sounds of pleasure rumble through him. 

He tugs down your bodice, then he is ripping through your underclothes again.   When your bodice is around your waist and your chest is bare except for his necklace, you find yourself covering your breasts instinctively.  He takes your hands, not forcefully but firmly, holding your gaze.  His mouth is already so pink and raw from kissing.  You wonder if you look as ravished.  Maybe more.  It makes you whimper, surrendering when he pins your hands on either side of your head. 

“This is mine,” he says, kissing your jaw, your throat, then lower.  “All mine, sweetheart.”

He wraps his lips around a pointed nipple and you feel the reaction between your legs, as if connected by a thread.  Your legs try to close around his hips but he presses down.  The crumpled skirt of your dress is between you, but he feels your thighs clenching, feels you desperately bucking. 

Even his chuckle is a deep sound.  He smiles at you, batting his eyelashes as he licks the curve of your breast.  Your whole body twitches again. 

“Mm,” he says.  “You feel that?  You getting all tight… and hot… just for me…”

“Felix,” you say, you beg.

He sits back on his heels to get your wedding dress off.  It is a flurry of ivory and silk, earning some laughter, then it is gone and your husband is staring down at you.   Again, you feel like prey, like a meal spread out helplessly for some predatory creature.  Again, you like it. 

He is just as impatient with his own clothes.  He does not look away from you while tearing his shirt open.  Buttons fly, forgotten, and he rips the material down his arms and off.  His belt is next, leather whistling through the air then joining the heap on the floor.  He grabs your hand and guides it to the hard shape in his white pants, groaning deep in his chest as your palm curves around it. 

You are so captivated him, by the way he feels, by the sounds he makes, that you are surprised when he touches you too.  Your legs part instinctively, then your thighs twitch to close when you are embarrassed by your eagerness. 

“Don’t be shy,” he says.  “Not with me.” His fingers feel divine inside you, gliding as if through silk, pressing at your walls and making you whimper.  “Yeah, my baby.  So nice… ‘n wet… for me…” he murmurs, more to himself than you. It still makes you clench, like your body wants him deeper, pulling tight around him.   “God.  Perfect.” 

“Aren’t we g-gonna—”  Your eyes drop to his waistband, then up to his eyes again. 

He smiles, laughs, and withdraws his fingers slowly. 

“Oh yeah, sweetheart,” he says, unbuttoning his pants.  “We are.  Be patient.  You’re gonna enjoy this.  Gonna remember this night forever.”  He leans down so his body is over yours.  He kisses you, presses you into the pillows.  When he pulls back, he traces a finger along the necklace, smiling brightly. “The first time I made you mine,” he says, speaking low and soft against your lips.   “I’m going to do everything with you,” he says.  “And you’re gonna want it.  All of it and more.” 

He has you begging for more already.  When he finally is pushing inside you, after so much torturous build-up, you are a breathless, sweaty tangle of limbs.  It feels like he is pinning you to the mattress, taking you so deep and so hard, like your whole body is changing to fit him.   There is a long, slow burn, but you are so wet and he is so careful; it is an ache that gives way to pleasure. 

His arms are around you, holding him above you, making you feel so completely shielded and enveloped.  He starts a slow pace that turns more frantic.  Your hands move all over his chest and shoulders to find a grip. 

“I love that no one else has seen you like this,” he says, grabbing your searching hand.  He brings it to his mouth, kisses your palm, your fingers.  He puts your hand on his shoulder, then he slides his hand under your head to cup your neck, holding you steady while he rolls his hips into yours.  “That no one else has felt you before,” he says.  “Been inside you. They don't get to have you, but I do.“

“Yes,” you say.  “Always.  My husband.” 

“Mm.”  He drops his forehead to yours.  “My wife.” 

You come again but it feels different, starting deep inside you and rolling outward, a full-body spasm that has you crying out his name.  He comes too, holding you against him, his lips on your neck as he says your name. 

Then he kisses you.  Then he lays you down.  He wraps you in his arms and squeezes. 

“Sleep for now,” he says.  “It’s been a long day.  And I want you again.”

“You have me,” you say, nestling in his arms, your head under his chin. 

“Yes,” he says with a smile.  He looks so sweet even while his wicked hands hold your body in a strong, possessive grip.  “I do.”      

[sotwk]

The Best Gift (Legolas x unnamed OC)

Summary: Legolas wishes a "dear friend" a Joyous Begetting Day--but anonymously.

Dedication: For my dearest @quickslvxrr, who has been such a constant and patient supporter. I'm so sorry it took forever to grant such a simple fic request from you. I hope this brings you some joy during rather difficult times. <3

Word count: 1.3k

Rating: General Audience

Content: Fluff, comedy, romance, shy young Legolas, secret pining, brotherly banter, OC Son of Thranduil (Prince Gelir) 

Warnings: None

To Read on AO3: LINK

The Best Gift

Third Age 556 June 26th

The Woodland Realm

“What in Araw’s name are you doing?”

Legolas gave a muffled cry and stumbled back a couple of steps, but caught his balance before he could crash into the shrubbery outside the small kitchen window. 

“Get down!” he hissed at his brother Gelir, grabbing the older ellon’s sleeve and yanking him down to the dirt beside him.

His heart racing like frightened deer’s, Legolas listened carefully for changes in the movement within her cottage, any sign that she might have overheard his dolt of a brother’s voice and sought to investigate. Mercifully, the melody of her sweet humming continued to float uninterrupted from the open window. 

“Oh, are you the only one permitted to wish our dear friend a Joyous Begetting?” Gelir smirked and punched him on the shoulder. “If I too had a gift I wished to present to her for the occasion, would you pound me?”

“No!” Legolas blurted out quickly; too quickly. “Wait--have you brought a gift for her?”

“I have not, because I had assumed your answer to that question would be yes. And as little as I fear your wee hits, honeg, I do not particularly enjoy being on the receiving end of them.” 

Gelir shoved the younger prince aside, leapt lightly to his feet, and crept over to peer above the windowsill. Legolas held his breath, despite knowing Gelir would never be seen or heard by any elf, man, or beast if he did not wish for them to. The worrisome issue was the great pleasure his brother seemed to derive from embarrassing him at every open opportunity--something one might assume a grown elf would grow weary of after two and half centuries, but it had yet to happen. 

Thankfully, after an agonizing few seconds, Gelir dropped back down to their hiding spot. “I see you opted for the purple night lilies.” He cocked an eyebrow at Legolas. "I seem to recall Ammë setting certain conditions on the use of the rarest blooms from her garden."

"You recall correctly," said Legolas tersely. All four of his elder brothers were frustratingly knowledgeable of the details of his personal business--a result of the powerful bonds that linked them. But Gelir was easily bored, and the only one to actually stick his nose in for active meddling. "She did not set a time by which I am required to make myself known."

"And is Ammë also aware you have spent--on my guess--at least the last two hours sitting outside this unwitting maid’s window hoping that she would come to some sort of epiphany?”

Legolas thought about the smile that lit up her face so beautifully his entire chest ached, and the way it had stayed on her face the entire time he waited there, content to just observe the joy he had caused. 

“I believe she knows. Or is close to discerning it.” 

“You are right. She must realize eventually that a plant so rare and valuable could only come from a high lord or prince.” Gelir snapped his fingers. “Perhaps I should walk in there and take the credit and her fair heart to boot!”

Legolas jerked his head suddenly. “You wouldn’t!”

“You are right. I would not; that would be wrong.” Gelir leaned in closer, his expression suddenly stern. “But it is just as egregious to carry on as long as you have, making veiled overtures to this lady rather than mustering the courage to speak the truth of your feelings plainly to her face.”

“The pursuit of someone’s affections must be like hunting. When you hunt an animal, you go with the focused intent of finishing the job as quickly as possible. You do not toy with the creature to scare or confuse it and cause it needless pain.” 

Gelir clamped a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder. “I may not know what it is like to lose my heart in this manner, little brother. But I know it is unfitting that I show greater respect to animals I stalk than you do to someone you profess to love.” 

The sudden outpouring of wisdom from his wise-cracking brother rendered Legolas speechless.  But something on his face must have quelled Gelir’s baser instincts to tease and mock him. 

“Explain your struggle. Where does all your hesitation lie?”

“I…she…” His brother seemed so genuine this time in his desire to help, that the words broke through Legolas’s reluctance to expose his vulnerabilities. “What if she does not feel the same way I do? What if she will not have me?”

“She does and she will.”

“How do you know for certain?”

“Because I have two eyes and I use them,” Gelir said flatly, his patience already worn thin. “Unlike the both of you, evidently, who cannot gaze directly at each other's faces long enough to notice how nauseatingly smitten you are with one another.”

Legolas’s hands curled into tight fists. Against his better instincts, he wanted to believe it. What maiden could refuse a son of the Elvenking if he offered her his heart?

Well, she could, in all likelihood. For what was his title against true beauty and grace such as hers? Why should he be her first choice when she could have anyone in the entirety of Eryn Galen?

“Bah! Enough of this tragic nonsense.” Gelir’s hand around his arm easily tugged the dazed Legolas to his feet.  “I will not let you waste any more time squatting here like a toad. And even toads have the sense to croak and announce their intentions.”

Gelir hooked his arm around his brother’s hunched shoulders and gave him a firm shake. “Perhaps a few bottles from Ada’s cellars might rally those nerves, eh? Come. With any luck,  you can make another go of it before the day’s end.”

As they trudged around the hedges to start the trek back up to the King’s palace, Legolas wrestled with the sense of failure at his retreat. Why could he not be more like his brothers, if not like their father? Afraid of nothing, brimming with confidence to speak their mind to anybody. What was stopping him?

Nobody. Nobody but himself. 

Legolas froze in place so suddenly that Gelir nearly lost his balance. “What--?”

The younger prince turned to squarely face the pathwalk leading back to the cottage, glaring at the bright green door with the intensity of one about to leap across an impossible distance over a deadly chasm. 

“Yessss. Go on!” He distantly heard Gelir hoot as he began his determined stride up the path. 

But then he heard something else. Footsteps. A doorknob turning. 

The color drained from Legolas’s face and his legs turned to lead. He twisted about to scurry away and out of sight, but a pair of powerful hands suddenly seized the back of his tunic, lifting him so that his boot soles left the ground. 

A hard, rough toss pitched the helpless elf to the cottage just as the door swung open. He flailed his arms out to regain his balance and avoid face-planting on the stoop, but not quickly enough to avoid bumping against the maiden that had stepped out of her home. 

“H-Hello.” He gulped down the panic that rose up his chest, as the nearness of her, such as he had never experienced before, enfolded him. Her scent, her warmth, her…touch? Legolas realized that she had raised her hands and planted them firmly against his chest, likely to help break his ungraceful fall. 

“I… uh, I came to wish you… that is…I-I just wanted to say…” Valar, did Gelir’s shove knock his tongue loose from his mouth?!  

“I wished so badly for it to be you!" she suddenly blurted out, and stuck forward her chin in her willful defiance of protocol.

“R-really?” Unexpected joy and relief burst out of Legolas’s chest like a flock of sparrows exploding from a bush.

The sweetest blush rosied her cheeks, but she still had not moved her hands from the front of his tunic, he noticed. “The flowers are the most beautiful present I have ever received, but knowing that what I had hoped for is true, that they came from you… that is really the best gift.”

“I do not believe there is anyone gladder about your begetting than I,” the elf prince avowed.

And as her whole face lit up brighter than Gil-Estel, as she slid her arm through his and guided him into the cottage, Legolas felt the nudge of a distinct sound inside his head: the chuckle of an older brother whom he had just given yet another anecdote to refer to the next time he wanted to crow over being “always right”. 

Elves HC Tag List: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @achromaticerebus @aduialel @asianbutnotjapanese @auttumnsayshi @blueberryrock @conversacomsmaug @elan-ho-detto-elan-15 @entishramblings @fizzyxcustard @freshalmondpandadonut @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @glassgulls @heilith @heranintomyknife23times @ladyweaslette @laneynoir @lathalea @lemonivall @LiliDurin @quickslvxrr @ratsys @scyllas-revenge @stormchaser819 @talkdifferently6 @tamryniel @tamurilofrivendell

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[sinsofbeauty]

Tipsy King

Fandom: COD MW2

Pairing: Tipsy!Konig x Fem!Reader

Requested: Yes :)

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, König is a bit more than tipsy, Soft Smut!, Sub! König, Oral M. Receiving

Overview: At home alone while your husband is out with a group of friends. When he comes home he can’t help but feel a little hungry, but your touch has him craving for something a little more spicy

A/n: One request done! I was on a bit of a hiatus but here y’all go! Request was anonymous through messages, so I hope they like this! Requests are open, and enjoy you guys!

You had just finished putting the containers of prepared food in the fridge, closing it shut before adjusting the towel on your chest. It was a late night and you didn’t want to go to sleep just yet, so you took a shower and did some cooking to get yourself occupied. Your husband was out with friends at the moment which to you was quite the surprise. He wasn’t one to go out drinking or partying but you guessed that he was probably dragged by one of his colleagues. It made you happy knowing that he went with them, considering that he stayed at the house with you whenever he was home. You loved him to bits but it was about time he spent some of his free time with others.

Hearing the door jingle from the living room, your ears perked up at the noise of your significant other entering the home. His footsteps were slow, quite scattered if you kept track of how he walked, but eventually he had gotten into the kitchen. You were washing your hands at the moment after scrubbing the counter down when you felt a large embrace from behind. Large arms wrapped around your frame, and a head placed itself on your shoulder. A small hum escaped from his throat in which made you giggle in response.

“Tired?” You asked, turning off the water to the sink. “Seems like you had a little too much fun.” You can smell the strong scent of alcohol. Explains the staggered steps and the way he was acting. Your husband nodded his head in your shoulder, his grip tightening on you while he tried stuffing his face deeper into it. Smiling you moved slightly to grab the small towel next to you, drying off your hands.

“Do we still have leftovers…?”

Your eyebrows raised at the sudden sound of his voice. It was a lot deeper than normal, more relaxed if you put it in other words. His accent seemed to stick out a little more and to be honest you liked it quite a bit. “We have a little bit. Are you hungry?”

“Mmhmm…”

“I can warm something up for you. Would you like that?”

Your husband nodded his head in your shoulder before taking his weight off of you. Turning slightly as you go to the fridge, you watch the man walk away, hitting the doorframe with his shoulder in the process. A smirk lifted your lips when you heard him mumble an ‘ow’, giggling softly when you opened the refrigerator door. You haven’t seen König drink in a long time, and even then you don’t remember the last time he had been drunk. Although he was the Affectionate Drunk. He would be puddle of happiness, hugging up on or getting close to people in such a loving manner. He was really a sweetheart when he wasn’t so reserved, or on the battlefield in that matter.

The microwave beeped before you had taken the food out you had just warmed up. Walking to the living room, you see König sitting on the couch. When he noticed your presence he looked over. You were met with his black veil, the fabric covering his features other than his eyes. They looked half lidded, a little disoriented as he kept looking from one part of your body to another. It followed with his black tee and off gray jeans, in which looked like something had been spilled on the front of them.

“It’s a little hot,” You warned, setting the tupperware down on the coffee table. “It was the last of the leftovers so hopefully it fills that appetite of yours.”

“Danke,” König spoke as you took a seat next to him on the couch. He lifted his veil to his nose and picked up the container of food. It wasn’t long before he started eating it like the beast he was. It was gone in a matter of minutes, which didn’t surprise you with how fast he had to eat out on the field. “Did you miss me when I was gone?”

You turned your head slightly to König, nodding your head in response. Placing your hand on his back he sighed out, and pretty heavy at that. “Did you miss me?”

“Yes.” His voice changed in an instant. The familiar tone made your eyes move down towards his pants, and oh boy what a huge fucking tent you saw. “I missed you… your touch feels good.”

The environment shifted quickly, giving you a slight blush as a result. Your heart was pounding as your husband spoke while shifting his hips. Even though it was late, you were nevertheless pleased to see your him in such a state. It was quite… submissive. You put your other hand on his stomach, which stiffened up at the touch. "Would you like more of my touch?" König remained silent, but you could tell he appreciated what you were doing by the way his body responded to you. Surprisingly, he liked to be physically spoiled, especially by you. The man was quite affectionate and inclined to give rather than receive in the bedroom. That situation would change now.

You adjusted yourself on the couch and used your hand to sit your husband back all the way, his eyes shifting to you. With one hand on his shoulder, the other focused on massaging his clothed body. His chest, abs, and down to the lower part of his stomach where you stopped before going back up again. Because of his aching bulge, his hips jolted a little as you put your palm so close to them, giving away that his patience was wearing thin.

“Schatz…p-please..” He whined breathlessly. “I can’t take it…please, touch me please…”

At the very thought of you touching him, you could feel his body trembling gradually, and once you did, you watch him dissolve below you. His hand that was closest to you grasped your thigh somewhat tightly, but you didn't mind as you started softly massaging his clothed cock. König was incredibly needy tonight; it was probably the combination of a little excitement and the alcohol he had. After all, he could only picture your naked body because you were still covered by the bath towel. To provide him with some relief, you unbuckled his belt and then undid the buttons on his jeans before lowering the zipper, raising the flaps.

“Can you pull these down for me?” You asked, tugging at his pants.

He complied, taking them down to his knees before they fell to the ground. Afterwards, you switched your position and moved from the couch to in between his legs. As you knelt down, you could see the sudden change in your husband's eyes. He was almost begging you to do what you were about to do just with a look, and it pleased you. You took hold of the hem of his briefs and gently tugged them down till his cock was uncovered. The bead that rested on the tip of his penis had already started to leak before, and it was flowing down after a slight overflow. You gripped the base of his penis in your hands, puffy red and stiffened with need. He put his hand up to his mouth, which he had not yet covered from earlier eating, and gasped at the slightest contact.

“Sensitive today,” You spoke, leading your hand up and down his shaft with ease. The pre cum had applied itself as a lubricant for now, your hand gliding itself onto his girthy dick indeed. König was not only large in size, but the length he has under his clothes is fairly large itself. “Does it feel good baby?” Your other hand comes into contact to fulfill his needs all around.

“Y-Yes…it’s- mhn~ feels great. Please don’t stop…f-fuck- ah! Don’t stop!”

You kept pumping your hands up and down on his cock, getting tighter as you descended and looser as you ascended. You would frequently peek up to watch the man's response, who would often be embarrassed to display his red face or even moan in ecstasy. You spit on the enlarged tip while looking down at it to spread more lubricant down the base. However, your tongue made contact with his throbbing head before you move your hands. Before proceeding to the shaft, your tongue gave his tip a thorough swirling motion to combine the moisture and provide more slickness.

You didn't get the chance to give your husband a blowjob very often, let alone a good one. All throughout, he was really thick. Your mouth would frequently grow tired and hurt, which left him feeling bad. An occasion like this was precious because König tended to skip the foreplay with him and dive right in with you. You were motivated to continue, not only by the confidence you had but also by the trembling sounds emanating from his mouth. He was so beautiful like this.

“Oh mein- agh~!”

Halfway down, you lowered your mouth and started to very softly suck him. You did the best you could while pumping what your mouth couldn't accommodate with your hands. He watched in fascination as you made every effort to keep yourself from gagging, often going down a little too far just to pleasure him. You did gag a few times, but you didn’t care much due to the way he moaned out when you pulled your head back up. Although, your sweet husband soon was caught off guard by the quickening of your speed. His legs squirmed a little at the friction, and his hips started to buck a little.

“AH~! W-ait s-slo-aah.. slow down!”

Within seconds, his cock jerked and twitched inside your mouth, and you moved your head to look at him while your hands worked it’s magic. Before König gripped the couch, your tongue made quick lines along the head, engaging in with the swelled tip. His muscles clenched and relaxed periodically as his breathing became noticeably heavier, the males chest visibly rose and fell.

“You look so pretty in red König. Do you want me to pleasure you some more~?”

“Bitte! B-Bitte…agh~ I c-an’t, it feels- so mmmmhn~! W-wait-”

You pushed yourself down a little more, and before he could object, he clapped his hand over his mouth. His legs began to quiver as a result of the vulgar noise of you choking on his cock, which rebounded throughout the entirety of the room. You lifted your head to get some air, but not long after, you shoved as much of his length as you possibly could down your throat again. The once-quiet air was now filled with the filthy, wet noises of you bobbing up and down on his cock. His sighs and grunts finally lost their ability to be contained and evolved into frantic pleas and cries of delight. The way your spouse began to crumble under your control was simply so sensual, and seeing him in this state made you feel unbelievably powerful.

You mouth had taken itself back with a small pop, backing away from him while once more sliding your hand along with such ease. You could tell he was ready to cum by the way his legs began to shake even more violently. “Are you gonna cum love?” His strangled moans only made you smile as your hands jerked the remainder of him. You put your lips on his tip and lightly sucked, which seemed to throw him far over the edge.

“Oh liebling..oh mein gott~ I’m gonna- I-I I-m gonna-“

König's head was thrown back on the couch, and you immediately looked up as soon as his eyes began to cross just slightly. As ribbons after ribbons of cum spurted out into your mouth, he began to moan out in ecstasy. You were forced to halt your movements when you heard his whining and heavy breathing, allowing him to achieve his orgasm before you removed your mouth from his cock. He watched as you swallowed all of his semen in one gulp, his head rising slightly with his heaving chest. Although a little salty, the flavor was not unpleasant.

After a few seconds of relief König sat up, his legs still shaking softly. “You did so good baby,” He spoke to you, putting his hand beneath your chin and lifting your head up slightly to look at him.

“Anything for my king,” You said with small smile.

“Well then let me return the favor, Meine Königin~.”

[toomuchracket]

have you ever done a blurb where they visit Paris again when they’re finally together and go on little dates and do all the cute touristy shit? that could be so adorable

Maybe a cute little Parisien date, he could surprise her with a weekend away - corner shop cafes, flea markets and french kisses

i think this is your first birthday present from matty after you start dating, actually - he doesn't whisk you away on your birthday itself, because you made plans with your family before you and him got together and he really wants to spend time with them, but a few weeks later you guys are SAT on that eurostar from london (yes, you could've just flown, but he liked getting to look at you on the train on the og paris trip so he thought it would be cute to do again lol). he books the most exquisite little boutique hotel, with a suite that looks like a whole apartment and has a balcony and the nicest bathroom you have ever ever seen, and even though you were only on the train for a little while and the time difference is literally an hour it's decided that you'll simply stay in the first night "to cure the jet lag"; a poorly-veiled excuse to order room service and make out for ages and have sex until neither of you can stay awake any longer, aka the perfect night lol. the next day, though, you're out exploring paris, brunching in a café before getting the métro (holding hands the entire time) and going to the louvre - matty thinks the mona lisa is "a bit shit", but it's fun to wander around looking at art with you, snuggling and snapping candids of each other and just enjoying getting to be anonymous together in the crowds. the running bit of the entire weekend is matty being like "ooh, babe, we're in france" and pulling you in for a french kiss because "we have to do as the french do", which actually you grossly exploit so he'll let you have a couple of cigs a day lmfao, and also him just totally spoiling you. like, you wanna pay for dinner, or coffee? absolutely not. see a cute poster at the flea market, or a new book in shakespeare and co? his treat. even the SLIGHTEST interest shown in a dior bag? he's flagging down a sales assistant and whacking out the credit card already. but he caves on your final day, when at breakfast you say "i know it's cheesy, but i want us to put a padlock on that bridge. you and me, together as long as iron holds out. and given that it's what makes up the very centre of the earth... l'éternité, baby", and matty's so sweetly emotional that he agrees to let you buy the padlock lol. a very lovely, very loving weekend <3

[nightmare-dreamt]

HELLO MOOTIE!! I AM SENDING A MATCHUP REQUEST FOR MY NEW OC I MADE THE PAST COUPLE DAYS—! Also I do gotta say that I rlly do enjoy your work and keep going! you make a lot of people happy, i can tell but anyways I’ll do a romantic matchup for Akudama Drive, Danganronpa and Monster High!! here we go—!

Name: Anonymous (yes that’s her name)

Age: UNKNOWN

Sex: Woman but shes not real, she sounds like a robot but her form is unknown to all

Pronouns and Sexuality: She/Them, Bisexual and Asexual

Powers: she has a lot of powers that can affect human which the powers are listed in this link here

Fun fact: she is made by Joey (me LOLOL so she acts like him but theres some things off and also he’s like her best friend/brother so he’s there to protect her and she’s there to protect him so there siblings who are there for each other)

Personality: Well, she is a ENTP but mostly all the time shes Introverted and barely talks, when people ask her questions like “what are some of your hobbies?” or “what do you like to eat” she’ll replay “ないです。人間じゃないので” which translates “Nothing. Because i'm not human.”, but when she warms up to someone she can love or just be comfortable around with then she will show a little bit of emotion but not much, she doesnt show any emotions shes just neutral, she stays away from people a lot because she doesnt wanna try to converse with people but if it's needed then she’ll talk, since she is a robot shes basically really intelligent in everything, shes a very anxious person and she does care a ton for the people around her she loves but doesnt show it--!, shes also like a mother she knows how to comfort people and talk with them, so shes like the therapist mom! Oh and one last thing shes very great in combat she has hand guns with her just in case for incidence for whatever it may be but may not use it a lot since she has powers and she also has a lower monotone robotic voice like miku.

Apperance: she has long, messy and uneven warm grey ponytails that fall down to her knees that have a darker gray coat at the very bottom of her ponytails, they are held up by their white bows while the other bow is uneven on her right side, she has heterochromia so her right eye is a turquoise and the other is a pink one, her eyes also change color when she has a mood like red is upset, yellow is happy, baby blue is sad, etc, She wears a white, long-sleeved collared blouse with buttons that go all the way down to the bottom, with 3 buttons unbuttoned at the end to reveal a petticoat. The dress is thigh length and turns gray towards the bottom, either by design or from dirt. Around her neck she wears a thin red bow and her nails are painted turquoise. She wears a black harness across her chest. On her right leg, she wears a dark grey sock with no shoe, and her left leg and foot is left bare and she also wears some gothic clothing from their creator which is a long black dress with a black headband that has a little veil with a black rose and gold trimmings on the dress. (Also this is the inspiration and yes this is her apperance off of her bc it’s amazing and I could t progress anything else

Likes: we know that there were no listed hobbies but she does enjoy singing but she also likes to spend her time in more quiet places like a library and maybe she’ll watch a show or read a book, but she mostly likes to sing and sleep

Dislikes: she has no dislikes, like at all, and alos no discomforts either.

THANJ YOU!!!

Matchup For Anonymous! An Oc Created By Joey!

Akudama Drive: Doctor

When first meeting her, she wasn't much of a talker or a friendly person and neither were you and that's what made you catch her attention. You were different from the others in the group, you talked when it was necessary and you didn't need any saving, always being able to protect yourself. She also doesn't hate that you're a robot and thinks that you're better than all of the others who stand around and waste her air.

Danganronpa: Nagito Komaeda

He made the mistake of trying to playfully attack you and that backfired with him being tossed onto the ground with the air knocked out of him. You immediately apologized, not realizing it was him and helped him from the now prominent bruise forming on his back.

When the two of you are alone, he'll ask for you to sing to him saying that it helps him calm down. He definitely has a recording of you singing and when he can't sleep he'll use the recording to help him drift off thinking that it's a melody from a goddess.

Monster High: Robecca Steam

There's times when Robecca remembers that she's the only one left of her family and that she'll never be able to hold her father like the two did when they were younger. You make sure to be there for her when she gets those thoughts and comforts her, telling her that you're here for her and that you're not leaving anytime soon.

Library dates are a must for the two of you, especially when Robecca needs to find pieces for one of her projects or when the two of you have to study for an upcoming test or quiz. When the two of you agree that a break is needed, the two of you read a book having a book club just with the two of you, (Don't tell anyone, but it's not really a bookclub and instead the two of you cuddle up close to each other)

[existslikepristin]

Well, I definitely got too busy to finish Kinktober. So I decided to write something else which is a little shorter, but very much in the *coughcough* spirit of the impending holiday. Thanks to my editor, who is anonymous due to being shy, but I want you all to know this was well-edited!

This is a... let's call it "special" story, definitely not as light-hearted as my Christmas special. For greatest effect, I recommend waiting until Halloween to read it, reading it in a dark environment, and reading it slowly, as some of the horror is a bit lost when read quickly in my opinion (don't worry, it's not very long). Or you can just read it now, or after Halloween, idgaf

Tags: TheLounge, NSFW, Pixy, Lola, Gender-Unspecified reader insert, good mouth stuff, very very bad mouth stuff, my editor has advised me to include the trigger warning "extremely scary" even though I thought it was mildly frightening at best, hand stuff, very questionable consent, it's a holiday, idk how to tag the horror parts my dudes so good luck with that

Summon

“That special time of year,” they call it. “When the veil between worlds is its thinnest, and spirits roam,” they say.

Who are they?

What do they know?

They don't know what you are.

They don't know enough.

They didn't.

Lola giggles as you kiss her neck. You love it when she bites her lip.

“Hey, you! That’s naughty!” Lola slaps your hand, just hard enough to let you know you are supposed to keep lifting her skirt.

You jump when Lola tickles your sides. Her sexy lip bite becomes a mischievous grin. You retaliate by wrapping your arms around her and squeezing. She never fights a tight hug.

The distant, pounding bass is still keeping your hearts in sync. Her giggles turn into a contented sigh. You’re dancing around her.

“Am I not supposed to be naughty?” you ask, licking your teeth like the imp you’re dressed up as.

Lola’s bunny costume somehow got ripped, so she’s a hastily-constructed witch… cultist… wizard, perhaps? “That’s up to you, but if you’re too naughty I might have to put a love stake through your heart.” And thus, she settles on vampire hunter. It feels a bit late to decide what one’s jacket and hat and wig represent after the alcohol from multiple drinks has nearly worn away, but you don't especially care.

“Love stake? Yesterday you said you’d ‘slam dunk’ my heart.”

“Awww!” Lola buries her cheek into her shoulder, but she can’t hide the corners of her mouth creeping up around her pout. “Too soon! I was so ready to jam in that costume… You should make me feel better.”

“Uh oh. Do I need to kiss your boo boo?”

“No, this jacket is too stiff to take off right now, but you can kiss them later. Kiss my hoo hoo instead.”

“Holy shit you’re embarrassing.” You lightly shove her shoulder, which she greatly exaggerates. She whirls around, groans like she’s in a melodramatic death scene, and fake-collapses back against a massive oak tree. The act is dumb, but she lifts her skirt all the way up. How nice of her not to wear underwear to the party. She must have known you’d get a little peckish for a midnight snack.

The ground is uneven, so she towers over you as you drop to your knees between roots. You’d compare her to the tree itself, but she’s more of a willow.

You know Lola and you know the routine. She’s a simple woman in most matters, and enjoys a tongue-y kiss to the hoo hoo (and clitoris). Her enormous smile could reflect the moonlight to illuminate the forest if the moon wasn’t slacking off. What kind of moon could only give forty-one percent waxing effort on Halloween?

“Yes! Yes, that’s great! Keep going!” Lola drops the transparently thin veil of subtlety. Part of you is grateful that her little voice doesn’t match her big stature, otherwise the other party-goers might hear her over the roar of the bonfire and the music and know what you’re up to. The other part of you—the majority—doesn’t give a damn. They could watch, for all you care.

Lola’s eyes flutter and she slides downward, a tiny bit at a time, as she loses her footing in the loose, cool, moist soil. The hilarity of her leather jacket squeaking against oak bark makes up for the annoyance of having to scoot back on your knees every few seconds. Eventually her ass and your chin simultaneously meet the moss around the tree’s base. You glance up to see that her jacket is hiked up to reveal her belly button and her wide-brimmed hat and wig are askew, revealing her tightly pulled back, faded pastel purple hair. Lola, as usual, is a little too lost in her hoo hoo-licked bliss to care about adjusting her outfit. You can only assume Van Helsing would be proud. Or ashamed. Nobody cares. That guy’s dead or not real.

“Oooh!” she coos. “Fuck!” she cusses. “Yes, gimmee!” she cums.

You hold Lola’s thighs tight and enjoy her shuddering, sputtering, and gutteral groaning. Tiny words of praise, affection, and joy slurry together with just a hint of skittle vodka breath (lemon, specifically) and more than a hint of fun-size chocolate bars.

When her body relaxes, you push yourself onto your hands and knees. “Happy now?”

“Mmmhm!” Eyes closed, she gives you a sleepy smile and droops deeper in between the roots.

You stand up. You fully intend to get back down and cuddle Lola for a bit, but moments ago you were forced into an awkward position on the ground and you need a good stretch. You turn around, arms up, and gaze between the stars. The moon may not be full, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t a beautiful, crisp night. The stars wink at you, and you wink back, all parties coyly acknowledging the light-hearted raunch that just occurred.

Then you get a strange feeling. Why is it so quiet? Is the party over already? Did they turn the music off?

Curious, but unphased, you turn back around to look at Lola, but your line of sight is blocked by a black pillar. You stumble back a step from the sudden closeness of it, only to quickly realize it’s Lola.

You clutch your chest over your heart and sigh. She’d managed to stand up without stepping on a single crunchy leaf. That was a damn good fright, and you’re about to tell her so.

Then you see her eyes.

Her eyes are white. Not rolled back so you can’t see the color. Just white. Pale white.

She’s shuddering more violently than she was during her orgasm moments ago, but is otherwise standing still, arms to her sides, staring roughly at your chest.

You open your mouth to ask Lola what’s going on, but she opens hers too. Her neck contracts and her tongue pulls back, but not a sound escapes. Dead silence surrounds you, but you hear your own heartbeat, and your own, frantic breath.

In a snap, Lola’s hands are on your arms. It’s more than just her strength pushing you back. For a moment your feet don’t touch the ground, but you don’t fall when you come to a sudden stop, shoulders pressed up against another tree.

Lola is in front of you again. You didn’t see her move. Her eyes may be blank white slates, but you know she’s looking into yours. It’s a deep knowledge. The endless wastes twist you.

It’s too much. You try to push Lola back, but your arms pass through her torso like it’s scalding hot tar. You open your mouth to scream at the pain and your voice is more. Thousands, legions, all as one; you. It won’t stop. You see you and your lives, or what passes for life. A crawling mass of flesh with primordial mind crunched over and over by the jaws of another, larger mass which is itself eaten by infinite desires both lovely and sickening. Horrible things slither over themselves like snakes peeling themselves to shreds and you swim through them. Join them, rage and love in madness. Your mouth won’t close. It’s all you can do to pull your arms from the sludge to cover it. All sound fades as the void batters your fingers to escape your throat.

You weep with joy to see the monstrous Lola pressing her hand against your stomach and down into your pants, because everything else is real, both the silent forest and the damnation you’ve witnessed beyond it.

Lola’s touch brings disgusting pleasure that you can’t escape from. Her blank stare keeps you paralyzed, so you must watch as her mouth closes and her lips slowly creep up. When she smiles, tension suddenly builds inside you. What little reason is left in your mind tells you that it’s the end. If you don’t become what Lola has become, you will be thrown into the unknowable again to rot until the end of time if such a mercy will ever exist. 

Your climax is anticlimactic, all things considered. Your muscles clench and you soak Lola’s hand. Of all things, it’s the simplicity of the orgasm that returns you to the physical realm and throws your arms down so that you can scream. Only one voice, this time. It’s met with the bouncing rhythm of far-off music.

Lola breaks away from you and steps back, the smile still etched beneath her pale eyes. But the smile drops immediately, and she looks confused. Her eyes quiver and the color fades back into them. She pants heavily, begins to flail, and frantically gropes in every direction until she stumbles into a branch, which she grapples and holds on to as if she’s hanging from a cliff.

“Lo—” you test, “Lola?”

She stares at you. Tears stream down her otherwise motionless face.

“What happened?” you ask before deciding she probably has no more of an answer than you do. “Are you okay?”

Lola gulps and her crying stops. She still looks nervous, as she gives you a forty-one percent waxing smile. “Yeah… I’m fine. I think I’m just a little more tipsy than I thought.”

“T-tipsy?”

She nods, and glances down at her hand, covered in your cum and visibly shaking. “Yeah.” She steps away from the tree branch and cradles the hand in the opposite elbow for a moment. “Tipsy.”

The two of you stand in uncomfortable not-quite silence. You wonder if she saw what you did. Heard what you heard. You can’t help but flinch when she moves in your direction.

“I’m g-getting cold,” she says, taking your hand in her dry one, “Let’s go back to the fire.”

You let her pull you tightly against her side, and the two of you walk back slowly to where your friends await.

.

.

.

That was the end of the story, so... Happy Halloween, nerds!

[frozenambiguity]

Anonymous asked:

hi, i saw your post and tags about how you see kaeya as an introvert at his core so... i love reading your thoughts/musing so if you'd ever want to write something like that i'd read it... no pressure, just letting you know &lt;3

Ooc; Goodness, it has been so long since you have sent this ask, anon. I apologize for not getting to it earlier. Either way, yes! I do believe Kaeya is an introvert at his core.

It is more noticeable during his younger years since he had yet to develop his present-day social veil. He was described as shy in the past and sometimes said shyness still shines true ( mostly when someone openly cherishes him or shows affection toward him ). Nowadays, he is a smooth talker. He is someone whose charisma alone can get him what he wants or aims for. But that is a skill that was developed, both out of need and interest, regardless of his innate talent and power over words.

The truth is that the current Kaeya we see is, in most instances, a product of his circumstances and a result of the cards he was dealt when younger. Over the years, he has grown more perceptive regarding social interaction and how to use it to his own advantage. Fun fact: I honestly believe Kaeya would be a brilliant political actor ( he even enjoys political intrigue, as we have seen in the game ).

We must bear in mind something, though: just because someone has successful social interactions and is capable of getting along with almost everyone does not mean that they are an extrovert. No. It only means that they know how to read situations and that they know how to adapt well to said situations. Kaeya's mastery of deception comes into great play here.

What we find in Kaeya Alberich is a perfectly crafted social chameleon. Almost to a fault. And what happens when that mask falls momentarily? Kaeya backs away. Sometimes, he even purposefully removes himself from the interaction, most often under the excuse that he has other things to tend to or that it is getting too late and he must leave. It is all a strategic escape, however.

Kaeya is a person that needs time on his own. To process things. To think deeply about issues ( i.e. him appearing for 2 minutes in Caribert and after a major lore drop, doing the peace sign like "see you later!" and disappearing right after ). Another fun fact is that I believe that he tends to intellectualize situations and feelings: a very common trait among introverts. Not to say that he is someone who is not emotional ( he clearly is, otherwise he would not have let his selfish need to be free of guilt and lies ruin his relationship with Diluc during a very crucial, sensitive moment ). But Kaeya is someone who tends to want to find reasons for everything. Everything has a cause. And he tends to use rational thinking to distance himself from emotional turbulence.

Then, there is the trust and proximity aspects of the equation. Although Kaeya is not against them, Kaeya does not necessarily seek connections. He aches to be connected to someone, of course, due to his wish to be accepted as he is ( although he puts himself inside this torturous mental cage by telling himself he will never be ), but he does not fabricate or work towards those close connections. That is to say, although Kaeya is friendly, he does not necessarily seek friends as some extroverts do. If a friendship happens, then it happens. But it all flows naturally. Kaeya is someone who prefers having 2 close friends to 40 friends in general.

Kaeya is someone who is used to being alone and acting alone. As seen in the game, or even in the manga. I am recalling the specific moment when Amber complained about him never including her or telling her his plans ( and Kaeya just promptly waved at her and went on his merry way, lmao ). Even the traveler has sensed it: Kaeya can be extremely social while also being extremely solitary. Sometimes, even his troops don't know what he is up to, but they heavily rely on his intuition and way of achieving things, as pointed out by Jean herself ( though his ways of doing so and methods may be questionable or puzzling to some ) .

Kaeya prefers to have others relying on him than relying on others. He is a very independent person. He does not share his inner thoughts easily, and when he does, as I already stated, he needs time on his own to digest everything. On this topic, allow me to briefly discuss his in-game mechanics. He is a character that can be a dps, sub-dps, support, self-healer, and self-shielder. That is to say: he can do it all without wanting or needing to rely on others. He attacks and he helps to attack. But he also self-heals and self-shields. And that says plenty.

Truthfully, there are many aspects I could cover that makes me think Kaeya is an introvert, but this is getting too long already. If you ever have a topic you would like me to cover, let me know! Heavens know I can spend 79 hours talking about Kaeya Alberich and how much of a fascinating character he is.

[lauvra]

My secret is that I still read all your posts, but you decided to block me again. I've dealt with rejection, and the possibility of rejection my entire life. I think I grew a little, I can see somethings differently now. It probably was something I wrote. I enjoyed our interactions, I understand you are going through some things. Sometimes I think the best course of interaction would be never interact with people. The importance of my admiration for you is less the to deal with me, I understand.

Yes, I blocked you when you posted things that felt targeted toward me because I don't want to give the impression there's some veiled dialogue bouncing between us when there isn't. It was for my peace as well as yours. This space is sacred me to me, anything that makes me second-guess everything I write must be abandoned. You knew I blocked you, I even explained why when you reached out again and then you sent more anonymous messages that were designed to be unsettling and assure me you're still watching and you know it! The hardest part about this sort of stuff is that I am a freak, I'm a weird weird girl and I don't like ordinary shallow discourse and I also think you're an incredible writer and found your works interesting -- but I don't know your name, where you live, anything descriptive other than maybe your native language so to say you're being rejected by me: I understand, but you're not actually putting as much of yourself out into this space as I do and for me it's scary when a stranger makes bold claims about their admiration especially when they write so romantically. I struggle with rejection too, I am convinced at one point or another that every single person in my life secretly thinks awful things about me or plots against me, my paranoia is no small thing and it's no new trauma no matter how much I'd love to blame one relationship for it, it's not entirely new. If you think you're holding power over me by contacting me on alternative accounts, just know that I operate compulsively from a highly sceptical and imaginative place so everybody already holds that power over me, but it does reinforce to me why my gut instinct was to distance. I want to say it's not personal, but it kinda is personal, although it's so distinctly not personal. There were heaps of interactions through your writing with others, lean in to those - and give up all this self-punishment!

[ladyartemesia]

All I Want For Christmas is You

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Female Reader

Summary: When Park Jimin is unable to escort his precious sister through the gauntlet of corporate holiday galas, he blackmails his best friend Taehyung into being her chaperone. After all, who better to safeguard his headstrong sibling than a man who would never want her for himself? (She and Tae have spent the better part of a decade mutually disliking each other, and that’s putting it mildly.) Yet, even the best laid plans may go awry at Christmas and Kim Taehyung is about to discover that the girl he never wanted has become a temptation he cannot resist...

Genre: Comedy • Fluff  • Smut

Tropes: Brother’s Best Friend (Reader is Jimin’s Sister) • Enemies-to-Lovers

Collab: This work is part of the Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tropes Collab featuring original holiday themed works by @ppersonna • @xjoonchildx  • @underthejoon • @yeojaa​ • @untaemedqueen • and @snackhobi

Word Count: 17K (I know—I am shocked too honestly)

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: suggestive photographs • mention of accidentally being hit with a baseball • hints of jealousy and possessiveness • light tit slapping • explicit sexual content • m/f oral sex • consensual unprotected sex (shield it before you yield it y’all) • Viola’s mirror kink makes yet another appearance •

Acknowledgements:

To @ppersonna​ (Lindy) @underthejoon​ (Fal) and @xjoonchildx​ (Ana) you guys are my heart. Your support, willingness to read (and re-read) and give honest feedback made this fic special. Your friendship is my daily dose of awesome. Truly, I love you.

To @untaemedqueen​ (D) all of the above applies to you, but I owe you a little something extra for the LITERAL HOURS you spent in the doc with me. This fic would not be here without you. You kept me moving. You inspired me. You were amazing. Thank you so very much. This story is lovingly dedicated to you. 

To @hobi-gif​ for being the most thorough and incredible beta reader and for having all the important girl chats with me. I think you learned more about my past than you wanted... Either way you made this story better and I am profoundly grateful for the hours of time you spent. I have removed all the Hope-No-No words in your honor. 

To @lemonjoonah​ as always, you knew EXACTLY what I needed to tweak to make this story work. (Gotta pass that Lemon Litmus Test or no dice lol.) My lovely soul twin. You’re a bloomin’ rockstar. 

Please Picture This Taehyung:

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Yes. Because you absolutely owe me.”

“Then send me a bill, not your unmanageable harpy of a sister.”

Jimin raised a single unimpressed brow. 

“Kim Taehyung. It was exactly five years ago today that I carried your drunken naked ass two miles in the rain after you set your clothes on fire and sprained your ankle at that Beta Phi party.” He paused dramatically. “Do you remember what you said to me that night? After I deleted several pictures off phones and paid off half the party to keep it out of the papers?”

The man in question shifted uncomfortably.

“That incident is a bit hazy in my memory. I’m not sure I recall—”

“Jiminie—you’re the best and I—I owe… you. I owe you the most, Jiminie. I do—I owe you a favor—one BIG favor—anything you ask… Even though... I actually like being naked. I don’t think we need clothes. We should all be naked. Everyone. Then there would be world peace.”

Taehyung’s jaw dropped. 

“You RECORDED IT?!”

Jimin grinned, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

“Naturally. And I had it all ready to go—just in case you needed extra convincing.” He crossed his arms and fixed his best friend of nearly fifteen years with a triumphant smirk. “I’m calling in that favor today, Taehyung. Now are you a man of your word or not?”

“He did WHAT?!”

Your mother winced. 

“Jimin was... uncomfortable leaving you alone for the holiday season. He normally accompanies you to the galas but this year—”

“This year I was going to go alone and finally build my reputation as an asset to this family!”

Park Soomin sighed as she watched her daughter pace fiercely around the living room of their luxury suite. 

“No one doubts that you’re an asset, but… in light of recent events...”

Rage and embarrassment flared up in your chest before you could stop them. 

“This is about Milo… isn’t it?”

The silence that greeted your statement was confirmation enough. 

“Are you ever going to trust me again?” you whispered. 

“Oh sweetheart... it isn’t you we don’t trust...”

Tears burned at the corner of your eyes, but you ruthlessly blinked them back. 

You would play along with their humiliating schemes. 

For now.

“So which one of Jimin’s Ivy League brat pack did he blackmail into babysitting me? 

For the first time in the entirety of the conversation, your mother looked truly nervous. 

“Kim Taehyung.”

You tripped over your own feet and face-planted into the sofa. 

“Jungkook, I need to look into faking my own death. Nothing too over the top. Just a tasteful disappearance—”

The man in question could barely restrain his grin. 

“You don’t pay me nearly enough to deal with your mother in the event of your tragic demise and miraculous resurrection.”

“I could pay you more.”

“Or,” Jungkook replied with a heavy dose of judgment coloring his tone, “you could put on this ridiculous tie and stop trying to weasel out of it.”

“Sometimes I wonder why I pay you at all,” Taehyung growled, yanking the tie from the younger man’s grasp. “Clearly I’m not the one in charge.”

“Your words, sir, not mine. Now shall we go over the details and itinerary?”

If Jeon Jungkook wasn’t the best executive aide in the city (and one of his closest friends) Tae would have drop-kicked him right then and there.

“Could you at least try to look like you’re not enjoying this?”

“I’m sorry, sir. It was insensitive of me to ignore your suffering in this delicate time. The trauma of escorting a beautiful woman to a series of glorified buffets weighs heavily upon you.”

Taehyung tightened the tie so aggressively, he almost strangled himself.

“Beautiful woman?!” he wheezed. “We’re talking about the girl who showed up to our formal graduation party looking like she just escaped from Azkaban.”

Jungkook bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. 

“Tae… how long has it been since you’ve actually seen Ms. Park?” 

“Seen? Maybe three—four years.”

The heir-apparent of Kim Holdings avoided the public end of corporate culture like the plague, preferring to leave the requisite schmoozing to his personable cousin, Kim Seokjin. 

However, he had crossed paths with his adolescent nemesis in... other ways. 

Taehyung was romancing a lovely young socialite who suddenly ghosted him after someone told her that he wanted at least eight naturally-birthed children. 

Soon after, your favorite charity received an anonymous 30,000 dollar donation requesting that you be featured in the dunk tank for an upcoming benefit carnival and then the same anonymous patron paid for at least fifteen little league teams to attend. 

In retaliation, someone petitioned the National Aviary Society (chaired by a very influential senator’s wife that no one ever refused if they wanted their permits to go through) to make Taehyung the MC at their annual awards ceremony—knowing full well he was allergic to birds (not dangerously allergic—just enough to be miserable).  

Taehyung had sniffled and sneezed through approximately one hundred parrots, parakeets, and other assorted fowl until he was ready to commit murder. 

The last several years had been littered with similar incidents of the two of you taking thinly veiled potshots at one another. 

“I can’t imagine she’s changed very much,” Taehyung bit off absently. His mind was abruptly consumed by how he could get revenge for those demonic birds. 

He didn’t notice the smile creeping over Jungkook’s face. 

“No, sir. I’m sure she hasn’t changed at all.”

Taehyung had only ever had the wind knocked out of him once before. 

He was Dionysia High School’s star pitcher for three seasons and during one particularly tense game against JY Prep, Lim Jaebeom whacked a line drive right into his solar plexus. 

That’s how it felt to look up and see you at the top of the stairs. 

In his head, you were still the mischievous imp from his childhood. Every prank he played was directed at the fierce little fiend with braids and braces who’d knocked him and his date into the university fountain while experimenting with her friend’s skateboard. 

But she was gone… and in her place was something far more dangerous. 

A woman. 

Silken fabric wrapped tightly over curves you definitely didn’t have four years ago. That wild hair had been tamed into shining waves and pinned elegantly at the nape of your neck. The wicked slit that traveled all the way up your thigh teased a smooth shapely leg that all but demanded the viewer fantasize about running their hand up the length of it. 

Suddenly it was very clear why Park Jimin wouldn’t let his sister venture into the corporate cesspool alone. 

Because the sight of you could make a man desperate. 

Betrayal—of all things—slowly crept over Taehyung as you descended toward him like some sort of angel floating down from the heavens. 

His mind went blank. Just watching the seductive shift of your hips as you swayed ever closer felt like a violation of his friendship with Jimin. He could feel the judgmental stares of an imaginary Bro-Code Council boring into him from on high. 

“I see you’ve recovered from your memorable tenure as the Aviary Society’s Master of Ceremonies.”

And just like that the brat was back. 

Taehyung breathed a hefty sigh of relief, secretly thrilled to be in familiar territory with you. 

“Naturally I was delighted to help Senator Mitchell’s wife. In fact, Mitchell’s office just fast tracked all my pending permit requests for the new year.” He tilted forward, coming into your space a bit. “I should really send you a thank you card.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you scowled, breezing past him like an indignant queen. 

Tae could practically see the steam pouring out of your ears. 

“Of course not,” he chuckled.

The first gala of the holiday season was an extravagant annual affair hosted by Min Corp., a Seoul based investment firm that commanded billions in assets. This year, the theme of the event was the Joseon Dynasty and the entire ballroom had been gloriously transformed into a stunning celebration of the Min family’s royal heritage. 

Attendees were gifted their own traditional fan, each uniquely crafted by artisans from Damyang. Taehyung’s was all black with bold silver calligraphy while yours was a beautiful bamboo and silk piece decorated with pomegranate trees. 

You had already whacked three people with it by the time dinner was served. 

“It really is a pity these fell out of fashion,” you lamented. “They’re quite useful.”

“You are deranged,” Taehyung mumbled, massaging his temples in exasperation. 

“Nonsense. I only fanned those who deserved it.”

“Harkins?”

“He was staring at my rack for a solid minute.”

Taehyung could hardly blame the man, it was a battle he himself was losing after all, but Harkins was twice your age and married—therefore his ogling was in especially poor taste. 

“Okay... What about Kang?” 

“He was verbally abusing one of the waitstaff.” 

“Alright, fair enough, but why on earth would you go after sweet old Mrs. O’Malley?”

“She was about to grab your ass.”

Taehyung’s mouth dropped open.

“She’s eighty-five!”

“And still kickin’ apparently.” You shook your head in disgust. “As if I’d whack an eighty-five year-old woman for anything less than non-consensual touching.”

“I- I- mean—surely you must be mistaken,” he coughed. 

“Oh, there’s no mistake. That nasty old crone is a serial offender. She likes to play it off as dementia, but she’s as sharp as a tack. Last year she got a whole handful of Jimin. Honestly, I’d call the police on her, but the commissioner is her grandson so I doubt I’d get very far.”

Taehyung turned to the woman in question just in time to see her totter lecherously toward Jung Hoseok, fingers already twitching in anticipation. 

“Is nothing sacred?” he mused hollowly. 

You shrugged. 

“Many people who accumulate as much as our families have start believing that they are entitled to whatever strikes their fancy.” Your eyes met his with a hint of bemusement. “Surely you should be used to this sort of thing by now?”

“Yes, but I was hardly expecting it from little old ladies!”

The remainder of dinner was a terse affair where you pretended he didn’t exist for the entire meal and he in turn pretended that the spunky young heiress seated to his right was the most darling creature to ever walk the earth. By dessert she was ready to get married and you were ready to vomit. 

Afterward, Taehyung found himself quickly converted to your views on fan usefulness as you began strolling through the crowd intent on strengthening your family’s corporate ties. 

“Kim Taehyung,” you ground out through clenched teeth, “how am I supposed to do business if you keep stabbing everyone I speak to!”

“I don’t know what you’re implying. I’m simply not used to carrying one of these. I may have accidentally grazed a few overzealous individuals—”

“My last three conversations have been rudely disrupted by the blunt end of that accused fan.”

Taehyung crossed his arms smugly. 

“And what of it? Jimin sent me along to keep an eye on you and the gentlemen in question were hardly behaving themselves. No one has to put their hand in my back or lean that close to me when they’re talking business.” 

“That’s because no one wants to get that close to you,” you replied sweetly. “You’re gross.” 

A devastating grin slid slowly over his features as he leaned forward to whisper in your ear. 

“I can think of several women who might disagree.”

He just barely caught the hitch in your breath before- 

“Like who? Miss Blushes-and-Giggles from dinner?”

“Jealous?” Taehyung drawled cockily. 

“Only in your dreams, Kim.” Then, with a deliberate flick of your fan, you turned your back to him. “I’m headed for the ladies room. Do yourself a favor and don’t follow me in.”

It was twenty minutes before Taehyung realized that you slipped out the back entrance of the restroom. 

It took another ten for him to locate you on the balcony flirting outrageously with Min Yoongi. 

The young heir of Min Corp. was just leaning closer to whisper sweet nothings in your ear when a black fan slid right in between the two of you. 

“Lovely weather we’re having,” Taehyung observed cheerfully. His eyes bounced between you and Yoongi with barely concealed fury and you let out a miserable groan. 

“Mr. Kim,” Yoongi cleared his throat significantly. “What an… unexpected surprise.”

Frustration clawed at your chest as your overbearing guardian nodded smugly in response. 

It was time to teach him—and Jimin—a lesson. 

“Yoongi,” you sighed, sliding your hand pointedly through the crook of his arm, “I’m not feeling at all well. Would you perhaps… escort me home?”

Taehyung suddenly looked as if he’d swallowed a live octopus. 

Yoongi grinned, clearly thrilled with the prospect of simultaneously spending more time with you and irritating Taehyung. 

“It would be my pleasure.”

“Jimin is gonna kill me,” Taehyung grumbled as he watched Min Yoongi help you into the passenger seat of his Aston Martin. 

An ugly green feeling he refused to identify twisted sharply in his gut when you smiled coyly at the other man. 

“This is ridiculous,” he snarled to no one in particular before yanking his phone out of his pocket. 

Jungkook picked up on the second ring. 

“Sir?”

“I need you to drive to Ms. Park’s apartment and tell me if she goes in alone or if Min Yoongi goes in with her.”

“You want me to what?!” 

“Just do it!” he snapped, downing an entire glass of champagne before signaling his own driver. 

Fifteen minutes later his phone vibrated from the car seat next to him. 

1 New Message from: Jungkook

Her building has four separate entrances. Which one do I watch? 

Taehyung could practically feel the vein pulsing in his forehead as he scrolled through his contacts. 

You picked up on the fourth ring. 

“Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“Oh it’s you… Wait—how did you get this number?”

“Jimin. Obviously. Now please answer the question.”

“Oh a ‘please.’ Who knew you had manners?”

“Answer the question, Park. I’m tired.”

The distinct sound of a zipper unzipping carried through the speaker. 

“I’m at home, of course. Where else would I be? I just got here like a minute ago.”

He had a sudden vision of Min Yoongi helping you out of your dress. His grip on the phone tightened. 

“Are you alone?”

You snorted. 

“I don’t see how that is any of your business.”

Taehyung saw red. 

“I’m coming over.”

There was a loud crash and several colorful words in at least three different languages. 

“Wha- No! I’m trying to go to bed!”

“With who?!”

“With myself, you idiot!”

“Prove it!”

“Fine! I will!”

The line disconnected and Taehyung swore loudly. He was just about to direct the driver to your building when his phone went off again. 

1 New Message from: Park Gremlin 

He almost choked on his tongue. 

You were clearly in the middle of undressing and—in your irritation—probably hadn’t looked too carefully at the picture you sent.  

At first glance it was simply a shot of your empty room (presumably “proof” that you were alone) but you neglected to consider the floor-length mirror hanging in the far corner…

A mirror that showed you angrily holding up your phone with your gown pooled deliciously around your waist and the soft round swells of your breasts strapped into lacy red lingerie. 

You were exquisite. 

A fierce, hot sensation gripped him ruthlessly, and this time there was no mistaking it. 

Desire. 

Your phone lit up on the bed where you tossed it after snapping a photo for your tightly-wound man nanny. 

1 New Message from: Kim Grinch 

I didn’t know you liked Van Gogh. 

Your head tilted in confusion. 

There was a Van Gogh print in your room, but he couldn’t have seen it because it was behind you when-

Oh NO.

You gasped, scrolling back up to confirm what deep down you already knew to be true. 

… You just sent Kim Taehyung a topless mirror selfie. 

Several miles away, smiling smugly in the backseat of his town car, Taehyung was sure he could almost hear you screaming. 

“Good morning, sir. Which would you like first; the bad news or the worse news?”

Taehyung groaned from underneath his covers. 

“Don’t you ever knock? I could have a woman up here.”

“You’ve never brought a woman up here.”

“Is that the bad news?” Taehyung yawned. 

“No,” Jungkook tossed a small stack of newspapers and printed digital articles into his lap, “this is the bad news.”

Pictures of you, Min Yoongi, and even himself were splashed over the front pages of all of them. 

PARK ANGEL TRADES ONE CORPORATE HEIR FOR ANOTHER AT MIN GALA

WHO WILL WIN THE PARK ANGEL’S HEART? KIM TAEHYUNG OR MIN YOONGI? LET US KNOW IN THE COMMENTS

NEW ROMANCE ALERT? PARK ANGEL LEAVES JOSEON BALL WITH MIN SCION 

“The Park Angel?” 

“That’s what the media calls her... The public is rather fascinated with her actually.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Taehyung mumbled. 

“Of course not, sir. It’s a great mystery.”

As usual, Taehyung chose to ignore his aide’s lethal snark and pressed on to the matter at hand. 

“This is a flaming disaster.”

“Oh I don’t know. I really appreciated the picture of you staring on forlornly while she and Yoongi climbed into the Aston Martin. Takes a real gift to capture all that drama in a single frame.”

“Which one was that?!” 

“It’s right under the MAN DOWN: PARK ANGEL LEAVES KIM TAEHYUNG HEARTBROKEN headline.”

Tae ran his hand down over his face in exasperation. 

“I’m surprised my mother hasn’t called.”

“She has. Twice.”

“I don’t suppose that’s the ‘worse news’ is it?”

“No.”

“Of course it isn’t. I’m never that lucky.” He collapsed backwards into his pillows with a beleaguered huff. “Go ahead then. Tell me.”

“Park Jimin is on the line for you right now.”

After a small eternity on the phone with Jimin (assuring him that NO Min Yoongi had not despoiled his precious sister and YES he would definitely do better next time), Taehyung was forced to attend an impromptu brunch with his mother. It took considerable effort, but he was eventually able to convince her that you were neither breaking his heart nor expecting his child. 

By the time he arrived to collect you for this evening’s event, Taehyung was already sick of hearing your name (he’d spoken it no less than three hundred times since Jungkook woke him this morning).

You were in much the same boat as Taehyung, having spent most of the afternoon pacifying Jimin and clearing up your own mother’s romantic delusions regarding the Min and Kim heirs respectively. 

Tonight’s gala was a Victorian Christmas Ball thrown by the National Literary Fund and the entire venue had been transformed into a Charles Dickens fever dream. 

Unlike the Min Gala (whose theme was guarded like a state secret every year) the Literary Fund’s tribute to A Christmas Carol was tradition and you were dressed accordingly in a custom corset gown with gorgeous detailing. 

Every second of effort it took to lace yourself into the monstrosity was worth the look on Taehyung’s face the moment you slipped off your cape. 

“Something wrong, Mr. Kim?”

Taehyung was desperately trying to look literally anywhere but your chest, where said corset was serving up your breasts like a debauched buffet. 

Jimin. Think of Jimin. Think of what Jimin will do to you. Think of how much trouble she’s caused-

He peeked again.

I would pay a million dollars to suck those tits. 

“Nothing at all,” his voice cracked. 

The itinerary for the evening included performances by a local children’s choir, a traditional waltz, and—of course—dinner.

You both managed to get along without snapping at each other during the choral performance, but as two of the largest donors to the Children’s Literacy Initiative, neither of you could escape being drawn into the waltz. 

The energetic socialite who Taehyung flirted with over dinner the previous night eventually lured him onto the floor while you graciously accepted an invitation from a lovely older gentleman who chaired the Fund’s event committee. 

For the first few movements, you were thoroughly enjoying yourself. Mr. Lee was charming, respectful, and still an excellent dancer despite his advanced age. It wasn’t until a familiar sound caught your attention that the lightness in your chest suddenly felt heavy...

Taehyung was laughing. 

You heard him do so many times over the years, and in each instance, the carefree magic of it never failed to make your heart flutter. 

But now he was smiling down at the pretty little heiress and laughing for her… and the flutter in your chest was accompanied by something else. 

Something that felt an awful lot like longing. 

“Does he know you look at him like that?” Mr. Lee asked quietly. 

Your eyes flew guiltily to his, but it was too late. The old man had caught a glimpse of the secret you buried deeply for more than a decade; so deeply, in fact, there were times you almost forgot it yourself...

Almost. 

“No,” you whispered, “he has no idea.” 

Disaster struck at dinner. 

Taehyung quite liked dancing with the lovely Miss Something-or-Other. She was sweet and funny and (unlike with you) he wasn’t constantly torn between agitation and raging inappropriate lust in her presence. 

The cold shoulder you offered him when he took his seat seemed even more frigid than usual and he spent half the meal wondering what he’d done to earn your amplified disdain when suddenly—

Your hand smacked down on his wrist, seizing it in a vise-like grip. 

Taehyung nearly choked on his steak and was about to give you a searing set-down over your spontaneous grabby-ness when he noticed your expression. 

“What’s wrong?” he whispered, leaning forward in concern. 

“I-I need—” 

It looked as if you were in some sort of physical pain and Taehyung was rapidly becoming worried. 

“I need your help,” you finally managed to whimper and the next thing he knew, you were dragging him away from the table and into one of the secluded alcoves near the main entrance hall. 

“Is there anyone around? Can anyone see us?” The look on your face bordered on unhinged. 

“No. There’s no one. Park, are you okay? What’s going on I—”

“I need you to unlace my dress,” you hissed frantically. 

At that moment, a bomb could have gone off and Taehyung wouldn’t have blinked. 

You, however, were completely preoccupied with your own distress and therefore oblivious to his. 

“My earring broke during dinner and fell down there and now it’s stabbing me—”

Your eyes were beginning to tear. Taehyung remained frozen, still trying to figure out whether or not this was a lucid dream. 

“—it’s definitely pierced the skin and there’s a possibility I’m gonna start bleeding through the fabric—”

The mention of blood snapped him out of his daze somewhat. 

“A-Alright. Just turn around—brace yourself on that wall.”

You quickly did as you were told and Taehyung began to tug fruitlessly at the ties cross-crossing your back.

“Why won’t this—”

His fingers fumbled over the knots, desperately trying to loosen them, but they simply wouldn’t budge. 

“I can’t—I can’t get it. Whoever helped you into this thing made sure you weren’t getting out of it.” 

You whined in frustration and the earring shifted a bit in response. 

There was only one other way to fix this (and you would almost rather be in pain). 

“Taehyung I—” you turned to face him again, forcing your eyes shut before reluctantly doing what had to be done “... I need you to reach down the front of my dress and get it.”

He blinked. Twice. 

“I’m sorry—What did you just—”

“Please, Tae,” you whispered desperately, letting your lip tremble in a way he had never been able to resist, “it hurts…”

He gulped. 

His eyes dropped to the matter at hand.

This is fine. Everything’s fine. She’s in pain, right? You’re basically a doctor right now. You’re just going slide your hand in between the most mouthwatering pair of breasts you’ve ever seen and then—

Taehyung’s manic inner monologue was interrupted by the sound of his own moan. He immediately faked a coughing fit to cover it and prayed you hadn’t noticed. 

(You hadn’t. You were actively being stabbed.) 

“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this,” he muttered, curling his fingers over the scalloped edge of the bodice. 

You bit your lip, desperately trying to hold back any reaction, but when his knuckle brushed the pebbled tip of your nipple, you gasped. 

Oh.

His hand stuttered, lingering a moment too long over the tight little peak as his gaze suddenly shot up to meet yours. Both of you had been studiously avoiding eye contact, yet now it was as if neither of you could look away. 

Taehyung wet his lips reflexively. 

“It’s too tight,” he whispered, “I need more leverage.” 

Then his arm wrapped over the curve of your lower back and he drew you tightly against him, anchoring your hips just enough to fully slip his hand between your body and the corset. 

You were so warm.

So soft...

“I can feel it,” he grunted, “but I can’t get a good grip on it.” 

His mouth pressed into a tight line as he leaned forward, bringing your back up against the wall. You let out a little squeak and his eyes darted briefly down to your mouth before he spoke again. 

“Hold on to me.”  

You nodded and wordlessly slid your arms around his waist.

If you concentrated hard enough, you could almost pretend that this wasn’t one of the most erotic moments of your life. 

You could almost pretend that it meant nothing. 

Your mind was spinning wildly, wondering what he was thinking, wondering if he noticed how strangely you were breathing or how hard your heart was beating...

“I’ve got it,” he murmured. Shivers shot down your spine at the dark timbre of his voice. 

He was so close. You could feel every word he spoke brushing softly against your skin. 

“On ‘three’ I’m going to pull it out… Are you ready?”

You drew in a final steadying breath. 

“Do it.”

He nodded. 

“One… Two… Three—”

Taehyung yanked his hand back and several things happened at once. 

Your breasts bounced almost entirely out of the corset. 

The decorative clasps on the front of your gown tangled with the buttons on his shirt and when he pulled back, three of them went flying off like stray bullets. 

And finally, the corset didn’t relinquish Taehyung’s hand quite quickly enough and, as a result, you toppled forward and crashed down on top of him, smashing your newly bare breasts to his newly bare chest. 

It could have been ten seconds or ten hours that passed by while the two of you lay there, breathing heavily in a pile of confused arousal when—

“... Is… everything alright here?”

You both looked up to find a thoroughly scandalized member of the waitstaff standing over you. 

Taehyung saw his life flash before his eyes—ending (of course) with Jimin murdering him for this. 

He gulped again. 

“I can explain.” 

It was decided—for the sake of appearances—that you would both leave the venue (immediately) in separate vehicles. 

Taehyung dropped a cool three hundred in crisp bills on the unfortunate waiter in order to help him ‘forget’ whatever he may or may not have seen. 

Neither of you spoke another word to each other in the ten minutes it took to bribe all the appropriate parties, gather your coats, and call for two separate town cars. 

Something had happened when he touched you; a subtle shift in the precarious balance of your relationship that you both felt keenly, but could not possibly begin to define. 

Taehyung barely even remembered climbing into the back of a vehicle. His body was firing on auto-pilot after the sensory overload of the last half hour. It wasn’t until he was nearly home that he realized he was still holding onto your earring. 

His mind began to wander as he examined the troublesome bauble in his palm. It was a striking piece; deceptively complex and unexpectedly beautiful. 

Just like you.

He told himself that the heat pooling low in his belly was anger—that the strange anxiousness to be near you was simply a desire for retribution—that it was merely platonic curiosity that left his hands aching to explore the rest of your curves. 

Lies.

… and pitifully transparent ones at that. 

Still, he clung to them desperately out of self-preservation. 

The gentle hum of his phone suddenly disturbed Taehyung’s silent contemplation. 

1 New Message from: Park Gremlin 

I made it home safely. 

Taehyung’s fingers were typing a reply before he could properly consider the consequence of his actions. 

To: Park Gremlin

I require proof… like last time. 

He nearly threw the phone the moment he sent it, running his hands down over his face in disbelief. 

You’re playing with fire, Kim Taehyung. 

And he was burning up already. He had no business sending you texts like that. Maybe you wouldn’t catch it. Maybe he could just-

The phone went off again and it was embarrassing how quickly he scrambled to open your response. 

His heart stuttered in his chest. His breathing ceased entirely-

And he knew—he knew—there was no coming back from this.

At first glance the photo was nearly identical to the shot you sent him last night. Same room, same angle… 

same mirror.

Yet this time, the reflection was quite different. 

The temptress in the glass wore nothing but that sinfully delicious corset and a pair of silky lace thigh highs, each accented with a green satin bow. 

He wanted to rip them off with his teeth. 

 “Oh Taehyung,” he whispered, as a dark wave primitive longing tore through him, “you are in so much trouble.”

Across town (buried beneath a pile of blankets) you were still struggling to process the boldness of your own actions when his response lit up your screen. 

1 New Message from: Kim Grinch

Green is my favorite color. 

“WHERE IS HE—”

Taehyung awoke to a series of crashes and shouts echoing from the floor below him. 

Jungkook was already seated in the corner of the room reading a newspaper. 

“Good morning, sir,” he said without looking up. “Would you like the bad news or the worse news?”

Suddenly the french doors of his bedroom slammed open and one very irate Park Jimin stormed through. 

“I swear I should have seen this coming. The two of you have always been obsessed with each other, but I never imagined—”

Taehyung’s eyes widened guiltily. He quickly schooled his features into a confused glare. 

“Jimin, I’ve only been awake for fifteen seconds. What the hell are you talking about?!”

Another stack of newspapers hit his lap and this time the pictures were mostly of him with his shirt ripped halfway down his chest. 

KIM HEIR AND PARK ANGEL CAUSE AN OLD-FASHIONED SCANDAL AT VICTORIAN BALL

FORGET MISTLETOE: KIM TAEHYUNG DISCOVERED UNDER THE PARK ANGEL AT CHRISTMAS CELEBRATION

NAUGHTY NOEL? PARK ANGEL’S STEAMY AFFAIR WITH CORPORATE PRINCE 

PARK ANGEL TOPS KIM TAEHYUNG’S CHRISTMAS TREE

He winced a bit at that last one. 

“You have ten seconds to explain before I start throwing things.”

Taehyung opened his mouth to do just that, but he was interrupted when his mother marched into the room waving the same articles that Jimin had just thrown at him. 

“KIM TAEHYUNG I raised you better than this! How could you!? That poor girl!”

“Mother!” he squeaked, yanking his blanket up over his chest like a frightened debutante. 

Jungkook began surreptitiously filming the whole debacle from the corner. 

“Indeed,” Jimin added darkly, crossing his arms over his chest, “how could you?”

Taehyung sighed heavily. 

“Is anyone else going to come charging into my bedroom?”

“Just answer me once and for all, is she pregnant?” 

“WHAT?!” 

“NO! Mother! Oh my—”

“Why does your mom think my little sister is pregnant?!”

Taehyung waved his arms wildly in exasperation. 

“My mom thinks everyone is pregnant! You know this!”

Jungkook could no longer contain his hysterical cackling. He very nearly fell off the chair trying to hold it all in. 

“Mr. Jeon,” Taehyung ground out irritably, “if it’s not too much trouble, could you please escort everyone out of my bedroom so I can get dressed!” 

“So you see—I was basically like a doctor,” Taehyung finished emphatically. 

He spent the past twenty minutes explaining to the entire table (which now included both you and your mother) why it was necessary to shove his hand down the front of your dress. 

Park Soomin had shown up at his door looking for answers (and dragging you behind her like a sacrificial lamb) about three minutes after Jimin. 

You had taken one look at Jimin’s murderous expression and insisted that the situation be evaluated over breakfast at the cafe down the street (where there were lots of witnesses). 

Which was how you, Taehyung, Jimin, and both your mothers ended up discussing your cleavage over coffee in a public restaurant. 

Jimin was the first to break. It was a few snorts at first, but he was basically in tears by the end of it, wheezing about how he never doubted Taehyung for a second and holding on to his sides from laughing too hard. 

Taehyung’s gaze met yours for a brief, heated exchange. He conveniently forgot to mention your slightly-less-than-explainable ‘check-in’ texts, but their existence was palpable in the air between you. 

“I think I’ll take a walk,” you muttered, excusing yourself from the complicated atmosphere at the table. 

Taehyung’s eyes lingered on you a tad too long as you wandered away, a fact that wasn’t missed by either of your mothers.

“Just a few more events and you can go back to not seeing her at all,” Jimin chuckled, patting him on the back. 

“Yeah,” Taehyung answered with a tight smile. “That’s… great.”

The cafe had a lovely little balcony area decorated with all sorts of comforting Christmas foliage. It was far more inviting than the awkward conversation and confusing stares you and Taehyung had been trading all morning. 

For the first time in the nearly fifteen years of your relationship (such as it was) you didn’t know where you stood with him… and it bothered you more than you cared to admit. 

Taehyung had always been important to you, whether you wanted him to be or not. He mattered—effortlessly—from the first moment you met him and continued to do so without regard for your sanity. 

Whatever was building between you now would almost certainly bring change… though what kind of change was anyone’s guess. 

It was hard to imagine the years ahead without the strange excitement he always brought to your life, but some things were simply out of your control…

“I never thought I’d see you here.”

A profoundly unpleasant feeling (something similar to falling through the ice on a frozen pond) overtook you. 

“Milo.” Even saying his name felt gross. You sighed. “What is so strange about seeing me here?”

The man in question blushed in a way you once found irresistible. 

“I looked for you everywhere. All your usual places—”

“I avoided them.”

I avoided you. 

Milo nodded. 

“I—I figured.” 

He took a step closer and you instinctively moved back. The hurt in his eyes was unmistakable, but you had long since become immune. 

“What are you doing?” you hissed angrily. “I thought I made myself clear the last time we spoke.”

“Yes, but—” his hand reached out to curl over your forearm and you recoiled, “you didn’t give me a chance to explain—”

“Excuse me.” 

You both turned to see Kim Taehyung with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at Milo like he was a roach that crawled across his dinner plate. 

“Your mother sent me to come find you. She wants to leave.” 

You nodded and moved to pull away, but Milo’s grip tightened on your arm. 

“No—please if you just give me a minute—”

“That is enough,” Taehyung snarled, seizing the other man’s hand and forcibly removing it from your person. He angled his body between the two of you protectively. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

Milo’s eyes narrowed. 

“You’re Kim Taehyung. I read all about you in the papers this morning.” His lips twisted into an ugly sneer as he addressed you. “You really think you’re better off with him if that’s the way he treats you?”

Taehyung tensed menacingly beside you, but you laid a gentle hand on his arm to calm him. 

“None of that is any of your concern.” Your gaze rose to meet his defiantly. “Nothing about me is your concern anymore.”

Milo’s eyes fell to where your palm rested on the other man’s sleeve, noticing the way you both unconsciously leaned toward one another. 

“This isn’t over,” he muttered, storming off. 

After he was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding. 

“Thank you,” you whispered (though you couldn’t resist adding), “I could have handled it myself of course…”

Taehyung laughed. 

“Oh I know. I was at that party where you knocked out Tyler Jung for grabbing your ass.” 

You grinned. 

“I’d forgotten about that.”

“Well I’m sure Tyler hasn’t.” 

(He neglected to mention that he split Tyler’s lip behind the library the next day, just to make sure it was extra memorable for him.) 

“I wish I could forget about Milo.”

“... Are you still in love with him?” 

The words tasted like ash in his mouth. 

“No.” You smiled softly. “I’m not sure I was ever in love with him actually. It’s more—” you sighed, “—embarrassment… wounded pride.”

Taehyung tilted his head curiously and you found yourself continuing. 

“In the beginning, he was very playful and charming—and obviously handsome. He reminded me so much of—”

you. 

You cleared your throat. 

“Anyway… I was quite taken with him at first. I didn’t suspect any ulterior motives.” You shrugged, trying to hold back the unpleasant emotions that always threatened to overrun you in moments like this. “I just thought he liked me.”

Taehyung’s eyes filled with sympathy and understanding as you spoke. It felt oddly natural to open up to him this way. 

“Jimin is very protective of me—with good reason it turns out. He was suspicious of Milo and hired people to do some discreet digging.”

Your hands wrapped around your body for both warmth and comfort. 

“Milo’s family owns several companies, just like ours, but they’re all struggling. His father sent him to me hoping that he would eventually get compromising information… a sex tape or photographs—something of that nature. They intended to blackmail Jimin into doing business with them.”

Taehyung felt his jaw clench painfully. Fury, hot and profound, rolled through him. 

“I should kill him.”

You shook your head, amused in spite of yourself. 

“That’s exactly what Jimin said.”

“He has good instincts.”

“Scum like Milo aren’t worth it,” you chuckled. “He never got what he wanted… but I was still mortified. I felt like such a fool for believing him.”

“No,” Taehyung’s hands slid up to cup your shoulders, “it’s not foolish to believe that someone cared for you.”

It would be so easy to care for you. 

“Besides…” his eyes fell briefly to your lips as he searched for the right words, “I saw the way he looked at you and—even though he’s clearly a terrible person—I believe his feelings may have been genuine.”

You nodded. 

“That’s what he keeps trying to tell me—that he did have bad intentions, but ended up falling for me anyway.” You shook your head. “As If I could believe a word he says.”

The silence between you stretched comfortably. Taehyung sensed you had more to say, so he waited until you were ready to voice it. 

“I think that’s why I’m so sensitive about handling things on my own lately… and just now even. I want to prove to everyone—to myself—that I’m not a liability.”

“Hey,” he whispered, tipping your chin up till your gazes met, “no one thinks you’re a liability. And even if you are capable, no one should have to fight their own battles all the time—especially when they’re emotionally compromised…” His thumb gently brushed away the small tear that escaped down the curve of your cheek. “That’s the benefit of having people who care about you.”

“... Like you?” 

The words left you so softly, you could almost imagine they were still in your head where they likely should have stayed. 

Taehyung’s eyes widened in surprise. His gaze became even more intent and you ceased breathing altogether. After a moment his lips parted as if he was about to speak- 

“What’s going on, guys?”

You both jerked back at the sound of your brother’s voice. He was standing in the entrance to the balcony, gaze darting suspiciously between the two of you. 

Taehyung was a bit dazed, but you were always quicker on your feet. 

“I ran into Milo… Tae was calming me down.”

Jimin’s eyes hardened immediately. 

“Where is he?”

“Long gone,” you mumbled, ambling over to the familiar warmth of his arms. “I just want to go home.” 

The Black and White Ball was one of the most coveted invitations of the holiday season. 

The dress code was quite strict (all black or all white—no exceptions) and it was one of the few events where people actually arrived in limousines. 

Taehyung loathed limousines. He felt absurdly pretentious pulling up to your building in such a gauche ride, but traditions and appearances meant too much in his world to simply disregard them. 

His ensemble for the evening was a beautifully tailored black suit with hand-stitched baroque detailing. Oddly, he found himself wondering what you would think of it... 

“You look like a vampire.”

Taehyung turned at the sound of your voice and was struck, yet again, by how incredibly beautiful you were. 

You had chosen to wear white, donning an exquisite gown with delicate pearl beading and a daring sweetheart neckline that molded perfectly to your frame. 

If he looked like a vampire, you were surely an angel. 

Still…

Angel or not, he couldn’t let that comment pass. 

“I think I’m offended.”

“I can’t imagine why. After all, loads of women are attracted to Nosferatu.”

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed. 

“There are so many sexy vampires in popular culture, but you just had to lump me in with the creepy bald one...”

You shrugged playfully. 

“I wouldn’t want you to think I was going soft.”

A wicked grin danced over your lips as you strolled past him regally—just as you had many times before... 

This time, however, he let his eyes linger a little longer on the view. 

Lord have mercy. 

“Of course not,” he coughed. 

“You’re what?!”

You rolled your eyes.

Tonight had been going rather well. 

The two of you formed a mutual unspoken agreement to pretend that your last encounter on the balcony (and on the phone) had never happened and (despite the heated glances you occasionally traded) the bickering and playful banter characteristic of your relationship had all but returned to normal...

Until Taehyung learned of your participation in the evening’s main event. 

“I told you, I’m part of the date auction this year.”

“Does your brother know about this?!”

“I didn’t see any reason to bother him with it.” You were suddenly preoccupied with your nails. 

“Woman,” Taehyung sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “are you trying to make my life difficult?”

“No, I’m just naturally gifted in that respect.”

You turned and began making your way to the front, but Taehyung was hot on your heels and clearly not ready to let the matter rest. 

“I cannot believe you’re actually going through with this! It’s not 1810, you know. We shouldn’t just auction off women for dates—”

“You’re absolutely right, Tae Tae.” You brushed a condescending pat over his cheek. “Nowadays we auction off the men too.”

Then you sauntered off to join the rest of the participating women—and men—backstage, leaving Taehyung to stew about the entire situation from the crowd. 

“As you know, all proceeds from tonight’s auction go to fight childhood hunger right here in our city. For legal purposes, I must advise all bidders that you are only bidding on the company of the individual in question.”

Taehyung shook his head. “Jimin is probably going to kill me for this.”

“If you place the winning bid, then you and your date will receive two VIP tickets to the Governor's Winter Wonderland Gala which comes with a variety of amenities including; a luxury limousine service, one of the private and famously romantic Winter Wonderland dinner experiences—”

His eyes fluttered shut. “Jimin is definitely gonna kill me for this.” 

“—unlimited free drinks, ten complimentary tickets for each of the grand prize raffles, photos with the Governor and his family, along with many more surprises!”

Taehyung grabbed a champagne flute from a nearby waiter and downed it in one go. 

“And now for our first date of the evening! Mr. Jackson Wang!” 

Jackson went for a cool six grand because no one was brave enough to outbid his girlfriend. 

After him, the beautiful Manoban heiress and her handsome cousin Kim Namjoon went for twelve grand each.

Jung Hoseok started a frenzied bidding war between two young socialites and Mrs. O’Malley. He ended up going to the lovely Ms. Ana Fallon for a staggering twenty thousand dollars. 

Taehyung’s own cousin, Kim Seokjin, paid a jaw-dropping twenty-one thousand dollars for Lin Yuna, the young CEO of Lin Cosmetics. (Taehyung made a mental note to ask him about that later.) 

Then it was your turn. 

“The next lady on our list needs no introduction. The lovely Park Angel has graciously agreed to a date with one lucky bidder tonight! Who will it be? Do I hear ten thousand?”

“Ten thousand.”

Taehyung swung his head toward the first bidder and breathed a sigh of relief. 

Tam Martin, one of your best friends and very gay. 

“Eleven thousand.”

“Twelve thousand.”

“Fifteen.”

“Sixteen thousand dollars.”

“Seventeen thousand.”

“Eighteen.”

Taehyung was having trouble keeping up with all the bidders. His ears were starting to ring again and a strange unpleasant nausea was building in his stomach. 

“Twenty thousand.”

“Twenty-five thousand.”

“Thirty thousand!”

At the sound of the last bidder’s voice, you noticeably paled. Your eyes flew to Taehyung’s and immediately he knew exactly who it was. 

Milo.

Before he could even react to the new information, another voice joined the fray. 

“Forty thousand.”

Min Yoongi smiled smugly from the other side of the room and even had the audacity to throw you a wink. 

You smiled shyly at the young heir’s boldness and Taehyung felt something downright unholy rise up in his chest. 

No. 

Milo was still bidding. 

“Fifty thousand dollars.”

Not her. 

“Sixty,” Yoongi countered.

She’s mine. 

Suddenly Taehyung was on his feet. 

“One hundred thousand dollars!” 

The silence in the backseat of your limousine was deafening. 

Tension charged the air like an electric current as the significance of the last hour weighed heavily between you. 

The spacious luxury vehicle allowed you to sit facing one another. Taehyung’s eyes were focused on his hands, but you were looking at him—letting your mind run wild with speculation. 

And hope. 

Part of you was still there, on the stage, watching him stand up and bid a fortune for the pleasure of your company. 

His gaze was so fierce when he spoke, like an ancient emperor calling out his decree for the people to obey. 

You dreamed about him bidding on you when you signed up for the auction (even before Jimin bullied him into accompanying you). You let yourself imagine him speaking out again and again till the others stepped back—

Yet you never dared hope for it. 

However, the last several days marked an unexpected turning point in your relationship. 

For years, you and he were like magnets with a too-similar charge, but something had shifted irrevocably between you, and somehow your stubborn similarities became opposites that could not resist their attraction. 

Kim Taehyung was one of the wealthiest men in the city…

But he didn’t need to buy your heart. 

It had always been his, even if you didn’t want to admit it. 

He had claimed you tonight—and every single soul in that ballroom knew it. 

The next move was yours and you intended to make it. 

“Mmm,” you hissed a bit, bringing your hand to rest just below your breasts. 

Taehyung’s gaze flew up in concern. 

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, it’s just that scratch from the earring,” your fingers rubbed gingerly at the spot, drawing his focus to it, “it still stings.”

“Oh… I—” he shook his head, “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

“Do you want to see?” 

Taehyung’s eyes rose slowly to yours. 

You watched the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he considered your words. Anticipation vibrated through your blood like notes struck on a piano—

Then he nodded...

And you both were lost. 

Trembling fingers slid the zipper down the side of your gown. The dress itself was a marvel of physics designed to support you without the need for a bra. 

Taehyung drew in an impossibly deep breath as the fabric drifted to your waist, baring the perfect mounds of your breasts to him entirely. 

“Here,” you whispered, pointing to a small red mark just under the curve of your left one. 

He bit back a moan. 

“I—I see. That looks… painful.” His fingers dug into the seat beside him. “Is there anything I can do to help?” 

You nodded. 

“Kiss it better.”

Taehyung felt the air knock out of his lungs like a sucker punch. 

This must have been how Adam felt when Eve offered him the forbidden fruit all those millennia ago. 

He knew he shouldn’t—

but he could never deny you. 

“Of course.”

You watched as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. He looked like a man possessed and you reveled in the power of it. 

It was for you. 

He wanted you. 

Your back arched up the slightest bit, beckoning to him—offering him a taste of what he was so desperately craving. 

Touch me… please. 

Large palms landed on either side of your thighs, bracing him on the seat beneath you. The tip of his nose teased the delicate line of your collar bone and he swore violently under his breath. 

Then his lips were on your skin and your mind went blank. 

“Taehyung—“ you moaned. 

Hot open-mouthed kisses spread over the soft swell of your breast and you gasped— shuddering helplessly as a fierce wave of pleasure tore through you.

Sweet merciful heavens. 

Over the years you imagined a moment like this thousands of times in your head—only to discover now that you had pitifully underestimated both his passion and his skill. 

You had dreamed of a quiet fire—but he had unleashed an inferno. 

The lewd sounds of his mouth nipping and sucking at your tender flesh filled the small space around you as he poured himself into each obscene contact—stopping briefly to flick his tongue over the taunt peak of your nipple. You trembled breathlessly at the sharp snap of sensation, letting your head fall back against the seat as you buried your fingers in his soft curls. 

“T-Tae—”

Finally his mouth fastened over the tiny scratch, and the kiss deepened. You knew what he was doing, what the result of his efforts would be—

He was marking you. 

And you wanted it. 

Oh how you wanted it. 

Suddenly the car took a sharp turn, causing Taehyung to lose his grip on the seat. His arms wrapped around your torso for balance, dragging you fully against him.

“Does it feel better, Angel?” he growled. 

You nodded frantically and he nipped at the underside of your breast. 

“Speak up.”  

“Yes, Taehyung,” you whimpered, “it feels so much better.” 

“Mmmm,” he hummed, brushing his mouth along the sensitive column of your neck. “Who knew you could be such a good girl?”

Then his hand came up to grip your chin, turning it so your lips were almost against his—

“Madame. We’ve arrived.”

The driver’s voice cut over your senses like a shard of ice. 

Taehyung jerked backward and immediately buried his face in his hands. 

Your fingers hastily yanked your dress up and you stumbled out of the car in a daze, letting your feet carry you forward until you collapsed on top of your bed. 

Did we just...

You hadn’t even begun to collect your thoughts when your phone buzzed from inside your purse. 

1 New Message from: Taehyung 🙄🥴🙈

I need to know you made it safely to your room. 

You grinned. 

Greedy boy. 

Back in the limousine, the boy in question was nervously tapping the corner of his phone against his chin as he waited for your reply. 

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Oh? But you saw me walk in… and I’m already in bed.

Taehyung growled in frustration. 

She would be a tease. 

To: Angel 🤬🥵😅

I tend to worry. Put my mind at ease. 

He shook his head. 

I have officially gone insane. 

The phone buzzed again. 

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Well… We can’t have that can we… 

Taehyung literally felt the whine tear out of him as he opened the picture. 

Your gorgeous body (the body he’d had his hands and mouth on for one glorious minute) was nestled decadently atop a pile of fluffy blue blankets and wrapped in nothing but a tiny silk robe. 

The neck gaped open just enough to show off the pretty red marks he left on the delectable curve of your breast. 

He groaned, biting down hard on his bottom lip.

To: Angel 🤬🥵😅

That's all I get after I made the pain go away? Good girls send real proof, Angel

The screen lit up again almost immediately. 

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Guess I’m not such a good girl after all...

Jimin came tearing through the Kim Manor front gate at precisely 7 AM—only to find Jungkook camped out at the entrance with several outdoor space heaters and a giant mug of hot chocolate.

“He told you not to let me in, didn’t he?”

Jungkook took a long satisfying sip of his cocoa. 

“I hope you don’t feel singled out, sir. I’m not allowed to let his mother in either.”

“I need to talk to him.”

“Of course, Mr. Park, let me just pull up his schedule—”

“I need to talk to him now.”

“I’m afraid Mr. Kim is booked solid for the morning.”

Jimin stomped his foot like a petulant child. 

“I know he’s up there.”

Jungkook grinned. 

“You’re welcome to climb the trellis and check. I promise not to stop you if you make it all the way up.”

“COME DOWN HERE AND FACE ME YOU COWARD!” Jimin shouted at the top of his lungs. 

Jungkook took another long pull of his drink. 

“Might I inquire as to the reason for your visit today, sir?”

“The reason for my visit,” Jimin yanked out his phone and angrily began typing into the search bar, “is that your boss paid ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS for my sister at a date auction last night and I want to know what the hell is going on between them!”

The article Jimin pulled up (DEVILISH KIM TAEHYUNG BUYS HIMSELF A $100,000 ANGEL) featured an image of the two of you entering the Black and White Ball. Your head was thrown back in laughter and Taehyung was grinning down at you as if you’d personally hung all the stars in the sky for him. 

A genuine smile crept over Jungkook’s face as he studied the photograph. 

“That’s quite a headline.” He handed Jimin’s phone back. “Have you asked your sister about it?”

“No, I swung by earlier, but she wasn’t home so—” His eyes widened. “Oh my—is she—”

Jimin suddenly took off running for the trellis, and Jungkook scrambled out of his chair to chase him. 

“KIM TAEHYUNG IF MY SISTER IS IN THAT ROOM—”

He was already three feet off the ground when Jungkook yanked him back. 

“I thought you said I could climb the trellis!”

“Yes,” Jungkook wheezed, “but I didn’t think you’d actually do it!” That trellis is a hundred years old! A few more feet and I’d be scraping you off the antique brickwork!”

Jimin scowled and crossed his arms. 

“Are you by any chance open to bribes?”

“Normally yes, but Tae promised to double my Christmas bonus if I didn’t accept them today.”

Jimin continued to eye the trellis speculatively, clearly willing to take his chances. Jungkook sighed and rubbed his forehead. 

“Mr. Park, I promise you… He came home alone last night. In fact, they both returned earlier than usual because your sister had a 7 AM finance meeting.” He paused significantly to glance at his watch. “Which is probably where she is right now.”

“Oh… Well.”

Jungkook bit his lip to hold back a snort and Jimin’s eyes narrowed. 

“He has to come down eventually.”

“One would think.”

The young Park heir glanced toward Taehyung’s window again just in time to see the man in question dart back behind the curtains. 

"I KNOW YOU'RE AWAKE, KIM TAEHYUNG, YOU PHILANDERING SLEAZE BAG!" 

Jimin made another jump for the trellis and this time Jungkook caught him in mid-air. 

“Sir, I’m sure it was just the maid!”

“It’s not the maid! I’d know that raggedy mop of his anywhere!”

Jungkook was out of breath at this point. Park Jimin might be small, but he was fierce. 

“Perhaps it’s best if you took a moment to collect yourself,” he grunted. “There’s a lovely new spa down the street and they sent Taehyung two free deluxe packages.”

Jimin stopped struggling. 

“Oh?”

Five minutes later, Jungkook sighed deeply and fished his phone out of his back pocket. 

“He’s gone, sir.”

“Excellent work, Jungkook. I never doubted you for a second.”

“However…”

“... However?”

“I had to give him your spa passes.”

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

“Are you headed for a gala or the guillotine?”

Taehyung rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t pay extra for commentary.”

“It’s complimentary, sir.”

The Kim heir tugged absently at the material of his absurdly expensive evening wear. 

Why do these events always have to be so uncomfortable? 

“Seriously, Tae… you seem,” the young aide searched for the right words, “unusually tense.”

Taehyung’s mind flashed back to three nights ago when he had his mouth wrapped around your breast. 

“Not at all,” he coughed, loosening the collar of his shirt. 

Jungkook bit his lip.

“Is this about Ms. Park, sir?”

The cufflinks Taehyung was attempting to fasten suddenly went flying across the room and hit a lamp. 

Both men winced. 

“I think that was your grandmother’s.”

Taehyung sighed. 

“I admit there have been… some developments.”

Jungkook nodded nonchalantly, trying to disguise the fact that he was internally frothing at the mouth for details. 

“... Such as?”

Taehyung gulped. 

“It started out rather innocently I suppose…” he cleared his throat, “but there may have been some suggestive photographs.”

“There may have been? Are you not sure?”

Taehyung colored guiltily. 

“Well—”

“Do you need me to check for you, sir? I have an art history degree.”

“Absolutely not.”

Jungkook grinned. 

“That’s what I thought.”

Taehyung yanked his tie out of the younger man’s hand. 

“Things have… escalated a bit.”

“Escalated how?”

I licked her tit in the back of a limo.

“Physically.”

It was everything Jungkook could do to maintain a straight face. 

“That’s… shocking.”

“Then why don’t you seem shocked?” Taehyung grumbled. 

A small smile played across Jungkook’s lips as he pointedly ignored the elder man’s observation.

“So what are you going to do, sir?”

Taehyung was silent for a long moment. 

“I honestly have no idea.”

Watching you walk toward him was an experience.  

Taehyung wondered absently if this was how it would be from now on; if for the rest of his life just the sight of you would be enough to scatter his mind and his pulse and even the way he breathed. 

Your dress tonight was deadly. 

It was a decadent red satin halter that clung to every curve. The truly wicked detail, however, was a daring slit that ran the entire length of your leg. 

Taehyung was certain he was going to trip over his own tongue at some point if he looked directly at you for too long. 

Oh help. 

Memories of your previous encounter flooded his senses. Every second you were getting closer and he didn’t know what to do—what to say. 

So he didn’t say anything at all. 

Not a word when you reached the bottom of the stairs. Nothing but silence as he opened the door of the limo for you. More silence and no eye contact as he settled into the seat across from yours—

And you tolerated that for about three minutes. 

“I never thought I’d see the day when Kim Taehyung didn’t have a comment about something. Perhaps I should mark this down on my calendar.”

The words were lightly spoken, but you were shaking on the inside. The last time the two of you were alone together he had your dress around your waist and you were moaning his name. Now he wasn’t talking and you were torn between panic and irritation. 

Taehyung, however, latched onto your passive barb like a lifeline. 

“Is that a hint of sarcasm I hear from the benevolent Park Angel?” He grinned. “Surely not.”

“Red is not a particularly angelic color. Perhaps I’m feeling feisty today.”

Taehyung leaned back in his seat and indulged himself in a thorough examination of your outfit. The urge to run his hands over the satin-covered lines of your body was nearly unbearable. He curled his fingers into fists to keep them from doing just that. 

She is definitely trying to kill me. 

“Should I be worried?”

Now it was your turn to grin. 

“I guess we’ll find out.”

The Governor’s Winter Wonderland Gala was by far the most extravagant event of the holiday season. Tickets cost a small fortune and sold out almost immediately. 

But it was well worth the price of admission.

Thousands of lights sparkled overhead as you made your way through the great hall of Governor Kim’s mansion. 

It was like stepping into a fairytale. 

Taehyung couldn’t take his eyes off you. The sheer wonder in your expression was breathtaking. 

You were breathtaking.  

“Governor Kim, it is such an honor to finally meet you.”

The Governor was a handsome man in his early fifties with a smile that was every bit as lethal as it had been twenty-five years ago. 

“The honor is all mine, Ms. Park. I trust my nephew is treating you well.”

Your eyes widened. 

“N-nephew?”

Taehyung shrugged. 

“I don’t really talk about it much.” 

The Governor chuckled and you cleared your throat to cover your nervousness. 

“Yes, he’s been a very capable escort.”

“Is that so?” Governor Kim smiled charmingly. “Well if it doesn’t work out, my son Seokjin is still single—”

“Thank you, Uncle. It was lovely to see you as always.”

You squeaked as Taehyung placed his hand firmly on the curve of your back and practically dragged you away. 

The Governor just shook his head and laughed. 

“Oh kid, you’ve got it bad.”

Everywhere you looked there was beauty. 

Whoever planned the gala this year had truly gone above and beyond. Surrounded on all sides by glittering trees and snowy vignettes, it was easy to be swept away in the festive magic of the evening. 

All in all (despite some initial awkwardness), you were having a fantastic time...

Until she showed up. 

“Kim Taehyung! Is that you?”

Every single hair on your body stood on end, but before you could determine the source of the shrill squealing, you found yourself being nudged aside by a blinding golden gown and some very high heels. 

“Aubrey,” Taehyung grunted as five-and-half feet of gorgeous wrapped herself around him like a clinging vine. “Long time no see.”

“Not since that vacation in Aspen,” she giggled. “We had quite a time, didn’t we Tae Tae!”

Suddenly you had the most unholy urge to slap the spray tan right off this woman. 

Instead, you plastered on a vibrant smile and placed your hand on Taehyung’s sleeve.

“Um. Excuse me, Tae Tae, perhaps you could introduce us?”

Taehyung looked as if he’d just been served raw fire ants for dinner. 

“Yes. Of course. This is—”

“Aubrey Alicia St. Valentine,” she interrupted with a smug little smirk. “Taehyung and I go way back.” Her expression grew just the slightest bit tighter. “And you are?”

“His date,” you deadpanned. 

“Aubrey,” Taehyung cleared his throat, “I’d like you to meet Ms. Park she’s—”

“Oh my goodness! You’re Jimin’s little sister aren't you!” Aubrey slapped her hand over his chest and he winced. “That is so precious of you to take her around like this!”

Your eyebrows raised right up into your hairline and Taehyung groaned. 

“Yes, he was kind enough to sign me out of the nursery for the evening.” You offered them both a painfully vacant nod. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I see one of my play-dates near the buffet.”

Then you turned on your heel and sauntered off without another word. 

Taehyung moved to follow you, but Aubrey curled her fingers into the crook of his arm and pulled him back. 

“Oh let her go, Tae. You and I have so much catching up to do.”

Taehyung pointedly removed her hand from his elbow. 

“Some other time perhaps.” 

Aubrey pouted prettily. 

“You’re not running off after her are you? She’s a big girl, she can take care of herself.”

Taehyung crossed his arms and fixed her with a knowing look. 

“Funny... that’s not what you were implying a moment ago.”

“A moment ago I didn’t have you all to myself. Now I do.” She had the decency to blush. “Perhaps I got a bit jealous.”

“You don’t say.” His eyes continued to search the crowd for any sign of you. 

“It seems I had good reason to be,” she murmured quietly. 

“Aubrey... Listen I—”

She cut him off with a finger to his lips.

“Don’t bother Tae Tae. I’m petty, but I’ve never been pathetic.”

He grinned. 

“Never.”

The lady sighed and gave him a heated once over.

“What a shame.”

Then she strolled off with a rueful smile. 

“You know what I don’t understand?”

You turn to find Min Yoongi leaning casually against a nearby column. He looked absurdly handsome as always, but his grin was just the slightest bit mischievous. 

“What don’t you understand, Mr. Min?”

The question was clearly a bait, but you were still fuming from your earlier encounter with Ms. St. Valentine and therefore desperately in need of a distraction. 

Yoongi pushed off the column and lazily made his way toward you.

“I don’t understand how a man pays a hundred thousand dollars for an evening with the most beautiful woman in the city, and then leaves her all by herself.” He leaned forward with a playful grin. “Perhaps you could enlighten me?”

Oh he’s good. 

You made a show of tapping your chin thoughtfully. 

“I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that one.”

Yoongi sighed and shook his head. 

“Couldn’t be me.”

You laughed then. He really was a delightful man. In fact, if you still had your heart, you might have considered letting him take a shot at it. 

Alas. 

You tilted your head speculatively. 

Surely there was no need to brush away good company...

After all, no one else is interested in spending time with me. 

“Since my escort is otherwise occupied, perhaps you could join me for dinner?”

Yoongi held out his hand. 

“I’d be delighted.”

Taehyung wandered around the mansion for nearly forty-five minutes looking for his date.  

Panic was just starting to build in his chest when he finally spotted you

—at his private dining table with Min Yoongi. 

It was everything he could do not to storm over and yank the other man out of his seat by the lapels. 

Alright, Angel. If this is the game you want to play… then let’s play. 

Taehyung felt his anger rise with every step, but he ruthlessly suppressed any sign of it and instead adopted a charming smile. 

“Min, I didn’t expect to find you here. What a… delightful surprise.”

Yoongi’s expression was just a shade too satisfied. Taehyung could already feel his blood pressure beginning to skyrocket. 

“Yes, Ms. Park believed that you were otherwise occupied and invited me to share the meal with her.”

“I see,” Taehyung practically snarled. “However,” his gaze landed heavily on you, “since I paid for this table, I hope you won’t mind if I join you as well?”

You avoided looking at him up to this point, but now you were choking on your wine

“Easy there, Angel,” Taehyung murmured as he pulled up a seat extremely close to yours—so close that your thighs were nearly touching. 

Oh boy. 

Over the next several minutes Yoongi continued to flirt openly and you continued to smile prettily and pretend Taehyung wasn’t there (which naturally infuriated him). 

You should have known he wouldn’t let you get away with such behavior so easily. 

This was Kim Taehyung, after all, and if there was anything that could be counted on when it came to your shared history, it was that one (or both) of you was always ready to escalate. 

You had just offered the young Min heir yet another flowery compliment when you felt Taehyung make his move. 

Two warm fingers slid under the silken slit of your dress, coming to rest possessively over the soft flesh of your inner thigh. 

You squeaked and nearly spat up your drink. 

Taehyung leaned forward in fake concern, wrapping his arm around you as if to offer aid. 

“Are you alright?”

His hand continued to move significantly beneath your gown, but his face was the picture of innocence. 

You glared. 

“Just fine, thank you.”

A slow grin crept across his features as he began to trace soft intimate patterns over your skin.  

On the other side of the table, Yoongi tilted his head in genuine solicitude. “Are you sure?”

You nodded sharply. 

Satisfied, he resumed speaking about whatever it was he’d been saying—though you couldn’t understand a word of it at this point because the torturous strokes Taehyung was leisurely drawing over your thighs were moving closer to your center with each passing second. 

Yet you made no move to stop him. 

You should have. 

You should have slapped his touch away—rebuked him for his boldness—

But you didn’t. 

So he just kept nodding and smiling while Yoongi spoke, even as his fingers teased you with the maddening persistence of a man who knew very well what he was doing. 

You gasped aloud when he finally brushed the pad of his thumb over the thin cotton of your panties. 

“T-Taehyung—” 

“Hmm?” he turned to you, seemingly surprised by your attention (it was—after all—the first time you’d addressed him since the beginning of the meal).

“Could you pass me the salt,” you sputtered (hoping to cover the fact that you moaned his name involuntarily). Unfortunately, Taehyung seemed wholly aware of your ruse, offering you the salt shaker with a superior smirk.

You seriously considered stabbing him with a fork. 

However, before you could carry out any bloodthirsty plans, he pressed his fingers directly over your clit and your eyes rolled back in your head

“Oh my g—” you bit your lip stubbornly, “this lamb is just so good.” 

Sweet mother of macaroons, he is too skilled at this. 

You shoveled another bite into your mouth to cover your whine as Taehyung began to rub tight little circles over your sweet spot. 

Across the table, Yoongi nodded in blissful unawareness. 

“Yes, I agree, the lamb is excellent—very tender.”

Taehyung took advantage of the momentary distraction to slip beneath the fabric of your undergarment. 

Your fork clattered to your plate and your hand came up to cover your mouth as he began running his fingers up and down your soaked slit.

It was everything you could do to hold back your depraved whimpering. 

“I can’t wait to taste it,” Taehyung replied, flicking your clit in a way that guaranteed he wasn’t referring to the lamb. 

At this point Yoongi seemed to notice you were in some sort of distress. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and leaned forward. 

“Ms. Park, are you well?”

Taehyung chose that moment to sink his finger into the welcoming heat of your pussy. 

“Yes,” you almost sobbed, “I’m-I’m very well—thank you.”

“Excellent,” Yoongi smiled as he rose to his feet. “If you’re feeling up to it, perhaps you could favor me with a dance?”

Several attendees were already making their way to the center of the floor and the orchestra was beginning to play.

Your entire body, however, was vibrating like a plucked harp string and Taehyung was still brushing back and forth against your clit, driving you toward a release that promised to be explosive. 

There was no way—simply no way—that you would be capable of hiding it. 

“Yes! I would love to dance with you,” you squeaked, grabbing hold of Taehyung’s wrist frantically. The feel of him pulling out of your sopping core was nearly enough to have you coming right there. 

Thankfully, Yoongi remained utterly oblivious to the debauchery unfolding beneath the table. He took your hand and helped you to your feet with an eager smile (and it was a good thing too because your legs were still shaking). 

When the two of you reached the dance floor, you turned back for the briefest instant—

just long enough to meet Taehyung’s heated gaze as his lips closed over the finger he buried in your cunt. 

Emotions were a funny thing. 

They impacted your judgement, affected your body, altered your behavior… 

And occasionally eroded your common sense. 

Sitting alone in the corner of the Governor’s ballroom, Kim Taehyung found himself experiencing a full spectrum of emotional side-effects. 

His hands clenched as he watched Min Yoongi spin you around the floor. 

His heart pounded every time he caught a flash of your shapely leg peeking through the slit in your gown. 

His blood boiled when you threw your head back and laughed at something the other man said. 

It was difficult to pinpoint which emotion was to blame for each of these reactions. There were certainly a number of them boiling over in his subconscious. 

Frustration—

I didn’t even want to talk to Aubrey! How are you acting like anything she said was my fault?!

Rage—  

Why is challenging people to duels illegal? I would fight Min Yoongi at dawn. I would fight Min Yoongi now. 

Jealousy—

You asked her to dance while my fingers were in her pussy. We are not the same. 

But perhaps the most persistent—the most overwhelming— emotion twisting through him was longing. 

You and Taehyung spent nearly four years apart, and he was so desperate to be near you—even then—that he resorted to childish pranks in order to remain a part of your life. 

He hadn’t recognized his actions or desires for what they were. He hadn’t realized what you meant to him...

But now, after spending the last several days with your hand on his arm and your laughter in his ear, he could no longer imagine spending another moment without you. 

Everything seemed to crystallize as he watched you laughing and dancing in the arms of another man. 

Uncertainty became clear. Complications became simple. 

And when he saw Min Yoongi’s hand slide dangerously close to the perfect swell of your backside—

Emotion became action.

“Mind if I cut in?”

It wasn’t a question really. Taehyung was already shouldering his rival out of the way and pulling you into his arms. 

“Taehyung,” you hissed, shooting the bewildered Yoongi an apologetic look over his shoulder, “what are you doing? This is so rude—”

“You’re absolutely right,” he agreed, sweeping you through the couples on the floor with practiced ease. “It is unpardonably rude to steal someone else’s date. He’s lucky all I did was steal you back.”

Your mouth dropped open. 

“Oh? So you finally remembered that I was your date?”

Taehyung’s grip on the curve of your waist became a shade rougher as he pulled you through the next turn. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means—” you stepped forward vigorously, nearly smashing your body into his, “—that you spent forty-five minutes with Aubrey Alicia St. Valentine when you were supposed to be having dinner with me!”

Taehyung growled and yanked you flush against him. 

“I spent forty-five minutes looking for you while you were giving away my table to Min Yoongi!”

The two of you sailed through the next several movements glaring at one another before you snapped again. 

“None of this would have happened if you had just told Aubrey St. Spray Tan that you were with me—”

“I did!”

“Instead, you let her call me a baby!”

“What let? Aubrey is a grown woman!”

“But—”

“And—you stormed off before I could say anything, so how would you know what I let?”

“You didn’t come after me!”

“Yes actually I did—but she grabbed my arm!”

“Really? Well what else did she grab?”

Taehyung abruptly realized how silent everything around you had become. 

People were staring—and not even discreetly— just full on staring with their mouths hanging open. 

Well that’s great. 

Taehyung’s hand closed around yours and you suddenly found yourself being marched across the dance floor at a breakneck pace.

“What are you doing?”

“Continuing this discussion in private.”

“We can’t just go somewhere private in the Governor’s mansion!” you sputtered, struggling to keep up with his larger strides. 

“You mean in my uncle’s house? Yes—actually we can—and we will.”

Taehyung proved to be a man of his word, dragging you past two security guards and into the roped off section of the manor with nothing more than a nod. 

The residential wing of the Governor’s home was beautifully decorated with traditional Korean artistic touches—all of which you were unable to appreciate while Taehyung was speed walking you through the halls. 

After a surprising amount of turns and archways, he yanked open an ornate wooden door with the words Reflection Suite written on a plaque above it in beautiful calligraphy. 

You almost giggled when you got a look inside. 

On the surface it was a tastefully furnished guest room with a simple cherry wood desk and a cozy double bed set in an elegant matching frame.

However—

The ceiling and one full wall were nothing but massive mirrors. 

Reflection suite indeed. 

The door slammed shut and Taehyung rounded on you with a stormy expression—though you weren’t waiting on him to fire the first volley.

“This is definitely going to get us in trouble.”

“I told you, I can go wherever I want in this house. It’s fine.”

“Then why did you take us here?”

“Because you were shouting—”

“I was shouting?! You were shouting I just—”

Suddenly your back was against the wall and Taehyung’s mouth was on yours. 

He hadn’t brought you here for this. When he grabbed your hand, he was only trying to get away from the crowds. He told himself that he needed privacy so you could talk—so he could clarify things. 

But the minute the door closed and you flared up again in all your magnificent rage, he was lost. 

He had to kiss you then. 

You were so lovely. So fierce. So wildly irresistible and he was too utterly smitten to fight the need to be near you—to be with you in every way that he could—for a single second more. 

The shock of Kim Taehyung pressing his lips to yours lasted about two full seconds—and then there was nothing but ravenous insatiable need. 

Finally. 

Everything was him. 

Everything was this—this sweet indescribable ignition of a desire that spanned years. You moaned eagerly against his mouth in wanton delight. After a decade of sparks, you were more than ready to burn. 

“Taehyung—”

His name poured out of you like a prayer. You needed him everywhere and miraculously he seemed to understand—

Not that he was prepared to be polite about it. 

“Where’s that smart mouth now, Angel?” he growled, tangling his hands in your hair to expose the tender column of your throat. “Nothing to say?”

Your only answer was a desperate whine as he spread hot-open mouthed kisses down the soft skin of your neck all the way to your collarbone.

Now was not the time for patience. He would be tender with you later. You absolutely deserved soft sweet caresses and slow leisurely love making and he was absolutely going to give them to you—every day if you’d let him. 

But not today. 

The minute his mouth encountered the barrier of your dress, he gripped onto the sides and yanked it down to your waist.

“You knew just what you were doing in the back of that limo, you little brat,” he hissed, taking one swollen nipple into his mouth and tormenting it with his tongue.

“Tae-ahhh!” Your back arched involuntarily in ruthless pleasure. 

“I spent hours—days even—wanting to get my hands on these perfect tits.” He licked the other nipple obscenely, squeezing the soft mound till it bulged through his fingers. “And you offered me the barest taste with that coy little grin, knowing it wouldn’t be enough—” 

He reared back and landed a firm slap on both breasts and you screamed.

It was so so good. 

“Look at them now,” he murmured, “so swollen and needy and mine.”

If any other man had said those words, you would have cut his heart out with a butter knife. 

But you had always belonged to this man body and soul, and to hear him acknowledge it so primitively felt like the sweetest vindication. 

“Yes!” you sobbed.

The affirmation only inflamed him further. He teased and fondled the tender flesh till you were shaking.

Your fingers curled into the soft waves of his hair as he indulged himself. He looked so ridiculously good sucking your nipple, moaning lewdly with his eyes pressed shut in cathartic bliss. 

“This is all your fault, Angel,” he groaned. “You just don’t know how to behave.”

His hands gripped the curve of your backside, lifting you right off the floor and into his arms. Your mouths fused together heatedly as he carried you to the bed, and you giggled against him when his words finally processed. 

“You’ve been saying that for years.” 

“It’s been true for years,” he muttered, pulling one of your legs up around him so he could grind against your cunt while you kissed. 

Your fingers tugged at the buttons of his shirt, tearing them off when they didn’t unhook fast enough. You waited too long to be with him like this to care about anything other than the feel of his skin against your own.

“Impatient, are we?” he chuckled, bringing his lips around to nip at your ear. 

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, yanking the ruined garment right off his shoulder just so you could sink your teeth into it. 

Taehyung moaned loudly, snapping his hips against yours with an involuntary jerk.

“You really are such a brat,” he hissed, fisting his hands in the satin length of your skirt. “Let’s see how fierce you are with my tongue in your pussy—”

His words were so filthy and raw, yet they stoked a frenzied need in your belly like nothing you had ever encountered. 

“This dress is evil,” he snarled, fumbling with the zipper for a moment before switching to a more destructive tactic. “It has tormented me all night and now it’s in my way.”

The stitching proved no match for his resolve, and—after a few vigorous tugs—he ripped it apart from the slit on up, leaving you covered in nothing but the thin cotton underwear he had breached earlier that evening. 

After disposing of your shredded gown, Taehyung paused for a moment just to take in the sight of you. 

“What a perfect little angel,” he taunted playfully, snapping the band of your lingerie against your hips with a cocky grin. 

Then he brushed his nose right up against the sopping fabric and inhaled deeply. “You smell just like heaven,” he growled before licking you right through the cloth, “and you taste even better.”

The sensations twisting through your body were merciless. You needed more or you were going to shake apart. 

“Taehyung please,” you whined, pressing against him shamelessly.

“Oh a please?” he chuckled, throwing your own words from the first night back at you. “Who knew you had manners?”

You would have screamed in frustration, but he cut you off with an open mouthed kiss right over the wettest part of your panties.

“Perhaps I can make a good girl of you yet,” he chuckled, as you opened yourself wider to encourage him. 

You nodded frantically, letting out another moan when he yanked the flimsy little scrap of lace down your legs—smearing a line of arousal over your thighs.

“So messy,” he tsked, tapping his finger right above your knee where the naughty little streak ended. “What am I going to do with you?” 

Then he pressed his tongue over the shiny trail of slick and licked it right off. 

You gasped loudly and his lascivious smirk was almost beautiful enough to make up for all of the shameless teasing. 

Almost. 

"You want my mouth, pretty Angel?” he whispered, letting the words brush maddeningly against your folds. “You want me to feed on this sweet little cunt?”

Every cell in your body cried out for release. He already edged you under the table at dinner and now he was determined to unravel you entirely. You would say anything—do anything. 

"Please—" you whispered.

"Please who?" 

Normally you met his arrogance with a cutting riposte, but an entire evening of methodical torment had left you beyond desperate. 

"Please Taehyung,” you begged needily. 

He grinned. 

“That’s right, Angel. Kim Taehyung. Not Min Yoongi or any other pathetic trust fund prick that’s panting for a taste of this pussy.” His eyes fastened on yours significantly. “You belong to me.”

Then his tongue licked a flat stripe over your glistening slit and you sagged onto the bed in relief—only to be thrown back into oblivion when his lips closed over your clit. 

Your body arched involuntarily as a ruthless wave of pleasure tore through you. Your eyes and mouth flew open in a silent scream and it was in that moment you remembered exactly where you were. 

Underneath a giant mirror. 

The passionate woman staring down at you was nearly unrecognizable. Her body was littered with her lover’s marks. Her hands gripped feverishly into the sheets beneath her—-

And Kim Taehyung was kneeling between her thighs, suckling on her weeping cunt with obscene satisfaction. 

It was the sexiest thing you had ever seen in your life. 

Your hands reached down to tangle in his hair, using it for leverage as you ground against his face. 

Then suddenly his grip on your legs tightened and his tongue plunged roughly into your trembling core. 

“Tae—ahh oh my—I can’t—”

The sensation was so intense that your hips bucked violently. You could not keep still. You were charging towards an explosion and your body was shaking itself apart. 

The noises tearing from you were incoherent. Everything around you focused in on the juncture of your thighs where Taehyung was licking inside of you again and again until—

You shattered. 

And the force of it nearly bent your back in half. 

Delirious sobs poured from your lips as he worked you through it, letting the obscene flood of your cum soak his face. 

The sight of him slowly lapping at the release between your folds, was unspeakably erotic. He ran his hands in soothing circles over your skin while you twitched and fluttered back down from your high. 

Then he was kissing you again. 

It was softer this time, but you felt truly depraved—and instantly obsessed—with the taste of yourself in his mouth—on his skin.

You could barely understand this ravenous hunger. You’d just found relief, yet you were already reaching for more. 

Your hands snaked down and wrapped around his still covered cock and he hissed in ragged pleasure. 

“So eager,” he gasped, as you pushed him back against the headboard—but you didn’t have time to bother with his teasing.

You were gonna blow Kim Taehyung into space. 

He bit his lip when you yanked down his pants and boxers together, freeing his arousal with stunning efficiency. 

It was almost unfair to discover that his cock was every bit as beautiful as he was.

“Of course,” you muttered. 

The sultry smirk he shot you in return had your cunt flooding all over again.

“You think Min Yoongi has a cock like mine?”

“I don’t think about Min Yoongi’s cock,” you retorted, wrapping your hand around his length, “you’ve always been the biggest dick I’ve ever met.” 

“I knew you thought about my dick,” he groaned as you began to work up and down the swollen shaft. 

After a moment, his hand slid over your chin to grip your hair, drawing you forward till your lips were almost touching. 

“I wonder what this pretty mouth can do,” he whispered. 

You gasped against him and he smiled. 

“Do you know how often I pictured your lips around my cock, Angel?”

You mewled shamelessly and he growled, cupping your cheek as your hands continued to service him. 

“Do you know how often I imagined this perfect throat stuffed full of my cum?” 

His palm slid down to lightly grip the soft flesh of your neck and you shuddered against him with a needy whimper. 

“I know you could suck me so good, Angel. I’ve wanted it for so so long...”

Your mouth actually watered with anticipation. 

The desire to be good for him—to give him whatever he asked for—consumed you. 

Taehyung let his head fall back against the headboard with a groan at the first brush of your lips along his shaft. His hips rutted involuntarily as your tongue wrapped around the tip and you hummed with pleasure at his enthusiastic response. 

After a moment you slid him into the welcoming heat of your mouth, taking him in as far as you could in one stroke. His jaw dropped open and his entire body jerked forward. 

“Yes, that’s it, Angel—feels so good.”

His praise was addictive. 

You loved that you could bring him to this. You loved to see the haughty Kim Taehyung coming apart as you sucked him. 

It made you feel beautiful—powerful even—and you reveled in every second of it. 

Your eyes were starting to tear. His length began to throb and pulse against your tongue and you knew he was close—so close you could almost taste him—

Yet suddenly he was pulling you back and you whined pitifully at the loss. 

Taehyung chuckled, dragging you toward him till your dripping core slid across his cock.

“I’m not coming before I get inside that pretty little pussy,” he swore, working your hips over his sex till it was drenched in arousal. 

The crass words filled you with the fiercest, most incredible want and you clenched reflexively against him in response. 

“Is that what you want?” Taehyung whispered as he bore you back into the mattress, pinning both your wrists above your head. “You want me to fill your empty little cunt?”

You did. 

You wanted it so so bad. 

“Please.”

Taehyung gently lowered himself closer to you, resting his forehead intimately against yours as he lined up his cock at your entrance. 

“Are you sure, Angel? Because there’s no going back after this... If you give yourself to me, then you’re mine—and I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep you.”

“Taehyung, you idiot,”—a tender smile spread over your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck—“... I’ve always been yours.”

He swore violently—letting the slight tremble in his voice betray just how deeply your words affected him. 

Then his fingers tightened on the soft flesh of your hip and he filled you to the hilt with one delicious thrust. 

There was a moment—the smallest space in time—where your eyes locked together and everything seemed to suspend; a strange perfect calm before a monumental storm. 

Then your world caught fire. 

Taehyung drove himself into you with passionate fury, letting years of denial fuel the insatiable rhythm of his strokes. 

Every time he told himself no. Every time he held himself back—

Every bit of it burned away as you screamed his name. 

The feel of him was indescribable. 

You imagined it too many times to count, yet your dreams fell pitifully short of the visceral reality. 

He was bloomin’ magnificent. 

Your fingers clawed up and down his back, desperate to hold on to something while he pounded into your g-spot like an animal. 

“This tiny cunt is the tightest thing I’ve ever had around my cock,” he gasped and you whined needily at his praise. “Like it was made for me—” his hand came up to grip your breast, “like you were made for me.”

“Yes—”

Taehyung’s need seemed to amplify with every whimper and moan that fell from your lips. The feelings you sparked in him were fierce and unapologetically primitive.

He would go to war for you—build a fortress for you—fight a dragon if one dared come close. 

You were his. 

And he felt like a savage every time you cried out for more. 

Suddenly an unexpected movement in his periphery caught his attention.

He’d been so consumed with the extraordinary rush of claiming you that he’d forgotten—

This guest room was thirty-five percent mirrors. 

And now… he couldn’t look away. 

The sight of your bodies tangling together in headless bliss played out before him like a scene from his most debauched and forbidden fantasies. His reflection grinned back at him in fascinated ecstasy while his beloved nemesis lost herself in the pleasure of his cock.

Something dark and wild began to burn in his chest as he studied the lovers in the glass. 

“Look at you, Angel,” he whispered softly, “you really are perfect.”

Then he pulled out of your core and you whined bitterly in protest, chasing his body to rid yourself of the sudden unacceptable emptiness. 

“Still so needy,” he taunted, gripping your hips and flipping you on your stomach before you could even think to protest.

“I want you to watch that pretty angel in the mirror come on my cock,” he groaned, plunging back into you from behind. 

The new angle was somehow impossibly deeper and your body shook as another wave of pleasure overtook it. 

Your fingers clawed into the mattress for purchase as he pistoned into your trembling mound. 

Only Kim Taehyung could rail you like a whore while he worshiped you like a queen. 

He gave you a moment to adjust before drawing your body back against his chest. His arm wrapped over your stomach as he slowly eased your legs apart, unfolding the lewd tableau of your bodies joined together for the voyeuristic gaze of the glass.   

“Look at yourself, Angel,” he growled, mesmerized by the way your breasts bounced with every thrust. “Look at how well you're taking me.” 

Then his fingers slid down to rub your clit and you screamed. 

“Tae! Ah-ahh!”

The pleasure building within you now was violent. You were coiling too tightly, too fast—

“That’s right Angel. Take it all.”

Your eyes locked with his in the mirror for the briefest instant.

And then you flew apart. 

Taehyung threw his head back with a carnal moan as you clamped down around him. His body was hurtling toward its own release with reckless speed. 

“I’m close,” he panted, “where can I come?”

“Come inside me please,” you begged, and Taehyung’s eyes widened in frenzied lust. 

“That’s what you want? Huh?” his thrusts became rougher as he chased his relief, “You want me to fill this puffy little pussy with my cum?”

“Yes, I want it so bad—“ you sobbed. 

“Sweet Angel,” he groaned, gripping at your breasts as he pulled you tighter against him. 

Then he met your gaze in the mirror again. 

“I want everything with you; a home—a family—your body in my arms every morning when I wake up—” his voice trembled, “I want it all.” 

The raw vulnerability in his eyes nearly broke you.

“Tae,” you gasped softly, too overcome with joy to manage anything else. 

His mouth pressed hungrily against the curve of your shoulder. You could feel his cock throbbing in your core as he bent you forward, pounding into your sex with exquisite precision. 

"Stay with me, Angel,” he whispered. His thrusts became erratic as he neared his high. “I don’t want to live without you anymore.”

The glorious thrill of his words tore over your senses with euphoric brutality. Your walls tightened greedily around his cock and the taunt cord of pleasure finally snapped. 

He came with a broken groan, flooding the welcoming heat of your womb with his release. 

“KIM TAEHYUNG!”

The sound of his name being shouted by the absolute last person in the world whose voice he wanted to hear woke Taehyung from a dead sleep.  

His eyes widened in panic as he began yanking pillows and covers from all over the bed in a frenzied attempt to hide—

The doors to his bedroom flew open with a resounding crash. 

“Jimin,” he squeaked, trying to look as casual as possible next to a giant pile of bedding. “What uh—what brings you here at—” his eyes darted to the clock on the wall, “—7:30 in the morning?”

Then he frowned. 

“And how the hell did you get past Jungkook?”

Jimin’s murderous expression broke momentarily to allow for a smug grin. 

“Kendra.”

Kendra Jackson was Jimin’s executive aide. She was fierce, capable, intelligent—

And insanely gorgeous. 

Taehyung groaned. 

Poor Jungkookie never stood a chance. 

To the surprise of absolutely no one, yet another newspaper landed on Taehyung’s lap.

KIM HEIR BRINGS NAUGHTY ANGEL HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

Underneath the headline was a picture of you and Taehyung (dressed in clothes you stole from Jin’s childhood bedroom) kissing passionately against the side entrance of the Governor’s mansion. 

One of your legs was wrapped around his waist and he was clearly grabbing your ass. 

“Ah… well you see the camera distorts everything from this angle—and-and the lighting is bad so it’s not really what it looks like—”

“Is that so? Cause it looks like you’ve got your tongue down my baby sister’s throat!”

“Okay—okay,” Taehyung massaged his forehead nervously, “so maybe it’s sort of what it looks like but—”

“I’ll kill you.”

“No wait—” he held up his hands to delay an already advancing Jimin. 

“Why should I wait?!”

“Because—”

“—I trusted you with the most important person in the world to me—”

“The situation is just not that simple.” 

“—and you grabbed her ass in public!”

“Admittedly not my finest hour.”

“So you tell me right now—”

“But you don’t understand it’s—”

“—Why the hell would I wait?!”

“BECAUSE I’M IN LOVE WITH HER!”

For a moment there was absolute silence. 

Then your head popped out from the massive pile of bedding. 

“Really?”

Jimin’s mouth fell open. 

Taehyung groaned again. 

“As usual, your timing is impeccable.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his comment.

“Are you really in love with me?”

“Of course I’m in love with you! What part of I want you to have my children did you not understand?!” 

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Jimin choked. 

“That’s not the same thing!”

“It is for me!”

A radiant smile lit up your face. 

“I’m in love with you too.”

Taehyung’s expression softened. 

“Angel I—”

Then you were kissing and Jimin swung around with a horrified shout.

“Oh! No no no—Come on!”

He stumbled out of the room, hands firmly clamped over his eyes. 

“This is not over, Kim Taehyung!” the scandalized young Park heir howled in exasperation… but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

Back in the bedroom, Taehyung shook his head at Jimin’s ridiculous caterwauling. 

“No, it’s not over,” he laughed, pulling you deeper into the comfort of his arms. “It’s only just begun.”

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story. 

This baby took FOR-EVER to write. I started it in November and literally worked on it a little every day. 

If you enjoyed it— even just a tiny bit—please consider taking a moment to leave me some feedback. It is so incredibly uplifting and rewarding to hear reader thoughts and reactions to my work.

I promise to treasure every word like gold. It took a lot to bring this story to life. Your kind words would mean the world to me.

[ticklishraspberries]

Can you do Eddie Munson for the ask meme?

I would Love That!

I Love your Work btw <3

anonymous said: Hellooo, could you please do eddie munson for the ask meme? :)) 

on a scale of 1-10, how ticklish are they? - a solid 7

where is their most ticklish spot(s)? - neck, underarms, hips, feet

which spots are they not ticklish? - honestly it’s not a long list, but because he uses his hands a lot (playing guitar as well as the headcanon that he’s a mechanic!!) his palms aren’t really sensitive

what is their laugh like? - loud, cackling, bubbly, and full of choked out swear words, useless begging, and thinly veiled threats

do they enjoy tickling? if yes, is it a fun platonic/familial thing, or kinky thing to them, or can it be both depending on the circumstance? - yes, i think eddie would 100% be One Of Us in all those regards

are they more often a lee or ler, generally? - as a kid, he was never really tickled until he moved in with wayne who gave him the occasional tickle, and when he started making more friends at school, he became a pretty 50/50 switch

who is someone in their life that they tickle often? - dustin and steve

who is someone in their life that they get tickled by often? - steve, wayne, and occasionally robin

does the word “tickle” or any variation of embarrass them? - depends on the context. would use lame phrases like “tickled pink” but when directed at him, it makes him feel all shy

are they embarrassed about their ticklishness, and do they try to deny/hide it? - jokingly says stuff about it damaging his reputation, but otherwise he isn’t really as embarrassed as he is shy if that makes sense?

would gentle tickling or rough tickling affect them more? - it depends on the spot, but in general, rough tickles would get a better reaction

is there a specific spot that they enjoy being tickled, either exclusively or more than other spots? what is it? - eddie likes being tickled in general, but he’s a big fan of soft tickles on his stomach/sides bc it makes him all giggly and happy

is there a spot that they can’t stand to be tickled, either because it’s just too sensitive, or it’s uncomfortable/painful/etc? what is it? - hips get overwhelming pretty quick but he doesn’t mind being driven to the point of begging ;))

would they ever purposefully bug a friend/partner/sibling into tickling them, and if so, how would they go about it? - absolutely. did you watch the show? 100%.

does teasing affect them? - to an extent, yes. he’s used to being the cocky, playful one and when the tables are turned he gets pretty flustered!!

[todoscript]

seeing you dressed as a cat for your first halloween together

character: shinsou hitoshi. genre: suggestive. warnings: mature. implied sexual content.

anonymous requested: shinsous reaction to seeing reader dress as a cat for their first halloween together? maybe he’s just become brave enough and started to call her “kitty/kitten”, so reader sees how far she can push him in her costume?? 😳🤭

author’s note: didn’t mean for it to get this long, but y’know. scenario portion underneath the cut!

shinsou hitoshi

your first halloween as a couple is celebrated a year after you and class a had graduated from u.a.

shinsou and you have been together since then, starting dating after you both confessed your long time crushes enduring throughout high school before forming a committed relationship while in the spring of your hero work

for this year’s halloween, the u.a. alumni had decided on a reunion/get-together to celebrate the occasion of spooks and sweets—a longstanding tradition you all just couldn’t seem to let go of despite now being fledging heroes out on the field

yes, this year, the group was planning a festive, joint halloween party along with former class b

of course, you made a point that the two of you would definitely be there the night of the 31st

and like every halloween party, everyone knows it’d be absolute heresy not to dress up in the spirit of the event

the most challenging part, however, was choosing which costume to wear

you thought the idea would come naturally to you, that it wouldn’t be much of a problem finding the character or creature you’d like to parade into the party as 

with a dash of makeup and some advice from the girls, you’re sure you could pull off any look, so long as the ensemble wasn’t too extravagant for your liking 

yes, something subtle, yet enticing seemed about right—a costume, that when thrown together, read “effortless” the moment you saunter down into the party with a grin painted on lips and confidence oozing out of your presence

though as much as you’d like to impress those attending, you’d be doubtlessly lying to yourself if you weren’t extra indecisive about your attire this year due to the keen eyes of your indigo-haired boyfriend

it is your first halloween together after all, and what better way to enjoy the event than to rile shinsou up, right?

now, it was only the matter of what got him the most hot and bothered—what’d you have to wear to have his heart fluttering and every nerve in his body receptive at just a simple glance at you?

and that’s when it hits you

ah, you thought, a couple of nights before the awaited event, why didn’t i think of this sooner?

- - - - -

Shinsou arrives at the foot of your apartment door the very evening the moon begins hanging in the sky, beholding all the festivities taking place on the anticipated thirty-first of October from its darkening haven.

He nearly trips on his way there, his costume’s frayed bandages dragging behind his feet. As anyone would have guessed, Shinsou decides to tackle the event tonight as your run-of-the-mill mummy—covered head to toe in an assortment of dreary-colored wrappings. Though far from flashy, the costume gets the job done without him having to put too much effort to look presentable, and that is enough for him.

Having texted you about his arrival at your doorstep already, Shinsou lets himself in using the spare key to your apartment you gave him a couple of months ago.

“Y/n? I’m here, are you ready yet?” His voice rings across the expanse of your residence, traveling across the thresholds and penetrating through your room, muffled by the closed door.

“Not quite, but I’m almost done! Wait for me on the couch, Toshi!” He hears you yell in response. Your voice is equally stifled but heard nonetheless. As told, he plants himself comfortably on the couch in your humble living space.

Leg folded over the other, his hands naturally find themselves playing with the edges of his bandages between the minutes ticking by. He checks his phone after the fifth-minute passes, acting wary about the time and pondering how long it would take to reach the party from your current location. Though in all honesty, he never truly cared much about punctuality. Shinsou has never really been a party guy himself, but he’d parade through this shindig just for you if it made you happy. Plus, it is your first Halloween together, after all. It only feels right to indulge in the festivities this year.

Speaking of, right after he presses his phone to sleep mode, he detects the footfalls of your heels clicking against the floor. It seizes his attention to look up and greet you; however, the words barely prevail past his throat at what stands before him.

“Hey, kitten—” His pet name for you is the last discernible thing uttered. You have to giggle at the way Shinsou’s eyes widen while he rakes over your form scrupulously, absorbing every detail available in his line of vision.

You stand at the threshold of your hallway clad in a tight, dark leopard printed suit that molds perfectly against your body—emphasizing its luscious curves—and paired with a set of black cat ears perched atop your head. Your makeup is executed in a way in which the look is sophisticated yet enticing, eyelids smoked in subtle shadows, and lavish lips lined crimson. Shinsou especially doesn’t miss the faint whisker markings drawn across your cheeks. 

“Yes~?” you reply playfully, tone teetering the line of innocent and mischievous as you turn around and show him a tease of a view, where he finds the cat tail hanging limply behind your beautiful ass. The way his teeth chafe the delicate skin of his bottom lip doesn’t go unnoticed as it urges you to continue playing along.

“What’s the matter, Toshi? Cat got your tongue? Your kitten’s right here,” you follow with a purr reverberating the roof of your mouth. It isn’t long until Shinsou catches on your act. There’s a shift in his violet eyes that glints darkly as you tauntingly spin your faux tail in place.

“Well come here then, kitty.” He motions you toward him in a hithering gesture. You give him a small show by swaying your hips, gliding in his direction. Drinking in your approaching form, he parts his legs, allowing you to stand between them.

Coming out of your room dressed like this, you knew what you were in for, and you’re positively elated by his reaction at your thoughtfully planned out costume.

Being that Shinsou’s few weaknesses consisted of cats and his girlfriend, it’s only natural that the man simply can’t seem to keep his hands off you, witnessing the best of both worlds before him. While his hands roam across the leopard print fabric veiled on your skin, you fiddle with the ragged bandages wrapped listlessly around his head, an amused grin on your lips.

“I see Pro Hero Mindjack decided to be a mummy this Halloween. It very much fits you, Hitoshi,” you comment. You manage to retain the stability in your voice despite Shinsou’s grabby hands pawing the back of your thighs, slowly wavering to the bottom of your ass.

“Mm, not as much as this suit fits you. Kitten, you’re absolutely gorgeous,” he says, pressing a kiss against your lower abdomen.

You continue, musing, “Oh? So I’m only gorgeous to you dressed as a cat then?”

Shinsou shakes his head coolly. “Of course not. You’re always so beautiful to me, you know that. But damn, sweetheart, you really outdid yourself tonight, dressing up as a naughty cat on Halloween. Just who gave you the idea?”

He palms the globes of your ass in his large hands, which sprouts a chuckle from you before you bend down to plant a delicate peck on his lips, mindful not to smear the freshly coated pigment on your own.

“You, of course,” you answer, honest about the appeal his pet name evoked for you to go about your choice of attire tonight. “Now come on, we have a party to get to, don’t we?”

Shinsou narrows his brows at your last statement, remembering your plans for the night. The image of you strutting down an aisle of partygoers—each of their deviating eyes staring at what’s clearly his—rubs him the wrong way. He’s never pegged himself overly possessive of you, but this costume of yours is much too delectable to be eaten up by anyone else’s eyes. So to be completely blunt, he doesn’t want to share.

As soon as you make a move to turn around to head toward the door, you’re foiled by two tattered arms wound on your waist that effectively pull you onto the couch.

Situated in the empty slot between Shinsou’s thighs, his mouth maneuvers to your right ear to whisper huskily, “Y’know… We could just celebrate Halloween together here. Alone.”

There’s an evident suggestion in his tone that you truthfully expected out of him. To his chagrin, however, you don’t allow him to indulge in his revelries yet.

“Ah-ah Mummy Man, we got all dolled up and everything—”

“Correction, kitty cat, you got dolled up, I did the bare minimum,” he counters, “and quite frankly, I wouldn’t mind getting out of these annoying bandages already.”

Aware it’s going to take a little more to get Shinsou to budge from his seat, you decide to bring out the heavy artillery. 

“Yes, but we did give them our word that we’d be there…” you reason, voice sounding sweeter to his ears that he starts wavering his stance. “And I want to see everyone in all their costumes. C’mon, please?”

Damn, for a sexy little thing, you sure know how to immediately flip a switch and act all cute. And how is he to resist when you’re fluttering your long lashes and bestowing him the sanguine light in your eyes. You watch as the fight within him gradually dissipates into dust until he demurely shrugs his shoulders in defeat.

“Fine, let’s get this Halloween party over with,” he grumbles, and you tip his white flag with a kiss on his cheek when he glances away.

“Mm thanks, Toshi, I’ll make sure to reward you handsomely tonight, alright?” Your promises bloom heat in his cheeks, evolving into anticipation throughout his body.

“And who knows… maybe you can find some different usages for those mummy wrappings of yours later.”

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

Free Write #3:  Revenge

Sequel to Kick

Under cut for mention of violence, blood.  (It’s Astrid, ya’ll.)

---------

Lightly drunk and wrapped in furs was quite really, the perfect way to enjoy the sudden snowstorms that would come over the city, Astrid mused.  The sky was a light gray with white flurries gently falling down, and the sudden gusts of cold wind only enhanced the warmth of the spiced rum in her belly and the furs wrapped around her body.  Adding to the pleasure of the moment was the anonymity of the mourning-dress she was now in--complete with veil--

And the swarm of investigators and mammets on the harbour below.  Astrid had arrived shortly after Nionaut Trigelle’s body had been cut down.  Or to be more accurate, the pieces of him that had been strung up.  Astrid took another sip of spiced rum, letting the burn--and contentment--wash over her.  The knot of hatred and anger in her belly was for the moment, doused. 

“I apologize for putting you out of your way like this, Pietor.”  She murmured.  “Perhaps my request was a bit overkill.”  The elezen next to her chuckled darkly.

“No, you were completely valid.  And tame.  If someone had done this to my little one, I wouldn’t have just stopped at hung, drawn and quartered.  I’d have painted the entire dock red with their blood.”

“Yes, well...”  Astrid took another sip of rum.  She couldn’t have run completely riot with revenge.  The display in the harbor meant that the investigators would be coming to her door, and she expected Barnier to be with them.  As it stood now, Astrid was still in shock that her shite job of tampering with the crime scene that night had actually worked.  If she wanted to keep her head, her station--everything really, she had to put on the performance of a lifetime, and stay on top of eliminating any incriminating evidence.  Beside her, Pietor frowned.

“...How is she, anyroad?”  He asked.  Astrid inhaled deeply, looking down at the surface of her drink.

“She’s...still sleeping.  A lot.  When she’s awake, Helena stuffs her with as much food as she can.”  Almost as if trying to pay her own penance for what Kari had been though, Astrid thought.  Helena had loved Kari as if she had been her own flesh and blood.  Ever since Roderick’s death, Helena had been the one--until Astrid had snapped at her one day--to urge her to check in on her grandchild.  That something wasn’t right about Camilla’s stories.  Helena had been the one to hold them both when Kari had first awoken and seen Astrid for the first time in years.

...Gran-gran?

Astrid’s fingers curled tightly against the mug. 

Gran-gran...I’m sorry.  I’m sorry for-for-disturbing you--for sending that letter--

Her grandchild, her baby, the living memory that she had left of Roderick and Emma...apologizing to her.  Apologizing to Astrid for begging for help.  For saving her. 

Grandmother please, I beg you--do not believe what my stepmother has said about me being a most wicked child--

She could still hear the animal howling in her mind, echoing in her ears, as the dam inside Kari broke.  Years of pain and suffering manifesting into that one singular purge, her fingers clutching at Astrid’s arms as she screamed, and screamed, and screamed, the wound finally lanced so the poison could drain out.  Astrid knew she would be haunted by her granddaughter’s cries for the rest of her days.  And she deserved it.  It was a drop in the bucket for punishment that was owed, for failing Kari so badly--failing Roderick and Emma--failing in her familial duty. 

“She called me ‘Gran-gran.’“  Astrid whispered aloud.  “I failed her, Pietor.  I believed the worst about her.  She knew I despised her.  And yet...” 

Gran-gran.

“Children are resilient.”  Pietor soothed.  “She knew that you were having the wool pulled over your eyes.”

“I don’t deserve forgiveness.”  Not from her, Astrid thought.  Not from Roderick, nor Emma, or even Helena.  If there was ever someone who deserved to hate, who deserved to be spiteful, it was Kari.  If there was ever someone who should have been the one to issue the orders against those who had wronged her, it was Kari.  Astrid had even stolen that peace of mind from her grandbaby.

“Don’t be hard on yourself.  Especially now.  You’re in the middle of a proper fucked up situation, and you need all those frightfully scary-sharp wits about you.”  Pietor blew out a breath, watching the cloud condense in the air.  Astrid exhaled, forcing herself to take another mouthful of spiced rum.

“Have you found anything else yet on the whore?”  She asked.  Another act of penance for her sin, ensuring that Camilla would pay dearly in blood, flesh and her life--for what she had done to Kari.  Before she’d left her manor that morning, word had come to Astrid on another facet of her revenge...the welfare officials who had taken Camilla’s bribes were now completely and utterly financially ruined.  And Astrid was not finished with them yet--when they were incapable of holding any office, any job save for stablehand and even then--that was when she would be satisfied. 

“Not yet.  I’m leaving today to head for U’ldah and see what I can dig up there.” Pietor considered the white-haired woman.  “Sure you want to put her bounty for that high?  You’ll have idiots flocking about.”

“Idiots can be dealt with.”  Astrid murmured.  “But for her, I don’t care.  Dead is preferable.  But if they bring her to me alive, I’ll go to the underworld and pay the Traders themselves to ensure that their afterlife is nothing but golden.”

[dimigexwrites]

Whumptober, Day 9 - Kakashi/Sakura

Prompt: Rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated (presumed dead, (blind) rage, tears) Fandom: Naruto Characters: Kakashi/Sakura Words: 754 Author's Note: This was requested by anonymous. I hope you see and enjoy it! (Story below the cut)

Angry streaks of lightning provided fitful light as rain rattled the window casement. Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance. Sakura curled on the couch, a blanket wrapped around her like a cocoon. A dull pain in her lower back warned that she hadn’t moved in hours, but she couldn’t bring herself to shift position. It felt like too much effort. She welcomed the storm, wondered if she could step into it and simply stop existing.

A sharp pang flared to life in Sakura’s chest, one that she’d grown intimately familiar with. She hadn’t known that heartache could be a physical sensation, that it would hurt with the same symptoms of a heart attack. Thick bands squeezed her lungs until drawing breath cost more than it supplied. It wasn’t until she hiccuped through another bout of tears that she realized she’d been crying, again.

Sakura had thought the tears would run out eventually, but her body seemed to find new reserves every day. She’d held it together through the funeral, through the carefully veiled apologies and offers of support, through the crass remarks from people who didn’t know. It hadn’t even been the picture of Team Seven that did her in when she got back to her apartment: it was the orange book lying on the table, a scrap of paper marking Kakashi’s place. She’d dashed it against the wall in a fury, then clutched it to her chest as the tears fell. Sakura hadn’t been sure they would stop.

For years, Sakura had dealt with grief as an abstract emotion, something she helped other people through. It was necessary in her line of work. She’d felt it before, of course, but not like this. Those instances were a puddle beside an ocean; the water closing over her head. She hadn’t been to work or left the apartment in over two weeks. Ino had brought food and a shoulder to cry on, and Naruto had tried his best to be optimistic, but Sakura shunned it. Tsunade had tried to shame her into honoring Kakashi’s memory by pushing through the grief. Sakura hadn’t answered the knocks since.

Thunder rattled the door in its frame, then came a second time. Sakura frowned at the sound, taking several heartbeats to realize that it was someone knocking. She wrapped her arms around her ears to shut the noise out. There was no one out there that she wanted to see, no one who could erase the pain of her loss. The sound stopped, only for the door to swing inward. Icy wind and rain swirled into the apartment and lightning silhouetted a figure in the door. Sakura’s lungs seized.

Kakashi limped into the room, silver hair slicked to his forehead by the damp. Sakura threw off the blanket and rose on shaky knees. “You’re dead.”

“Not quite,” Kakashi chuckled. “It turns out that rumors of my death have been greatly—”

Kakashi’s words died in a whoosh of air when Sakura punched him. The man curled forward in pain, but caught the second attack in his hand. Sakura’s open palmed slap staggered him to the side. Tears or rain blinded Sakura, but her hands connected with Kakashi’s armor and chest. A sob lodged in her throat. “I went to your funeral. I saw your name—”

Arms closed around Sakura, trapping her fists against Kakashi’s chest. The embrace made it hard to breathe, but somehow didn’t feel tight enough. “I’m sorry,” Kakashi murmured.

“You’re sorry?” Rage and relief fought a knife-edged battle in Sakura’s chest. “You’re fucking sorry?”

The grip around Sakura tightened, and Kakashi kicked the door shut behind him with one foot. “Yes,” Kakashi answered, releasing Sakura and taking a step back. “If I could have let you know sooner, I would have.”

“Don’t ever do that again,” Sakura growled, accenting every word with a sharp poke.

Kakashi winced and wrapped an arm around his middle. “Okay,” he agreed, sagging forward. “But, we should talk about it later. I’m pretty sure you reopened at least two of my wounds and added a few more.”

A flush heated Sakura’s face as she pulled Kakashi toward the couch. “It’s no less than you deserve,” she grumbled, but the heat had gone out of her words.

Lowering himself to the couch, Kakashi nodded. He closed his eyes and relaxed against the cushions, entire body going lax. Sakura smoothed her hand over his forehead and drew a deep breath in preparation for healing. It felt like the first one she’d taken in weeks.

[ruinationsrp]

Location & timeline: The royal palace & the gardens of Sotera ; after midnight, February 13th, 1276.

The night was still young and in full swing, filled with laughter, merry chatter, and bodies swaying in the rhythm of Amusement’s instrument, and Joy’s alluring song. As it usually goes in such festivities, no one truly paid any attention to anything, or anyone, aside from themselves, and their current dancing partners ; the excitement, uniqueness, and anonymity of gilded masks giving everyone an opportunity to shed their everyday disguises, and turn more nature, more… primal, all the while retaining the mysteriousness of their identity. Most of those who had heard Joy’s thinly veiled warning, brushed it off as a jester’s tune, and paid no further attention to the details of the song. It was a blessing to everyone in attendance -

But, it was also their wicked curse. 

The first disruption came with the bell - twelve rings to announce midnight has come - and a sudden change of air was not subtle, not to those who paid closer attention. Joy and Amusement parted ways, the latter taking a seat in the corner of the room, slender fingers toying with the strings of their lute, while the other theatrically waltzed, and glided, towards the gate which led into the dining room. Joy stood in front of them, their porcelain white mask with a blood red grin turning towards the guests, their red eyes fixing upon every soul in the room - they can recognise most of the guests, by their masks and through their power, and their attention lingers the most over the esteemed guests ; The Queen to Be, the Spare Princess, the New King, the Lord of Illusions, the Lost Princess, the Ancient Queen, the Wicked Cousin, the Prince of Bones and the Princess of Ice - all rulers, or closely tied with the rulers. But, the wolfish smile beneath their mask stretched, sharp teeth hidden by the porcelain, for they know something only Amusement knows ; surprises are on the way, and the little royals of the Three will not enjoy it one bit.

Amusement, its matching porcelain mask with a sea blue painted grin, turned its attention towards Joy, subtly inclining their head in acknowledgment as they played the song on their lute - amused by the tense posture in the Wise, the Admiral, the Whisperer, the Strategist, the Physician, the Warrior of Steel & Silver, the Adviser and the Bone Carver ; they might feel something amiss, but they cannot pinpoint the reason - and by the time they find it out, it will be far too late. 

Joy claps, drawing attention towards its bubbly, jovial presence - but, while most of the guests are blind to the strange glint of their painted smile, there are some who frown, blinking as if to clear the fog in their minds.

“Dear friends, dear friends! We have an announcement to make!  Joy and Amusement follow no King, but the King of Thorns, they listen to no Queen, but the Queen of Sorrows, and belong to no Kingdom, but the Kingdom of Hollows! Dear guests, dear hosts, allow us a parting joke! For the hour is late and even the Jesters must rest! Yes, allow us to show your beloved King!” 

The door opens, and Joy bends in a mocking bow - five figures enter, masked into crows with feathered capes adorning their towering, slender posture - and it seems like shadows fall from their shoulders, pooling around their feet - and a seated thing they carry on their shoulders.

“All hail the Thorned King!” Joy and Amusement stand in unison, bowing to the figure seated on the wooden chair - a figure made of branches and thorns, blood red garnets instead of eyes, and a silver forged grin melted into the dark wood,  and a crown of iron and thorns sits on its head. Everyone exchanges an amused glance, lowering their masks to truly look at the wooden figure, taking a step closer - 

But, then, the figure moves.

Red eyes, ablaze with magic, fixed upon the closest person in its presence. The silver cast smile widened, branches snapping as the creature wrapped its fingers around the armrest of the chair, gripping for support as it arose from its seat. The room falls silent, and it is then that the guests notice Amusement, Joy, and the five figures, all disappeared, doors to the dining room now closed shut once more. No one dares to speak, and it seems no one dares to breathe, either, as the Thorned King stands in front of them, taller than it first appeared while it was seated. Twigs and branches snap as it turns its head towards the Three Rulers of the Three, and from seemingly nowhere, a voice speaks ; 

“Hear ye, hear ye, we are more than what we appear! Hear ye, hear ye, there is something rotting beneath your trees, something boiling in the depths of your sea! Hear ye, hear ye, we are the Kingdom of Hollows, but you have long forgotten that this world held more than just Three! We are the hollows, hollowed out by the sea and the stone! We are the hollows and asleep we’ve been for the past millennia, or three! We are the hollows, but all hollow things have once been full and full once again we shall be! We are the hollows, and we’ve been asleep, but now we’re awake and ready to lay our claim! We are the hollows, so hear our words! Every peace must crumble, and so must you!”

Before anyone can truly react to the Thorned King’s words, its silver mouth widens in an ear shattering scream - and the figure turns to ash in front of everyone’s eyes. Terror and mortification grips the hearts of both the guests and the hosts of the masquerade, and the room threatens to erupt in chaos. 

But, the Old Queen is the first one to gather her wits, and with the help of both Sotera’s and Asteria’s dignitaries, she managed to soothe the terrified crowd, ushering everyone to continue the festivity, or retreat to their sleeping quarters. The night is ruined - in spite of some guests’ efforts to brush off the shocking event - and two dangerous questions are posed ; just who are the Hollows, and what did they mean when they spoke of the Three? 

Everyone hopes that the following day will answer more questions than it will ask ; but when the day arrived, the people found out that between the nightmares, and a sleepless night, they are feeling more afraid than ever.

Welcome to our first plot drop! This marks the true beginning of chaos - an empire might be in trouble with the Thorned King’s revelation, but luckily, the existence of Mraz still remains unknown to the kingdoms of Sotera and Asteria. But, now even the courtiers and the royals of Mraz are perplexed, surprised by something no one could have seen coming. During the plot drop, your characters are allowed to roam Sotera’s castle, interacting and, if it is in your character’s nature, trying to solve the mystery of the Thorned King and his hollows. 

In game, the event lasts from midnight, February 13th, until midnight, February 14th, 1276. On dash, the event will last from Monday, May 23rd, until Sunday, June 12th, 2022. That gives everyone two weeks to write interactions, self paragraphs concerning “the riddle” of the Thorned King, your character's thoughts, doubts, fears, whatever you deem fit to explore! Please, write all self-character tasks with ruinationstask tag, and all plot drop related things as pd001! Of course, use the ruinationstarter tag to tag all starters! Happy writing!

[ragingbookdragon]

A Gift Beyond Words

A Connor Kenway x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2,420 Warnings: Explicit Language

Author’s Note: DAY 12 OF THE CHRISTMAS FICS. BUCKLE UP PEOPLE IT’S A WILD RIDE TONIGHT. ENJOY! -Thorne

           It was all Ellen’s idea to start with, gathering the residents of the Homestead, even Achilles and Robert, to the inn one Friday evening to announce a gift exchange. She laughed at Connor’s bewildered expression, remembering how she had to explain what it was to him, and then Ellen made everyone write their names on slips of paper and toss it in Warren’s hat.

           Everyone picked a name, and by pure luck, she’d received Connor’s. It was downright impossible to force away the smile that came across her lips as she stowed the paper in her pocket. She knew by the look on his face that he didn’t receive hers—not that she was upset…only a wee bit. But, it gave him a chance to show appreciation for a friend. She was excited to plan a secret gift for Connor.

           Except for the minor detail that she had no idea what he could possibly want considering the fact that he never told her what he wanted. He was too kind that way, considering his wants a burden on her—he’d rather handle it himself than make her worry.

           She groaned, laying her head on the bar. “It’s hopeless,” she muttered. “I have no idea what to get him.”

           A laugh sounded behind her. “Is your gift exchange receiver the cause of such enormous distress, (Y/N)?”

           Sitting up, she glanced over her shoulder, offering a smile to the reverend. “Father Timothy, fancy seeing you in the tavern this late.”

           He took a seat beside her, hat sitting on the counter. “I felt like having a warm meal.”

           “That’s always a good reason,” She grinned.

           Father Timothy regarded her a moment, then said, “You are in distress. Is there anything I can help you with?”

           (Y/N) fought a scowl, simply shaking her head. “I’m afraid it’s not a religious problem, Father. No offense.”

           He chuckled. “I am a man of God, but I am a friend of man as well.” A smile came across his lips. “I’d be happy to help you any way I can.”

           “I—” she started, then let out a heavy sigh. “I got Connor’s name, but I don’t know what to get him.”

           His features showed shock. “Really? Even as close as you two are?”

           She laid her head back on the bar. “That’s the problem. We’re so close that I know what he has but he’s never told me what he wants.”

           Turning her head, she met his eyes. “He’s not exactly the type of man I can buy a new outfit for or even weapons.” Her face pinched and she wagged a finger at him. “He’d never tell, but he’s incredibly picky about his weapons.”

           Father Timothy watched her with amusement, then he tapped his chin and suggested, “I think you’re thinking about this too harshly.”

           She cocked an eyebrow. “And I solve that how?”

           He smiled. “In all the time you’ve known Connor, how happy has he been to receive a gift you bought?”

           (Y/N) shrugged. “I dunno…pretty happy?”

           “And if you’ve given him a gift that was handmade? That came from the heart?” he countered.

           Silence fell over her, then she stood up and grinned at him. “I know what to get him!” She pulled the man in for a quick hug. “Thank you, Father Timothy!”

           Spinning on her heel, she hauled off for the door, him waving at her.

***

           A heavy breath left her as she hopped over the ledge and she put her hands on her knees, breathing deeply.

           “I don’t know how he goes back and forth this way,” (Y/N) sighed. “He’s absolutely insane to climb up and down these walls.”

           She shook herself from her complaining and headed down the final wall, descending into the forest. The village could be seen from where she’d been, and she was happy to know that she was in the right place—except that they weren’t as happy to see an unfamiliar in their village.

           The second (Y/N) stepped foot inside, there were muskets and bows pointed in her direction and she raised her hands.

           “Skén:nen! (Y/N) iónkiáts! Ratonhnhaké:ton, ontiatén:ro' né:'e.” They faltered at the mention of Connor’s name and she smiled, lowering her hands. “I’m looking for Kanen'tó:kon.”

           A young man stepped forward and smiled at her. “You speak our language well.”

           (Y/N) huffed a laugh. “Well, Ratonhnhaké:ton teaches me when he can.” She held out her hand. “You’re Kanen'tó:kon, then?”

           He nodded, shaking her hand. “I remember seeing you when I came to warn him about Johnson.”

           She tipped her head and clasped her hands in front of her. “I wished the situation hadn’t been dire or else I’d’ve introduced myself.”

           His eyes scanned her face. “And yet you have come now. Is Ratonhnhaké:ton alright?”

           (Y/N) nodded. “Yes, he is. I…needed a favor, but I’m afraid it’ll take a moment to explain.” She offered him a sympathetic look. “Do you have time?”

           “I do,” he replied, waving her to follow.

           Kanen'tó:kon led her to one of the longhouses near the middle of the camp and gestured for her to enter. When she did, she saw an older woman, wise appearing, and she bowed politely.

           The woman smiled at her. “You are the one Ratonhnhaké:ton speaks of when he returns.”

           She felt her cheeks warm and directed her gaze to the ground. “I’m…glad my reputation precedes me.” (Y/N) glanced back at her. “May I sit, Oiá:ner?”

           The woman nodded. “Of course.” When (Y/N) had, she asked, “What brings you to Kanatahséton? Is Ratonhnhaké:ton well?”

           Grinning, she nodded. “He is. I’m actually here for a personal matter…that I don’t need him knowing about.”

           Oiá:ner frowned. “You ask a great deal of us by that. We are not ones to deceive our own.”

           (Y/N) sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. “It’s nothing major. He wouldn’t be upset or betrayed if he found out.”

           “Then what would he be?” Kanen’tó:kon asked, and she could tell the question was a thinly veiled threat.

           “Well, I hope he would be happy.” She pulled out a small cylinder from her pack and uncapped it, unrolling the blank parchment inside.

           “What…is that?” he inquired.

           (Y/N) glanced at him. “It’s a gift I’m hoping to give him.”

           A dark brow arched on Kanen’tó:kon’s forehead. “A blank piece of paper?”

           She snorted. “I was hoping that you and your tribe would write something down for him.” His eyes went wide and (Y/N) looked to Oiá:ner. “Ratonhnhaké:ton is currently living at the Davenport Homestead not terribly far from here.”

           The woman nodded. “We are aware. He is building up a settlement, is he not?”

           She beamed with pride. “Ratonhnhaké:ton has done a fantastic job of rebuilding the Homestead. He’s found so many people new homes and new beginnings.” (Y/N) didn’t realize that they were watching her with smiles. “He’s even helped me become who I am today. I wouldn’t be the person I am—” she went quiet as Kanen’tó:kon chuckled.

           Oiá:ner simply smiled. “I am glad he is so important to you.”

           (Y/N) coughed to hide her embarrassment. “Oh, you know.”

           “So, what exactly are we doing?” he asked.

           “Well at the Homestead, the residents are having a gift exchange this Christmas.” She explained. “Christmas is a colonial winter celebration. The gift exchange is meant to be anonymous. Whoever gives you the gift isn’t supposed to tell you. It’s, well, it’s a secret,” (Y/N) finalized.

           A heavy sigh left her. “He hasn’t asked for anything recently and I’ve been running in circles to think of something and I realized that maybe a gift like a nice shirt or knife isn’t the best one.”

           She met their gazes and murmured, “But I think reassuring words from his family and friends would mean more to him than anything I could ever buy him.”

           They seemed shocked at her suggestion and she eyed her hands. “I know it seems a bit big, having everyone write something down, but I know it would make him happy.” (Y/N) got on her knees and bowed. “Please do this for me, and ultimately for Ratonhnhaké:ton.”

           When no response was given, she felt tears grow in her eyes, but she held strong to her position and request.

           “When Ratonhnhaké:ton mentioned that he loved a colonial woman, I was worried about him. But…it seems I was wrong to question his judgment.”

           She looked up at Kanen’tó:kon to see him smiling warmly at her. He gestured to her. “Do you have a writing tool? I would be honored to give him words of encouragement and friendship.”

           (Y/N) felt like crying she was so overjoyed, simply nodding and pulling out the ink and quill. She glanced at Oiá:ner who was smiling kindly at her.

***

           Connor hurried back to the manor as fast as he could, more than concerned that she was hurt or sick. She hadn’t been at the gift exchange, leaving him to awkwardly wade through the residents by himself. Eventually, he’d learned that she had to have been the one to pull his name because no one had given him a gift.

           He stepped into the manor and sped up the stairs to her bedroom, but it was empty. His brows furrowed from confusion when he heard a noise from his own room and he turned, walking down the hall.

           Peeking inside, he caught sight of (Y/N) setting a small box on his bed. Overcome with such relief at her safety, he forgot to announce himself and walked up to her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

***

           Her face pinched as she set up the box in another fashion, positioning the card beside it this time. But when it fell, she sighed and picked it up, finally deciding to tuck it underneath. Satisfied with her work, she was planning on sneaking out of his room when someone’s arms wound around her.

           She jerked in terror, letting out a bloodcurdling scream as she began to thrash against their grasp.

           “Let go of me!” she screeched, kicking her legs out. “Get off!”

           Their arms rose, folding hers to her chest so that she couldn’t hit them, and they yelled, “(Y/N)! It’s me! Ratonhnhaké:ton!”

           Stilling in his arms, she leaned forward and craned her neck, catching sight of her lover, his eyes wide, but humor on his face. (Y/N) let out a groan, her body suddenly turning to jelly as he lowered her to the ground.

           “Christ in a handbasket, Ratonhnhaké:ton.” She heaved and whacked his arm. “You scared me half to death.”

           Connor chuckled, pressing a kiss to her temple in attempt to appease her. “Apologies, Otsi’tsa. I did not mean to scare you.”

           “Uh huh,” she deadpanned, not buying a single word.

           “It is true. I was relieved to see you unharmed.” He said, and her brows pulled together.

           (Y/N) shook her head. “What? What are you talking about?”

           Connor shifted so he could face her, explaining, “When you did not show at the gift exchange, I worried that you had hurt yourself or been hurt.”

           She felt her cheeks warm. “Oh…no…I just…” she sighed and reached up on the bed, grabbing his present. She handed it to him. “I didn’t want to give it to you in front of everyone.”

           He took it from her, fingers gliding along the wrapped box.

           “It’s a bit too personal for a group get together.” She said.

           Connor met her gaze. “May I open it?”

           “Of course. It’s yours.”

           His face lit up as he started opening it, and (Y/N) felt warmth grow in her chest at how careful he was with the wrapping paper—as if it were an extension of the gift itself.

           He set the untorn paper aside and opened the rectangular box, glancing at the scroll of parchment inside. She could see the confusion on his face, and she snorted. “Just unroll it and you’ll see.”

           Connor did as she said, and the moment he recognized his people’s language, (Y/N) saw tears well in his eyes. Not knowing if they were tears of sadness, she reached over and placed her hand on his knee.

           “Are you…unhappy with it?” she hesitated, and he gaped at her, mouth moving, but no words coming from him. The tears started falling down his cheeks and he quickly shoved the paper forward, so they wouldn’t drop on the ink.

           She reached forward, frantically wiping them away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you sad, Ratonhnhaké:ton.” (Y/N) felt tears growing in her own eyes. “Oh, this was a bad idea, I’m so sorry,” she lamented. “Please forgive me for—”

           “Thank you,” he croaked. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

           Her hands stopped moving, resting on his face and she doubted, “You like it?”

           A watery laugh left him, and he nodded, placing the scroll back in the box and reached up to hold her hands.

           “I love it.” he confessed. “This gift is—” Connor seemed a loss for words, and he said that, “This gift is beyond words.” He shifted her hands, pressing his lips to her palms. “There are no words to describe what this means to me.”

           Her eyes twinkled as she smiled at him. “I’m glad…so glad that you love it.”

           Connor shifted his hands and cupped her cheeks. “Niá:wen ki’ wáhi, (Y/N).”

           She beamed at him. “You’re welcome, Ratonhnhaké:ton.” Leaning forward, she pressed herself to his chest, feeling him wrap his arms around her.

           They sat in silence for a while, then he whispered, “You got the entire village to write?”

           (Y/N) hummed. “I did. Also got the shit scared out of me when I was greeted by guns.” She snorted. “Should’ve expected that one though. Being a stranger and all.”

           He chuckled and she felt it through her side. “We are welcoming, and wary of strangers, but—” Connor tilted her chin up. “You are not a stranger to my village, or me.”

           She hummed. “I’m not?” He nodded and she slipped her hand in the opening at the top of his shirt, palm pressed flat to his chest; his heart skipped a beat under her hand, and she murmured, “Then show me.”

           “Show you?” Connor quietly repeated.

           (Y/N) lightly dug her nails into his skin, purring, “Show me I’m not a stranger to you, Ratonhnhaké:ton.”

           His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he ran his thumb along her bottom lip. “You walk thin ice, (Y/N).”

           She winked. “For you? Always.”

           Connor couldn’t help but chuckle, pressing a kiss to her lips. “Konnorónhkwa.”

           “I love you, too,” she breathed.