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divineangelbee · 3 months ago
How to become a Dream Girl: A DREAM GIRL GUIDE!
today i’m going to tell y’all how to actually become your dream girl, aka your desired self. 
one thing i HATE about “dream girl” tumblr is how judgemental they are! they have so many stupid rules, saying that to be a dream girl you can’t be this, you can’t have that and spew a lot of hateful rhetoric that is rooted in bigotry. (i.e misogyny & classism.)
first of all, this is your reality. as in, you can do whatever you want. so using that logic, we can be whoever we want.
first things first: decide who your dream girl is.
i want you to imagine your desired self. go beyond your wildest dreams. who is dream girl? what does she look like? what does she do for a living? ask yourself questions like these to start your imagination, and either type out it on a device, or write it down on a piece of paper. 
feeling uninspired? watch tv shows, go out with friends, read books, watch youtube videos, scroll on social media. whatever makes you feel inspired! i would really recommend making a pinterest board. pinterest is AMAZING for inspiration. 
if you’re really stuck, let me ask you some questions!
what does being a dream girl mean to you?
what does this woman look like?
what is her dream job?
what’s her salary?
where does she live?
what is her house like?
is she single or in a relationship? if so, describe her partner in detail.
what does she do for fun?
what are her hobbies?
how do others perceive her?
how is her mental state?
what is her personality like?
how does she dress?
how is her relationship with her family like?
what are her friends like?
describe the average day of the dream girl.
don’t feel pressured to desire a certain thing that you actually don’t want. you are unique. your “dream girl” is unique to you. just because you see 834778393893 blogs talking about how they’d like to live the hedonistic high life surrounded by materialism, doesn’t mean you have to. i mean if you want to live that way, be my guest! 
the “dream girl” isn’t a fixed aesthetic. this isn’t about anyone else. this is about YOU. so if your dream girl is you living in a pretty cottage in the middle of nowhere surrounded by art -- that is YOUR dream girl. or if your dream girl is a woman who wears suits and is a ceo -- that is ALSO a dream girl.
anyone can be a dream girl. and i mean, anyone. don’t listen to those stupid ass blogs that say shit like “you can’t be fat or skinny if you want to be a dream girl.” “you must act like this or you must have this” oh my god, PLEASE SHUT UP.  i swear to god if i see another post like that i will lose my damn mind. don’t listen to those blogs! you are beautifully & wonderfully made. :)
the big secret, how to actually become a dream girl.
okay, if you have been following me for a long time, you know what i’m about to say next. there is no secret. HA, FOOLED YA!
the only requirement to be a dream girl is that you think you are a dream girl.
yup, it’s that easy. just assume that you have everything you want. do not see your desired self as a fantasy, but as a reality. as a fact. wishful thinking will not do you any good.
as neville goddard once said:
“health, wealth, beauty, and genius are not created; they are only manifested by the arrangement of your mind-that is, by your concept of yourself, and your concept of yourself is all that you accept and consent to as true.”
affirm for your desire. and when you affirm, affirm from a place of knowing. don’t view affirming as some kind of technique, but as present fact. at the end of the day, your assumptions manifest. so assume you are your dream girl.
“i will be is a confession that ‘i am not’ the father's will is always ‘i am.’ until you realize that you are the father (there is only one Iiam and your infinite self is that i am), your will is always ‘i will be.”
when affirming, you can either use separate affirmations like:
“i have my dream job”
“i look like xyz”
“i have the perfect boyfriend”
you can use general affirmations. i personally find these easier because you only need one affirmation, because they cover everything you want. and don’t worry! your subconscious knows exactly what you’re talking about when you use a vague affirmation, because we assign meaning to our thoughts. if both you and you friend used the same affirmation, you would both get different results because you both want to manifest different things. understand?
that being said, here are some of my fav general affirmations:
“i am a dream girl!”
“everything in my life is perfect”
“isn’t it wonderful”
“i am happy”
“i live my desired life.
(oh, and one last thing. you don’t even need to believe in your affirmations. affirm & persist anyway, until you have your desire. so for those of you who struggle with belief, it is okay to be sceptical! don’t be so hard on yourself. you can be in the shittiest mood, have intrusive thoughts and lack belief --- but as long as you are persistent in your affirmations, you’ll be fine. after all, that is the law.)
you don’t have to affirm if you don’t want to. i know affirming isn’t for everyone. instead of affirming, here are some alternatives:
placebo effect (yes, you can use it to manifest)
manifestation techniques (369, 5x55, etc)
so here you go, folks! remember, the only requirement to be a dream girl is that you think you are a dream girl. no, you don’t need to lose weight, buy a prada bag or invest in chanel.
you already are your dream girl already! 
here are some nice posts by me, relating to the topics, as linked below. happy manifesting, my loves!
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ambrosiase · 5 months ago
˜*°•.°•. 𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨
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main masterlist
eighteen plus only — by choosing to ‘keep reading’, you are agreeing that you are eighteen years old and over. do not interact with this story if you are a minor.
pairings: divorced dilf!bucky x fem!reader
warnings: age-gap (bucky is late thirties, and reader is early/mid twenties) smut, dirty talk, daddy kink (nothing excessive), dacryphilia, spit kink. masturbation (m & f) unprotected sex, cumplay. this is just really filthy, tbh.
word count: 7.8k
summary: the hot dad next door finds your onlyfans.. oops?
notes: looooook, this just wouldn’t leave my mind okay?! i hope y’all enjoy this as much as i did while writing it. dilf!bucky literally owns me, and my god, the things i’d let him do to me lmao. anyways, have fun with this smut bc my next few fics are all angsty messes hehe
Life in Eastview was peaceful.
Some would say that every day was familiar. Bucky preferred to call it mundane.
White-picket fenced townhouses lined the quiet streets, filled with families and elderly couples who had been there for years. It wasn’t the kind of town that was welcoming to newcomers, especially perky twenty-something year olds with a smile that could make even the dismal Dr. Banner blush.
Bucky had just dropped his boys off at his ex-wife’s new house when he’d saw the moving van, curious as to who was moving in next door to him. Needing the distraction, he thought he’d go and introduce himself to his new neighbour, and see if they needed any help. He never would’ve suspected a young thing like you, to answer the door for him.
“Hiya”, the first thing that he noticed was your smile. Kind, and inviting, like you’d been waiting for him to show up on your doorstep as though you were waiting for an old lover to return. They were warm, like the sun that reflected in them as you wore a pink sundress on the spring day.
“James Barnes”, he doesn’t knows why he tells you this instead of his preferred nickname, “Your new neighbour”.
Bucky clasps his calloused hand in yours, enjoying the way your softness felt against his skin. Your winsome smile answered him, along with a reply of your name, “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Barnes”.
Oh, that was why.
His pants stirred at the innocent look in your eyes, and Bucky almost felt ashamed for the desire that travelled through his veins, almost. “Need some help unloadin’ any boxes?”, offering a charming smile as the two of you stand in the doorway.
“Oh!”, your eyes cast downward as you chew on your bottom lip, a look of contemplation on your face as your brows furrow, “I’m sure you must have better things to do”.
He doesn’t miss the way your eyes catch his bare ring finger, “Wouldn’t have come over if I did, sweetheart”.
Your eyes dart up to meet his at the dulcet endearment, “If you’re sure, it might take a while”.
Bucky’s resounding smile has you fiddling with your fingers, “I’ve got all night for you, sweetheart”.
From that first meeting, the two of you had become close. Well, as close as Bucky would allow. You didn’t need someone as damaged as him around, atleast that was what he was trying to convince himself.
But that didn’t stop him from admiring you, not when you were so perfect for him. The way you were patient with his kids, or joining in on Pepper’s bake sales, and even helping Sam to paint his pool house — you were a gem. And Bucky felt like a thief anytime he was stealing your time away from people your own age.
At first it hadn’t bothered him, spending time with you. If he were being honest, it made him feel young, gave him another purpose for the monotonous life he’d found himself waking up in. It helped him to realise that he wasn’t just a blemished divorcee, or a father of three. But that he was still, Bucky. Something that had been lost on him for the past few years.
It’s a blazing summer afternoon, everyone gathered in his backyard for an early birthday celebration. And though Bucky considered himself lucky to have the people who were important to him here, the only person he cared about, was currently too focused on his sister’s elaborate story-telling.
With a defeated sigh, he turns back to the grill, flipping burgers as his mind replays the image of you, in your pretty little sundress, chasing the kids around the backyard as you distract them from annoying their parents.
“You know, you could’ve hired a caterer”, he hears the nasally voice of one of his neighbours, Dolores — or ‘Dot’, as she kept reminding him.
Bucky shrugs, barely glancing at her through his sunglasses, “I prefer to do the cookin’ myself, doesn’t taste the same when you’ve got someone else doin’ it for ya”.
“Oh, but I know just the person! You know Pietro’s sister, Wanda?”, at Bucky’s nod she continues, “She runs her own now, it goes in part with their new restaurant they just opened up in town”.
“Wanda’s a good chef”, he says with a smile as he reminisces, “She did Georgie’s cake last year”.
Dolores hums before she looks at him with a bashful smile, a hand placed on his forearm as her voice lowers, “Why don’t we go sometime, together?”.
“Look at you, cookin’ up a storm”, Bucky praises whatever deity above as you appear beside him like an angel that’s answered his prayers.
Dolores looks offended by your intrusion on their conversation, not that Bucky could care. He lowers his sunglasses as he takes you in, “Got your favourite on, sweetheart”.
“I can see that, I’m a lucky girl”, you grin at him, wide and toothy, and it makes his heart swell in three sizes as you do.
“Sorry, but we were actually just having a conversation”, the older woman intrudes, and Bucky has to keep himself from rolling his eyes.
Dolores had been a thorn in his side since moving into the neighbourhood, attaching herself to him like a withered rose that was begging for something to quench its thirst. In other words, she couldn’t take no for an answer.
You’re none the wiser as you simply reply, “Oh really? About what?”.
Bucky answers, “‘Boutta new restaurant that's opened up in town”.
“Wanda’s?”, you beam at them, “I’ve been dying to go!”.
He grins, “Want me to take ya, sweetheart?”.
And neither of you take notice as Dolores storms away, muttering under her breath about what a harlot, you were.
“If I’d ever be so lucky, Mr. Barnes”, and there’s something suggestive in the way your eyes glimmer more than the sunlight glistening off your skin.
“Think I’d be the lucky one, sweetheart”, he knows he shouldn’t be this outright flirtatious with you, but the way you’re biting your lip as you gaze at him through your lashes, has him thinking with another head.
You giggle at this suggestion, rolling your eyes playfully as you nudge him, “Oh!”, your eyes widen slightly as though you remember something, “I have somethin’ for ya’”.
“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”, he’s curious, leaning into you as he shields you away from the rest of the party.
You’re voice is sweet as you reply, “Freshly baked cookies, with a sprinkling of that coconut sugar you love so much”.
“Sweetheart, ya’know you didn’t need to do that”, but Bucky feels himself warm at the thought of you baking for him.
“It’s your birthday!”, you squeal at his pointed look, adding, “Or, consider it as a thank you for fixing my sink the other night”.
“You know you don’t gotta thank me for that”, he reminds you, before biting back a grin as he says, “But I’ll never say no to treats”.
“Hey, sugar!”, you hear Sam’s voice call out for you, “Ya gonna come be my partner?”.
“I’ll be there soon, Sam!”, you respond to the other man before turning to look at Bucky, “You gonna join us, Sir?”.
He licks his lips, catching the way your eyes focus in on his mouth, “I prefer to watch, sweetheart”.
You lean into him, pressing your body gently against his as you smile, “Well, I’ll make sure to put on a good show for you”.
Rationality seems to have left his mind as he watches you bounce away, taking up to Sam’s side as you join him, along with Steve, and Natasha to play a game. He spends the rest of the party observing you, watching the way you interact with the others. Your demeanour was open, pleasant — you made an effort to have a conversation with everyone, even entertaining the kids whenever they seemed to get a bit to rowdy.
Bucky couldn’t get over how perfect you were.
By the time most of the neighbourhood had dispersed from his backyard, Bucky lounged around with Sam, and Steve before noticing you inside the kitchen, scrubbing over the dishes. He lets the guys know he’ll be back, and makes his way in towards you.
“Ya’know, you really don’t gotta do that, sweetheart”, his voice is low in an attempt not to startle you, walking over to stand beside you, and trying to convince himself that he didn’t feel something stir inside of him at the look of you being so... domestic, in his home. As though you belonged there.
Shrugging, you look at him from the side as you say, “It’s your birthday, you shouldn’t have to clean up”.
Bucky shakes his head, “And you’re my guest, so neither should you”.
“I guess we’re at an impasse then, huh?”, you sigh, but the look on your face is nothing short of playful.
“You wash, I’ll dry?”, he offers.
Nodding, you accept, “Sounds like a good deal to me, Sir”.
The two of you spend the next ten minutes in a comfortable silence as you hum along to some new pop song, Bucky’s not quite sure what it is. “Thanks for helpin’ sweetheart”, he says as he places the last dish in the cabinet.
“You don’t need to thank me”, you smile at him brightly but at his hard gaze you sheepishly add, “But you’re welcome. I’m always happy to help you out, you know that, don’t you Mr. Barnes?”.
“You’re too sweet, pretty girl”, and oh, Bucky doesn’t miss the way your iris’ dilate at the term.
It’s quiet for a moment as he watches you try to think of something to say, before your eyes widen in realisation, “I almost forgot!”. You move away from him, going over to where your book bag lies on the counter top.
Homemade chocolate chip cookies are brought over to him, “Sweetheart, I’ve gotta watch my figure, can’t keep eatin’ all these treats”.
“Oh, please. You’re handsome, Mr. Barnes”, you say it with a roll of your eyes, as if it’s the most obvious fact you’d ever said, “No matter your size”.
“You’re definitely too sweet for me”, he drawls, as he watches you unwrap the cookies, picking one and bringing it over to him.
You hold out the still warm cookie with your fingers, the chocolate chips melting on your fingers. Bucky leans forward, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he maintains eye contact with you, holding in a smirk at the way your breath catches. Bucky bites into the treat, mouth watering as the flavour hits his tastebuds. He savours the sweetness on his tongue, but he can’t help himself and think of how much sweeter he’d know you be.
He pulls away as he swallows down the cookie, enjoying the way your eyes follow the line of his throat as he does so. Half of it still sits between your fingers, and you look at him expectedly. His nod answers your question.
You fingers meet your lips as you bite down on the rest of the cookie, eyes mischievous as your tongue pokes out to lick off the remaining chocolate before you put them into your mouth. One by one, gently nibbling and sucking at the remainder left behind there. Bucky thinks he might combust right there as you gaze at him with hooded lids.
“Yo, Buck!”, Steve’s voice is coming from just outside the kitchen door, “You got any more beer?”.
The two of you step back from each other as footsteps draw closer, watching as Steve enters the room.
None the wiser, the blonde waits for an answer, “Yeah, Rogers. Out the back in the cooler, should be a carton or two still out there”.
“Sweet! Thanks, man”, and then he was stumbling away as quickly as he came.
Bucky watches you watch him, bottom lip pulled between your teeth before you’re telling him, “Can I use your bathroom?”.
He manages a nod, “Upstairs, first door on your right”.
Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes, “Thanks, Mr. Barnes”.
Once your out of his sight, Bucky’s letting out a breath he hadn’t even realised he was holding in, “What the fuck am I doing?”.
Turns out, Bucky would be asking himself that question quite a bit as the days passed.
It was like you had taken over his every thought, from the moment that he woke up, to the second he fell asleep — Bucky was thinking of you, in every possible way he could. It wasn’t like him, to be lusting over a college student who’d barely lived their life, but he was slowly coming to terms with the fact that it wasn’t just lust. Bucky was falling for you, and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself once he realised.
So, rather than deal with it and admit his feelings, Bucky did the next best thing — he turned to porn.
Except, nothing on the regular websites seemed to catch his eye. None of them looked like — you shouldn’t be thinking of her that way, he berates himself.
But he needed to do something to release the pent-up tension he was feeling, and what better way to do that, than to finally explore that site, Stark’s always raving on about it.
Loading the website, onlyfans glowing at the top of the screen, he enters his name and a password before beginning to scroll. Honestly? Bucky doesn’t know what he’s searching for. Definitely not some pretty girl with eyes as kind as yours, or a smile to match.
Which is why his eyes almost bug out of his head when he finds exactly that, and realises that the girl, was you.
Recognition fires up in the pit of his belly, he reads the time of the latest video that was posted, only two hours ago. But at that time you would’ve only just gotten home from — oh, fuck.
The seafoam green walls are familiar to him, too familiar. The marble tiling a dead giveaway for where you are, and it makes his cock swell in his jeans as he realises that you, were touching yourself, in his fucking bathroom. And from looking at the pretty yellow sundress you had on, you’d taken it earlier today.
He watches intently as you lift up the sundress teasingly, a lithe smile in place and Bucky groans, you weren’t wearing any fucking panties.
Your fingers trail over your thighs as you relax on the ottoman, his ottoman. And Bucky thinks he might explode as you open yourself up for anyone to see, the wetness glistening as you run your finger through your slit. Your breaths are shallow, chest slightly heaving as your play with your arousal, lip bitten as you try to contain your moans.
Bucky takes his cock out from him pants, wrapping a hand around himself as soon as he’s free, choking on his own spit as he watches you. “Daddy”, it falls from your lips wantonly as you rub your swollen clit, “Fuck!”.
“Shit”, he groans, using the precum oozing from his tip to lubricate himself, shuddering at how sensitive he was. Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he’d touched himself like this. He was used to just doing it as a stress reliever, but right now? It was for his pleasure. And Bucky was close already as he watched a finger enter your soaking hole.
“Feel so good”, you cry out, hand flying over your mouth as you try to cover your sounds, “Just want you to touch me, please”.
God, Bucky had never heard anything as beautiful as the whines that left your throat as you touched yourself. He wondered what you were thinking of. Couldn’t help but hope that you were thinking of him.
His release finds him much sooner than expected, but how couldn’t it? Especially when you looked so pretty cumming all over your fingers, a cry of “Daddy”, leaving your lips as you do.
As Bucky looks down at his spent cock, release coating his lower stomach, he can’t help but look at the video as you come down from your high. Giggling as you wave goodbye to the camera, a cheeky kiss blown to it before the screen goes back, and Bucky’s left staring at his reflection.
He wanted you. He needed you.
And Bucky was going to have you.
After finding your videos, he had spent the following days watching them all, paying tips where he needed to, and enjoying the persona you gave to your audience. You were nothing like the sweet girl he thought you were.
Constant moans of Daddy, and the way you begged to be treated like the dumb fucking slut you were, had his head spinning. And every time he saw you each morning he left to go to work, his pants tightened at the sight of your innocent smile and small wave of your hand as you wish him a good day.
Enough was enough, he’d decided.
He made sure the boys were at their mother’s house, it was a Friday night and he had finally worked up the courage to ask you to dinner. Only, when he knocked on your door, he’d come to find that you already had plans.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes!”, you insisted, “If I’d known you wanted to go to Wanda’s tonight, I wouldn’t have accepted Johnny’s invite”.
“Storm?”, he questions as he wrinkles his nose, “You’re going out with Johnny Storm?”.
You don’t think you’d ever seen him so annoyed, at least not with you. “Um, yeah”, you mumble, shame seeming to burn as you watch the judgement pass over his features, “He’s been asking me out for a while... and I guess I’d just had enough of waiting for- I mean, I just thought maybe if he was being so persistent then maybe I should just give him a chance, ya’know?”.
No, he didn’t know.
“Right. Well, enjoy yourself tonight”, Bucky grumbles as he tucks his hands into his pockets, “Hope you kids have a good night”, and then he’s turning around to leave as frustration floods him at the fact that you’re going out with someone, that isn’t him.
“Wait!”, you call out of him, following him down the steps, “Do you think it’s not a good idea?”.
Bucky asks you, “What’s not a good idea?”.
“Going on a date with Johnny”, you tell him, “Do you think it’s not a good idea?”.
He doesn’t know what you’re getting at, why you’re asking him, “I think you should do whatever you want. Not like you’ve got any otha’ commitment, right?”.
“Right...”, you reply but it looks like there’s more you want to say, only getting cut short from the sound of a car horn. “That’s Johnny”, you advise, as if he couldn’t tell by the obnoxiously loud music playing out from the car windows.
“Real charmer”, Bucky scoffs, “‘M sure he’ll be everything you could ever want”.
You shrug, coy as you say, “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just tired or waitin’ for some ol’ guy who obviously doesn’t know what he wants”.
And oh, Bucky has an inkling he knows who this ‘some ol’ guy’, is but... there’s no way it’s him, right?
“Yo, sweetcheeks!”, Johnny’s voice cuts through your tension, “Ya ready to head off?”.
“Sure, Johnny! Be right there”, you wave him off before turning to Bucky, “Guess I’ll see you later then, Mr. Barnes”.
Bucky nods, turning on his heel and walking back to his house, barely missing the disappointed look on your face as you watch him leave without so much as a goodbye.
He spends the rest of his night, drinking a glass of whiskey and watching whatever terrible Netflix movie was trending in an attempt to not think about how you were probably giggling at whatever dumb joke Johnny was whispering into your ear.
It wasn’t until the next morning, that he realised you mustn’t have come home and he feels his stomach drop. Your car was still in the driveway, but he hadn’t heard a call pull up last night, which could only mean one thing — you’d spent the night with Johnny.
It’s the only thought that floats around in his head all day, at least until, a knock at his door finally pulls him away from it.
Opening the front door, the bright sight of you made his senses go into overdrive. You looked fresh, happy as a smile stretches across your lips as you ask him, “Hiya Mr. Barnes, you wouldn’t happen to have any milk would ya?”.
“Milk?”, he repeats, confusion laced in his tone.
“Yeah, I didn’t have any time to pick up some from the store, thought I’d come over and ask ya”, you’re still smiling at him, standing in his doorway as you wait for him to let you inside.
Bucky steps aside, “Sure, sweetheart. I’ve got some milk that you can use”.
“You’re the best! Thanks, Mr. Barnes”, and as you make your way inside, he noticed the short sundress fluttering at your thighs as you bounce towards his kitchen.
You knew where everything was stashed by now, and you definitely made yourself at home as you helped yourself to his fridge. Bucky stands to the side of the counter, watching silently as you bend over slowly, sundress rising high enough for him to notice the swell of your ass at it hangs out in front of him like a snack — god, did you ever wear panties?
Bucky holds back his groan, and when you look over your shoulder at him, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you say, “I can’t find the milk, Sir” and then you’re leaning over further, and he swears he can see wetness glistening against your folds, “Oops, nevermind”.
He decides right there and then — fuck it.
“How was your date?”, his arms are crossed over his chest, delighting in the way you huff silently at the fact he hasn’t made any move toward you, yet.
You shrug as you place the carton on the bench, “It was fine. Johnny’s a nice guy”.
Bucky watches in the way you walk backwards as he begins to stalk toward you, backing you up against the closed fridge, “Is he what you want?”.
“I don’t know what I want”, it’s a simple answer, and Bucky wants to smack the cheeky smirk off your face.
He tuts, teeth kissing his tongue as he tell you, “We both know that’s a lie”.
“What?”, the tilt of your head could be an indication of innocence, too bad he knows you so well now.
Bucky’s voice is low as it reaches your ears, “Don’t play dumb with me, sweetheart”. His body presses into yours, feeling himself grow harder at the feeling of your supple figure mold to fit his, “I think you know what you want”.
“Mr. Barnes”, your eyes are wild as they stare into his cerulean orbs, palms flat against the cool fridge behind you that does nothing for your heated skin.
“I think the entire fucking internet knows what you want, pretty girl”, and he feels pride swell in his chest as recognition lights up your eyes. “And here I thought I knew you”, his chuckle against your ear sends a thrill down your spine, “But I never could have guessed that my sweet, little neighbour was really just a dirty, little slut”.
“Mr. Barnes!”, you squeal the title this time, eyebrows furrowed as you pretend that you aren’t clenching your thighs together.
“S’that all you know how to say?”, his teeth gently pull at the edge of your ear, “C’mon sweetheart, you know what my name is. Said it so prettily in those videos you made”.
Your breathing is ragged as his cologne fills your senses, the scent of neroli, and amber so strong, you can almost taste it on your tongue as he demands, “Say it. I know it’s right there on the tip of your tongue”.
“Daddy”, the title is said as a whimper, your hands coming up to fist themselves in his flannel shirt, bringing a leg up to wrap around his waist, “Please”.
Bucky groans at the sight of you, so pliant, and submissive that he doesn’t know what he wants to do to you first — seems like you’ll make that decision for him.
Cherry chapstick meet his lips as you pull him into a passionate kiss, months of pining, and incorrigible flirting had all lead to this moment. Bucky couldn’t get enough of you — it was all consuming, the way you whimpered into his mouth and held him closer by his neck. You were insatiable, tasting the older man on your tongue, and you knew you were already addicted.
Bucky kissed you like he was chasing his last breath, unforgiving in the way he bit your bottom lip, teasing your tongue with his as he savoured the feeling. He didn’t think he’d ever have his fill, not when he’d finally gotten a taste of you.
“Sweetheart”, he breaks the kiss, hiding back a smirk at the way your lips follow after him. It’s takes you a second to realise he’d pulled away, and immediately, doubt began to creep in. Bucky was quick to kiss away the worry, holding you close as he asks, “Are you sure you wanna do this?”.
“Please”, you beg, eyes wide as they blink up at him, “I want you”.
“Yeah, pretty girl?”, he groans against your mouth, “What do you want me to do, huh?”.
You weren’t shy as you begged him to fuck you, how you wanted him to own you — control you.
“Mm, I’m not so sure sweetheart”, he teases, his fingers trailing up your bare thighs, “See, you’ve been so bad, walking around without any panties on, bending over for me to see”.
“Wanted you, to finally make a move”, you whine at him, grinding yourself against him as best as you could.
Bucky chuckles at your desperation, “Well, now if you were a good girl, you would’ve just come to me, and asked for what you wanted”.
“I am good!”, you sass at him, arms crossing over your chest as your attitude oozes from your tone.
He’s quick to grab your wrists, bringing them up next to your head as he holds them there, “Cut the attitude”. Bucky leans in the nip at your jaw, “Y’know what I think?”.
“What?”, it’s breathy as he leaves kisses along your neck, biting and sucking as he travels south, meeting the valley of your breasts before coming back.
Voice in your ear, he tells you, “I think that if you want to be a good girl, then you’d get on your fucking knees, and take my cock down that cute throat of yours”.
Bucky barely finishes the sentence before your falling to your knees in front of him, hands making quick work of his belt, barely getting his jeans halfway down his thighs before your hot mouth is licking over his boxer briefs — kissing, and fondling your tongue over the hardness that’s hidden behind the fabric.
Breathing deeply, Bucky reaches his hand out so that his palm cradles your cheek, motioning you to look up at him, “C’mon pretty girl, wanna see you choke on my cock”.
Your thighs are clenching together, eyes dazed at the show of dominance as the older man peers over you. Reaching for the top of his underwear, you slowly pull them down, mouth watering as you watch his thick, cut erect member slap against his stomach. You whimper at the sight — precum leaking from the swollen head, a pulsing vein running along the underside as it waits for your mouth.
Leaning forward, you lick a fat stripe from the bottom of his cock up to the tip, delighting in the groan that falls from Bucky’s throat as his hand reaches out to grab the back of your neck. Looking up at him through your lashes, your eyes meet his dark pupils, shivering from the lust that reflects. You lick at the slit, stomach clenching as the musky taste of him meets your taste buds. Gently, you open your mouth wide enough to slip the head between your lips, alternating between kitten licks, and sucking before you lean back.
Collecting your saliva in your mouth, you slowly let it dribble from your mouth and onto his cock, before bringing your mouth back down and taking him as far as you can, “Fuuuuuck, sweetheart”.
The sight of you taking him has Bucky ready to risk everything he possibly could. “Such a hot fucking mouth”, his voice is deeper, more husky the further he loses himself to the sensation of your skilled tongue, “You’re such a good girl for me”.
Your head bobs along his length, hands coming up to reach what you can’t before you take your mouth off him completely, instead, nestling down towards his balls — gently nibbling, and suckling at the heavy sac as your hands work in tandem with your leftover spit, and his precum.
“Fuckin’ christ, sweetheart”, his ears are tinted pink at the squelching sounds that fill the room. You were working his cock like you were getting paid for it, and Bucky had never considered himself so lucky.
It takes one more lick of your tongue against the underside of his cock before he’s bringing you off him, leaning down so that he can swallow your protest down his throat as his lips meet yours in a messy kiss — growling at the taste of him still settled there, “C’mere”.
You’re pushed against a timber counter, one leg wrapped around his waist as you pull him in closer to you, begging for his touch as you feel the wetness pooling between your legs. “Please”, you whine against his lips, “I need you”.
“Yeah, sweetheart? You do, don’t you?”, he’s grinning from ear to ear, pleasure completely overtaking him as he grabs onto your soft hips, grinding his cock against your thigh, “C’mon, come with me”.
And then, he’s taking you up the stairs and into his bedroom — you barely have time to take it all in before he’s throwing you onto the bed. The show of masculinity has you giggling, and Bucky can’t help but smile adoringly as he stands at the foot of the bed.
It takes you a moment to realise he was still watching you, gaze dark and eyes hooded as he did. “Whatcha waitin’ for, Mr?”, and the sarcastic retort died on Bucky’s tongue as he watched you slowly take that damned sundress off your body, tossing it onto the floor before you were leaning back on your elbows — spreading your thighs and giving him a show.
Glistening folds greeted his sight, you were so fucking wet — your clit was swollen, and puffy. Just begging for attention, “Fuck, sweetheart”, he thinks he can see your hole twitch around nothing as you sink into the mattress.
His heated gaze roams your figure, all soft curves and pretty marks that painted your skin like the most divine art he’d ever laid his eyes upon.
There’s a mischevious glint in your eyes, and Bucky watches as one of your hands come to rest on your thigh, trailing slowly toward your mound as you watch him swallow in anticipation.
A moan falls from your lips as your fingers spread your folds, middle finger slipping in between them as it collects some of your arousal. “Daddy”, it’s choked out as you rub your wetness around your cunt, before circling your sensitive nub, “Please”.
Bucky’s mind seems to catch up to him, and he chuckles, “You’re so fuckin’ desperate, aren’t ya, pretty girl?”. As soon as he hears your agreement, the older man is tugging his shirt off and throwing it to meet your forgotten dress.
He’s on you then, like a man who was starved of touch. Your hand is ripped away from your cunt, and you fall back onto the bed completely as Bucky hovers over you, holding your hands down on either side of your head.
“Tell me what you want”, he demands, nose rubbing along your cheek as his breath fans against your ear, “Use your words, sweetheart”.
Your face moves to the side so that you’re in each others sights, “Touch me, please”.
Bucky smiles like a predator that’s caught it’s prey, “Where?”, his fingers trail down your neck, and then in between your breasts before pinching a nipple, an action that has you crying against him as you push your body up to meet his.
As you shake your head, Bucky wonders, “Lower?”, and the condescending tone to his voice has you shuddering.
The way you moan as his fingers find your cunt has him believing of a siren’s call, “Ahh, there it is, sweetheart”. Your hands grip onto his shoulders, and Bucky can’t help but turn his head to place a kiss to the first place he see’s skin.
“Oh my god, please!”, it’s futile, and part of you knows that — knows that he’ll savour having you like this.
Bucky feels your desire as his fingers play you like his favourite instrument, pulling at all the right strings to make you sing for him. And as he feels the wetness collate on his fingers, dripping down onto the bedsheets, he knows he needs to taste you.
Crawling down the bed, he finds home between your thighs, and his cock strains against his stomach as he wastes no time diving into your cunt, lapping at your juices — he was right, you were sweeter than any treat he’d ever had in his mouth.
“Fuck!”, you squeal as his tongue latches onto your clit, “Daddy!”.
He wants to ruin you — tear you apart with his hands, and put you back together with his mouth.
His tongue delves into you, and his fingers meet your entrance. Bucky teases the twitching hole before he’s sinking two fingers into you, he knows you can take it — the memory of you doing it to yourself on his phone flashing through his mind.
“Yes!”, you’re keening at the feeling of his tongue, and fingers working you open, “Just like that!”.
Bucky pumps his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace, being careful as his tongue gently sucks at your clit before massaging it. His eyes look up at the sight of you before him — and fuck, if you weren’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
He can feel your walls fluttering around him, and the telltale sign of the noises leaving your throat are getting higher in pitch — he knows you’re close. And he can’t wait to taste you.
“C’mon, sweetheart”, he groans against your cunt, “Know you wanna cum, so go ahead, want you to make a mess all ova’ my face”.
You’re hands find solace in his hair, using it as leverage to grind up against his mouth, crying as he ravages your pussy. “M’ gonna cum! Oh my god, please!”, you’re begging, tears welling up in your eyes as you feel the pressure reaching its peak in your core.
“Let go, c’mon”, he instructs you, “Be my good, little fucking slut and cum for me”.
“James!”, there’s a ringing in your ears as pleasure overtakes your body, black and white spots flashing behind your eyelids as you hold Bucky against your cunt. Your walls clench around his fingers as you ride out your orgasm.
It takes him a moment to realise what you’ve called him — and god fucking damn, if he didn’t fall in love with the way you said his name. The remnants of your orgasm can still be tasted on his tongue as he pulls away from your trembling form. He moves back up your body, nudging your legs open as they try to close so that he can situate himself there.
Bucky coos at you, his heart feeling full at the sight of tears drying on your cheeks, “Did so well for me, sweetheart”. He presses gentle kisses on your cheeks as your chest heaves, “My good girl, hm?”.
Your eyes open, shining brightly as you realise what he’s just said — you move your head up so that your mouth meets his, licking his lips so your tongues can comfort the other.
“Love the way you say my name, pretty girl”, he admits after the two of you separate.
You smile coyly at him, “James”, you breathe out, giggling at the way a grin breaks out across his face before teasing, “James, James, James!”.
He grinds his cock in between the two of you, hips stuttering as your wetness coats him, and he relishes in the whimper that falls from you as the energy between the two of you changes. “Not so smart when I’ve got my cock out, huh, sweetheart?”, he breathes, “What happened to daddy, huh? And here you were doing so well”.
“‘M sorry, daddy!”, your eyes grow big, pleading, and you looked so innocent that he couldn’t help but want to ruin you.
“That so, sweetheart?”, he nips at your bottom lip with his teeth, “Gonna show me how sorry you are?”.
“Yes!”, you promise him, “I will, I promise!”.
Bucky reaches down to grip his length, guiding it towards your soaping hole, “I know you will, sweetheart”. And your back arches as he slowly pushes into you, “You’re gonna take my cock, like a good girl, and then, you’re gonna make a mess for me, hm?”.
Your hands grip onto his forearms, nails digging into flesh as he bottoms out, “So big!”.
Pride swells in his chest at the way you already looked so fucked out — god, he’d commit it to memory. When he knows your comfortable around him, mewling for him to fuck you, he pulls his cock out almost to the tip, before sliding back in.
There was something so ethereal in the way you looked beneath him. Bucky didn’t know what heaven would be like, but with you under him right now? He’s sure he must be there.
“Fuuuck, takin’ me so well, sweetheart”, he growls as he thrusts up into your cunt, “Can feel you squeezin’ yourself ‘round me”.
Your eyes connect, and Bucky stutters for a moment at the admiration that was in your gaze. Maybe you felt just as deeply for him, as he did for you.
Bucky doesn’t have a long time to keep that thought, so he locks it away for now and focuses back on the way your legs have wrapped around his waist, interlocked behind his back as you beg for him to go deeper, harder, “Make me feel it, daddy”, you’d said and Bucky was more than gracious to comply.
He was pounding into with total abandonment, gripping onto your hips as he slammed his cock into your cunt in a vicious motion. The tears were back, falling down your cheeks as your mind clouded over with pleasure.
You met his powerful thrusts, basking in the way that the older man groaned every time you clenched around his length. Bucky was big when you’d taken him down your throat, but it was nothing compared to how he felt inside of you.
“Sweetheart”, his voice was husky, almost gravelly when he addressed you, “Takin’ me so well”.
“Fuck, Mr. Barnes!”, oh the way that falls from your mouth has him fucking into you even dirtier, and from the scream that leaves your mouth, he knows you knew what you were doing.
His grip around your thighs is brutal, using them to hold you close while he pistoled his hips. He could feel you squeezing him harder, more frequent as your moans grew louder with each thrust. “You gonna cum for me, pretty girl?”, he teases, “Gonna cream my cock?”.
“Yes! God, yes! Please”, you sobbed as you felt the coil tighten in your core, “‘M gonna cum! Oh my - fuck, I’m gonna cum for you!”.
“Go on, pretty girl”, he leans down to press a filthy kiss to your lips, “Fuckin’ milk my cock”.
As soon as you have his permission, your nails are digging in harder to his skin as you cry out his name, your orgasm washing over you in waves as he continues to fuck you through it.
“Shit”, he huffs out as he feels your juices leak down his length, “Such a fuckin’ good girl, so fuckin’ perfect for me”.
Bucky feels his own orgasm threatening to push him to the edge, but he knows he can bring you to one more. Your body shakes as you come down from your high, legs untangling from around him as you fall back into the bed.
You reach up to pull him down into another passionate kiss, savouring the way he tastes before he’s pulling away, looking down at you as he takes in you in. “So beautiful, my pretty girl”, he praises as he leaves kisses along your jawline.
“James”, you’re breathless, still buzzing from the orgasm as he continues to pump in, and out of you. You gently push his shoulders back, and he gets the message as he takes himself out of you, pulling you over him as his back hits the mattress.
As you straddle his waist, you grabbed his still hard member, guiding it toward your entrance. “Don’t tease, sweetheart”, he growls as you run his angry tip along your slit.
“Sorry, daddy”, you say with a small smirk so he knows you aren’t, but before he can retort — you’re sinking down onto his cock. Once he’s sheathed inside, your hands fall to his chest, using him as leverage as you start to ride him.
If Bucky thought you were heaven below him, then you were a fucking goddess above him.
Your movements were fluid, eyes focused solely on his as you sought to bring him to release. Bucky’s hands latched onto your hips as you rode him, “Ridin’ my cock so well, sweetheart”.
You take your time, enjoying the way he feels so deep inside of you like this, his cock kissing your cervix as you roll your hips. But it only takes one particularly hard hit against that spongy part inside of you until you’re riding him like your life depends on it. “James! So deep, fuck! You’re so deep inside of me”, you cry, bottom lip between your teeth as you chase the pleasure building.
“Yeah? Feel me in your guts, pretty girl?”, Bucky grins, “You’re takin’ me so well, ‘m so lucky”.
His words have you feeling warm, Bucky made you feel so special — he always looked out for you, always made sure you were okay, and now was your chance to repay him for all that he’d done for you. “Just wanna make you feel good, daddy. Just you”, and Bucky doesn’t know what he did to deserve you.
The desperation between the two of you begins to build, desire coursing through your veins as it slowly overtakes all of your senses once more. You knew you weren’t going to last long, but you were determined to make Bucky cum. Clenching down on his cock, you start bouncing on him faster, more reckless and the howl that comes from Bucky’s throat has your ego swelling.
“Please, James”, you look down at him, “Want you to cum — need you to cum. Wanna feel it inside of me, please!”.
The way you beg so prettily has Bucky seeing stars. And by the way his hands squeeze your hips, you know he’s about to ruin you. “Fuckin’ take it”, he growls as he plants his feet on the bed, fucking up into you harshly as the pleasure overwhelms him, “Gonna fuck my cum in this pretty cunt, make sure you know who it belongs to”.
“Yes! Fuck, belongs to you, James! It’s all yours!”, you squeal as you hold on as best as you can, meeting his thrusts where you could.
Bucky feels his balls tighten, “‘M gonna cum, fuuuuck, sweetheart, tell me you’re mine — tell me you want me to fill you up”.
You were more than willing to agree, “I’m yours, James! All yours, I promise!”, you cry out at a particularly intense thrust, “Show me, I’m yours! Cum in me, please! I want you to fill me up, make me know I’m yours!”.
Your hand reaches down to your clit, rubbing erratically as you feel your third orgasm approach, “Oh my fucking god, I’m gonna cum!”.
“That’s it pretty girl, fuckin’ cum for me!”, Bucky grunts, “Right fuckin’ now — cum for me”.
The two of you lose yourselves completely. Your release coats his cock, running down onto the bedsheets as Bucky’s cum paints your walls before he fucks it into you. You’ve never felt so full, so complete. And Bucky doesn’t know if he’s ever felt this sated in his life.
As the two of you come down, you fall into Bucky’s chest, catching your breath as his hands run up and down your back softly, rubbing circles as he soothes you through the aftermath.
Once the two of you are ready, you slowly pull yourself off of Bucky’s cock. And if you weren’t so blissed out, you might’ve felt shame from the way his cum falls from your used hole, running down your thighs as you sit on your knees.
Not being able to help yourself, you reach down, using your fingers to collect some of his seed before bringing it to your mouth — swirling your fingers and moaning at the taste of your mixed juices as it hits your tongue.
Bucky feels his cock twitch at the sight of you so debauched, fuck, he might just be in love with you.
You giggle at the bewildered expression on his features before you fall down next to him, feeling utter contentment as Bucky brings you in to lay on his chest.
“Fuck, pretty girl”, his arms squeezes you gently as he feels you draw on his chest, “That was incredible”.
“‘M glad you finally picked up my hints, wasn’t sure how much longer it was gonna take ya”, you tease him, looking up through your lashes as you notice the smile on his face.
He chuckles, “The no panties was definitely a nice touch”.
There’s a comfortable silence shared before you feel Bucky’s fingers traces along your cheek, holding onto your chin softly as he guides you to his mouth. He doesn’t think he’ll ever grow tired of kissing you.
“I really like you, ya know?”, he whispers against your lips, “I think you’re gonna be someone real special to me”.
And there’s something that blooms in your chest at his confession — a promise for something more. 
You seal it with a kiss.
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iskierka · a year ago
I think it’s very weird that when one country is criticized y’all tend to be like “oh well my country we would never —” uhh YES in your country too, that’s how states work? Y’all talking about people living in China or the US not knowing their history because the bad parts aren’t taught well in school: sure!!! But I know many people from Belgium who know next-to-nothing about the genocide in the Congo, from the Netherlands who say all their colonies were only trading posts, from Thailand who say that the indigenous people in their country have been and are treated fine only they don’t make an effort to be Thai, from Portugal who will tell you about what an amazingly positive force they were in their... territories, from Czechia who will tell you their country holds no responsibility for treatment of the Roma—but also it was and is justified; all were taught these things in school.
My point isn’t “other countries do this too so it doesn’t matter!!” No! My point is that every single state commits and covers up atrocities in some way. There is no ethical state.
American liberals especially seem to have a tendancy to think that there is a Good and Perfect state and we must only find it and imitate it and then our problems will be fixed. But trust me: it doesn’t exist, (and it’s certainly not in Europe??). We must create our own systems, and have the courage to change those, too, when we see their flaws.
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e-jaegerenthusiast · 5 months ago
jjk/aot boys hcs (kinda turned into small drabbles)
~what they would do if you slapped them mid-sex~
characters; eren, jean, levi, toji, megumi, gojo, nanami, yuuji, sukuna
warnings/tw; smut,face-slapping, slight blood play, spitting, degrading, rough seggs, some fluff
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creds to @ mineco000 on twitter for the nanamiiiin art
we all know these are a bunch of sadistic mfs
anyway idk the w.c for this one— it’s too long 🥴
practically wrote a whole drabble for each- enjoy <3
Eren Jaeger
so i imagine you’d be doing missionary, he had been so cocky the whole day, teasing you and haunting you with his boasting
“i have so much control over you, look at you, my little slut. would do anything for my cock”
you obviously get off on the shit he says however-👀—this time you get an idea, mentally slap yourself first for it.
then you kinda go ‘fuck it lets see what happens’ i mean he would probably rail the shit out of you later on but isn’t that what you want hm?
eren’s pounding into you at a hard pace, grunting every once in a while as you groan and whimper beneath him, a slight smirk makes its way on your lips as you watch his face closely, he’s so focused on where he’s fucking you.
he’s watching himself and how he disappears and reappears in you with hard thrusts. his eyes fixed on your pussy, he doesn’t quite register what happens at first when he feels a slight sting on his cheek.
he looks up at you, thrusts slowing. you’re biting your lower lip in anticipation, a delicious fear creeping its way into your chest.
his teal eyes seem to focus and refocus on your face, with a raise of his brows, he hardly thrusts in you as he brings his palm to your cheek and lands a hard slap. making you clench around his cock.
he sets a bruising pace as he talks in a menacing voice, making you shiver, “what the fuck was that?” you moan as you’re looking up at him, your tits jiggling slightly with his thrusts. he slaps you again, but then grabs your jaw in his hand to face towards him again, “huh?” another slap, making you whimper. “what. the. fuck. was that?” he says each word with a thrust into you, his hand rubbing your red cheek, thumb swiping away the little dot of blood forming on your lips. he brings his thumb to his lips, licking your blood off of it, the action making you cringe if it wasn’t for his cock twitching in you and his teal eyes boring into yours.
“don’t ever try that shit on me again, know your place yeah?”
Jean Kirchstein
y’all better know this mf’s a switch.
he fucking loves when you top him
he has a hidden mommy kink. maybe that’s why he kinda is a bitch to his own mom in that one ova— maybe he doesn’t like calling her mom💀
so i imagine you’re on top, he’s laying with his head against the headboard, your ass jiggling as he holds you, helping you bounce on him, your arms around his neck.
his eyes are closed as soft pants and moans leave his mouth, you can’t help but admire him, how his mullet drapes around his neck and slightly sticks to the sweaty skin.
he gives you a soft, lust-dazed smile as he chuckles, “what?” he asks you, still smiling
“jean,” you say between moans, “yes baby?”
you hide your head in his collarbone, lightly nibbling on it as he huffs, “hm? what is it?”
you bring your head back up to look at him, your eyes darting between his hazel eyes and his blushed cheeks, “c-can i try something?”
he raises a brow, nodding hesitantly, nibbling on his lower lip in anticipation.
you slap him accross his cheek, not that harsh, not wanting to startle him more as it is.
a whimper leaves his mouth.
you smirk at him, grinding your hips as you feel his thighs twitching.
he opens his eyes, a pleading look in them along with his brows
you slap him again, a bit harder this time
he groans,
“you like that jean?”
he cums.
Levi Ackerman
i cannot find it in my heart to want to slap this man.
he has been thru so much shit i would not like to inflict any pain on him even a little sting 🥺
i mean- it would prolly be nothing for him since he’s the strongest soldier of humanity.
but tbh i’m always always torn between dom levi and sub levi. so for me, he’s a switch. both.
sometimes he like you to take care of him. he needs it, even tho he will barely admit it.
he never admits. he is so so so stubborn and reserved.
other times he would like to dom and rail tf out of you cuz i cant imagine him not being a dom sometimes
anyway i’m getting distracted wait-
dont slap him.
at first he looks at you, confused- thinking he’s done something wrong?
when he sees you trying to hide your smile by biting your lips, he gets it.
he’ll pin your hands above your head, a “tch” leaving his lips as he kisses you
“why’d you do that?”
“i’m sorry, did you not like it?”
he rolls his eyes and grips your wrists tighter with one hand, “i never said that.”
бгггггг oop
toji fushiguro
buckle up ladies, we goin for a ride.
are you dumb? would you like to be murdered? fed to crows? fed to his worm?
doesn’t matter cuz i fuckin am.
he has you pressed against a wall, one arm next to your head, the other flexing and unflexing infront of you as the large veins lead to his hand that he has burried in your underwear, two thick fingers of his playing with your clit
you’re a whining mess as he looks down at you with dangerous eyes blown with lust so much so they look the same as his hair color.
he’s been edging you forever, licking and sucking all over your neck and chest before he finally gave you his fingers. or so you thought.
he had been rubbing you for you dont know how long now
before your mind could keep up, your body reacted, with a frustrated groan, you slap him.
his face tilts to the side with your smack, cheek a light shade of pink from your small fingers. his movements on your clit come to a halt, your heart threatening to jump out of its cage.
he turns his head, looking at you with a shit-eating grin. the scar on his lips looking delicious as ever.
before you can register his movements, he uses his legs to part yours. he plunges his two fingers into you without warning, curling them into the spot he knows will make you scream.
your thighs start shaking, hands grabbing at his broad shoulders and squeezing.
he chuckles darkly, “do it again.”
you look up at him through moans as his fingers fastly move in you with a ‘come hither’ motion, you think you’re fucking imagining things, so filled with lust as you finally have his fingers where you want them.
is this a test? does he want you to slap him again so he could put you in your place?
he shakes his head, amused, “am i fucking you dumb with my fingers? if they’re too big for you, my cock is gonna rip you in two.” your mouth is open but no sound leaves it at this point, he scissors his fingers in you, making you choke on your breaths. “didn’t you hear me? do it again.” you try to keep your eyes open, through heavy lids you look at his expressions, trying to read him. you fail.
“go on then, slap me again like the impatient fucking brat you are.” he says with an evil grin.
you slap him again, earning a groan from deep within his chest, the sound makes you clench around him. “yeah? satisfied?” he moves his fingers at an unrelenting pace, looking down at you with the smirk still evident on his face, ”you get off on that shit? my little whore.” he coos
before you know it, you’re cumming all around his thick fingers, coating them in your slick. he swiftly grabs your hips and turns you around, you’re practically like a small ragdoll compared to him.
you’re still trying to calm down from your previous high. you hear it before you feel it, the tearing sound of your ruined panties, the shredded cloth sliding to the floor.
you feel his thick tip press against your folds, you’re whimpering and trying to get away from him, failing as he has you trapped between his chest and the wall, he grabs both your wrists as you try to turn around and push him away, holding both of them in one hand behind you as he slides his length between your folds, groaning as your thighs shook for him.
he doesn’t put it in yet, observing your small figure writhing infront of him, he lands a harsh slap on your ass, making you moan out loud. he nibbles on the shell of your ear, hot breath against it as he speaks in a devilish, deep voice, “you did that cuz you wanted me yeah? well now you have it. you have me, and you’ll take it.” he puts the tip of his large cock in you, making you moan in pleasure, thats far from what he wanted.
he wanted you to feel pain. to feel all of him and what he is. he would thrive on it.
he wrapped his free arm around your form, holding you close to his chest as he gave a hard thrust, even with all the strength of his wide hips, all of him couldn’t fit in you.
your throat hurt as you screamed. “there we go, got what you wanted? hm? happy? argh—clamping around so tightly around my cock? barely fits in you, doll. gonna have to make the rest of it fit. and you’re gonna take it so well.”
good luck to your neighbors ma’am you’re literally getting convicted.
if i write more for this man i won’t be able to stop 🥴
megumi fushiguro
hmm okay he’s legit the only boi i had no idea in my head for
maybe it’s cuz his reactions are really hard for me to understand
he’s still a mystery to me 😩
i think he would genuinely be confused—
he’d look at you with such a confused expression on his face, his eyebrows all scrunched up together, his thrusts coming to a halt
you’d chuckle and wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him sweetly.
he would just brush it off and continue with your fucking
later on he would rethink it, surprising himself when he would blush at the thought
he would be hesitant to talk about it
but you’d notice immediately and motion for him to come into your arms
he would put his on your chest as you massage his scalp and play with his hair
“y/n?” he would say in a shy voice
“hm?”, he looks up at you, raven hair falling on to his forehead as you mess it up, “i didn’t know you were into that stuff.” he says as he’s trying to hide his blush in your boobs, you chuckle, raising a brow.
you just unlocked gumi’s kinky side.
prepare to have your guts rearranged next time you fug 😁
Satoru gojo
this cheeky, cocky, woo woo ass motherfucker-
he would not take you seriously for the love of god
i’d probably enjoy slapping him the most ngl.
you’d be riding him, and him being the cocky-self he is, would have his arms crossed under his head as he watches you bounce yourself on his cock
your thighs would be stinging with pain by now, it was overwhelming and annoying, your features would change to one of discomfort, “‘t-toru,” he watched you with a smug smirk on his face that you quite literally wanted to slap off his face, his icy blue orbs looking you up and down as he made no move, no effort, “hmmmmm?” he said mockingly, you’d whine, “it hurts.. please help me, i’m tired.”
he’d give a sweet chuckle, nothing but annoying to your ears. he would move closer to you, leaning on his elbows, and teasingly rubbing your ass with his palm.
you snap, literally growling with frustration as your palm comes to slap his cheek, it stops millimeters before it. his chuckle filling the room, he takes your hands in his, pressing a kiss to the palm of it.
in a swift movement, he turns you both around, now hovering above you. his cock still remains inside you as you whine, “satoru!! please...nnnaaghh! move!”, he chuckles again, the sound making you want to try slapping him again, and kiss his velvet soft lips at the same time. he grabs your face with one large hand, slender fingers planted on your cheeks as he squishes your lips together to form a pout.
he grins, still not moving inside you as you have a vice grip around his dick. his heaven-sent eyes looking down at you, his snowy white hair messy on his forhead, “say ‘AAA”, if it weren’t for you being extremely frustrated right now, you’d laugh at his goofiness. you open your mouth, his thumb on your chin as his hand is wrapped around you throat.
he slowly brings his own spit between his lips, watching it as it falls to your mouth. he hums in satisfaction as you swallow it. he tuts as you try to move your hips against his, craving more. his hand grips your hip enough to leave bruises, “now, apologize for trying to slap me, and i might make you cum, buttercup.”
he ends up fucking you so hard, this time with his infinity off, letting you leave scratches along his back as blood forms his muscular back.
he knew he deserved it.
he’d also treat you like a princess afterwards.
he’d bring up you trying to slap him during sex SO much.
not for others tho- as much as he’s shameless, he also doesn’t like to share any info about you.
he’d tease you for it, making you do things for him so he “might consider letting you slap me next time, ngl it turned me on, you trying to be stronger than me. ” he would say while munching on gummy bears.
kento nanami
oh boy-
we all know he’s a man of culture and manners okay.
so i feel like he’d highkey hate it and think it disrespectful
even though he does go all daddy dom when he’s stressed, he would never slap you (on the face anyway)
he would like to have a mutual respect between you both
tbh i wouldn’t even try slapping this man- it’s just— embarrassing.
sorry if you expected sum else😩
yuuji itadori
oh my god this baby boy
you have it in your heart to slap him?
he would stop mid-thrust, his eyebrows furrowing, lips pouting
he would literally look like this 🥺
you’d have to apologize and kiss him where you slapped him.
he would make the yuji face he always does- it goes smth like this 😗
and he’d lowkey be confused
he’d be like, “wait..that’s something you do during sex??”
this baby would go and research all over pornhub, watching slapping vids to get himself to like it and warm up to it😭
he’d still be too sweet tho
*nervous laugh* h-ha-haa-hhhhhhh
uhm ma’am do you have a deathwish
as soon as you slap him, he’s turning you over, all fours. face down, ass up.
he would literally spank you so much— might even use his fuckin nails to draw blood o-o
he would fuck your ass. raw. he would absolutely inflict so so much pain on you.
he’d use his iconic quote “ichi-do wa yurusu, ni-do wa nai. bun wa wakimaerou, shiremonoga” 🥴🥴🥴🥴🥴 stop that’s my favorite line of his
the translation if yall SOMEHOW dont know that line; “i’ll allow it a first time, there won’t be a second time. know your place, fool.”
mehe xxx
© all content belongs to e-jaegerenthusiast, do not repost or copy any of my work
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zukuist · 9 months ago
𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞
200 followers special
includes: multiple characters (would add more tags but.. i reached 30 ;;)
your name is shortened to y/n, they/them pronouns
notes: thank you for 200 followers! this isn’t really going to be that long, but im just doing the characters i really like so ;; ALSO I MIGHT’VE GOTTEN KIRI’S ENTRY A LITTLE WRONG so ugh sorry ;;
shouto todoroki
from the start, he’s quite oblivious to certain things, (social ques, signs of romantic interest, etc.)
but when he’s observant with someone, then that totally means you’re special to him. does he realize how much he pays attention to you? hmm.. maybe?
he’s going to be the first one that notices you’re hungry, even if you don’t realize it yourself. he’s quick to grab a snack and break it open to you
same thing with being thirsty— if he notices that your water bottle is empty, he’ll quickly find the nearest vending machine and buy a bottle.
temperature is also no problem. he can immediately tell whenever someone’s cold; but he usually helps you first
too hot? he’s slowly putting down the room’s temperature
too cold? his left palm starts emitting some sort of heat in your direction, hoping it creates some sort of aid
if your shoelaces are undone, and/or he notices that there’s a button undone on your shirt— he’ll fix it for you
will ask to take your pictures on dates, and he’ll also help you pick out the best photo (not that any photo of you is short of any beauty)
in short— people will notice that he’s actually a big simp for you; because of how observant he is with you specifically.
katsuki bakugou
just because he’s simping for you doesn’t mean he’ll treat you any differently. bakugou will be bakugou, and you eventually learn how to adapt to that.
but even so, his simp habits slip out sometimes.
when he’s cooking, he’ll accidentally make too much to eat, and he’ll coincidentally put the extras in another box and hand it to you
he’s a good student, even with studies. but would he say he’s a good teacher? hm. probably not
but if he notices you need help, he’ll sigh, feining annoyance as he decides to tutor y’all, because those ‘idiots’ are hopeless
rolls his eyes when he sees food on your cheek, but he’ll grab a tissue and wipe it off for you— claiming how you’re so messy.
he’ll act like he hates hearing your ‘annoying ass singing’ but he’ll lean against the doorway and listen to you rock out to whatever song you’re singing to.
denki will call him a simp for looking after you, and bakugou will just yell at him to “SHUT UP” >:T
he secretly likes taking care of you. his words aren’t the softest thing in the world, but his actions make up to it.
izuku midoriya
as katsuki bakugou would call him; he is a nerd
he definitely meant that as an insult, but his input on detail makes it very useful in things like relationships
he remembers every detail of your quirk, your limits, potential secret moves.
it would’ve been stalker-ish, if it weren’t for the fact that deku does this out of admiration for his s/o
so if you so happen to collapse due to overusing your quirk— deku has a detailed plan on what to do. it’s almost scary.
he puts detail in a lot of things, anniversary gifts, birthday gifts, and so on.
deku’s also the type to plan things weeks before it actually happens. like.. planning out the perfect birthday gift
and with this, his memory is really good. so it’s very unlikely that he’ll just suddenly forget anniversaries and birthdays.
i hc deku as a bad cook, so he eats takeout food more than his homemade food
but he’s takes note of your allergies, your dislikes with food— and he finds himself mumbling small details to recall what you like
when you walk out in pretty/good outfits for dates
his face will break out into shades of red— suddenly rambling all the good details of your outfit, complimenting you while he’s at it
“y/n’s looks fantastic as always. i might die from their beauty”
if anyone calls him a simp, he’ll be really embarrassed about it. “me? a s-simp? is that a bad thing?”
just tell him it’s fine.
denki kaminari
a big simp
like.. really big
he worships the ground you step on, and hypes up everything you do
y’all know when irene from red velvet literally breathed in north korea, and the crowd just
yeah, that’s denki to you
it’s so blantly obvious that he’s simping over someone, and everyone’s just kinda used to it at this point
he’s just a big fanboy sometimes
whenever you’re sparring with someone, he’s always in the background like
“go s/o!!” 🤩
and he has tendencies to go a little easy on you like.. what’s he gonna do when you get electricuted??
but that doesn’t mean he’s never serious— nah.
there are times where he’s just a little bashful just being in your presence
sneaking glances your way, as he silently fanboys about you in general.
“s/o looks really good today. they always look good but !!”
when y’all weren’t together, the bakusquad was just tired of the constant romantic pining
it was really obvious that he was simping back then, and they’re not so sure as to how you didn’t say anything about it
mina always called him a simp
so yeah!! it was a big relief when you got together with him. he never makes you feel terrible, because he’s always your #1 hypeman.
eijirou kirishima
— THE HELPING SIMP (rip idk what to call this)
i didn’t really know what kinda name i went for this one but let me carry on
kiri upfront is very confident, and friendly. he never shows a mean side to anyone,
and there are rare cases of him being bashful
he’s kinda almost like a golden retriever? since he’s always nice and friendly to everyone
but then when you enter the room; he suddenly goes quiet, and he’s left alone with his rather loud thoughts about you
he didn’t really know how to properly approach you at first
but him being kiri, he’s still rather friendly to you (for now)
when he’s messing around, practically sharing one braincell with kami and sero
and then you suddenly walk in— he snaps out of his foolishness, and greet you with his very warm smile
“hey y/n!” he waves at you, and he hopes you don’t mention the teasing look on both kami and sero’s face
sometimes when he’s doing his close combat training, and he notices that he’s getting too close to you
he’ll be like “woah man, maybe we should move locations.” bc he doesn’t wanna hit you by accident ;;
kirishima prefers to not stand near you when his hair is all spiky. like he’s never conscious about it, until he’s around you
man poked sero with his hair before, and he doesn’t want to do that to you
kiri always looks at your hand, just to see if it’s occupied with something. his thoughts linger to what your hand might feel like
“their hand looks really.. soft. argh! i shouldn’t be thinking about these kind of things in public! im sorry y/n”
bakugou really only notices kirishima’s simping ways
bakugou always mentions the fact that kirishima goes really silent whenever you’re around—
and he’s secretly contemplating on having you around more so he can just shut up 。・°°・(>_<)・°°・。
moving aside all of that, kiri always carries your things.
you’ll beg him to give you at least one thing, and he’ll say no because it’s “not manly to let someone carry all of this.”
if you’re sad, he’s the first one to cheer you up— reassuring you that everything will be okay.
kiri’s just wants to be at your service at all times! it’s manly to help people, right?
hitoshi shinsou
no one would be able to tell that he’s simping for someone
because unlike kaminari; he’s not like IM HITOSHI SHINSO AND IM ACTUALLY A SIMP
he’s a lot more discreet, and no one has really caught on, besides you and kaminari of course
he’s a lot less sarcastic with you, asking you about anything that’s happened instead of just being there
he prefers it to hear you talk. the way each word and syllable rolls off your tongue smoothly, and the way you use your hands to emphasize things
he’s amused.
oh and the way he looks at you? almost any normal person can sense the simp in him pop out (he’s so contained though)
he’s definitely the person that’ll get rid of any bug that’s terrifying you— even though he’d normally just leave it to them
he’ll do it, regardless if it’s the biggest fucking spider he’s ever seen, or the smallest spider
he’ll do it to make you feel safe.
he has these random spurs of compliments during the day
the source mainly comes from his staring habit
and they’re just so unexpected and out of the blue. hitoshi’s amused whenever he sees your reaction to his compliments
like.. you could be really frustrated about something, and he’ll just go “your eyes are pretty.” that’s his discreet method tO MAKE YOU TEMPORARILY DISTRACTED FROM THE ISSUE—
call him a simp, whatever. it’s true anyway so he doesn’t why should he be ashamed of it?
he’s discreet about it, since it’s your business and his business. but you can definitely feel his feelings loud and clear
neito monoma
— THE 180 SIMP
“i’m not a simp!”
[you enter the room]
*nervous laughter*
he had his last laugh, and he never thought he’d be this soft around someone.
especially if you’re from class 1-A like.. i became the thing i hated, ugh.
relentless teasing is amped but this is his way of making sure you remember him loud and clear
but he’ll never tease you in a condescending way— like how he torments the rest of class 1-A
that’s reserved for them 💅
always compliments you, that’s the first thing he does when he sees you—
and they’re never generic compliments either
“it’s nice to see you here, y/n! you make the world better day by day!”
“i’m still wondering what you’re doing in class 1-A, you’re much better than them!”
everyone secretly wonders how you got monoma to like you
monoma canonically likes pastels. spread the word
so sometimes, you’ll walk over to your desk— and you’ll just see this random pastel ornament sitting on your desk
you know who it’s from
whenever monoma starts becoming annoying, kendo will definitely use you as a weapon to make him shut up
he’ll be laughing at the expression on his face, thinking he’s absolutely winning at this
but the smile is wiped off his face when he hears “ok go on, i’ll tell y/n about your antics.”
“no, no! i’ll behave now, please don’t tell y/n.”
class 1-b literally use you as blackmail whenever monoma acts up, and it’s because of how different he is around you
like.. his personality takes a 180, (besides the obvious teasing) it’s alarming
©️zukuist 2021, bnha|mha belongs to horikoshi kohei. do not repost my work❕
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frogtanii · 6 months ago
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this was... weird.
the house was completely quiet, for the first time in what felt like weeks and osamu felt very out of place.
despite being so far removed from everyone besides his girlfriend, he enjoyed the noisiness and bustle that came from all the other members.
osamu never had been a fan of the quiet.
all it did was remind him that he was alone — that he was the lesser twin, the one always left behind, the one that would remain alone while his brother basked in the limelight.
but now, that wasn’t the case! osamu had meiko and he used to have daichi and iwaizumi but ever since iwa was fired and daichi disappeared off the face of the planet, he was down two friends. that was okay! his was doing what he loved with the woman he loved and that was all that mattered.
a loud clang followed by a quiet curse shook osamu from his thoughts. he gently placed the knife he was using to prep his vegetables down before following the noise to the pantry where he found... you.
you were sitting on the floor of the pantry wearing hello kitty patterned pajama pants, fuzzy socks, and a hoodie with your hand in a bag of chips and a pan sat by your foot. belatedly, osamu recognized that you must’ve knocked over the pan after falling while trying to grab your snack.
you were cute, with your sleep mussed hair and confused expression, he briefly thought but he swiftly squashed that line of reasoning down.
he was in a happy, committed relationship and he didn’t need you to change that like you changed everything else in his life. after all, you were the reason atsumu hated him now and never spoke to him anymore. you were the reason he had to avoid going home for fear of his grandmother asking what atsumu was up to because he had no idea. you were the reason he and his twin drifted apart. it was all you.
before osamu knew it, that moment of endearment had passed and was instead replaced by anger.
“what the hell are ya doin’ here?” osamu scoffed coldly, staring down at you with fire in his eyes. you sighed and stood before skirting past him and walking out into the kitchen.
“i live here asshole,” you muttered, searching for your phone in order to go back to hiding in your room until the boys got back. you wanted to avoid conflict as much as possible but unfortunately, osamu had different plans.
he slid out in front of you, keeping you from leaving the kitchen and effectively trapping you in the encounter. “ya know that’s not what i meant. what were ya doing spying on me? gonna report back to yer little harem?”
you felt your face curl up in confusion which osamu apparently wasn’t a fan of, judging by the deepening of his sneer. “i have no idea what you’re talking about osamu, now let me go.” you attempted to push past him but he was too tall, too large, too strong and you were forced further back behind the island.
“no, i know ya tell em things about me. what were ya gonna make up this time, hm? what were ya gonna say to tsumu to make him hate me even more?” he spoke down on you, his words filling with more and more venom, and as much as you hated it, you couldn’t keep yourself from cowering in front of him, your eyes filling with tears.
“osamu, please let me go, i don’t know what’s happening and i don’t know what to tell you to make you leave me alone,” your voice came out as a whimper, despite your best efforts and osamu faltered.
he’d never seen you like this, not once in your whole time living in the house, not even when most of the members were against you. you never showed weakness — you had a quiet strength most of the time and when you really got mad, as evidenced by your fight with meiko, you got violent.
but this? this was nothing like you. you were practically curling in on yourself, your arms wrapped around your chest protectively as if you were afraid he would... hit you.
oh god, oh god, osamu thought as he took a step back. what the fuck was he doing? he’d just been yelling at you, cornering you and not giving you room for escape, even though your body was clearly begging for it. you viewed him as a legitimate threat to your safety and that thought chilled him to the bone.
“yn, i—“ osamu was interrupted by the door slamming open, revealing everyone returning from the mall with atsumu at the head of the group.
“tsumu!” you choked out before pushing past a now distracted osamu and running right into his twin’s arms. he wrapped them protectively around you while whispering reassurances to you before pressing a soft kiss to your temple.
the two of you held a quiet conversation that no one else could hear but osamu could guess the contents when atsumu glared up at him, looking absolutely furious.
sakusa, kuroo, and kenma gently took you into their arms, allowing you to cry quietly while atsumu stomped over to osamu before jamming his finger into his twin’s chest.
“what the hell did ya do to her, samu?” he growled, shoving osamu’s back into the island behind him. osamu allowed him to, too in shock and ashamed to protest, much less fight back.
that didn’t stop atsumu from pressing, asking question after question, none of which osamu could answer. “answer me! open yer fuckin mouth asshole and answer me!”
“atsumu, i-i’m sorry, i-“
a force barreled into his chest, thin arms wrapping around his waist and shoving her face in between his pecs. “it’s okay baby, i’m here,” meiko whispered in between kisses to his collarbone, her presence doing little to soothe him as his eyes darted around the room.
atsumu still looked as angry as ever but he kept his mouth shut as meiko rubbed more of her makeup on osamu’s black t shirt in her attempts to comfort him. you were staring him down as well with tear tracks staining your cheeks as sakusa rubbed circles into your back and kenma wrapped his arms around your waist. sugawara, bokuto, and kuroo were standing at your sides, eyeing him with contempt while oikawa and akaashi were deep in conversation with yachi who seemed to be stressed out of her mind.
osamu searched further and his eyes landed on daichi standing the furthest away, his eyes fixed on where meiko lied in osamu’s arms, his face full of hurt and... disdain? anger? disgust?
it was confusing so osamu quickly averted his eyes, instead choosing to focus on the woman in his arms who was now whimpering and shaking in her 4 inch heels. hesitantly, he lifted his arms to hold her closer before bending his head to breathe her in, his eyes fluttering shut at her unique smell of hairspray, brown sugar perfume, and chinese food.
“osamu,” sugawara spoke up after a moment of silence, “there’s something i need to tell you. we saw meiko ki-“
“babe? what’s going on?” a new voice rang out from the still open doorway, meiko clearly recognizing it as her head darted up to watch as the group moved from the door to reveal...
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℗ poker face
series masterlist
an - AHAHAHHAAH >:3 i was wayyy too excited for this chapter muahahha also so many of y’all guessed suna right but i couldn’t answer cs i rlly wanted it to be a surprise!!!! soooo if u guessed it right, feel like a baddie :) KSJ m so so excited to see y’all’s reactions so don’t forget to feed me ;)))))
taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you
@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @katsulovee • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @syndellwins • @jooleuuh • @loubells • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saikishairclip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp
the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!
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gukyi · 9 months ago
love me or we both go down | kth
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summary: after going through with an arranged marriage to please his parents and secure his inheritance of the family business, kim taehyung thinks he’s got it all figured out. he doesn’t. apparently just being married to you isn’t enough, not when everybody and their mother can pick up on the fact that the two of you absolutely loathe each other. but taehyung wants his inheritance one way or another, so he decides that desperate times call for desperate measures: the two of you need to fall in love, and you need to fall in love fast.
{enemies to lovers!au, arranged marriage!au, rich kids!au}
pairing: kim taehyung x female reader genre: fluff, angst, smut (i know, crazy right?) word count: 32k warnings: oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, multiple unprotected sex scenes (they’re married y’all), fat cock tae, tae has a wife kink, lots of praise, alcohol consumption (but they’re safe), minor character death (not explicit), mentions of heart attack, slow burn like there is no tomorrow a/n: hello and welcome to the fic everyone, literally everyone, has been waiting for! i am so, so, so excited to share this with you all, especially because none other than rose @kinktae​ helped me write the smut, and i am literally forever indebted to her. you all better go spam rose with all the love and support you can because this fic would not be here without her and i love her so much. 
also, to all my readers who aren’t comfortable reading smut, please know that the smut in this fic is not imperative to the storyline, and you skipping past it will not affect your reading experience., enjoy!
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Never in your life have wedding bells felt so ominous.
The sound of them is akin to the sound of strings, of a single piano note in a horror movie, right when the film opens and someone random is about to die on screen for the sake of proving to the audience that this is, in fact, a horror movie. Make no mistake about it; these wedding bells spell doom for you, too. And the most horrific part about them is that just like that poor, helpless soul in the movie, there is no way for you to escape your fate either. 
With only seconds left to go before you have no choice but to promise yourself to the man waiting at the other end of the aisle, you desperately try to think of any last-ditch efforts to get out of this. Many, if not all of them, are utterly useless. 
Feigning sudden illness won’t work, because then your parents will just reschedule the wedding to a later date. Running away is fruitless. Where will you go? The parking lot?
If only you had a lover out there in the audience somewhere that could object to the marriage when the officiant says, “Speak now, or forever hold your peace.” A knight in shining armor that could whisk you out of the venue and off to a new life, far away from here. Too bad all of the people you’ve dated before hate you now. 
Maybe getting married isn’t such a bad thing after all. Instead of having relationships with multiple people who will eventually despise your existence, you only have to have a relationship with one. And the feeling, as has always been, is mutual. 
You bristle as your assistants do some last-minute prepping, fixing your sleeve and adjusting your necklace and making sure you don’t trip on your enormous train. They flutter around you like a swarm of well-meaning but ignorant butterflies complicit in the agenda of your family. None of them have said a word to you about the wedding ever since you arrived at the venue, choosing to talk more about things like the weather. Not that you were ever under the impression they had been hired to entertain you. Maybe they were told to not engage you, just in case you try to conspire with them.
As if they could be of any use in your wildly unrealistic escape plans. 
The truth is that, unless you were to drop dead on this marble flooring right now, you’re getting married. Whether you like it or not.
The doors open. 
You’ve attended red carpets, galas, award shows, and balls. You’ve had hundreds of cameras flashing in your face, the bright light capturing each and every centimeter of you. You’ve had paparazzi waiting outside the restaurants you eat at, the stores you shop at, desperate to catch a picture of you in sweatpants without a drop of makeup on. You’ve been on dates with ex-lovers that looked at you like you were a piece of meat with a credit card. And yet, for some goddamn reason, walking down the aisle in a white dress the size of Pluto, with the rest of your life waiting for you at the other end, makes you feel fucking transparent. 
Face resolute, you clutch onto your bouquet so tightly the flowers feel like they’re about to pop right out of your grasp. Determined not to look at anybody in the audience, you stare straight ahead, right into the eyes of your future husband.
Kim Taehyung, for someone you have seen multiple times drunk off his ass with hickies dotting his neck and jawline, cleans up pretty well. For someone getting married, at least. He dons a simple black tuxedo that still probably costs more than the average car, his caramel brown hair is pushed back off his forehead, and his expression is firm and still. He most certainly has had an equally expensive team prepping him, but they haven’t done too bad a job. The silver lining is that he doesn’t look any more thrilled than you are to be doing this, right here, right now. But to his credit, this is definitely the best he’s ever looked, as far as you’re concerned. 
When you reach him, he offers his hand out to you, a hand that you only accept for the sake of professionalism. The bouquet in your hands is handed off to one of your bridesmaids, and the two of you take your position at the front. Your train drags along the aisle, draping over the few stairs you had to climb to reach the altar, this satin trail behind you that cements you to the floor. It may as well be a ball-and-chain. It’s about as heavy as one, anyway. 
This is the longest you and Taehyung have ever held eye contact. Not that you’re really keeping track of how long the two of you have met each other’s gazes, but if you had to make an educated guess, this would definitely be the victor. Most of the time you end up sneering at each other ten seconds in, but to be fair, those other times you were also not getting married. To one another. In a ceremony attended by hundreds of people. And cameras.
There can be no sneering here. 
“Don’t you look nice?” Taehyung whispers, loud enough so only the two of you can hear. He has that drawling, sickly sweet tone to his voice, the one that you hate because it makes him sound like he thinks he’s so much better than everyone else. “Surprised they were able to makeup that scowl off your face.”
This, of course, brings on a hearty scowl only he can see, your backs both facing the rows of attendees. “How much concealer are you wearing to cover up all of the hickies on your neck?” You quip back easily. It’s not like the two of you are going to pretend he doesn’t waltz around at every club or bar or private venue he can find, looking for his next treat. 
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Taehyung grins, and if you weren’t standing in front of hundreds of people about to get married, there’s no telling what next you would do.
The two of you would probably go on like that for another ten minutes if it’s not for the officiant, who coughs once he’s ready and opens the book in his hands. Next to you, Taehyung straightens, hands clasped together at his front, and lips pressed into a neat line. You do the same. There will be no giggles, no laughter nor smiles, nor any genuine emotion at this wedding. This is a wedding for the sake of politics, for economics, for security, and anyone in attendance would be a fool to think otherwise. Especially you. 
“Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends, loved ones, and esteemed guests,” the officiant bellows, listing off as many groups of people as he possibly can in an effort to both include and compliment every person in the audience, “We are gathered here to celebrate the wedding, and future life, of Taehyung and Y/N…”
Taehyung turns to you, grinning in that god-awful way, the way he does when he feels like he’s got something over you. And sure, you can’t think of any punishment quite as bad as this, but what’s Taehyung got to smile about? He’s marrying himself off to a woman he hates, kissing goodbye his days as a free-spirited, heartbreaking bachelor, and promising what may very well be the rest of his life to loving you. That is not cause for celebration. 
But perhaps, to him, your suffering is enough to bring a smile to his face. 
Your vows are, to put it simply, total bullshit. Your family hired someone to write yours and there’s not a doubt in your mind that his family did the same thing. This nonsense talk, this complete and utter garbage that spews from your perfectly-glossed lips, shit about how you promise to love each other until the end of your days, how you promise to take care of each other when you’re sick and accompany each other at every event, every gala, every ball. Shit about how you promise to look only at each other, promise to uphold your family traditions and become a dependable spouse. 
The words don’t belong to you. But the thing is that this marriage was never yours anyway. 
When the kiss comes, there’s a part of you that thinks maybe you should have psyched yourself up a little more for this. When Taehyung pulls you in, placing a stiff hand on your lower back as he brings you towards his chest, your stomach turns and shivers run down your spine. The feeling of his hand on your body, the breath from his lips brushing against your own, are enough to keep you frozen in place. 
He smiles at you, almost as if to ask, “Are you ready?”
And you squeeze your eyes shut, almost as if to respond, “Let’s do this.”
When his lips meet yours, there is almost nothing. Nothing runs through you, nothing explodes, nothing strikes. But when he pulls away and cheers and applause rings out throughout the room, there is something. A little heat, a remnant of a flame, left on your lips. A little sting, just to remind you it happened. 
The entire hall is cheering but nothing about this is worth celebrating. The fact of the matter is that you and Taehyung will never love each other the way that you are supposed to. 
“Ugh, finally.”
The elevator doors haven’t even properly opened by the time Taehyung is loosening his tie, tugging it off over his head as he stretches his head back and runs a hand through his perfectly-styled hair. As he rakes his fingers through his caramel locks, the hairspray and gel loosens, strands falling down by the side of his face, framing his temple.
“Don’t sound so relieved,” you huff out, deciding now is as good a time as any to start getting undressed yourself. Reaching down to lift up the hem of your reception dress, you tug off your heels, already feeling lighter on your feet. Who cares if Taehyung is watching you pull off your stilettos like a defeated movie heroine? You don’t think you can walk another step in those shoes. “We still have to live together, you know.”
“Don’t remind me,” Taehyung says gruffly, brushing by you roughly as he stomps out of the elevator. “I’m just glad the fucking night is over. I swear, seeing that fake-ass smile on your face made me want to gouge my eyes out.”
You storm after him, refusing to be the helpless damsel in this situation. “Oh, like you didn’t also have that exact same fake-ass smile on your face. It almost made me think you were actually enjoying yourself tonight.”
“I was only enjoying the fact that I know you hate this just as much as I do.” It’s perhaps the only thing you will ever be able to empathize with him on. Mutually relishing in the other’s destruction. Taehyung fumbles with the keypad to the door to the penthouse for a moment before you hear the lock click, the door sliding open as the entrance lights flicker on. 
The reason Taehyung’s penthouse is so clean is because he’s never lived here before. Neither of you have—Taehyung’s parents bought it just for the two of you. And as much as you absolutely despise the idea of having to live with him, at least it was not you who paid for your place of residence. 
You can tell Taehyung’s never lived here before because it’s actually quite nicely decorated inside. The ceilings are high and the sleek velvet curtains are pulled open, revealing a shimmering skyline. The furniture is modern and functional, and the whole damn place smells brand new. You’ve had the unfortunate pleasure of entering the place Taehyung lived in before now, and it looked nothing like this. The furniture was worn and stained despite the live-in maid, the house reeked of five hundred different spices that wafted from the kitchen to the living room, and the bookshelves were covered with comics, graphic novels, and old textbooks. 
If it weren’t for the fact that you and Taehyung are rich kids in their twenties that hate each other, you might have actually thought the place looked… homey. 
You don’t have time to be impressed by the interior design and architecture skills of whoever designed this place. Right now, all you can think about is tugging yourself out of your airtight reception dress and passing out on the nearest bed. Which, hopefully, will be as far away as possible from Taehyung’s bed of choice. 
“How many bedrooms does this place have?” You ask, shimmying along the floor so you don’t trip over the hem of your dress. From the looks of it, you can see one giant hallway to your right and a massive, double-sided staircase leading up. 
“Enough,” Taehyung grumbles in response. The hazy stupor from all of the fancy champagne is starting to wear off for the both of you, leaving behind two grouchy, begrudgingly-married individuals who want absolutely nothing to do with each other and have no problems making that known. Whatever golden light of the evening that was making Taehyung at least a little bit more attractive than usual has faded, and now you see him for what he really is: an unceremoniously tired man in a suit. “You want upstairs or down?”
You gaze up at the marble staircase in front of you, then back down at your too-long dress. “Down.” The last thing you want is to trip in front of the man you have to see, every day, for the rest of your life. 
“Fine by me.” Taehyung’s halfway up the stairs by the time he turns back around to say something else. “I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess?”
“Yeah.” There’s no point in being hostile now. The both of you are too exhausted to mean anything by it. Besides, what else can you say? Everything to complain about has already been complained about. At least the two of you managed to wrestle out from your parents the stipulation that you would not be going on a honeymoon together. Now that would have been your worst nightmare. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
It’s as good of a goodnight either of you are going to get. Taehyung heads up the stairs and disappears around a corner, and you start wandering down the hallway. All the bedrooms look the exact same other than different colors on the walls and bedsheets, but they all look serviceable to you. Clean. Empty. Far away from wherever Taehyung is. 
You pick the one at the very end of the hall just to be as much of a diva as possible, and don’t even bother drawing the curtains before tugging off your dress. It’s past one in the morning, and you’re so high up you don’t think anyone will be able to see you anyway. By the time you’ve stripped naked and are tugging up the too-tight sheets tucked into the mattress, your legs are about to give out beneath you. The bed could be made of rocks for all you care. Anything to lie down on is fine by you. 
Sleep comes fairly easily to you tonight. Once your head hits the pillow you can already feel yourself drifting off, eyelids fluttering shut, but you don’t sleep quite yet. Not before you can think about how this is your life now, sleeping in a foreign bed in a foreign place with a foreign husband upstairs. This is what you will be living in now. Now and forever. 
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Living with Taehyung is, in both the best and worst ways possible, like living with a roommate that doesn’t give a shit about the fact that they live with another person. It’s good, because you and Taehyung hardly see each other and speak even less, which was pretty much the only thing you were asking for when it came to living with him. But it also sucks, because whenever you do happen to cross paths, Taehyung acts like you don’t exist, barely sparing you a hello or even that tight-lipped smile you send to drivers on the road when they let you cross the street. 
Not that the two of you ever engaged in energetic conversation before you got married. But at least the two of you would acknowledge each other, even if only to shoot a glare and a scowl the other’s way from opposite sides of a hotel ballroom. Maybe it’s just because it’s him, but you did always find yourself actually relishing in those little interactions with Taehyung. In this strange, twisted way, it seemed to provide some sort of continuity to your ever-changing life. Like no matter what happened, at least you would know that the two of you would always despise each other. 
To be frank, right now you’re not sure if Taehyung even remembers he got married at all.
Nights have been a lot more sleepless since your wedding day. After two weeks, the reality of it has finally started to settle in. This is your life now. And ever since you realized that, your bed has felt much less comfortable. 
“But the place is nice, right?”
You look around the living room from where you’re sat on the sleek, white suede leather couch, eyes glossing over the bookshelves, the floor-to-ceiling windows, the draping velvet curtains. From here, you can see the entire city skyline, flecks of gold from the windows of skyscrapers against a navy blue background. Slowly, as the moon creeps over the sky and the clock gets later and later, those lights will soon begin to flicker off, one by one. 
“Yeah, it’s not bad.” Nothing to write home about. That is, if home were a place other than here. 
“That’s good. At least you don’t live in, like, a total dump or anything,” Victoria says on the other end of the line. “How’s Taehyung?”
His name alone elicits this deeply-exhausted sigh from your lips, like it’s been ten years since you married and every day has felt worse than the last. “Fine.” You can’t really complain about anything yet, considering that you hardly ever see the man. 
“Just ‘fine’?” Victoria sounds skeptical. 
“Yeah,” you draw out the word, as if trying to convince yourself of its truth. “I mean, it’s like he doesn’t even live here. I barely see him. And when I do, we don’t even speak to each other.”
“That’s good though, isn’t it? You hate him.” Victoria says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. And in a sense, it kind of is. 
“I mean…”
“I know that your life hasn’t exactly… gone the way you had planned, but isn’t this your best case scenario when considering everything?” She asks. “If Taehyung is as distant as you say he is, isn’t it almost like you never married him in the first place?”
As if on cue, you hear footsteps coming down the stairs, heels clicking on the marble as they make their way to the entrance. You whip your head around to find Taehyung, all dressed up in loose, flowy slacks and a flowery silk button-down, strolling down the staircase as he scrolls through his phone, paying you zero attention whatsoever. 
He notices you briefly when he reaches the bottom, meeting your eyes with his own. He offers this measly, unenthused half-smile your way before he grabs his wallet and some house keys from the table by the entrance, opens the door, and vanishes off into the night. 
If you hadn’t been in the living room, you probably wouldn’t have even realized he left. Not that you being present as he’s planning on leaving would have stopped him anyway. This is the sixth night he’s done this in the past two weeks. You could stand by the door and stare him down as he emerges from his bedroom, all dressed up for something you’re definitely not invited to, and he would offer you that same goddamn smile and walk out the door without even blinking. Who he was before you got married and who he is now are no different. Not even a ring could change that. 
“I guess,” you tell Victoria. At least Taehyung hasn’t turned into a helicopter husband. “I don’t know. Maybe I just wish that I didn’t have to deal with him at all.”
Wish you could turn back time. Wish you could worm your way out of an arranged marriage before it was too late. Wish you could go back to the way things used to be. 
You and Victoria talk for another couple of minutes before she regretfully has to end the call, citing both her beauty sleep and an 8AM meeting tomorrow morning as her reasons for hanging up. The moment you put the phone down, you sink back into the couch cushions, staring out the windows at the world below you.
Here’s the deal. What Taehyung does in his free time is none of your business. But also, it’s totally your business, because you are his spouse. A spouse who is an equal amount in the public eye as he is. What he does and does not do has a direct impact on what you do and do not do. 
It’s no secret that when you catch Taehyung sauntering down the stairs looking like a Gucci runway model, it’s not because he’s planning on catching a movie with a college friend and then playing video games for four hours on a couch in a basement. He is going out. To clubs, to parties, to exclusive events that he’s been invited to by his equally-rich friends, all of whom are acting like he’s the same bachelor he’s always been. 
And maybe that’s the real problem with your whole marriage—other than the glaringly obvious issue that it’s a marriage wholly unwanted by the two parties involved in it. Despite the ring on his finger, Taehyung is going out and pretending that nothing in his life has changed while you’re trapped at home, desperate to save you and your family’s reputation by keeping as low a profile as possible. You would give anything to march around the city all day, flashing middle fingers at paparazzi as you shop at your favorite high-end stores and frequent your favorite clubs. But you can’t, because your family’s fortune and influence is on the line. 
And apparently, Taehyung’s isn’t. 
It sort of makes you wonder why it was even Taehyung you ended up marrying anyway. His family isn’t any richer or more powerful than yours. Your spheres have always been sufficiently separate. What was it about him, and perhaps more importantly, his family that drew your parent’s eye? And what was it about marrying you that prevented him from saying no? Money? Prestige? Influence?
You suppose you’ll never know. But whatever mystical force that convinced Taehyung to agree to this must not be as important to him as your reasoning is to you, because it’s become exceedingly apparent that Taehyung does not care that he’s married. He doesn’t care about the ring on his finger, he doesn’t care about his public image, and he most certainly doesn’t care about you.
Perhaps you were naive for thinking this, but you actually believed marriage might tone him down a little. Might age him into a real adult with real world obligations. Instead, it’s only given you a firsthand look into who Kim Taehyung has been and always will be: a selfish rich kid.
You don’t bother waiting around in the living room until he gets back, but you are still awake by the time you hear the door creak open. Taehyung makes no efforts to hide his return. You can hear him chattering loudly on the phone as he stumbles up the stairs, can tell from his gait alone that he is most certainly wasted. You don’t want to know what he did tonight. You’ll probably be able to figure it out anyway when you wake up tomorrow morning and check your social media. 
What were you thinking, marrying him? That he would change? That he would suddenly become someone that you could rely on? You had no choice when you said, “I do,” but you were at least hoping that maybe one day, one day in a long, long time, the two of you would finally see eye to eye. Maybe there would even come a time when you would genuinely love him. How foolish. 
You close your eyes and try to imagine a world where you have married someone you love, someone who loves you back.
Not unlike the many nights preceding it, tonight is sleepless. 
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Unlike your marital status and general disposition, one thing that hasn’t changed about you is your love for extravagant events. Call you conceited, but there is something so much fun about putting on a fancy, expensive dress that you love and getting your hair and makeup done before going to an exclusive gala and posing in front of five hundred cameras. 
Actually, now that you think about it, maybe your wedding could have actually been pretty good, considering it let you do all those things. It’s a real shame there happened to be a storm cloud in the form of Kim Taehyung there to ruin it. Otherwise, you think you would have rather enjoyed that day. 
Tonight is the first event since your marriage where you and Taehyung are both required to show up and act like a happy married couple. Which would probably be a lot easier if you and Taehyung had exchanged more than ten words over the past two weeks. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but there was a part of you that thought you could use your arranged marriage to actually cultivate some sort of meaningful relationship between the two of you. So events like these wouldn’t be such a drain on both of you. 
When Kim Taehyung comes down the stairs, he actually doesn’t look too bad. You don’t know why this sort of thing keeps catching you off guard—like you don’t expect him to look that good whenever you see him. The problem is that you can’t even chalk up the surprise to him wearing tailored clothes or having his hair done. He just looks… good. 
Well, you suppose you do have to look at him every day for the rest of your life. It’s a good thing he’s attractive. At least he’s not sore on the eyes. 
Taehyung and his unfortunate attractiveness aside, the two of you don’t say a word to each other as you join up at the entrance, grabbing any last-minute items like house keys, chapstick, and whatever dignity you have left to spare. You send forced smiles and tight nods each other’s way in the elevator, staring straight ahead in the lobby of your building as the car pulls up to the front door.
By the time the two of you sit down in the back of the limousine, the built-up tension between the two of you is so thick you’re almost positive that even the chauffeur can feel it through the closed partition. 
If you were any more idyllic, you’d probably spend the drive over to the gala staring out the window and imagining yourself in a different life, on a train to nowhere, flowers in your hair and a journal in your hands. Or perhaps you’d be the CEO of your family’s company instead of having that responsibility passed down to a husband you don’t even want, sitting in an office at the top of a skyscraper overlooking the city. Anything. Anything but this.
But the idyllic part of you died when you realized that fantasies like that are nothing but distractions and that daydreams are for romantics and optimists and losers. 
“What’s our plan for tonight?”
Taehyung scoffs. “What do you mean, ‘what’s our plan’?”
You frown. “Well, we’re married, so we at least have to act like it, don’t you think?”
“Isn’t standing there and smiling enough?” Taehyung asks, an unimpressed eyebrow raised. 
You bristle. Maybe that sufficed for your wedding, but there was so much going on it was easy to distract yourself from the gravity of it all. But this event is not about you. It’s not even about either of your families. It’s about someone the two of you are, at best, distantly connected to, through work, through fame, through power. Which means that though the focus will not be on you, there will still be eyes looking your way. Eyes watching your every move. 
“Do you think it will be?” You challenge. Doesn’t Taehyung realize that things are different now?
Taehyung’s lips curl downwards. “What do you expect us to do, shower each other in kisses? We don’t even sleep on the same fucking floor.”
“Maybe I just expected you to act less like a stranger and more like a husband!”
Taehyung sighs. “Don’t.” The word is clipped, short. “Don’t tell me you actually want to be married.”
“I don’t.” It’s a response that you hardly have to think twice about. “But we are, and nothing can change that.” Unfortunately. But it’s a fact that you and Taehyung have both had to grapple with over the past few weeks, and it’s becoming increasingly obvious that you are more aware of it than he is. If Taehyung could have his way, he would ignore you for the rest of his life and keep partying with the rest of his bachelor friends until he keeled over and died. 
He huffs next to you, eyes staring straight ahead. You don’t think the two of you have met each other’s eyes in a week. Maybe more. They’re starting to feel as soulless as your marriage itself. “Whatever. What do you want me to do?”
“What do you think?” You cross your arms over your chest. “Just act like you don’t hate me. Can you do that?” The way Taehyung’s behaving right now, you expect that will be a challenge for the both of you.
“Only if you can. I’ll even hold your hand to prove that we love each other.”
The idea of holding Taehyung’s hand makes you want to implode. The mere thought sends shivers down your spine. But it’s better than nothing, and that’s good enough for you. At least you won’t have to kiss. 
The rest of the ride there is silent. You drive to this gorgeous mansion just outside the city, bathed in lights hidden amongst the bushes, illuminating both the architecture and the enormous fountain that sits in front of it. In a house this size, you imagine you could probably go your whole life without ever having to come across Taehyung. It actually makes you consider investing in a home that big. 
Taehyung helps you out of the back of the limousine, a cold hand clasping your own as you rest your palm against his. You can feel the way his fingers hesitate as yours make to intertwine with his as you walk towards the entrance, smiling at whatever camera flashes you encounter on your way. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were holding hands with a ghost. 
The moment you step inside and are ushered out of the door’s view, Taehyung’s grip relaxes on yours. For a moment, you think he’ll actually spend the rest of the night like this, a gentle hand wrapped around yours, but then he pulls it away entirely and shoves it back into his pocket. Oh. You frown quietly to yourself. So that’s how tonight’s going to go. 
You don’t make an effort to reach out towards him again. 
For an event concerning people you don’t know a damn thing about, everyone sure seems to know things about you. Other than greetings, you don’t think anyone’s said anything to you about anything other than your recent marriage to Taehyung. Every conversation is punctuated by a Congratulations! you do not feel that you have at all earned, considering you and Taehyung could barely look at each other on the way here.
Maybe Taehyung was right. All you really can do is stand there and smile.
“Oh, don’t tell me… Y/N, is that you?”
The champagne swirls around in the flute between your fingers as you turn towards the sound of your name, looking up to see a familiar face headed your way. 
Kim Seokjin is nice enough. He’s terribly handsome and got a flawless smile, but you know better than to trust those pearly whites of his. The sight of him alone is enough to make your body tense up. There was a reason you had explicitly told your parents not to invite him to your wedding. 
“Seokjin, what a surprise to see you here,” you say, forcing a smile. “I thought you were supposed to be in Switzerland right now.”
“Change of plans,” Seokjin grins back in that awful, awful way, the kind of grin that makes you feel like he’s looking right through you. “I came back early. It’s a shame, though, I missed your wedding.”
You shrug. “It was a humble affair.” It wasn’t. And you’re positive that Seokjin knows it wasn’t an accident that you didn’t extend an invitation to him or his family. 
“Ah, I see,” Seokjin says, nodding his head. He turns to Taehyung next to you, who is making no effort to hide how wholly uninterested in this conversation he is, and holds out a hand. “You must be Kim Taehyung, then. I’m Kim Seokjin. Congratulations on your wedding.”
Taehyung shakes his hand firmly, the air between the three of you growing unbearably palpable. 
“Seokjin’s father is the VP of News Daily,” You explain, eyebrows raised as you try to signal to Taehyung what exactly it means when Seokjin is speaking to the two of you. “And his mother is a popular journalist for the city’s post.”
Seokjin grew up in the world of media, and it seems he’s picked up his parent’s affinity for sticking their noses in places they don’t belong. You know he’s not talking to the both of you out of the goodness of his heart. 
Seokjin laughs, his hand waving away the mention of his parents. “Oh, please. That’s them. I’m just a bored socialite like the rest of you.”
You resist the urge to scoff. 
“Marriage treating the two of you well?” He changes the subject to what he really wants to talk about: you. 
“Of course,” you say quickly, preventing any hesitation on your end. Your empty hand reaches towards Taehyung’s, fingers searching for his between the two of you. But his refusal to join hands does not go unnoticed by you nor Seokjin, who is eyeing the space between your bodies with an eyebrow raised. “It’s just been—well, it’s just been difficult to adjust to a new life. That’s all.”
If you were to describe the face of a non-believer, it would be the exact expression on Seokjin’s face. “Perfectly understandable,” he says, that same toothy smile lacing his features. “But it must be nice, you know, to marry someone you love.”
“I couldn’t be happier,” you say, almost challenging Seokjin to say something even more inflammatory. He must know that all you’re trying to do at this point is save face. Love? Ha! As if. 
“And Taehyung?” Seokjin motions to your husband. 
You can feel the way Taehyung is stiffening beside you. “I suppose we are both lucky and unlucky in many ways when it comes to who we love.”
It’s enough of an answer to get Seokjin off your tail. For now. He bids the two of you a tense goodbye before sauntering off to go poke his nose in someone else’s business, fish for drama, a thread of a rumor he can pick apart with nimble fingers. You wonder if anybody actually likes him. 
The moment he disappears from earshot, you grab Taehyung’s wrist tightly and pull him close to you. “What the hell was that?” You hiss into his ear. 
“What?” You can’t tell if he’s playing dumb or if he really is that dense. 
“You!” You exclaim. “Kim Seokjin is the one person who could easily expose how fake this marriage is and you pull away from me? Right in front of him? You can’t even hold my hand for two seconds, that’s how much you hate me?”
“Who cares what he thinks?” Taehyung says. “He’s just another media rat. No one will even remember we were here tomorrow.”
“But if you keep acting like this, people will start to notice! Why can’t you just act like you don’t hate me, for one night? Is that so bad? Is it that torturous, to spend one night with me?”
“Do not turn this on me,” Taehyung orders harshly. “You’re making a scene. Come on.”
You don’t have time to shout at him for bossing you around like you’re a toddler throwing a tantrum before he drags you out of the venue, the two of you finding a back door to the building that leads outside. The cold air blows against your body, goosebumps popping up against your skin, but you find that the chilly night provides quite the respite after practically overheating indoors. Taehyung makes fire rush through your veins but at least the air can cool you back down. 
Nevertheless, your conversation is not over. It’s just been moved to a more private location.
“You do realize that our marriage isn’t going to suddenly go away, right? That we’re going to have to keep doing this for the rest of our lives?” You remind him, eyebrows raised. There’s a part of you that genuinely thinks he’s completely forgotten that your marriage is permanent.
“Oh, and not holding hands for five minutes for this one event is totally going to change the course of our lives, isn’t it?” Taehyung fights back.
“Don’t act like you did the right thing,” you spit out. “You don’t have to pretend in front of me. I know you don’t give a shit about our marriage.”
“What marriage is there to even give a shit about? Just because we had a wedding and signed some documents does not mean there is a real marriage between us. Look at us,” he motions between the two of you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “We hate each other. Is this what you would call marriage?”
“But at least I’m trying to get past that!” You exclaim. “You make it seem like being as miserable as possible is some sort of badge of honor. Do you actually want to spend the rest of your life hating the person you married? Or do you want to grow up and try and move on?”
Taehyung frowns. “What I want is for the person I married to stop acting like they’re doing me such a huge favor by pretending to care about us. Especially when all they really care about is their family’s goddamn reputation.”
“No,” you tell him sternly. You are doing him a favor. He just can’t admit that he actually needs help from you. “You are putting zero effort into this. What am I supposed to do?”
“Let it go!” Taehyung shouts. “Maybe one day we’ll actually start getting along, but right now it’s obvious that neither one of us can stand the other. I don’t need you to do favors for me. I can handle it myself.”
You look away, rolling your eyes. “Doesn’t look like it to me,” you mutter to yourself. 
Taehyung cracks. “Fine. You want me to pretend that I actually care about us? I will.” Thank God. Maybe now the two of you will finally start seeing eye-to-eye. “But make no mistake about how I feel about you,” he spits. “Getting married to you ruined my life.”
You stare straight at him and his eyes are swirling, so obscured in the darkness of the night that you might even think he doesn’t have a soul at all. His pupils bore into yours and for once, for once in your goddamn life, after so many years of staring each other down at debutante balls, so many years of witty refrains and snarky insults hurled each other’s way, it feels like the two of you might actually snap. 
Then, a camera flashes.
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Trouble in Paradise! would be a suitable title for the front page of the city’s biggest tabloid… if anything about your life with Taehyung could be considered paradise. Unfortunately for the both of you, that is not the case. 
You don’t need to keep reading the rest of the trashy article on the front page of the daily tabloid to know how much trouble you’re in, nor do you even have time to scroll beneath the terrible photo of you and Taehyung literally shouting at each other before you hear your phone ring. 
You don’t even bother saying hello to whoever’s on the other end. You know it’ll go in one ear and out the other. 
“I assume you know why I’m calling,” your mother’s harsh tone spits from the other end of the phone. There’s no doubt in your mind that she’s standing in the middle of her office, snapping her fingers at her fifteen secretaries as they partake in the worst damage control your family’s had to deal with since your cousin two years ago was caught with a mistress outside a high-profile restaurant. 
“Can I take a wild guess?” You’re about to be scolded into the next century, so you might as well enjoy your last few moments. 
“Don’t get cheeky with me,” your mother warns. “Care to explain why you and your beloved husband made the front page of the Daily Post today?”
“I know,” you sigh, a hand coming up to rub at your temples. It’s eight in the morning, you’ve barely looked at your phone, and you haven’t even brushed your teeth yet. It feels like you’re still asleep, and most certainly lack the energy to deal with this right now. 
Your mother, on the other hand, thinks otherwise. “You know? You know, and you still go out and do this? For everyone to see?”
“We tried to take our argument outside,” you begin to explain, but your mother isn’t having a single word of it. 
“The fact that you thought it was even appropriate to have an argument in a public setting at all astounds me, Y/N. We raised you better than that.” There’s no need for you to even see her face. You’ve grown so used to that disappointed frown over the years that it’s burned into your brain. 
“Maybe you should have thought about that before marrying me off to a man I barely know so I could be someone else’s problem instead of yours,” you bite. 
“We did this for your own good,” she hisses back. “You are married because we love you, and we want you to succeed outside of this family.”
“Then why do you care what the tabloids print about me?”
“Because being married does not mean you are no longer a part of this family,” your mother informs you sternly, lips smacking together. “Your marriage reflects on all of us, and you know that. What will people think of us when they see how terribly behaved you are?”
“Everyone acts like that, and you know it.” How could your mother preach good behavior when everyone, everyone you know, is just as spoiled and entitled as you? There’s no such thing as being altruistic when it comes to people like you. Being genuine, and good, and pure—that will get you ruined. 
You can hear her breathing into the phone when your mother responds, “But not in public, and that is the point. We expect better from you.”
“If you were so worried about me behaving so badly, then why did you even marry me off anyway? You knew that I didn’t want to. What did you think would happen?” It’s a question you wouldn’t have dared ask three months ago. Hell, even a year ago, when it was first revealed you were to be engaged, you wouldn’t have dared open your lips. But things are different now. You’re married to a man that hates you just as much as you hate him. He is making no effort to improve your relationship and seems hellbent on despising you forever. There is no way to get out of it. And if your parents really foresaw all of that, then what was the point in the first place?
“Your grandmother.”
Your mouth shuts. 
“You know she wanted to see you married before she passed,” your mother says, words clipped and biting and harsh. “She cares about you. She wanted to make sure you’d be taken care of.”
“I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” you mutter to yourself like a petulant child. In a way, you sort of are.
“If you want to stay in her will, I suggest you change that mindset.”
You freeze in your tracks. The will?
“Is that a threat?” You ask, positively dumbfounded. Are you being coerced into staying in this marriage because of your grandmother’s will?
You can hear your mother laugh, that muted, knowing chuckle of hers. “It was the deal all along, remember?”
Vaguely, you do. You remember fighting your parents tooth and nail over getting married until your grandmother revealed it was her dream to see you wed. You remember the look on her old, wrinkled face, that soft, sad smile that said she knew she didn’t have much time left. You remember agreeing, because how could you deny her? You remember her promising to remember what you’re doing for her. 
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not.”
“That’s the end of this conversation, Y/N. You fix things with your husband or you’re out of her will. She’s made that clear. I expect you’ll make the right choice.”
She hangs up. 
There are a lot of ways to describe how you’re currently feeling, and you most certainly had an expensive education that would provide you with plenty of the vocabulary, but you think the most appropriate words for the current situation would be: you’re fucked. 
At least the feeling is mutual. 
Hardly two minutes after your mother’s brutal phone call, Taehyung comes storming down the stairs, hair still mussed from the night prior, his own phone clenched tightly between is fingers. Even from where you stand in the middle of the living room, you can see the way his eyes are glinting with anger, the veins popping out from his skin. 
“I just got off the phone with my parents,” Taehyung begins, not even bothering to spare a ‘good morning’ your way, “and they are fucking furious about last night.”
You shrug. “Join the club,” you mutter, arms crossed in front of you. What, does Taehyung really think you got off scot-free?
“Don’t act like this means nothing to you,” Taehyung says as he approaches you, footsteps calm despite his demeanor being anything but. “You’re the one who’s so obsessed with keeping up their family’s perfect reputation. You’re the reason we’re even in this mess in the first place.”
“What do you mean, ‘I’m the reason’?” You ask, astounded. Like he’s totally absolved of all blame and just an innocent third party. “You are the reason we went outside. You are the reason we had that argument, because you refuse to accept the fact that we’re actually married and there’s nothing we can do about it.”
“Right, because holding hands is really gonna show all those people how in love we are. I bet your parents are so thrilled right now.” Taehyung drawls. 
“It’s a start!” You shriek. “God, you’re just so—so infuriating! You can’t accept that this was your fault, too. You just have to turn everything against me and you always, always have to get the last word. It’s like you think you’ll die if you don’t.”
“Like you’re any better,” Taehyung huffs back. “You think I’m the villain because I don’t want to pretend to be in love with someone I’m not in love with. You act like us not holding hands is going to ruin our lives. It was one event! One! It’s obvious we hate each other, so why even try?”
“What, do you expect me to just sit around and do nothing? To act like everything’s fine? Like I’m happy?” As if. This marriage is the worst thing that’s ever happened to you. “While you prance around the city with your rich boy friends, going out to clubs and parties and pretending that I don’t exist? Is that what you expect from me?”
Taehyung laughs, this loud, disbelieving sort of noise, like he’s never heard such nonsense before. “Just because we’re married doesn’t mean the rest of my life has to change. Am I not allowed to enjoy myself with my friends? Or are you determined to keep me chained to your side for the rest of our lives?”
“What I want,” you punctuate every word, “is for you to stop acting like you haven’t got stakes in this, too. You think I don’t know how your family works? What being married to me means for you? Because I do. And I know that if we were to divorce, it would be you who would get the short end of the stick. Make no mistake.”
That’s enough to shut Taehyung up for a good few seconds. And it shuts him up, because he knows it’s true. Taehyung’s family may have a little more money, a little more power than yours, but you’ve got a family intimately more connected with the media. One phone call and Taehyung may have a rather messy, rather public breakup to deal with. 
“You wouldn’t,” he says, calling your bluff. 
“Are you sure about that?” You say, sticking your ground. You would never really divorce him, of course, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“I am,” Taehyung says firmly. “Don’t think I don’t know what being married to me is in it for you. What is it? Money? Power? Your father’s CEO position?”
“That’s none of your business,” you snap quickly. Maybe you’re more transparent than you thought. Bristling, you straighten your shoulders and turn back to meet his eyes. “Regardless, it seems we both have a reason to stay in this marriage.”
“It seems we do,” Taehyung agrees with a thin, contained smile. “Then I suppose we can reach some sort of agreement.”
“As in…?” Your interest in piqued. 
“I’ll stop going out with my friends if you stop picking fights with me all the time,” he says economically, like he’s killing two birds with one stone. 
“Only if you agree to also act more like my husband when we’re in public,” you tack on, because you just can’t settle for anything less. 
“Public only,” Taehyung specifies. 
You scoff. “Like I’d even want to pretend to be your wife when we’re in private.”
“Good. It seems we’ve come to a deal.”
“What’s in this for you, huh?” You prod, just to be annoying. Taehyung’s right. There’s a reason you’re not divorcing him the second you get the chance. But there must be a reason why he’s not doing the same thing. 
“Does it matter?” He challenges, a single eyebrow raised. “My life is just as awful as yours.”
Fair enough. 
“Do we have a deal?” Taehyung asks, holding out his hand, that sneaky, devilish grin lacing his features. 
Taking his hand in yours and grasping it firmly is the easiest decision in the world. His palm presses against your own, hot hand meeting your cold skin, and it feels like the two of you are finally finding some sort of balance. You look up into his eyes, burn your gaze into his pupils, watch them glint in the white ceiling light of the living room. 
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For two people raised on the values of reading the fine print and making educated choices when it comes to business deals, you and Taehyung sure haven’t worked out any of the intricacies of the deal the two of you agreed to. Unlike those business deals your parents constantly agreed to, however, knowing all of the stipulations and provisions of your strange, strange agreement with Taehyung may prove more harmful than helpful. 
Like right now. 
“Wait, we don’t have to be by each other’s side the whole night, do we?” Taehyung asks you, eyebrows furrowed in a knot, as you sit in the back of a big, black van on your way to a mutual friend’s twenty-first birthday bash. 
“There are going to be a lot of cameras there,” you respond. 
“Yeah, outside the entrance to the damn club. You know they won’t be allowed in, so who cares?” Taehyung rebukes. 
You huff out a little sigh, not wanting to get into an argument when you’re literally minutes away from your first public appearance since the whole tabloid debacle from three weeks ago. You and Taehyung could both do with being a bit more relaxed than you normally are when you’re around each other. 
“Hasn’t Clarissa invited hundreds of people? They’ll all notice if we aren’t together,” you remind pointedly. The girl whose birthday party you are attending is an heiress who grew up on the money of two people with a monopoly over the current artificial intelligence market and has millions of followers on social media. There will be notable people there. And people will know the two of you, as well. 
Taehyung rolls his eyes. “That’s the point, Y/N. There’ll be so many people, no one will even care. It’s her twenty-first birthday. Do you think people are going to be sober?”
You purse your lips together. He’s got a point. “How about when we are together, we hold hands. But if you see a friend or something then feel free to say hi.” Taehyung can be afforded that luxury. Especially because the chances of him not bumping into someone he knows is exceedingly low anyway. 
Taehyung nods in agreement. “You too. But I won’t leave you unless I know you’re with someone you’re close with.”
“You don’t have to stay, I’ll be fine,” you say with a small chuckle. What, is Taehyung suddenly worried, or something?
“Yeah, but it would be in bad taste if I left you with someone you didn’t know well. Or alone. Just wanna make sure you’re taken care of.” He shrugs nonchalantly, turning back to look out of the window on his side of the car. 
You don’t really have anything else to say to that. You’re sure you can handle yourself if you’re left alone for a few minutes while Taehyung says hi, but you actually find yourself rather appreciative of his resolve to look after you. Or, at least, make sure someone else is looking after you. It’s quite… chivalrous. Strikingly out of character for the Taehyung you’ve become well-acquainted with over the past couple of months. 
By the time you arrive, it’s obvious that Taehyung was right about there being so many people you two practically don’t even exist. Other than the herds of camera crews waiting outside the joint, photographing everyone that steps out of a black car to see what they’re wearing and who they’ve come with, no one seems to be paying you any attention. And in a way, that sort of nonexistence, that anonymity, it’s refreshing. Your entire life you’ve felt like all eyes were on you, like there was constantly a spotlight above your head, but here, the party centers around someone else. 
Despite that fact, Taehyung keeps his promise. He keeps himself pressed closely against you when there’s not enough space for you two to stand side by side, and he makes sure to have a hand gently intertwined with your own as you weave your way through the dozens of bodies in the room. He doesn’t say anything, of course, always looking up and forward instead of beside him, where you stand, but you find that you’re actually quite relaxed with his presence. He spots a bit of a clearing near the back of the first floor of the club, where a whole bunch of leather couches are pressed up against the brick walls, where the two of you can take a breather. 
“Damn, Clarissa knows a lot of people,” you say when you finally settle down, happily plucking a martini from a tray held by one of the many caterers wandering through the venue. 
“I doubt she’s even spoken to half of them,” Taehyung comments. “She and I have maybe spoken once… three years ago.”
“It was enough to get you invited, wasn’t it?” You point out with an eyebrow raised. 
Taehyung nods, chuckling a little. “Touché,” he says, clinking his own cocktail glass against yours. 
You take a swig of the drink, letting it wash down your throat. You’re not exactly sure how else you’re supposed to survive the night. “You must enjoy this, huh?” You muse, looking up at Taehyung from where you’re seated on the couch. He’s standing next to you, looking around the room with a distant gaze in his eye. 
“Enjoy what? The drink? It’s nice,” Taehyung says, having another sip. 
“No, I mean this,” you say, motioning toward the crowd. “The clubbing, the dancing, the drinking. I’ll bet that if you could do this every day for the rest of your life, you would.”
“I’m honored that you think so highly of me,” he deadpans. 
“Just making an observation,” you say, holding your hand up in surrender. “I mean, isn’t this what you used to do every weekend before we got married? Get wasted and party? Wake up in someone else’s bed the next morning? Muscle your way through the week just so you could do it all over again?”
Taehyung shakes his head, a knowing grin on his face. “Looks like someone keeps up with her tabloids. Let me guess, you would scroll through all of those trashy articles on your phone whenever you woke up so you could see what your future husband was doing?”
“I could have never even met you and I would know that that’s exactly what you do,” you say, even though you definitely did do those things before your engagement was announced to the public. “You’re a heartbreaker, Kim Taehyung. I don’t need to read a tabloid to know that.”
“Well, you must be quite the lucky girl, then,” Taehyung comments. “You seem to be taking up so much of my energy that I don’t have the time for that anymore.”
You place a sarcastic hand on your heart. “I didn’t know you were always thinking about me. I’m touched.”
“Don’t get used to it,” Taehyung huffs out, making the two of you both shake your heads as you chuckle to yourselves. First civil conversation you’ve had with each other in a long while, even if there may have been a few blows exchanged. 
The privacy doesn’t last long. Soon after, a huge crowd of people that could honestly still pass for teenagers herds towards the back of the club, all of them wanting to take pictures with each other. You and Taehyung do your best to stay out of the way, but one of the girls recognizes him from the Elle photoshoot he did about a year ago and begins to strike up a conversation with the both of you about your recent marriage. If she was paying attention to anything the tabloids leaked three weeks ago, she doesn’t mention it. Taehyung smiles and happily answers all of her questions, and even offers to take a picture of the group for them. The conversation ends before the two of you even catch her name. 
You’re standing by the line of buffet tables laid out against the staircase leading up to the second floor, no doubt as crowded as this one, when the opportunity for you to speak to someone other than Taehyung finally presents itself. 
You’d recognize that voice anywhere. You turn around to see Victoria barreling towards the both of you, not even caring when she accidentally spills a bit of her piña colada on the floor as she does. 
“Hey!” You exclaim excitedly. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Are you kidding? I’m pretty sure Clarissa invited everyone on her, her best friend’s, her best friend’s cousin, and her best friend’s cousin’s dog’s contact list,” Victoria says with a laugh. “It’s nice to see you. I feel like you’ve been holed up in that big ol’ penthouse for weeks.”
“Damage control,” you remind her succinctly. Victoria knows enough that that’s all the explanation she really needs. 
“I don’t know if the two of you have ever met formally,” you say, thinking back to your wedding, where Victoria spent most of her time schmoozing with your parents (who love her) and didn’t even engage with any of the people who Taehyung’s family had invited. “Taehyung, this is Victoria. Victoria, Taehyung.”
“Pleasure,” Victoria says in that loud, unabashedly forward way of hers, holding out a friendly hand. Taehyung smiles back curtly, taking her hand and shaking it gently, so as not to spill any more of her drink. 
“Mine as well. I remember you were at our wedding.” Oh? So he does know her?
“That I was. Oh, I miss that day. The food was excellent. Tonight’s isn’t too bad either. Hope you’re doing well, the two of you. It’s nice to see you getting along,” she says, always the observer. 
Taehyung’s eyes widen a little when he picks up what Victoria is not-so-subtly putting down, but you place a hand on his upper arm to calm him. “It’s okay,” you tell him. “She won’t say anything.”
“My lips are sealed,” Victoria adds. 
“If you wanna go spend time with some of your friends, you can,” you say, giving Taehyung a nudge. He looks positively helpless standing in between the two of you as Victoria out-extroverts him. 
“Alright,” he says hesitantly, even though you know he’s already spotted at least ten people you’re sure he’d want to spend time with over you. “I’ll come find you soon, okay? Don’t go too far.”
You nod, and Taehyung disappears off into the crowd. Not two seconds later, you hear someone else call his name in a familiar tone. 
“I thought you said you hated him,” Victoria points out as the two of you watch his caramel brown hair makes its way throughout the crowd. 
You take another sip of your drink. “I do,” you say. 
Victoria looks at you like you’ve just told her you’ve sworn off custard-filled doughnuts. 
“What?” You ask, feeling suddenly defensive. 
“Nothing,” Victoria singsongs. “It just doesn’t look like that to me.”
“We just need to keep up a good appearance in public, that’s all. You know how mad my parents got when the tabloids leaked all that shit a few weeks ago,” you explain. You’re not sure what all the fuss is about. Taehyung said he would do these things. And he did. That was him upholding his end of the deal. This is you upholding yours. 
“If you say so…” Victoria says, not looking at all convinced. “I guess I’m just surprised that—that you two seem to be getting along so well. Maybe you being married isn’t going to be the worst thing after all.”
You stare back out into the crowd, scanning the top of people’s heads for Taehyung’s familiar locks. In the dim light of the club, you have a difficult time finding his, squinting your eyes slightly as you look around, but eventually you spot him, dancing happily with some old friends of his you recognize. He looks like he’s having a good time. And that makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, this might end up alright. 
“Yeah,” you say, though with the pounding of the bass and the alcohol already rushing through your veins, it doesn’t really feel like your voice belongs to you. You look back at Taehyung, knowing exactly where he is now, and you smile. Just a little. “I guess he’s not so bad.”
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You never do get a chance to meet Taehyung’s friends that night. By the time he joins back up with you and Victoria he’s by himself, a little more drunk than when he left, and ready to go home. And for once, instead of fighting him, instead of insisting you stay an hour more just to make sure you’ve done all of your rounds, you let him take you home. 
Taehyung has been spending a lot more time at the penthouse lately. Perhaps his family’s business happenings are slow, or perhaps he’s actually starting to get more comfortable with inhabiting the same space as you, but he has definitely found himself quite the rhythm in that house of yours. He even comes down to the first floor rather regularly. 
When he’s home, Taehyung is a lot quieter than you thought he would be. Granted, you don’t exactly know what you were expecting in the first place, but it certainly wasn’t him ruminating in one of the home offices while the Beatles play softly on the stereo, nor was it him reading a book in French in one of those big old grandfather chairs in the living room. If you didn’t know any better, you’d probably think he was still absent in that old way of his, ghostlike and silent, like he was occupying the space instead of truly living in it. 
But you do know better, and even though Taehyung is just as noiseless as he used to be, the house already feels a little bit fuller. 
Perhaps the reason you’ve become so keenly aware of his presence over the past few days is because of the notable fact that Taehyung has indeed held up his end of the deal, and no longer goes out with his friends in the evening. Or at all, for that matter. Which strikes you as rather odd, because he’s the epitome of a social butterfly, a thousand contacts in his phone and a whole group of friends he regularly spends time with. Maybe his parents told him to tone down the public appearances, too. And that’s understandable, but don’t they know Taehyung? Can’t they see how much he thrives on social interaction? It almost makes you feel… bad for him. 
To remedy this, you suggest he invite over his friends. Just for a few hours, you swear you won’t mind. 
“Seriously?” Taehyung looks positively shocked when you tell him he can, standing in the doorway of the office he seems to have designated as his own. 
“Yeah, why not?” You say with a carefree shrug. Besides, you’ve never met his friends anyway, and now seems as good a chance as any to introduce yourself. You are his wife, after all. “Unless your parents say you can’t. But it’s not a problem for me.”
“You… don’t mind if I have my friends over for a bit? Honest to God, we’re probably just going to play FIFA for three hours straight,” Taehyung says like it’s some sort of warning. Like the idea of him and his buddies from college are going to sit in the living room screaming at the television, leaving you alone to do literally anything else, is somehow bad. 
You laugh. “It’s fine, really. Call them. I’d actually quite like to meet them.”
Taehyung picks up his phone almost instantly, as if you’ll change your mind in the next five minutes so he better get them over soon, and already you can see the way his face is lighting up, the way his eyes crinkle as he chats to his friends and the way his lips curl upwards when they crack a joke back. Isn’t it obvious? He feeds off of the energy of others. Who are you to deny him such a simple pleasure?
As it turns out, Taehyung’s friends actually end up being quite nice anyway. 
He invites over three, because four people is apparently the perfect number for a hardcore game of FIFA on his Playstation, and they are all very handsome men you have never met before. You suppose like attracts like, after all. 
“You must be Y/N,” says the first one you see when you open the door to let them in. He doesn’t look a day over twenty-one—in fact, he could probably still pass as a college student—and has rather long dark hair that drapes over the sides of his face, covering the edges of his big doe eyes. “I’m Jungkook. This is Jimin and Hoseok.”
“Nice to meet you all,” you say, stepping aside so they can enter.
The shortest one, Jimin, grins in response, and Hoseok, behind him, gives you a wave. It’s refreshing enough as is, not having to exchange formal greetings and shake each other’s hands like you do with everyone else. Hoseok even gives you a bit of a nod, too.“You, too,” he says. “We’ve heard so much about you.”
Oh, have they, now? Interesting. 
“All good things, I hope,” you say awkwardly, forcing a small smile as Taehyung comes bounding into the room, ears perked up at the sound of his friends’ voices. 
“Definitely. Thanks for having us over. We didn’t wanna intrude on the sanctity of your new place,” Jungkook says, gesturing vaguely to the house as a whole. He’s got this excellent, genuine grin on his face, the kind that people who are just happy to be alive always wear. 
Already he’s said enough to charm the shit out of you. Who knew Taehyung’s friends could be so… friendly? “Please, you’re welcome any time. I was just thinking Taehyung was getting a little lonely.”
“There he is!” Jimin shouts excitedly when he spots Taehyung behind the two of you, looking a lot more casual than he normally does when he’s alone with you, having abandoned his usual silky button-down and wide-leg slacks for a loose shirt and some sweatpants. You didn’t even know he had those things in his closet. 
“Hey, everyone’s here!” Taehyung exclaims, just as happy. He squeezes past you to give the three of them a big hug, and it almost makes you feel like you’re intruding on something you shouldn’t be in. Even though this is literally your house. 
“Nice place you got here,” Hoseok comments, eyes drifting around the living room. “Very minimalist, I like it.”
“Sure hope you don’t spill anything on those nice leather couches of yours,” Jungkook says. 
“Yeah, unlike Kook, who has spilled tomato soup on every shirt he’s ever owned,” Jimin jokes, earning laughs from Taehyung and Hoseok and a punch from Jungkook. 
“Moved after we married,” Taehyung says simply, shrugging his shoulders. It’s an easy enough explanation for why it doesn’t look at all lived in. Here’s hoping none of them realize you sleep in different bedrooms. 
“Yeah, congratulations on that, man,” Hoseok says, giving Taehyung a celebratory nudge in the shoulder. “Who’d have thought, out of the four of us, Kim Taehyung would be the first one to settle down.”
The way Taehyung’s body tenses up at that comment does not go unnoticed by you. 
“Seriously, I would have never guessed,” Jimin adds on. “You’re showing us a new side of yourself, Tae. But I’m happy for you.”
Normally, you’d probably take offense at such blatant insinuations that your husband was a former playboy, especially from his equally noncommittal friends. But truthfully, it’s not like you were blind to Taehyung’s transgressions either. And what matters most is the fact that since it was announced publicly, you are the only woman he’s been seen with since your engagement. 
“Me too. You seem to really like her. I’m glad,” Jungkook pipes up, sending a smile your way. You definitely feel like you don’t belong in this conversation. “I think the two of you will be good for each other.”
“Yeah, I hope so,” Taehyung says with a nervous chuckle. His eyes quickly shoot your way, the two of you meeting gazes, your hesitant expressions matching. At least the two of you are on the same page. “Alright, alright, enough,” Jungkook says. “Who’s ready to get their ass kicked in FIFA?”
“You’re on, Jeon. But when I win, you owe me a five-star dinner,” Hoseok challenges. 
Hoseok, Jimin, and Jungkook immediately crowd towards the couch, and you take that as your cue to leave. But before you can disappear down the hallway, you and Taehyung look awkwardly at each other, hands tied. It’s not like you can say anything to them. 
The truth is that, sometimes, it’s easy to forget that not everyone else knows that your marriage is just for business. Sometimes it’s easy to forget that there are still people out there that believe you marry for love. 
Isn’t it crazy to think that you used to be one of those people, too?
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“Hey,” Taehyung says when you meet up at the bottom of the stairs again. 
“Hey,” you respond. 
“You look nice.”
You scoff a little to yourself. What, are you exchanging compliments now? “Thanks,” you say, looking him up and down. “You’re not so bad yourself.” Like he ever is. 
“I knew you had taste,” Taehyung teases, and it’s the sort of comment that would have earned him a melon ball to the face back when the two of you were teenagers at a debutante ball, but today only earns him a roll of your eyes as you join hands. You don’t have anything big tonight—just a small dinner to celebrate some sort of business accomplishment for your family, which means that all you have to manage is not ending up in some sort of food fight by the end of the night. 
“I didn’t have a choice, did I?” You retort easily as you get into the car. 
You don’t normally speak a lot on the way to events. Not that you ever did, but even as your relationship has slowly faded from pure hatred to attempts at compromise, you both seem to relish in being able to stare out of your respective backseat windows and into the city that surrounds you. Just out of curiosity, about halfway through the ride you look towards Taehyung to see what he’s up to, and find yourself genuinely surprised to see him leaning against the window with his eyes closed. Is he sleeping? A couple more minutes of gazing at him tells you he is, because his body has gone lax and his breathing has evened out, soft snores leaving his mouth. This ride can’t be longer than twenty minutes. Has he not been sleeping well? Up in that enormous second-floor bedroom of his?
He’s awake by the time the car parks outside the restaurant, this fancy name brand steak place that was chosen solely because the biggest beneficiaries of your family’s new business deal are two sixty-year-old men whose entire diet consists of beef and beer. No cameras tonight, just a small family affair. You and Taehyung hold hands as you enter the restaurant and are led to the private room in the back anyway. 
You and him are seated on the far end of the long, rectangular table, alongside all of the other adult children dragged along to celebrate something that has no effect on their lives. But it’s nice, because the space alone prevents your parents from actively speaking with you, and you and Taehyung can stay in your own little bubble, only chiming in for a toast when necessary. 
“What are you going to get?” He asks you, the two of you gazing at the menu. No matter how fancy this place is, all the options seem to boil down to steak, steak, steak, steak, and caesar salad. Classic. 
“Oh, so you actually care now?” You counter, an eyebrow raised in amusement. 
Taehyung laughs. “Aren’t I supposed to?”
You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously, wise to his usual shenanigans. It’s hard to tell if Taehyung really means what he says, or if it’s all for show. But perhaps he’s asking because he’s genuinely curious, since no one else seems to be paying you any attention. 
“The choices on this menu are simply overwhelming,” you say, motioning to the six options in front of you. 
“I know, I’m so torn,” Taehyung jokes, making you huff out a little giggle. At least he’s still got that same sense of humor. 
You both end up going for a pretty classic steak dinner, which neither of the two of you finish because the damn portions are the size of your head. Dinner is, in and of itself, absolutely mindless, all of your parents talking about things that don’t concern you whatsoever, leaving you and Taehyung to your own devices as you desperately try to make the night go by faster. 
At one point, you notice Taehyung’s foot brushing up against yours, the leather of his loafers brushing against the toe of your patent heel. Thinking someone of it, you push back, foot nudging his back to his own chair. It’s not a second later that Taehyung retaliates, the two of you dancing around each other underneath the table. 
If the two of you were any younger, or perhaps any less resigned to your fate, there’s no doubt in your mind you would be attempting to get Taehyung to fall off his chair in an effort to do the same to you. Footsie means war. But when the both of you know that, at the end of the day, you’ll still be going home to the same place, and waking up the next morning in the same house, it doesn’t feel like this is a battle.
It’s just life. 
Eventually, you meet Taehyung’s eyes with a hesitant smile, shoe pressed against his, stuck in ceasefire. And for once, he doesn’t have that devilish look in his eye, that smug little grin on his face that tells you that he’s going to make you regret whatever it is you just did. He’s just smiling back at you, all pink lips, having found real fun in the little things. 
And that makes you happy. 
The rest of the dinner is uneventful, which, in your book, is about as good as a dinner can go. You cheers to the future of your parents’ relationship with their newfound partners and say a quick goodbye to them both, hurrying out of there before they can ask you any questions on your relationship with your husband. But you don’t spend the car ride in silence on the way back. 
Instead, you say, “Have you been sleeping well?”
The question seems to catch Taehyung off guard. He was already getting in position to take a power nap on the ride home, head pressed up against the window of the car. 
“Have you been sleeping well?” You repeat. “I noticed you fell asleep on the way here.”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess,” he says, a hand scratching the nape of his neck. “I mean, it’s been hard adjusting, I suppose. But I’ll get over it.”
Hard adjusting? You’ve been together for nearly three months now. Three months worth of sleeping in the same penthouse bedroom, on the same soft-as-a-cloud mattress, underneath the same weighted blanket. And he’s still having trouble? 
“Oh. I mean, I just wanted to ask because you seem really tired lately.”
“I got a lot on my plate, what can I say,” Taehyung says with an empty smile, forcing a chuckle. “I’ll be fine, seriously. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“Isn’t that my job?” You remind him. “I am your wife.”
Taehyung doesn’t say anything to that. He just lets out an audible breath, the kind you let out when you’re amused and have something snarky to say, but don’t have the energy to get the words off your tongue. 
The rest of the ride is pretty quiet. 
When you get home, you place your house keys in the bowl by the entrance and take off your shoes, just about ready to take a hot shower and collapse in bed, when Taehyung’s voice stops you. 
“Hey,” he begins, almost hesitantly. You look back at him inquisitively. “I was thinking, maybe, if you wanted, we could start sleeping in the same bed?”
You scrunch your nose up. Not in disgust, but in surprise. In bewilderment. What brought this on, all of a sudden?
“Really?” You ask, because you can’t help yourself. “I thought we liked the separate bed thing. Gives us privacy.”
“Yeah,” Taehyung says with a shrug, “but—I don’t know, it’s stupid. I just thought, you know, since we’re married and all. And it’s been three months.” He looks about two seconds away from backtracking, from shaking his head and going upstairs before you can say anything else. 
“Alright,” you say quickly, nodding your assent. Taehyung’s eyes widen when he hears the word, like he had completely expected you to shut him down the moment he made the suggestion. “If that’s what you want. We can try it.”
“You sure?” He asks, that same hesitant smile from earlier lacing his features. It’s strange. He almost looks… sweet. Nervous. 
You grin back at him. “Yeah, I am.”
Taehyung lets you grab some of your toiletries and your pajamas from your designated bedroom before you head up the stairs together, towards the bedroom he’s claimed for himself. Funnily enough, this is the first time you’ve been in his room. Three months of living together and you haven’t dared step foot on the second floor. 
You don’t know what you were expecting when he opens the door to let you inside. Maybe a room that screamed ‘Taehyung’ a little more than this one does. One that looks like an actual human has been living here. But other than one of his classic silk button-downs draped over a chair, there’s not a shred of evidence someone has actually been sleeping here. You could honestly be fooled rather easily that the shirt, too, is just decoration. 
“You can pick a side,” Taehyung says casually. He grabs his own sleepwear—an old t-shirt and some sweats—and heads into the bathroom to change. 
You wonder why Taehyung has had such a difficult time adjusting. This room is about as lavish as a bedroom can get. And yet. 
Sitting down on the left side of the bed, you begin to remove your own clothes, unzipping tonight’s dress and stepping quickly into your pajamas, hurrying to make sure Taehyung doesn’t catch you half-naked. How funny is that, you think to yourself. You’ve been married for three months and you still can’t bear the thought of Taehyung seeing you without a shirt on. 
When Taehyung comes out of the bathroom, hair all messy and clothes all casual, he grins lazily to himself. “I sleep on the right anyway,” he comments mindlessly. 
Within twenty minutes the both of you are about as ready to pass out as you have ever been, the only lights still on the ones on your respective nightstands. 
“Goodnight,” Taehyung says, reaching an arm over to switch his off. 
“Goodnight,” you tell him, turning off yours as well. And all of a sudden, the room is shrouded in darkness. 
You fall asleep instantly. 
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When Taehyung wakes up the next morning, the first thing he says to you is that he hasn’t slept that well in ages. 
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“You slept together?” Victoria shrieks, so loud you actually have to move your phone away from your ear as you punch in the code inside the elevator for access to your floor. 
“We did not sleep together,” you emphasize. “Okay, well, we sleep together, as in, in the same bed. But we are fully clothed. And not the slightest bit interested in doing anything other than sleeping.”
“I thought you said you liked having your own space,” Victoria points out. “When was the first time you—uh…” she pauses to find the right words, “shared a bed?”
“A couple weeks ago. It’s really not so bad, I don’t know why you’re so hung up over it,” you say, lips pursed. You squeeze the phone between the side of your head and your shoulder, hands full of shopping bags, the string of the handles burning your skin. Maybe you should look into getting a personal shopper. 
“I’m hung up over it because, for the longest time, you have sworn off Kim Taehyung. Called him dead to you. Insulted him every chance you get.” 
You scoff. You don’t need reminding of how much you hated him, how much you can’t believe you have to spend the rest of your life with him. “It’s different now. We’re married. And he said he wasn’t sleeping well. I felt bad.”
“He wasn’t?”
“Enough about him,” you say, shutting her up. You don’t feel like talking about him with Victoria anymore. “Word through the grapevine says that your parents are actually thinking of letting you start your own company?”
It’s enough to distract Victoria. For the rest of the ride in the elevator, she talks animatedly about a new streaming service her parents are considering letting her launch, under their parent business, of course, but it’s her own company nonetheless. And you’re proud of her. Proud she could do something your parents would never dream of letting you do. Proud she could make that happen. 
You push open the front door with the side of your hip after entering in the security code, phone still snug between your ear and your shoulder, when you hear Taehyung call out your name. 
He comes into view from the kitchen, which surprises you because you have, on multiple occasions, made fun of how much of a disaster chef he is, especially because he’s admitted to you he’s not a very good cook. 
“I made brownies,” he says, holding out a plate of the chocolate treats in front of you. Instinct has you dropping your bags on the floor by your feet and reaching out, but you eye him first, suspicious. 
“I have to go,” you tell Victoria, hanging up before she even gets a chance to object to your sudden departure. “You made these?”
“Yes, I did,” Taehyung says, rather proud. 
“And the kitchen is… still standing?” You ask, skeptical. 
Taehyung frowns at you, clearly unimpressed. “How bad of a chef do you think I am?”
“Pretty bad,” you admit with a shrug. 
Taehyung pouts sadly to himself for a moment. “These are good, I swear. Nothing weird in them like vegetables or anything either. I used a box mix.”
“No wonder they look so nice,” you comment snidely, hesitant hand reaching out to grab one. They feel like brownies. So that’s good. 
“Hey, I was the one who had to crack the eggs and shit. Three eggs! And not one eggshell in the bowl!” Taehyung says, clearly very pleased with himself. 
You laugh at his enthusiasm, taking a bite. It’s good. And exactly what you needed after a long day of shopping. “I’m proud of you. They taste good.”
“I knew you wouldn’t doubt me.” Taehyung grins.
“They’re really good, actually,” You amend, genuinely surprised. And the best part is that you can count at least ten brownies left on that plate, which means that you get at least five more. Which, if you had any less self-restraint, you would probably eat all at once within the day. 
“I’m glad you like them. They’re all for us, you know. No one else to share them with,” he says.
“Honestly, I’m probably going to finish them by tonight. You’ll have to make more tomorrow,” you say sheepishly. 
“We can make some together,” Taehyung suggests. 
“I’m looking forward to it,” you respond. The words come off your mouth easily, tumbling from your lips without you having to think about it. You aren’t saying them because you have to. You’re saying them because you want to. Because baking with Taehyung doesn’t actually sound too bad. Especially if it means more brownies. 
“You’ve, uh, you’ve got something,” Taehyung says, gesturing vaguely to the side of his lip. 
“Oh, I do? Yikes,” you say, a little embarrassed. Your hand comes up to wipe at the left side of your mouth. “Is it gone?”
“Wait, here, let me do it,” Taehyung says, reaching out towards you. He presses his palm against the side of your face, cradling your cheek and jaw in his enormous hands, and all at once it feels like your skin is on fire. 
Your body freezes up at the touch, at the way his thumb swipes at the corner of your mouth, right against your lips, wiping away nothing but a goddamn brownie crumb. You look at him, look right at him, how can you look anywhere else when he’s right in front of you like this, and it feels like you are caught in his gaze, a rain droplet trapped on a web, a bee stuck in its own honey. His big, brown eyes sparkle from the ceiling lights, a chocolate sky that mirrors the food he just made for you. He looks at you and his eyes are so soft, so open, so happy to be looking right back at you. God. 
“There,” he says, a moment too late. 
“Thanks,” you stammer out, speechless otherwise. 
You both stand there, looking at each other, wordless expressions drawn all over your faces, no idea what to do next. 
After a while, Taehyung breaks the silence. “Do you wanna order takeout tonight?”
“Okay,” you nod, still a little breathless. Taehyung smiles before retreating back to the kitchen, leaving you standing in the entranceway, shopping bags abandoned by your side. 
You look over to where he’s vanished. There’s a part of you that wishes he hadn’t left. A part of you that makes you want to see him again. 
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Phone calls from your mother are never good. The last time she called… well, you know how that went. So when you see her contact information light up your home screen, it’s only instinct that you feel your heart rate spike. 
“Hello?” The voice that comes out doesn’t even sound like yours. 
There’s no good way to put what comes next. Your grandmother has died. Heart attack. The paramedics got there too late. It was over before it even started. 
For a moment, for a split second, it feels like everything is frozen. Like the world has come to standstill. Your mother’s voice echoes in your ears, suspended in time, the words turning into stone as they crash onto the floor. And when they do, it is as if everything comes back to life. 
Truth be told, you don’t know how long you stay there, sitting on the edge of the left side of the bed, your phone resting lifelessly in the palm of your hand. It feels at once like an eternity and only a second in time. You spoke to your grandmother two days ago. You had promised that you and Taehyung would visit her soon. How can this be happening?
Your phone buzzes relentlessly in your hands, condolences pouring in from every person in your contacts, sorry’s and heart emoticons and If you need anything, I’m always here’s filling up your screen. There’s a part of you that vaguely registers your mother, alongside some of the other members of your family, trying to call you. But nothing can seem to shake you. 
“Y/N? You still up here?”
You hear Taehyung before you see him. Hear his voice, hear his footsteps, hear the door creak open as he enters your bedroom. Slowly, almost sluggishly, you twist around to look at him, the mere act knocking the wind out of you. Or maybe you were already breathless. 
“Hey, you alright?” Taehyung knows instantly that something is wrong. 
“My grandmother died.” The words sit heavy on your tongue. There’s no point in not telling him. He’ll find out soon enough. He’s… he’s family, isn’t he?
“What?” Taehyung freezes in place. “I—I’m so sorry to hear that, Y/N. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” you say, voice weak but steady. You blink up at him, once, twice, three times, and then suddenly you feel tears running down your cheeks. 
Taehyung doesn’t say anything else. He rushes to your side and sits himself down on the bed next to you, arms wrapping around your body. And you don’t think about the fact that it’s him, about the fact that this is the closest the two of you have ever been. You just let yourself be engulfed in his frame, let yourself be enveloped in his hold as the tears stream down your skin, little hiccups jolting your throat. You close your eyes and press yourself into his arms, head resting against his chest, and wish so desperately that so many things about your life were just a little bit different. 
It must be at least five minutes before either one of you dares to move. Your phone begins to rattle incessantly, that familiar and insistent buzz that the both of you are hard-pressed to ignore. 
“I think you should answer that,” Taehyung whispers into your skin, lips right by your forehead. 
“Yeah,” you sniffle, sitting up next to him and wiping the remnants of wetness by your eyes. Well, Taehyung’s seen you cry. There’s no going back now. “You’re probably right.” You look down at the phone. It’s your father. 
“I’ll be downstairs, okay? Unless you want me to stay,” he offers, looking hesitant. 
You shake your head. “No, it’s—it’s okay. I’ll be fine.”
“Call me if you need me,” he makes you give him a nod of understanding before he finally gets up, hands slowly removing themselves from your skin, leaving little sparks in their wake. Remnants of warmth. Suddenly, you feel much colder. Hardly a minute later he’s out of the room, and you can hear his distant footsteps as they make their way down the stairs. 
Sighing, blinking, and swallowing all at once, you pick up. 
The call passes by in a blur. Your father says the will will take at least half a year to be executed, but that the funeral is already being planned. Your grandmother had hoped you would eulogize her. You agree, but you have no idea what you will say. He says Taehyung is invited but does not need to come if he cannot make it. He says a lot of other things too, about your mother, about your cousins, about your aunts and uncles and your poor grandfather, who passed five years ago, but you can’t even remember them moments after he’s said them. 
When he hangs up, the tears on your cheeks have dried, patches of them left along your skin. You head to the bathroom, getting off your bed for the first time that day, and try to wash away everything that has stained the morning. A part of you doesn’t even want to bother, just wants to slug downstairs and eat as much sugary cereal as you can get your hands on, but you can’t go down there looking like this. Looking so helpless. 
By the time you reach the kitchen, Taehyung is already standing there, on the opposite side of the counter island, a big stack of pancakes in front of him. They look mouth-watering. 
“Hey,” he says softly. “Thought you might want something to cheer you up.”
“Did you make these?” You ask, a little endeared. That was thoughtful of him. 
“Yeah. They’re still warm,” Taehyung says. He holds out a fork. 
You grin. 
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The funeral is a week later. It sucks in every way that something can suck. But not in the same way your wedding sucked, or even the announcement of your engagement. It sucks because it’s a funeral, because you have to stare down your grandmother’s casket when a part of you still doesn’t even believe that she’s gone. Because everyone there is so sad, so melancholy, dressed in all black and looking down at their feet. Because everyone is so sorry for you, so sorry for your loss, everyone has nothing but condolences to offer you. What will those do? They won’t bring her back. They won’t change things. They won’t make you feel even the slightest bit better. 
Taehyung comes. He comes because he offers, and because you want him to. You want someone whose hand to hold. Want someone to smile at you when you’re speaking in front of your entire extended family and trying not to cry. You want someone who is familiar, and warm, and there for you. 
And most of all, you want someone who won’t keep the conversation going when you get home. 
“Do you wanna order Chinese?” He asks, coming into the living room, where you have been sulking on the couch ever since you stepped foot inside the door. 
“That sounds nice,” you force out. 
“Okay. Your usual?”
“Yes, please.” You don’t bother asking how Taehyung already remembers what you like to order when you’ve only gotten Chinese twice in the last three months. 
“I’ll call them.” He disappears off into the kitchen. 
What you do appreciate about Taehyung is how he has defaulted to food as a comfort measure, and how the thought alone genuinely brightens you up a little bit. You don’t know each other very well—still, after three months, you couldn’t even say his favorite color—but he is doing his best, and he is trying his hardest. In some ways, you were unlucky to marry him. To marry someone you didn’t love. To be forced into a union you had no say in, with someone you had so much antagonistic history with. 
But in some ways, your luck has changed. In some ways, marrying him was perhaps the best thing that could happen to you. Taehyung is snarky, a little devilish, and absolutely full of himself, but he is not thoughtless. He is not heartless. He has proven that he is willing to put in the work. That he can grow to care. To change. To compromise. And isn’t that the luckiest thing you could have gotten?
“I’m sure you’re probably sick of hearing people tell you they’re sorry for your loss.”
His voice breaks your reverie, carrying throughout the wide open space of your living room. He’s grinning honestly where he stands, slowly making his way over to you. 
“Kind of, yeah,” you admit. “It’s not going to bring her back. Most of those people probably don’t even mean it.”
“Don’t say that,” Taehyung says, sitting down next to you. “I’m sure they do.”
You look at him skeptically. 
“I mean, they’re sorry for your loss because that loss is causing you pain. And that sucks,” Taehyung explains, albeit a little less eloquently than you thought he would. “I know it sucks for me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t like seeing you sad,” Taehyung says honestly, shrugging to himself. 
You scoff a little to yourself. “I would have thought my downfall would be the exact thing the great Kim Taehyung would wish for himself.”
“Maybe a couple of years ago.”
You narrow your eyes. 
“Okay, maybe even a few months ago,” Taehyung admits with a laugh, making you smile, ever so slightly. “But it’s different now. I like it when you’re happy. When you’re snarky and funny and a little evil. Seeing you like this… I don’t like the way it makes me feel.”
“That’s called empathy,” you point out. 
“I’m trying to tell you that seeing you sad makes me sad, stop being a smartass,” Taehyung chides, and that really makes you grin. “There. There’s that smile I was looking for.”
“You’re so annoying,” you say, even though there’s no malice behind it. You give him a little push, palms of your hand pressing lightly against his shoulder as you roll your eyes. 
“Only for you,” he promises. He manages to grab a hold of your wrist as your hand meets his torso, pulling you into him as he wraps an arm around your torso. You gasp a little at the sensation, head falling against his body, fitting snugly in the crook of his neck. He gives your side a comforting rub. “I’m sorry today was so shitty.”
“It was,” you agree. “But Chinese food will make it a little bit better.”
Taehyung looks positively scandalized. “What? ‘Chinese food will make it better’? But not your loving, doting husband?” 
You pretend to think for a little bit, tilting your head up to the sky as you tap your chin with your finger. “Okay. Maybe that, too,” you cave after a bit of waiting, just to be extra bothersome. 
“That’s what I thought,” Taehyung says proudly, looking down at you, eyes sparkling. You can feel his grip tighten as he presses you against his body, letting you rest your head on his side. It feels like the longest hug ever, like you’re wrapped up in a weighted blanket. Only it’s not a blanket. It’s Taehyung. It’s your husband. 
He’s your husband.
“Tomorrow will be better,” he says, and it sounds a lot like a promise. 
You nod against him, letting your eyes drift shut. Things are pretty awful right now. Your grandmother’s dead. The funeral was the saddest family event you have ever attended. You have no idea what’s supposed to happen next. 
But he’s right. He seems to be right a lot these days, actually. 
Tomorrow will be better.
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Taehyung lets you sleep in for the next few days. Next several days, actually. Every time you wake up it’s close to noon and your husband is nowhere to be seen, the right side of the bed cold to the touch. It’s nothing to be worried about, though, because you can still see the noticeable dip in the bed from where he lies upon it, sinking his weight into the mattress. Taehyung’s an early bird and you’ve been having fitful nights ever since your grandmother passed. 
Today, you pull yourself out from underneath the covers around noon, sluggish and still tired, squinting as the near-afternoon light streams through the enormous windows of the bedroom. Taehyung must have thought to keep the curtains open today. 
You pull on the first casual clothes you see in your shared closet, some wide-leg sweatpants and a drapey t-shirt, and trudge downstairs like a raccoon to a trash can, hoping to fish through the kitchen cabinets to find something to eat. 
Taehyung is, as far as you can tell, nowhere to be seen. You can’t seem to hear him anywhere, and a part of you wonders where he’s at when you stumble upon the note left on the granite counter. 
Had a meeting downtown, be back around 1! There should be smoked salmon and some cream cheese and bagels in the fridge. 
You chuckle to yourself as you read his flowy handwriting, amused that he thought to let you know of, of all things, the available breakfast foods in the kitchen. You check the clock. It’s nearly noon. Which means you have just over an hour of the house all to yourself. 
Having the house to yourself for five minutes is infrequent enough as it is, let alone for a whole hour. So often is Taehyung around, somewhere, holing himself up in one of the dozens of rooms or mindlessly wandering down the hallways. And for how much Taehyung is present, the funny part is that you still have no idea what he gets up to most of the time. Despite your voluntary abandoning of the separate bedroom rule, the two of you are still firm proponents of the sanctity of your personal spaces. There are rooms in the penthouse Taehyung has never been in, rooms filled with your clothes and makeup and accessories for when stylists come over before an event. A sewing room that you had specifically asked your parents for, because a part of you never let go of that childhood dream of being a fashion designer. 
And there are rooms in the penthouse that you have never been in. Rooms with dark wooden doors that have always been kept closed, that you have never stepped foot in. It’s not that you aren’t curious as to what Taehyung gets up to. He could have a goddamn evil lair in one of those rooms and you would be none the wiser. But you don’t go, because he doesn’t go into your rooms. Because you two, despite all the vows you have broken, promised each other you wouldn’t.
An hour to yourself is almost a good enough excuse for you to head back up to the bedroom and take a nap. Not that you don’t get enough sleep on a regular basis, or that you even had a fitful night last night—hell, you woke up near noon today and already you want to go back to sleep—but what else is there to do when he’s not around? What new freedoms have suddenly been given to you?
You head back upstairs, much less groggy after that delicious bagel of yours, when you catch a whiff of what smells like wet paint coming from down the hallway. It’s potent and immediately invades your senses, prompting you to wonder if that has always been there, or just magically appeared. Maybe you were so sleepy earlier, you didn’t notice it. 
Well, you notice it now. Unable to help yourself, you start to wander down the hallway, towards the source of the smell. God, it stinks. It takes you back to those days in middle school, when you would spray paint projects inside a tiny little classroom, have to step outside for fifteen minutes while you cracked the windows and aired it out. It gets stronger the further down the corridor you go, like a thick, smelly cloud stationed firmly within the walls of the penthouse. And then you realize where it’s coming from. 
It’s an art studio. 
A very messy art studio, you amend to yourself, as you peek inside. The door is wide open, and all of the windows are popped too, but the extra air circulation doesn’t seem to have made a dent in the scent. And all over the floor, the walls, and the tables are canvases covered in paint, denim jackets and pants and shirts with these wide, unafraid brushstrokes. Open cans of spray paint lie discarded on the hardwood floor stained with splotches of red, yellow, and green. 
Is this what Taehyung does in his free time? Is this where he goes, this bright, sunny room at the end of the second floor hallway? Is this what he is making?
You look down in awe at the clothes resting on the floor, splayed out to maximize dry time. Abstract faces, landscapes, and words are painted onto the backs of jackets, the fronts of old white t-shirts. What hasn’t made it onto the clothes has been put on canvases instead, blurs of color mixed together in this purposeful pattern, confidence emanating from every stroke, every dot. It’s not art in the way that the gorgeous landscapes of Monet, the picture-perfect portraits of Kahlo, the messy, unplanned splatters of Pollock are. It’s art in a different way. In a Taehyung way. 
Who knew he loved it so much? 
You almost feel like an invader encroaching on his territory when you lean down to start cleaning up some of the mess, throwing out empty spray-paint cans and tossing out grey paint water. You don’t dare touch any of the work, don’t dare try to move it. You do what you can, washing out the brushes resting in the water and cleaning up the wet splotches of paint on the hardwood. Over time, the thick scent of still-wet paint slowly fades, disappearing out the window as the fresh afternoon air seeps in. And you stand there, in a room full of art, in a room full of pieces that Taehyung has undoubtedly poured his heart into creating, and you smile to yourself. 
That’s how Taehyung finds you ten minutes later, peering into the room after declaring that his meeting had ended early. 
“Thought I’d find you in here,” Taehyung says with a grin as you jump at the sound of his voice, eyes widen when you turn around to see him standing by the door. 
“Oh, hey,” you say sheepishly. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Maybe because this is the farthest room in the house from the front door,” Taehyung teases lightly, coming up behind you. “I see you found my studio.”
“I know I’m not allowed in here,” you admit. 
Taehyung scoffs. “Who says?”
“Didn’t we both agree on that?”
He shrugs. “Sort of. I think we just reached an unspoken understanding we wouldn’t invade each other’s personal space. But it was not in the fine print, no.”
“The fine print of what?”
“That deal we made.”
Right. That deal you made, four months ago, That deal, where the two of you agreed to pretend to be in love with each other during public appearances so you wouldn’t get burned at the stake by your families. Where the two of you agreed not to interact with each other otherwise because you hated each other so much. 
“Oh, yeah,” you say distantly, feeling naive for already forgetting about it. It doesn’t seem to have slipped Taehyung’s mind whatsoever. 
“It’s okay, I don’t mind that you’re up here,” Taehyung says, interrupting that piercing little voice in the back of your head that is asking you why on earth you forgot about that deal in the first place.
“Yeah, I—” You scratch at the nape of your neck, trying to find the words to say. “It just smelled like paint, so I wanted to see what you get up too. And it’s this, apparently.” You motion vaguely to the entire room.
“You sound… surprised,” Taehyung muses correctly. 
“I guess I am,” you surmise. “I’m rather impressed, too, actually.”
“Really?” It’s Taehyung’s turn to sound surprised. 
“Yeah,” you tell him honestly, looking into his eyes. “I—you know, I just came in here because the entire hallway smelled like wet paint and I wanted to know why. But I didn’t know you loved art so much.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Taehyung points out. 
You suppose that’s true. You don’t know his favorite color. His favorite song. His favorite book. For a long time, you didn’t know what he got up to on his side of the penthouse. You don’t know how he met his friends. What he studied in university. Who he has loved in the past. Who he loves now. You don’t know why he does the things he does, and why he doesn’t do the things he doesn’t do. 
But you do know his Chinese takeout order. 
And you do know his hobbies. Well, one of them, at least. 
Who’s to say you can’t learn more?
“Well,” you start with a smile. “I’m your wife, aren’t I? Shouldn’t I begin to learn?”
Taehyung picks up what you’re putting down instantly, grinning in response. “Only if you’ll tell me things about you, too,” he requisitions. 
“I will,” you promise. It’s the easiest one you’ve ever had to make. 
His face is light, bright, bathed in the rays of the afternoon sun. His eyes shimmer as they meet yours, golden flecks more pronounced like this, in this gorgeous, open space, daylight streaming through the windows. Looking at him makes you feel like you are surrounded by warmth, makes you feel like the sun is opening its arms out to you. He has always been gorgeous. Beautiful. But looking at him like this, standing in the middle of a room filled with all the things he loves, a yellow halo surrounding him—he is ethereal. 
Taehyung smiles. “Then I will, too.”
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The hand-holding comes naturally tonight.
The funny thing is, actually, you don’t need to hold hands at this gathering. It’s not an event. Or a public appearance. It’s not even a business dinner. It’s your aunt’s sixtieth birthday party, reserved exclusively for family. Isn’t that strange? That Taehyung is, technically, family now?
For so long you had vowed to stay as far away from him as possible. Vowed to stick it to him whenever and wherever you could, do anything you could to get on his nerves, rile him up. Vowed that when you, one day, took over your family affairs, you would never, ever invite him. Make it known that he wasn’t to be a part of your life. And yet, here you are. Clinging to him despite being well-acquainted with—loved by, even—every other person in the room. Holding his hand like a goddamn lifeline. 
To be fair, Taehyung doesn’t look a hair out of place here. Dressed relatively casually, a smart sweater with a collared shirt underneath it, he smiles warmly at all of your relatives and presents your aunt with a beautiful and very expensive scarf the two of you had commissioned from a designer in Italy, which she absolutely loves. She pinches his cheek and proceeds to wear it for the rest of the night. 
“Damn,” you murmur to yourself as you wander around your aunt’s house, hand wrapped around his arm. “This place hasn’t changed a bit.”
“When was the last time you were here?” Taehyung asks. 
The question actually makes you think for a moment. “I don’t know, maybe five years ago? Last couple of birthdays I was overseas or in school. Had to send her a card.”
“Bet your parents were real pleased with that,” he jokes, making you both laugh. At least you two will always be able to share your experiences of domineering and influential parents with each other. 
“Oh, I’m sure. Just as pleased as they were when they realized how much we hated each other.” You expect that little jest to elicit a laugh out of Taehyung as well, but he just smiles tightly, huffing out a breath of acknowledgement. 
“Eh, it’s not like that now, is it?” He offers up. 
“I suppose not,” you muse, sitting down together on her ancient grandma couch in the living room. No matter how rich your family gets, she’ll never get rid of this thing, that’s for sure. 
One thing you’ve picked up over time is that, for every second Taehyung spends basking in the spotlight, he spends an equal amount of time lingering by the wall, watching the rest of the world turn without him. He’s an observer. He is one by nature, feeling an irresistible pull to understand humans in a way only artists could ever do. He sits down next to you and watches your family in an environment where they can relax, where they can feel comfortable and be casual with one another. 
Very seldom have you ever brought friends to events like these. Small family affairs. But Taehyung isn’t a friend, is he? No, he’s your husband. He belongs here just as much as you do. 
“My family seems to really like you,” you point out. Not that anybody has ever harbored as much disdain for him as you. Your parents called him respectable and polite when they told you you were to be wed. Your grandmother had said he was a dashing young man. He doesn’t exactly have to reach far to be loved around here. 
“That’s my job, isn’t it?” He replies snidely. 
“Oh, just take the compliment,” you say with a roll of your eyes. Taehyung always has to be so difficult. “I’m surprised you aren’t nervous as hell. Last boyfriend I brought to meet my parents was shaking in his Louis Vuitton shoes.”
“Last boyfriend, huh?” Taehyung’s interest has been sufficiently piqued. “And, uh, how many of those have you had?”
You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously, smile twitching on your lips. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Mr. Heartbreaker.” Pretty rich of Taehyung to be asking you such a question when he’s probably had more girlfriends than you can count on both hands. “Not as many as you’ve had girlfriends, that’s for sure.”
“Guess I’m a lot different than all those trashy guys you’ve dated, aren’t I?” He asks, an eyebrow raised as he looks at you. 
“You are?”
Taehyung nods assertively. “Well, yeah. First of all, I’m your husband. Second of all, your parents love me. Third of all, you love me, too.”
You scoff. “Don’t humble yourself. You don’t know me that well.”
“Speaking of which,” Taehyung says, eyes wide as he points to you knowingly, “how about you tell me a little fact about yourself? It’s my job to learn about you, isn’t it?”
“That is my line, watch it,” you sneer, pointing back at him. You wrack your brain for a fact that you can tell him, something more exciting than your favorite color but less weird than one of those terrible icebreaker exercises you had to do in college seminars. Something that has pertinence to who you are. Who you’ve become. “Alright. I used to want to be a fashion designer when I was little.”
Now that catches Taehyung off guard. “Really?” He says, genuinely intrigued. 
You shrug. “Yeah. I learned to sew when I was really little. Been tailoring and hemming clothes all my life. But I always wanted to design my own stuff.”
“Is that what’s in your room?” Taehyung asks. “A sewing machine?”
“Wow,” Taehyung says. “I didn’t know that.”
“Isn’t that the whole point of this exercise?” You say, just to be smart. 
Taehyung shakes his head, eyes rolling. 
“What about you?” You ask. You can’t imagine what he’ll say. Astronaut. Veterinarian. Or, if he really wants to surprise you, a business executive. 
“A museum curator.”
It is an answer that simultaneously surprises and doesn’t surprise you at all. 
“Fitting,” you muse. “You could have put your own art on display.”
“Pretty sure that’s, like, super unethical,” Taehyung reminds you. 
“So? You’re rich. Start your own museum. Put your own art on display. Live your dream,” you amend. “It shouldn’t be holed up in that studio of yours forever. It deserves to be seen.”
Taehyung smiles at you. “You think so?”
You nod. “Of course. You create beautiful things, Tae.” It’s the first time you’ve ever called him that. And that is not lost on Taehyung, either.
“Thank you,” he says softly, blinking as he looks at you. He doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t need to.
Later that night, when everyone’s gotten a few drinks into their systems and Bruce Springsteen is playing low on the stereo, Taehyung disappears off towards the bathroom, no doubt because of the excellent soup that was served that night. All by your lonesome, you feel a little stranded, surrounded by your old relatives dancing on the hardwood floor of the dining room, your other cousins too young to actually spend time with. 
In the commotion, your mother comes up to you, swirling a rather large glass of red wine in her hand. 
“Where’s Taehyung?” She asks. 
“No wonder you were alone,” she says with a hearty laugh. “The two of you have been glued to each other’s sides all evening.”
“He’s my husband,” you offer as an explanation. 
“I know, I know,” she says, shaking you off with a smile. Your mother is a lot more casual once she’s had her fill of wine, no doubt her favorite, Bordeaux. A lot more loving, too. “You really made your grandmother proud, you know? She loved you so much.”
“I know,” you say, trying not to get choked up at the mere mention of your grandmother. 
“She was so happy to see you with Taehyung. It made her feel safe that you would be taken care of,” she continues on, barely paying you and your swimming eyes any attention. “She would be so happy to see you with him now, too. How much you love her.”
“I miss her,” you hiccup out, trying to compose yourself. Nothing kills a birthday party like some sad sack crying over her deceased grandmother. 
“I know, darling,” your mother says, calling you by a nickname she has hardly used ever since you turned eighteen. She squeezes you tightly, a small hug of comfort. “I miss her, too.”
Someone calls your mother’s name, distracting her as she wanders off to your uncle, who is asking what the best way to cut the three-tiered cake on the dining room table is. She bids you a goodbye before disappearing towards the kitchen, no doubt ready to make the cutting of the cake an affair all on its own. 
Taehyung comes back soon after, spotting you instantly as you stand around in the living room. 
“Hey,” he says, noticing the wet shimmer of your eyes. “You alright?”
You nod, feeling better already now that he has returned. Now that he is by your side. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“I hope those tears aren’t because you missed me,” he says, wiping away a stray one that has escaped from your eyes. You close them as his thumb brushes against your upper cheek, your eyelashes, opening them only when you’ve felt his touch vanish from your skin, leaving little sparks in their wake. 
“No,” you say. But the night makes you honest, and a couple of drinks, even more so. “But I’m glad you’re here.”
Taehyung smiles. “Me, too.”
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For all those days you have spent together, never have you and Taehyung had a night in. Which isn’t necessarily completely surprising, considering how many evening events the two of you have had obligations to attend, considering your differing work schedules and meeting times. Considering that, for a very long time, the two of you had no desire to spend any time with each other at all. 
But tonight, there is nothing on your calendar. No galas, no dinners, no meetings, no schedules. There is only Taehyung, who has spent the entire afternoon up in his studio, inhaling spray paint fumes and doing what he loves. And there is only you, who has spent the entire afternoon wondering what the hell you’re going to do tonight when there is nothing else planned. 
You knock on the door to his studio, catching him right as he’s finishing up another piece. This one is a single flower, painted in broad, confident strokes, bright green and red and sunflower yellow decorating the canvas. 
“Hey, what’s up?” He asks, turning around to face you. 
“Wanna order takeout tonight?” You suggest. 
Taehyung grins. 
Thirty minutes and your favorite Chinese food later, you and Taehyung have settled onto the couch, trays of dumplings and noodles and rice in front of you, an unfunny movie playing in the background. 
You can’t remember the last time the two of you sat on this couch together. Maybe that night you had made the deal? Perhaps not even then. It wouldn’t at all surprise you if you found out that this was the very first time you and Taehyung have sat together on your couch, in your living room, in your house. So often is it occupied by others—Victoria, who sometimes comes over to ooh and ahh at your closet, Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok, who sit on this couch and play FIFA like it’s their job, your mother, when she wants to make herself at home in a place that doesn’t belong to her—but never you. Never you and him. 
“This is kinda nice, isn’t it?” You ask, swallowing a bite of dumpling. 
“Chinese food is always nice,” Taehyung responds over a mouthful of cold noodles. 
“Not that,” you say with a sigh, “this. Sitting together. Watching this shitty movie.”
“It’s not that shitty,” Taehyung tries to reason. On screen, the main character is getting pied in the face during some weird college fundraiser. “Okay, it’s a little shitty. But it’s good background noise, right?”
You nod halfheartedly. “I guess.” Silence. You take another bite of your dumpling, not really sure how to continue the conversation. “We don’t really get to do this a lot, you know? Sit and eat dinner and watch a movie together. Like a date.”
“We’re on a date now, are we?” Taehyung muses, eyeing you snarkily. 
“Isn’t that what this is?” You retort. 
He shrugs. “I suppose it is.”
“Tell me another fact about you,” you request, looking over to him where he sits on the opposite side of the couch. 
“About what?”
Taehyung pauses, ponders for a moment. But he could never say anything wrong. Not when there is still so much you don’t know about him. Still so much you want to learn, so much you want to commit to memory. For so long you have stared at the planes of his face, the curve of his nose, the twinkle in those dark brown eyes. Those you will always remember. But what about who he is? What he loves? Those are things you still don’t know. 
“The very first time I met you,” Taehyung begins, “I asked Jimin what your name was.”
“When was that?” You ask. Despite you being someone who has spent the better part of the last several years vowing never to give Taehyung the time of day, you sure don’t remember when it all started. 
“That debutante ball,” Taehyung remembers fondly, “when we were fifteen. I asked Jimin what your name was because I wanted to ask you to dance.”
“Shut up, no you didn’t,” you say with a scoff. 
“It’s true. You were standing there in that poofy white dress and I wanted to ask you to dance,” Taehyung points out. The fact that he even remembers what you were wearing is shocking. 
Who knew. Who knew, back then, that you would one day grow up to marry him. 
“And what did I say?” You demand more. 
Taehyung laughs at the memory. “I came up to you, and I asked you if you wanted to dance, and you said, and I quote, ‘Who are you?’”
“No,” you say, aghast at your own behavior. Were those really the first words you ever said to KIm Taehyung?
“You did. Don’t you remember?”
You think back. Think back to every year you have ever known Taehyung, every year you have spent scowling at him from across ballroom floors, making some snide remark as you pass by each other in the hallway. Every year you have spent cursing his existence, willing him away from you so he could bother someone else. Every year you have listened to rumor after rumor of girlfriend after girlfriend. You think back and somewhere, somewhere in there, in those dusty corners of your brain and cobwebbed boxes of your heart, is that first memory of Taehyung, too. 
Of him standing there in some generic black suit, black hair swept over his forehead, shoes too big. Of him coming up to you, trying to be as suave as a fifteen year old could be. Of you saying to him, instead of a hello, or even a what’s your name, “who are you?” 
Of him saying—
“And you said, ‘your dream come true’.” Like a dam bursting open, the memories flood back to you all at once. “I remember that.”
Taehyung laughs out loud at the thought of him saying something so cheesy. “Unsurprisingly, you didn’t want to dance with me.”
“You were so—” you begin, but you don’t have the words. Don’t have the words to express how you felt about him that night. Don’t have the words to express how you feel about him now. Thinking about this, talking about it, it is a bridge. A bridge between what was then and what is now. A bridge between who Taehyung was and who you were and who Taehyung is and who you are. “—so unthinkable. I couldn’t believe you had come up to me and said that. I couldn’t believe you had the audacity. But something about that night made me remember you. Made me remember your name.”
“You thought about me after that?” Taehyung asks. “Is that what you’re telling me?”
“There is something about you that is unforgettable,” you say, honest and real and true. What else can you tell him? The truth is that you have always thought about him. Whether you liked him or not. 
You finish your dinner and place your trays on the end tables next to you, stacking your empty bowls and plates on top of one another as the movie rumbles on in the background. 
“It is kind of a shitty movie,” Taehyung admits after a while of being wholly unenthused. 
“Yeah,” you agree. “But it’s good background noise.”
Taehyung laughs at your little mockery, warm and deep and from his belly. You look at him. He feels so far away, on the other side of the couch. Feels like he’s miles apart from you. You have spent countless nights clinging to his harm, hand gripped tight in his. And sitting like this, a full couch cushion of space between the two of you—it isn’t enough anymore. So you inch closer. 
And closer. 
And a little closer. 
Until you’re pressed up against his side, legs touching as they rest neatly in front of you, backs stick straight as you stare at the television. 
Taehyung holds his arm up. An open invitation. 
Without asking, you lean into him, resting your head in the crook of his shoulder, in the space right underneath his jaw. You pull your feet up onto the couch and curl into his frame, pressing yourself against him. He is warm and firm and inescapable. He smells of coffee and paint and Chinese spices. He wraps his arm around you and pulls you in, as if there were any other place you’d rather be. 
You sit like that for a while. Wrapped up in each other. Lazing around on the couch as the stars twinkle above your head. The movie ends and the two of you don’t even bother skipping the credits, letting them and the cheesy 80’s pop song play on, a distant soundtrack. 
“I never thought any of this would happen,” you breathe out. 
Taehyung looks down at you curiously. “What? This?”
“All of it,” you admit. “Us. Getting married. That stupid tabloid picture. My grandmother. This. It’s all so new.”
“New things will happen all the time,” Taehyung muses aloud. “We can’t help when things change.”
“You don’t have any regrets?” You have plenty. Regrets that you’ll never become the CEO you wanted to be in college. Regrets that you’ll never become the fashion designer you wanted to be as a little girl. Regrets that you will come to resent this marriage, resent Taehyung more than you have in years past, all because you had no choice. Regrets that your grandmother couldn’t see you now. Regrets that there were so many things in your life you could have changed, but didn’t.
“I thought I did,” Taehyung tells you. “I wanted to spend more time with my friends. I wanted to major in art in college. I didn’t want to marry you. I know you didn’t want to marry me.” He looks down and you look up at the same time, eyes locking, inches apart. “But looking back on it, I’m happy where I am. With what I have.”
“I never thought it could ever be like this,” you say, words falling off your tongue before you even ask them to.
There’s no need to elaborate. Taehyung understands. He understands that, half a year ago, you both would have thrown yourselves into a volcano before holding hands with each other. He understands that getting over your hatred for each other seemed like an absolutely insurmountable task. He understands that you had never wanted to marry each other, that you couldn’t believe you would have to spend the rest of your lives with each other. 
And he understands that now, things are different. 
“I’m glad things happened the way they did,” Taehyung begins. “I’m grateful for us.”
You press yourself impossibly closer to him, feel his grip tighten around you. Like this, you can hear his heartbeat. Hear it thump like a drum, steady and firm and unwavering. His heart beats against his chest and you wonder. 
You wonder if he can hear the way yours beats for him, too.
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There were lots of things that made your night in together special. But one of them is the glaring fact that you don’t get them very often. That their infrequency makes them all the more valuable. 
This has become blatantly obvious to you, because right now you are not spending a night in together. Right now you are stuck at a gala that you have to attend for the sake of business, drinking thin flutes of champagne and mingling with people you barely speak to. 
The one good thing about nights like these is that Taehyung looks positively gorgeous in suits. He sort of always has, but you’d never admit that to his face. At least not until now. And as his wife, you are lucky enough to have a front-row seat. 
“I can feel you staring at me all the way from over here,” Taehyung deadpans as he helps himself to a chocolate-covered strawberry from the buffet table. 
You’re too obvious to have any shame about it. “What can I say, I like the view.”
“Hard to believe I was the once the one being shouted at for being inappropriate in public,” Taehyung says with a shake of his head. He bites into the strawberry and eats it all in a single go, tossing the stems into a bin nearby as you join back up in the heart of the crowd. 
“It’s only inappropriate if other people hear,” you tease, letting him guide you, hand intertwined with yours, towards an empty corner where the two of you can snuggle up to one another in (relative) peace. 
“I don’t think the champagne was very good for your filter, Miss Y/N,” Taehyung hisses into your ear, warm breath tickling your skin. 
“Don’t you mean Mrs. Kim?” You pose, an eyebrow raised. 
That seems to do something to Taehyung. It’s not very bright in here, with it being nighttime and all, but even still you can see the way his eyes darken. See the way his lips curl upwards, feel the way his grip on you tightens. It sparks something within you. Something deep in the pit of your belly. 
Something that makes you want more. 
You test the waters. “Mrs. Kim has a nice ring to it, don’t you think, Tae?”
Taehyung looks about a moment away from losing control. But instead of slamming you against the wall in front of all of these people and giving you what you really want, he growls out, low and powerful, “Home. Now.”
He doesn’t need to tell you twice. 
You hail your car outside of the venue and it’s all the both of you can do to not jump on each other right then and there, in the backseat of this giant black van, overcome with want, with need, with everything in between. Taehyung’s leg bounces impatiently the entire ride back, and the feeling of your hand pressed against his doesn’t seem to be calming him down. He pulls you close to him in the backseat of the car, a hand resting on your thigh. You eye him carefully, as if challenging him to be any more daring. He grins. 
Home cannot come soon enough. The two of you tumble out of the backseat and into the elevators, where you mash the top floor button after entering in the security access code, desperate and shameless. The ride seems to take hours, and the heat that surrounds you practically smothers you, covers you, fills up your lungs and chokes you. 
There is nothing left by the time you reach your door. The moment it slams shut behind you Taehyung presses you up against the back of it, pins you against the wood as he hovers over you, eyes tracing your lips. 
“Tell me something,” he demands. 
“A fact. Something I don’t know.”
It doesn’t take much thinking. “I want you,” you breathe out, watch it hit his skin, watch the way his eyes glint in the light of the entranceway. “Please, Tae. I want you.”
It’s enough for him. 
This is not the first time you and Taehyung have kissed. The first time was nearly five months ago, in a chapel, at an altar, surrounded by hundreds of people. It was so unfun that you seem to have eradicated the mere thought from your memory. But you remember that feeling from that day. That feeling you got when you pressed your lips against his, cemented your marriage with a kiss. That heat. That sting. 
Kissing him now—that feeling has returned tenfold. When his lips meet yours, it feels like fire is rushing through your veins, setting alight every nerve it passes, unforgiving and relentless. His enormous hands come up to cup your jaw, fingers pressing against the skin of your cheeks as they pull you close to him, keep you trapped in his hold. This is not the first time you and Taehyung have kissed but it feels like it is—it feels like there is a lotus blooming on a lilypad in your heart, it feels like you have been struck by lightning, it feels like nothing else you have ever felt before. It feels brand new. 
Pressing back against him, he slowly releases you from the cage he has created against the door, spinning around so the two of you can tumble up the stairs and into your bedroom, unable to resist sneaking in pecks here and there as you make your way upstairs. Every step you take you stop, giggle as he presses you against the railing just so he can steal another kiss from you, put his hands all over your body. It’s a wonder the two of you even make it into your bedroom at all. 
When you do, however, all bets are off. Taehyung presses you against the still-made bedsheets with a glint in his eye and a growl on his lips, pupils blown wide as he stares down at you, at your body.
"Aren't you a sight? Laid out so pretty for me," he purrs, robbing a breath from you.
It's a tone you have yet to hear from him. You find yourself growing impossibly hot under his stare, burning with an uncharted desire.
You can hardly wrap your brain around it. Here you are, craving the man you had spent the better half of your young adult life loathing. Maybe it’s the champagne; maybe it’s the way his fingers are running slowly up the length of your clothed torso. Whatever it is, your stomach does flips, unfamiliar to the way your body preens under his touch.
"Don't let it go to your head," you tease, simply because you could.
Taehyung hums disapprovingly, pressing kisses into your neck as he grabs one of your thighs and wraps it around his waist, riding your dress up in the process.
You sigh, exposing your neck further for him as he paints bruises into your neck. It feels like just yesterday you had called him out at the altar for his habit of sporting the very same marks you were soon to wear.
Perhaps you should have thought twice about letting the man you had married purely under business pretenses press his hips against your clothed center, but as he rolls his into yours, your mind falls blank, silencing any and all reservations you should have.
Whimpering, you beckon his mouth back onto yours, tongue meeting his wantonly. 
You feel his fingers creep up the outside of your bare thigh, thrilling you in the most primal way. Reaching the band of your underwear after what felt like entirely too long, he runs the pad of his thumb against the lacy fabric.
 You could scream. He is doing this on purpose. He must be. Surely he knows how badly you were aching for him? For him to fill you– whatever the manner may be.
You let out a whine before you can help yourself, frowning as Taehyung looks pleased with himself, confirming his knowledge of your prolonged pleasure.
"What's that? Did you say something?" he mocks, looking cruel and yet strikingly gorgeous as he smirks above you.
"God, you're irritating,” you huff, hips jerking up against his as he pulls at the band of your underwear, the elastic snapping back into the flesh of your hip. "Just fuck me already."
He tuts, clearly unimpressed by your impatience, "Now, where is the fun in that?"
Your eyes flutter shut as his fingers suddenly snake their way between your thighs. Mouth falling ajar, you grip his shoulders as he runs his middle finger against your clothed slit, trailing up and down your warmth. To think he was still dressed while he was touching you like this...
"No... I think I'll take my time with you," he says.
You mew against his hand, arousal forming against his long digits' ministrations. You have to hand it to him. Taehyung knows what he’s doing. The life of a bachelor has seemingly served him well.
You aren’t usually vocal in bed, but the way he’s purring words of filth to you, breath hot against the shell of your ear as he tells you how hot and slick your pretty pussy felt against his hand, has you gasping and sputtering, your own fingers wrapping around his wrist.
The fabric of your panties provides a friction that toys the line of pleasure and pain, making you thrust up to meet his motions, your humility slipping from you.
Taehyung watches you intently, cock growing hard under the constraints of his dress pants. You look better than he could've imagined, eyes watering and body shivering under his touch, his fingers soaking with your arousal. He can only imagine what you'd feel like with his fingers fully buried into you, rocking them against your velvety walls.
He lets out a groan of his own, turned on by the idea of you fucking yourself onto his fingers, whimpering out his name in ecstasy.
There’s this part of you that faintly recognizes that Taehyung has done this plenty of times before. Plenty of times with plenty of other lovers. But there is a different part of you, that part that bursts with light and hope, that reminds you that he was never married to those other ones. That his allegiance lies with you. And that thought, knowing that deep within you, he is yours, makes your jaw fall slack, pretty noises tumbling from your lips and your thighs clamping around him.
You were close, closer than you care to admit. Every touch against you is careful yet deliberate as he reads the signs of your body, the way it keens and arches into him, offering you words of encouragement as your climax finally hits.
"That's right. Good girl. Let go for me," Taehyung coos, eyes dark and focused on your writhing form.
You cry out into the familiar space of your shared room, head thrown back as you ride out the high, letting it wrack your body, send jolts throughout your veins.
You barely have time to catch your breath when he presses his mouth back onto yours, kiss still as eager as it was when you both first entered your home. You are alight with satisfaction as he pulls away to press a trail of kisses against your jaw.
"I want—f-fuck," you stutter as he finds your already hypersensitive clit once more, rolling his thumb over your now soaked panties in tantalizing circles, "want to make you feel good, too."
Admittedly, this fantasy had crossed your mind once or twice, brought on by the way he carried himself in a suit and the way his large fingers wrapped around the champagne glass; confident, collected, and entirely charming. Who are you to shy away from a man like him? He certainly has always been rather good-looking. 
He pauses his motions, pulling his hand back to sit on your waist. Your dress is of the finest, most delicate satin, and after tonight's activities, completely wrinkled. You can almost hear your stylist's cries of dismay. Whatever. You have a steamer. And why focus on the dress when it’s obvious the two of you are focused on what lies underneath it?
"Yeah." You nod, skin still burning from your past climax.
Helping you back up, Taehyung stands. You lick your lips as you sit back up on the edge of the bed, watching intently as he unbuckles his belt, audibly hissing as his pants fall to his ankles, cock visibly straining against the fabric of his underwear. Thank God you don’t have to stand. With the way your thighs still felt weak and how your husband looks like a goddamn Adonis towering above you? Your legs surely would give out underneath you if you rose.
Brows furrowed, Taehyung palms over himself briefly before pulling down the waistband of his underwear, his painfully hard member slapping against his torso.
Your eyes widened on instinct. While the last thing you wanted to do was help inflate Taehyung's already large ego, you were certainly impressed at his size; thick and girthy, his tip red and shining with precum.
He couldn't help but smirk, thoroughly pleased by the way you stared at him unabashedly, chest rising and falling heavily.
"Open up for me," he orders.
And who are you to deny a request from your dear husband?
Your pretty lips wrap themselves around his engorged tip, all remnants of lipstick long gone by now. Taehyung hisses, a hand finding the side of your jaw as you run your tongue against the underside of his cock.
"Fuck, you're so pretty," he grunts, fighting off the urge to grip the back of your head and fuck your throat. As much as he'd love your have you choking and drooling all over his cock – and boy would he – he lets you set your own pace, not wanting to overwhelm you.
It doesn't take long for you to sink your mouth further down, however, clearly set on making Taehyung feel as good as you could.
A low moan erupts from his throat, digits pressing into your jaw in request to take more of him in, which you happily oblige.
You had your eyes trained on him, completely obsessed with the way he panted through pink lips, hissing slightly every time your tongue rolled over his sensitive tip.
Lolling his head to a side, his eyes meet yours, gaze primal and wolfish as he watches the way you worked his cock.
"Doing so good, love. Doing so fucking good for me,” he murmurs.
You hum against his skin at the sound of the sudden pet name, an unfamiliar feeling fluttering in your belly. You push aside the feeling, focusing instead on the way he grunts at the new sensation you had just given him.
Giggling, you pull off his cock, opting instead to press a kiss against his leaking tip, making sure to hold his eyes as you run kitten licks against it.
"God, you're such a tease." He shakes his head in disbelief. 
He looks so good above you, shivering and cursing out praises on how good your mouth feels, how well you take his cock. Running your tongue along the length of his shaft, you become certain that this is a display you can’t imagine yourself ever getting tired of. But you have all the time in the world, right?
"Y/N,” he gasps suddenly, hips jerking towards your face. "Love, I'm gonna-- gonna cum."
"Cum in my mouth, please." Your voice was pleading and desperate. Taehyung had never heard such words spoken more sweetly. 
"Fuck's sake."
You let out a yelp in surprise as his fingers work their way through your hair, bringing your head back down onto his cock. You relax, though, when you feel the hot ropes of his cum hit the back of your throat, your hands finding purchase on his thighs as you do your best to swallow it all down.
Pulling yourself off him, you let out a small cough, eyes watering slightly as you hadn’t managed to prepare yourself with a breath before his release. His large palm runs across the top of your head as you caught your breath, expression flickering with something unfamiliar. Could it be... fondness? 
Your heart stammers at the thought as you stand, slowly stepping out of your dress, letting it drape off of your figure. Taehyung looks absolutely gobsmacked, pupils dark as he gazes at you, eyes unabashedly raking your body. He’s shameless. 
You both are. 
Slowly, you step towards him, fingers reaching out towards his shirt, carefully undoing the buttons as you gaze at each other, expressions unreadable. 
"Tae?” You ask innocently, blinking up at him. “Fuck me?" 
Your polite request makes Taehyung chuckle. 
"Please?" You bring your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes blinking up at him adoringly for good measure. You reach the last button, let his dress shirt drape open. He brushes it off himself, stands there for a few seconds just to let the way you’re ogling his toned chest go to his head. At least he’s good-looking. 
He sighs, probably contemplating some clever rebuttal, but eventually decides against it as his cock is already twitching back to life.
"Alright, love. Turn around. On your knees for me," He orders, making your stomach flip.
To your surprise, you are hardly in place when the warmth of his large hands finds the soft of your tummy, pressing you back into his chest as he pressed a peck to the back of your neck.
You squirm in his hold, whining as that same hand of his grabs hold of your breast, long digit rolling your nipple between their tips. You can’t help but press your ass back into him. His cock feels hot and heavy, pressing against the back of your thigh, making your pussy clench in anticipation. 
You want him.
You want him so bad that you don't know what to do with yourself, shuddering as his free hand runs along the side of your ass, leaving scorching hot trails on your skin wherever he kneads into your flesh. He's touching you everywhere – everywhere but where you need him the most, and the arousal that drips down your thigh mocks you.
"Dammit, please!" You exclaim, running out of patience.
"Please what?" He says, an eyebrow arched.
You shiver, committing the way his middle finger traced your pelvic bone to memory forever.
You puff out a frustrated breath, nearly at your wit's end. "Please fuck me, Tae."
Taehyung pauses, grip on your breast and hip tightening as he lets out a moan. You let one out yourself as you feel him readjust, cock pressing against your slick entrance.
"Fuck, you sound so pretty when you say my name," He grunts. "Okay, baby. I'll fuck you. Begging so nicely for my cock."
You let out a squeak as you're suddenly pushed down onto your hands, back arching as he pushes his fat cock inside your heavenly cunt. He's thick, so thick, that you instinctively grip the sheet underneath you, fingers curled around them tightly as if it means to hold onto your sanity.
Taehyung lets out a shaky breath, angling your hips up so that you could take more of him.
"You feel—feel so good," he admits above you, and suddenly you wish you could see him. See the way his bangs stick to his damp forehead—see the way his tongue swipes over his bottom lip wickedly.
You let that thought go, however, as he thrust into you, making your jaw fall slack and eyes flutter shut. Profanities roll off your tongue unabashedly, helpless under the way his thick member pulls out of you, only to slam back into you.
You weren't expecting this. The way he stretches you out further than anyone had before. Your pussy clenches around him, reveling in the sweet, sweet burn.
He digs into the flesh of your hips, holding you steady as you mew and cry out, pushing your hips back in time to his, trying your best to meet his movements.
"Tae... fuck, fuck, fuck—"
He was filling you to the brim. Filling you tight and deep.
God, the way he was panting behind you was music to your ears. His cock pulses every time you call out his name, voice muffled and buried as you had your head pressed into the mattress, hair messy and bouncing with every hard thrust.
"S'good! Fuck... so, ah, big..." you cry out.
You feel drunk. Intoxicated off this beautiful man and the way he makes you feel a way only he can.
You nearly let out a sob as the rough pads of Taehyung's fingertips suddenly reach around you and find your neglected clit, rolling light circles on the soft and swollen bundle of nerves skillfully.
You are a mess, whimpering and drooling into your expensive sheets, and he filled every inch of you, leaving no place undiscovered. Your high nears, stewing on low heat somewhere near the pit of your belly, waiting for a chance to erupt and wash all over you. Taehyung must be close to, you realize, as his thrusts began to slow down, slamming into you roughly as if chasing after his high.
"Gonna take this load? Huh? Gonna let me cum inside your pretty little pussy?" His voice is straining, as if trying to breathe evenly but merely moments from falling apart.
If only you could formulate an intelligent response, but instead, you are a blubbering wreck, thighs shaking as they threatened to give out underneath you. But somehow, Taehyung knew. He had you. Quicking his motions against your delicate pearl, he could tell you were close too, and he was going to make sure you got there.
Suddenly, you're crying out and convulsing, tears brimming at the ends of your eyes as you feel Taehyung empty into you, collapsing onto his hands as well.
You feel his hot breath against the back of your neck as he pants, breath growing more and more even as the two of you regain control of your bodies and minds.
Pulling out of you, he plops down beside you, and for a moment, the two of you hold each other's gazes, eyes speaking in ways words never could.
Finally, after what feels both like an eternity and just a moment, you work up the courage to say something, moving closer to him as you place a hand on his chest, cushioning your chin as you rested on top of it.  
"Psst," you beckon, voice hushed.
"Yeah?" His voice is husky and tired.
"I’m grateful, too."
"I’m grateful for us, too."
Taehyung's gaze is soft, and it lingers on you for a second before the sides of his mouth curl up tenderly. He grins down at you, eyes drifting shut. You feel him squeeze you closer, pressing you against his skin. And then, you hear his breathing steady, see his lips part slightly. 
You lean into his chest, eyelids fluttering. “Thank you, Tae.”
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Not unlike the many other mornings you have awoken in this bed, when you open your eyes as the morning sunlight streams through the windows, Taehyung is nowhere to be found. The sheets on his side of the bed are flipped aside, revealing that soft outline of his body from the night before left imprinted into the sheets, a dip in the mattress where he slept. You had fallen asleep all wrapped up in each other, tangled up like vines, but must have separated sometime during the night. Distantly, you register Taehyung’s voice outside, notice his phone missing from his bedside table. He must be on an early morning call. 
You check your phone for the time. Ten o’clock. 
A late morning call, then. 
Still basking in the afterglow of the night prior, you slowly inch your way out of bed, shivering as you pull the covers off you and scoot your legs around so they hang over the edge of the bed. You rub at your eyes until you faintly remember you did not take your makeup off last night, and when your hand comes away covered with black streaks and flecks of mascara, you wince to yourself. There goes five hundred dollars worth of a skincare routine. 
After washing yourself up and applying as many serums as you can to your skin, you wrap yourself up in one of his button-up shirts, the torso so wide that it drapes over you. The tips of your fingers peek out from the ends of the sleeves, and you cross your arms lightly over your chest as you make your way to the door, ready to entice your husband back to bed for round two. What? It’s Saturday. 
You peer around the door to find Taehyung standing a few feet away, facing away from you. He’s shirtless, and as his wife you have absolutely no problems ogling him, the toned curves of his back, the muscles in his arms. He’s always been a looker. You just finally have an excuse to look for yourself. 
You approach him quietly, not wanting to interrupt nor broadcast your sex life to anybody on the other side who may be listening. Already, the idea of crawling back in bed together sends goosebumps along your skin, makes you giddy with anticipation. You’re just about to tap him on the shoulder, lips curled upwards in suggestion, when he says—
“And my inheritance? That’s secured now, right? Because I said I would pretend to be in love with her in public—?”
And it is as if Medusa herself appeared in this room, turning you to stone as your heart thuds to the floor, a hollow, empty noise. 
You don’t hear the rest of Taehyung’s conversation. You don’t even hear the sound of your own heartbeat. This terrible, aching sound rings in your ears, silencing everything in its wake, drowning out even the sighs of your own breath. It is as if you have been frozen solid. As if you have been shot in the stomach. You stand there, feeling absolutely nothing, and all you can do is brace yourself for what is to come. Taehyung’s words were the knife but his next actions will be its removal, leaving in its wake an irreparable wound. 
He turns around, casual and cool, voice still hushed. As if you were still asleep. As if you hadn’t heard anything at all. But when he twists his body and sees you standing there, staring back up at him, lips parted in shock. 
“I’ll call you back,” he tells whoever was on the other side of the line, looking more panicked by the second. He opens his mouth so he can explain himself, but you don’t need him to. You’ve heard everything already. 
“I should have known,” you say, feeling angry and betrayed and sad all at once. “I should have known it was all an act.”
“Y/N, wait, let me explain—”
“What is there to tell me, Taehyung? What are you going to say? That you didn’t mean it? That you thought I wouldn’t find out? That last night was just a one-off?” You demand. The heat from your veins hasn’t left. Still, it simmers through your blood, burning you up from the inside out. “That you didn’t want to lie to me?”
“It’s not like that and you know it,” Taehyung says defensively, brows furrowed. “Just give me a chance to explain myself.”
“Explain yourself? How you pretended, every day and every night, just so you could get some more money in your bank account? So you could make sure you would get your father’s business when he died?”
Taehyung bites back easily. “Don’t act like you weren’t also faking it at some point. I know you were almost removed from your grandmother’s will.”
Your tongue is bitter at the mention of your grandmother. As if Taehyung ever even knew her. “My grandmother has nothing to do with this.”
“Really?” Taehyung challenges. “So you wanting to stay in her will was just a little bonus, right?”
“Don’t,” you say sharply. “It’s different.”
“Different how?” Taehyung spits. “Because right now, to me, it looks pretty similar to what I’ve done.”
“My grandmother died months ago,” you remind him. Her will is no longer the question. It has been written, settled, and executed. There was no reason for you to continue playing along once she took her last breath. No reason—unless you wanted to. “Meanwhile you’ve been keeping your inheritance a secret from me this entire time.”
“We made a deal,” Taehyung says. “A deal that said we would both act happy and pretend to be in love because we both had things we needed to worry about. Family things. Money things. You were a part of this, just like I was. You pretended, too.”
“Well, maybe I stopped pretending!” 
You can’t take it anymore. All this anger, all this emptiness, it’s been bubbling up inside you ever since you heard those first words come out of his mouth. It spills out of you all at once, an eruption from your lips, your heart’s doors bursting open. You have held his hand tightly in your own. You have pressed your lips to his. You have laid yourself bare in front of him. What is there left to protect? What part of you has not already been stained by him, by his touch, by the feeling of his fingers against your skin?
The hallway is silent, but you can hear your cry echo down the corridor. Hear the way it bounces along the walls before fading away. 
“Maybe I stopped pretending,” you repeat, softer this time. You blink and already can feel the streaks along your skin, the tears falling from your eyes. “Did you ever think about that?”
“Y/N, what are you talking about?” Taehyung looks like he’s in disbelief. Like he cannot believe the words you are saying to him. 
Well, that makes two of you. 
“Can’t you see, Tae? Can’t you tell?” You ask, the nickname falling from your lips before you can even help it. You must remind yourself to change that, later. “I’m in love with you.”
They are words you have never said to someone before. Not even your old boyfriends. Words that you always knew you would reserve for someone special. Someone who would touch your heart and make it their own, someone who would leave imprints of their fingers against your chest. Someone who would brighten you up from the inside out, leave you bursting with light. 
Ironic, that Taehyung has become that someone. When he is the one person you never thought could. 
When he has proven, time and time again, that you two just cannot mix. Oil and water. Pastel and acrylic. Satin and silk. 
“You don’t have to say anything,” you spit out quickly, before Taehyung has a chance to respond. “I know it doesn’t matter to you.”
“Y/N, yes it does,” Taehyung begins, desperate and pleading. “I know you heard what I said, but I swear, it stopped being an act for me, too. Things are different now, just like you said.”
“Don’t. Please.” You pull away as he reaches out towards you. Faintly, you remember that it is his shirt you are wearing. Remember that no matter what you do, he will always surround you. “Please, Tae.” You have nothing left. You can’t bear to look at him, but where else will you go? You cannot believe the things he’s said, the things he’s done, but where else would you go?
“I love you, too,” Taehyung says, and a part of you wants so badly to believe him. 
A part of you wants so badly to ingrain those words into your head, carve them into your heart, let him wrap his arms around you and promise that everything will be alright. But things are different now. Just like you said. You and Taehyung are not the same people you were six months ago. Or six weeks ago. Or even six minutes ago. You are helpless and he has proven that he does not care. 
“I have to go,” you say, looking away. You don’t think you could handle turning back to him again. “Please, Tae.”
“I’m sorry,” Taehyung says, and he reaches out once more but you are not there to meet him halfway. Were you ever?
“I know,” you whisper back.
You duck into your bedroom and pack a suitcase of everything you need. Being here is suffocating. Being with him is like setting yourself alight. 
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Victoria has no questions when you show up at her door later that day, suitcase by your side and this ridiculous bottle of Merlot in your hands. You had picked it up on the way over. You sort of figured you might need it. 
“You don’t wanna talk about it, do you?” Victoria asks. 
“Tell me about your streaming service,” you hiccup in response.
Victoria is happy to oblige. She even tells you that she still hasn’t picked a CFO, and that the position would be open for you if you ever wished to take it. 
Funnily enough, what will become of you once your father retires and passes along the company is the furthest away from your thoughts. 
You remember being so worried about that. Being so worried that, once they married you off like every good daughter should be, you would be absorbed into your husband’s life, cut out of your family’s. Your father would choose a cousin, an uncle, or even a friend to take after the business, bestowing upon you a thoughtful inheritance but nothing more than that. All of those years of schooling, finance in college, your MBA soon after, would be wasted, just so you could hang on the arm of your husband for the rest of your life. 
It’s thoughtful of Victoria to think of you for the position. She knows just as well as anyone else that you would be an excellent fit. And if things were just a little bit different, you would be jumping at the offer. 
But your future career plans are on the backburner, along with the rest of your life. 
All you can really do, right now, at this very moment, is wait for things to change. As they always do. 
“Don’t you have an event tonight?” Victoria asks about three days into your stay. She’s given you her favorite (her words, not yours) guest bedroom and an enormous closet to match, despite you only coming over with a carry-on’s worth of clothes. 
You scoff to yourself. “Like I’d want to go to anything with him.”
“Have you even called your parents?” 
“No,” you say, not even caring about the repercussions. There’s no doubt in your mind that they’ll be ringing you soon. And when they do, maybe then you’ll finally work up the courage to tell them what really happened. Tell them that you can’t go back there. Not yet, at least. 
“I’m sorry that this happened to you,” Victoria says as she hands you a bowl of vegetable soup, homemade from a couple of days ago. You nod to yourself, sniffling as you curl into the couch cushions and wish they would absorb you whole. 
There’s no need to ask her what she means by ‘this’. Everything. From your engagement to the marriage, from those tabloids to the deal, from your grandmother’s death to now. It has all been unfair. Life is unfair. And while you’ve always known that, it has been particularly cruel to you as of late. 
Still, when you wake up sometimes, you can still feel him tracing over your skin. Feel his lips hovering over yours, breath fanning out over your cheeks. You turn over and expect to see him lying there, on the right side of the bed, sheets mussed as they cover his figure. You wake up and for a brief moment, for that split, split second, there is peace. And happiness. And love. 
And then there is nothing. 
“Yeah,” you sigh. “Me, too.”
Maybe he really does love you. Maybe things really did change. But you have always been a pragmatic person, always let your head guide you rather than your heart. The secret’s out. Taehyung had an inheritance he needed to secure. You were his path to doing so. Those things haven’t changed. No matter if his feelings did. 
“Hey, look at this,” Victoria says, brows furrowed as she holds out her phone in front of you, revealing a livestreamed interview from the event tonight. 
You peer over. 
It’s Taehyung. 
Of course it’s Taehyung. Who else would she be showing you?
He stands in a clean-cut gray coat, draping over his figure, black dress shirt and slacks underneath, belt wrapped neatly around his hips. He holds his hand up in a wave and smiles politely to the cameras, to the reporters, letting the flashes wash over him like waves in the ocean. 
“Mr. Kim! Mr. Kim!” Someone calls. “Where’s your wife?”
Oh, God.
Taehyung grimaces a little, pursing his lips. “My wife won’t be joining me tonight.”
“Can you tell us why?” They shout. 
“Sorry, no more questions. Thank you for asking though. She’s well,” he says, quickly ushering himself along, entering the venue so no more reporters can bombard him. When he disappears, the livestream immediately moves on to the next guest, but you hardly pay them any attention. 
“Huh,” Victoria says aloud. 
Indeed. Taehyung’s response strikes you as rather odd. Why would he tell the public that? Why not make up a lie, say you’re sick, or you’re overseas, or you’re just late? Why simply tell them that you won’t be there? Surely, Taehyung is just as aware of the consequences of arriving at an event without you as you are. There’s no doubt that his parents will be in contact with him soon, too. No doubt that this will leave a stain on his family. His image. It might even threaten his inheritance after all.
So why not lie?
You frown to yourself, nose scrunching up in confusion. You don’t like where this train of thought leads.
“You okay?” Victoria asks when she sees the bewildered expression on your face.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” you say. Just completely befuddled. It escapes you, why Taehyung wouldn’t just make up some sort of excuse as to reasoning behind your absence. Why he would even show up at the event at all. Certainly, going to the event without you is worse than not going at all. It prompts questions. It spreads rumors. 
Later that night, you get a call from your parents, demanding to know why you weren’t there with him. You say you got sick. You plead with them not to question anything. 
You wonder what happens next. You and Taehyung still have two more events this week. A dinner and a ball. What will you do then?
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Taehyung goes solo for the dinner. You suppose you could have predicted that, considering his apparent willingness to arrive alone for the first event, too. He hasn’t made any efforts to contact you and for once, you’re glad for his silence. Not that you even know what he would say to you, anyway, but at least he isn’t begging you to come back to him. 
The sad truth is that if he did, if he got down on his knees right in front of you and willed you to come back home, you probably would. He has always been impossible to resist. Even when you first met him, when he sauntered up towards you and told you he was your dream come true. You didn’t know it then. But he was. He was everything you would ever want. 
Why would he lie? 
Why would he do that?
You can’t wrap your head around it. What is he getting out of it by telling the truth? By admitting to the paparazzi, to the reporters and the cameramen, that you won’t be there with him. That you will not be joining him. Nothing, certainly. His parents must be furious. His inheritance may be on the rocks. His image might tank. 
So then, why do it at all?
Could it… could it be?
Is it true?
You have loved Taehyung for a long time. Longer than you probably even care to admit. You have always held your head high at events, spoken loudly and without fear, but being with him made you feel safe. Secure. You would hold his hand and know, know that he was holding yours, too. It grounded you. It soothed your worries. 
Does he really love you back?
Taehyung smiles politely and laughs when he needs to at these events, but he doesn’t look the same. Even through the screen you can see those bags under his eyes, that spark that has faded. You hardly recognize him. He looks so lonely, without someone by his side. So distant. 
When you know the dinner has ended, you almost pick up the phone and call him. 
Instead, when the ball rolls around, you ask Victoria if she’s got a spare dress she can lend you.
 Kim Taehyung, for someone you have seen covered in paint splotches, wearing old college hoodies, and fresh out of a restless night’s sleep, cleans up pretty well. For a married man, at least. 
You wonder what the past few days must have been like for him. If they have been as empty as your own. Wonder what it was like, riding alone in a big black van to this hotel ballroom, no one to tease, no one to laugh with, no one to hold. No one to poke him awake if he accidentally fell asleep. No one to make sure he’s okay. 
Taehyung stands right outside of the entrance, waving politely to all of the paparazzi, smiling as the cameras flash, giving them the time of day for a moment before he heads inside and muscles his way through another event without you. 
Or so he thinks. 
You spot him just as he opens his mouth, ready to repeat those same lines all over again.
My wife won’t be joining me tonight. She’s well, though.
And maybe it’s just because you haven’t seen him in nearly a week. Maybe it’s just because he is about to lie to those reporters once more, ready to face whatever consequences come his way. 
Or maybe it’s just because you miss him. Miss him terribly, have been missing him terribly. Being away from him was necessary, but that didn’t make it any less unbearable. Not getting to hold his hand, see his smile, meet his eyes. You and Taehyung may not have always liked each other, but you saw him every day regardless. He became a constant in your life. Not an if, but a when. If everything went to shit, you always knew he would still be there. 
And there he is. 
“Wait! Taehyung!”
Taehyung’s eyes widen as he hears your voice, gaze darting around wildly, mouth parted in surprise. He looks around desperately, scanning the crowd, meeting the eyes of every single person in front of him until he finally looks to the left, sees you rushing up towards him, hiking up the skirt of your dress as your heels tap against the sidewalk. 
And when he spots you, sees you running up to him, his body relaxes, a weight lifted from his shoulders as he beams back at you, relieved and thankful and filled with joy, all at once. And you know, then. 
You know that everything will be okay. 
“Sorry I’m late,” you say sheepishly, cheeks burning as he looks at you, takes in every inch of you, breathes you in and lets you fill him up. 
Taehyung doesn’t respond. You reach out to hold his hand but he grabs your wrist and pulls you in, presses you against his body as he presses his hands against your cheeks, palms burning as they meet your skin, and he kisses you. In front of all these people, he kisses you. 
And goddamnit, you will kiss him back. 
It feels like lightning, like a thunderstorm, like the waves of the ocean are crashing against your heart. It feels like fire, like flames are licking at your veins, sending sparks through your blood. It feels like home. 
You and Taehyung ignore the shouts of reporters, the flashes of cameras, the honks of the cars on the other side of the road. When you part, he presses his forehead against yours and lets the tip of your nose meet his. And you smile. 
“Don’t be alone any longer, Mr. Kim,” you whisper, loud enough so only he can hear. 
“When I’m with you, I never am, Mrs. Kim,” he murmurs back. 
You wonder what those tabloids will be saying about you tomorrow. 
The rest of the night finds the two of you pretty much inseparable. You wrap yourself around his arm and for the first time in a long time, he presses his hand against the small of your back, keeping you close. Like he’d ever lose you again. 
One of your least favorite parts about attending balls used to be the dancing. As a young and eligible bachelorette, you would always have to lock hands with another, let him awkwardly guide you along to the music as you made the worst small talk imaginable, forcing laughter and smiles whenever he said something he thought was particularly funny. 
But, like so many others, things have changed. Things are different now. 
The waltz comes on and you and Taehyung are the first to reach the center of the ballroom floor, letting him rest his hand on your waist as you press yours on top of his shoulder. Let him twirl you around the room as the orchestra plays in the background, a soft, sweet, light little melody that carries you along. 
“I missed this,” you say softly. 
“I missed us,” Taehyung corrects. He pauses for a moment, swallowing hard. “I’m sorry for not telling you about my inheritance.”
“I’m sorry for storming out. I should have listened to you.” you respond easily. You both have plenty to apologize for. But night is darkest right before dawn. 
“I should have said something,” Taehyung says with a shake of his head. “But I was just so—so worried that something would go wrong. And I didn’t know how to explain how I felt about you. I acted in the beginning, too, but then things changed.”
“They always do,” you muse with a grin. 
“I couldn’t believe I had you,” Taehyung admits. “I mean, look at you. You’re gorgeous. And funny. And true.”
“Go on,” you tease, even though you do nothing to hide the smile inching its way across your face, the heating of your cheeks, the simmering of your skin. 
“Oh, shut up. You know what I mean.” Taehyung rolls his eyes. “I just—I felt something for you I couldn’t explain. I still can’t.”
You don’t have to prod any further. You know. Deep within your heart, you know. There is love blossoming in his to match the garden that has bloomed in your own. The flowers that have sprouted in the ashes. He has them, too. And when those petals open and the light streams in, he will know. He will know, too. 
“You make me crazy,” you tell him, whispering gently into his skin. “But I’m a better person when I’m with you. I know I am.”
“I meant what I said, that night,” Taehyung says. Makes you wonder which night he’s actually talking about. “That I’m happy that things have changed. That things happened the way they did. I’m grateful for us.”
“I am, too,” you say. And you are. 
You rest your head against his chest as you dance together, swaying back and forth to the beat of the drums, to the strums of the violins, all wrapped up together like ivy, like vines. Those, too, sit in that garden of yours. Keep you tethered to his side, keep him close to yours. He holds you in his arms and he smiles, because he knows, too. Knows that that garden in your heart will soon have a matching one in his. A mirror image of who you are. Who you’ve become. 
Things change. They always will. But so long as he is by your side, and so long as you are by his, you know. Everything will be okay. 
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It's different, this time, when Taehyung presses you into the mattress. 
There is no rush. Because now you know for certain that all the time in the world is yours. He is yours forever. You are his.
The two of you are a mixture of tangled limbs and shared breaths, the feverish, irrepressible need to give yourself to each other nearly tangible. He breaks the kiss suddenly, and you’re about to break out in protest. That is, until you see him unbuttoning his shirt.
Inspired, you wiggle out of your own clothes, eyes locked on Taehyung's soft torso and the idea that you had married such a beautiful man, inside and out.
Looking back, you wonder if that was always inevitable. If you and Taehyung falling into each other had been written in the stars from day one, sealed as your fate from the moment he came up to you at that ball when you were teenagers. He was going to be a part of your life no matter what. Whether or not you ended up marrying him. But having him like this?
It makes it all worth it.
"Do you like what you see?" That old cocky smirk of his makes an appearance.
You raise a brow, choosing to omit a response as you unclasp your bra, letting it fall from your chest.
Taehyung swallows.
"Do you?" You tease.
His response comes in the form of bites down your necks and licks down your chest, stealing your breath from you. 
Your clothes are somewhere dispelled beside your passionate bodies, growing cold beside the way your two hot bodies warmed one another.
"You are so beautiful," Taehyung praises, fingers coming up to cup your breast, bringing it up to his mouth.
You mewl, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as his tongue toys with your pert bud, teeth grazing it ever so often just to hear the broken gasp that'd always follow. 
"And so sensitive too," he giggles, making you pout. His hands are gentle as if every touch means something. As if you mean something—no, everything—to him. And the most wonderful part is that he means everything to you, too. 
"Shut up." You roll your eyes playfully, gasping as his palm comes down the side of your thigh suddenly in warning. You bite down your swollen bottom lip at the gush of arousal that dampened your underwear in response.
"Watch your tone, love. Of both our positions, you are in the most compromising one." He reminds you. It isn't a threat, and while usually, that kind of tone would thrill you, you couldn't help but want his mouth back on yours already.
"You talk too much." You flop back onto the bed with a sigh. Taehyung watches with interest as your pretty tits bounce in consequence. Extending your hands out towards him, you give him a pouty look. "Just wanna kiss you."
"Is that all I am to you? Just a pair of lips for you to mack on? I've got news for you, sweetheart, there's a brain behind these ravishing good looks." He scoffs in feigned offense, sitting back on his heels.
You giggle.
It seems as though even during the most intimate of moments, Taehyung still found a way to be, well, Taehyung. At least that hasn’t changed. 
"Whatever, pretty boy. Why don't you come over here and put that mouth of yours to good use?" You purr, making his eyebrows raise in surprise.
"Oh? I don't remember you being this assertive when I was pounding you into the mattress last time."
“What, I can’t have a little fun as well?” You tease, grinning as you look up at him, raking your eyes over his figure. 
"Wanna have fun, love?," He murmurs into your ears, hands gripping either of your plush thighs. "Then spread those pretty legs for me, and I'll show you exactly how much fun you can have."
God, you love this man.
You oblige eagerly, breath quickening as he helped you press your knees by your chest, leaving the wet patch in your underwear on full display. 
"My pretty little wife." He sighs dreamily, making heat rush to your core.
Taehyung's cock stood loud and proud, a hot reminder of where the night would eventually lead to. Seriously, how did you get so lucky? You must've been a saint in a previous life, you decide right then. Or at least, the stars have chosen to be rather kind to you in this one.
"Gonna take these off," he mutters, mostly to himself, tugging the ruined fabric over your ass and down your legs, with your help, of course.
Despite your usual display of confidence, lying beneath your husband, spread out like this, has you feeling vulnerable and slightly insecure. But that insecurity vanishes, however, as he lets out a soft moan, fingers moving to spread your glossed lips apart.
"So fucking pretty, baby. Gonna make you feel so fucking good," he groans, leaning down to press his face near your most intimate part.
Pressing a tentatively lick against, his eyes flicker up to yourself, curious to see if you’re okay with him proceeding. And, well, it’s not like you’re going to say no, are you?
Embarrassingly, you rut against him, making him laugh as you drown in your own mortification.
"Need it that bad, huh?" He coos.
"Yes, please."
The rest of your plea is lost in a moan as Taehyung finds your clit, wrapping his pink lips around the sensitive muscle and giving it a generous suck. Your hands are in his hair before you can think to stop yourself, tugging at his scalp deliciously as his mouth makes its way with you.
Thank goodness for this apartment belonging to just the two of you as the noises that tumbled from your lips surely would've left a roommate blushing.
You're panting, begging for more even though you aren't sure how you'd even handle more. It comes as a delight and slight surprise as fingers suddenly slip inside, wasting no time to rub against your velvety smooth walls, curling themselves inside you.
"Fuck, Tae!" you cry out, eyes squeezing shut.
It was pure reflex. Up until now, you had been watching Taehyung intently, completely consumed by the way his mouth moves against you. How his tongue flicks against your needy clit cruelly. It just felt too fucking good.
You're so wet, positively dripping down his chin as he runs his hot muscle up and down the length of your pussy, devouring you like he hadn't eaten in months, and you were his first meal.
Taehyung’s nothing short of addicting, completely and utterly intoxicating, and you slip further and further to your demise with every lick he takes, every press of his tongue against your clit.
He has a hand pressed against the lower half of your torso, feeling the way you jerk and squirm as he makes a mess of you. You’re close and you know it, too, if not by the way you’re calling his name over and over again, then by the way your thighs tremble, hardly even strong enough to stay up.
"Let go for me, love. I've got you." He sounds so sweet, so angelic, despite how filthy what he was doing to you was.
His words are the push you need, and, like a rubber band that has been stretched past its limit, you finally snap, back arching off the bed as you come with a cry. White fills your vision, and your mind goes blank, only sounds of blissful static filling your ears.
His fingers hold up your quivering legs, mouth pressing kisses onto your pussy encouragingly until you simply can't bear it any longer, pushing his mouth away as you stutter out words of sensitivity and overstimulation.
“I’m going to have to request more of that throughout this marriage.” You manage to say once your vision and breath come back to you.
Grabbing one of your hands, Taehyung brings it to his mouth.
“All you need do is ask,” he replies, making you laugh as he presses a kiss to the back of your hand, always a gentleman
Not long after, you find yourself pressed against Taehyung, tongue running against his as he presses his hips into yours. He isn’t coy about his want for you, rolling his cock against your already sensitive center. Warm precum leaks onto your lower abdomen, and suddenly, all you can think about is having him inside you again.
You don’t even need to ask. Hitching your leg around his thigh, he knows exactly what you’re seeking, lining up his leaking cock with your swollen entrance.
Pressing into you, he buries himself to the hilt, groaning out as your warmth envelopes him. You moan out so prettily for him, feeling tight and full with your first orgasm only minutes ago.
“You okay?” he hums, kissing your cheek.
You nod, ears warm at the intimacy of the moment. In many ways, this is nothing like your first time together. You are face to face, eye to eye, heart to heart. Between your bodies could be found more than just desire, but commitment. Devotion. Love. 
“I love you, Tae.” You gush, sighing out as he begins to rock into you.
He falters slightly at your confession but recovers quickly, intertwining his hand with yours and pressing it by your head.
Faintly, you realize. 
That was the first time you had ever told him that.
You look up at him, expecting some wide eyes or even a bit of a nervous tilt to his lips, but all you are met with is a glow. He beams down at you, and your heart swells. 
“I love you, too, Y/N,” he whispers, but you hear the words in your ears loud and clear.
Soft noises fill the room as the two of you become one—hearts synchronizing with one another in silent promise.
It was a promise unlike the one you had made to each other that day at the altar, for this one was real. This one was true.
You shutter with every thrust of his hips, your abused clit finding itself in the crossfire of Taehyung’s passionate motions.
Whimpering, you cling to him, overwhelmed and emotional, like your heart was about to burst. Taehyung lights a fire in you, sends lightning straight through your core. Every word, every smile, every kiss, every touch, they send shivers down your spine, tingles throughout your skin. It’s like you’re falling in love with him all over whenever you see him, whenever his deep brown eyes meet your own.
You remember being so afraid of love that you broke up with all your old boyfriends because of it. Because you couldn’t commit, because you were worried about your career, because they just didn’t give you that spark. But lying here pressed against him, against your husband, you aren’t afraid. Wrapped up around him, tangled up in him, you know. 
Between messy kisses and words of adoration, you find yourself growing closer and closer to your release. Brows furrowed and neck flushed, you come with a soft whimper of his name, coaxing his own orgasm out of him. He lets go inside you, painting you with his seed in a way that pleases you to no end.
Hand still in yours, he gives it a squeeze, pressing a kiss onto your damp chest, right over where your heart beats for him.
“I love you,” Taehyung says again when you meet his eyes, firmer this time, louder. Like he’s worried you didn’t believe him the first time. 
“I know,” you say with a giggle, the words going straight to your head—and your heart. 
Taehyung scowls. “What, no ‘I love you’ back? Is that what I’m hearing?”
“Well, only because you want one so badly,” you tease, pressing a quick kiss to his round button nose. “I love you, too, Tae. Always will.”
“I think I knew, then,” Taehyung says with a fond sigh, nostalgia overcoming his expression. “That first time we met. I knew you would be mine, one day.”
“You got lucky,” you scoff slightly. “But I’m glad things happened the way they did.”
“You’re my dream come true, Y/N,” he says. 
“And you are mine,” you murmur.
As the two of you drift off, all twisted up in each other, so mixed up you can’t figure out where you end and he begins, you think back to that night. That ball. 
“Who are you?” You ask, nose scrunched up in distaste. Before you stood a boy you had never met before, wearing shoes that were too big for him and a suit that was a touch too small. 
He grins at you, running a hand through his perfectly-styled hair fringe swiped neatly over his forehead, and he says, “your dream come true.”
And so it was. 
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don’t forget to message me! ~ and don’t forget to message rose!
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kybabi · 7 months ago
making their s/o sleep on the couch after a fight
w/ oikawa, iwaizumi, and atsumu!
(a/n: whewww this prompt hurts🙂i took some inspo from @doingitforbokuto (who is an amazing writer btw) !! pls go check them out💞 edit: OH AND BUB @luvbub HER SERIES IS AMAZING
ALSO NOTE: this fic mentions the reader being picked up by the character! it’s a little bit of a touchy subject BUT i just wanna remind y’all that our boys are strong asf and would have absolutely no problem hauling you over their shoulder :’))
anyways i hope i did this prompt justice :) all are written in the timeskip!)
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the whole fight started when you came home two hours after you’d promised to
you’d spent those hours with a coworker doing some extra work, as he needed some assistance and you were there
but oikawa was upset; you’d spent time he’d been planning to have with you with someone else
“babe, i had to! he needed help, and—”
“what, so now i’m just not important to you anymore?”
you didn’t think he’d be so mad, but from the looks of it, he was far more hurt than you’d expected
“tooru, i already told you i was sorry!” you yell again, frustration leaking into your tone.
“yeah, well, i don’t care. you should’ve told me.”
“i didn’t have time, okay? work was busy, and i didn’t have a minute to call you!” you explain, and he rolls his eyes. “can you stop being petty for two seconds?”
he glares at you, heading toward the bedroom.
“hey! you can’t just leave while i’m talking to you!” you shout after him, and he turns around.
“you know what? since you obviously don’t give a fuck about our time together, why don’t you just take the couch?” he spits, slamming the door in your face and locking it.
you jump back, stunned, and try the knob, even though it’s locked. you hopelessly try to open the door, but there’s no response.
“tooru?” you ask weakly. “w-we can talk about this, okay? just,” you try, hand on the wood. “just open the door. please?”
no response.
you knock on it twice, hoping maybe he’ll come to his senses and let you in so the two of you can talk, but you’re met by silence on his side.
instead, you walk over to the couch and lie down, pulling the thin blanket over your figure. it’s cold and scratchy, and you hate it.
you don’t understand what you did wrong. you didn’t mean to upset him; you really truly had to stay for work. it’s not like you wanted to be away from him.
tears pool in your eyes, stinging hotly, and you shut your eyes tightly, burying your face into the cushion. the sensitivity brought out by your fight leaves you feeling vulnerable, and you hate it.
tooru huffs, irritation in the gesture, and gets into bed, violently pulling the covers up to his chin. he shuts his eyes and prepares to fall asleep.
but something is poking at his chest, and he can’t ignore it. it feels like something is wrong.
truthfully, oikawa knows he overreacted. he knows you would never lie to him and that you wanted to spend time together just as much as he did.
but when he heard that you’d been spending it with some man he doesn’t even know, he got angry, and he took it out on you. and now both of you are even further away from each other than before.
his pride makes him want to shut his eyes and force himself to sleep, but he’s missed you all day. the only thing both of you did together was fight, and he would rather do anything than fall asleep mad at you.
so, he musters up all the willpower he has, and gets out of bed, pulling open the door gently. his eyes find you on the couch.
you’re sniffling softly, curled up in a little ball, and his chest squeezes painfully.
he approaches you silently and crawls onto the couch behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you in.
“‘m sorry, baby,” he mumbles, barely audible, and buries his face into your neck. “i shouldn’t have gotten so angry at you.”
you turn around to see him, eyes puffy and red, and he noses at your cheek softly. “i didn’t mean to stay so late, i just—”
“i know,” he whispers, effectively cutting you off. he holds you like this for a little while, and you let him kiss you gently. “come back to bed with me, okay?” he asks, and you nod eagerly.
“thank you, tooru.”
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honestly, the fight itself really was kind of dumb
he didn’t text you the entire day and you had no idea where he was
and when he came home, you bombarded him with questions, to which he became irritated with
“hajime, you can’t just go out and cut off all communication for the entire day! do you even know how much you stressed me out?”
“this isn’t even about you, okay? i had some things to do!”
you were getting on his nerves, and he really just needed some peace and quiet
“i understand if you don’t wanna tell me about what you did, but you could’ve at LEAST called me and told me you were okay!”
iwaizumi scoffs, rolling his eyes.
“look, i think i’m capable of taking care of myself. i don’t need you to smother me every time you don’t trust me!”
you gape at him, disbelieving. “of course i trust you, hajime! all i asked was that you would let me know if you were okay!”
“and i’m telling you that you were worried for literally no reason!” he yells, fists clenched.
“is it SO HARD for you to just listen to me?!” you plead, stepping up and getting in his face in an attempt to make him do so.
but it’s getting to be all too much for him, so he turns on his heel and walks away, right into the bedroom.
“hajime, what the fuck—?!”
“you know what? i don’t wanna put up with your bullshit tonight. sleep on the couch for all i care!” he shouts, shutting the door immediately after and leaving you on the other side.
you stare at the wood, baffled, and start to panic.
“hajime, no! just... just come out, okay? we don’t even have to fight, i just,” you plead, desperate.
but it’s obvious that he’s angry with you and that he doesn’t want anything to do with you tonight. “never mind,” you mumble, defeated. you figure one night on the sofa isn’t all that bad, right?
but when you finally settle onto the couch, making futile attempts to make yourself comfortable, you realize it’s a lot harder than it looks.
the couch is cold and you’ve never felt more alone, and involuntary tears start to sting at the back of your eyes. you curl into yourself, cursing you and your stupid sensitivity.
iwaizumi regrets it the second he slams the door. something ugly and bitter pools at the bottom of his stomach and he feels sick.
he goes and sits on the edge of the bed, head resting in his hands.
he realizes that you were right; he should’ve texted you at least once today. you must have been scared out of your mind, and you were only trying to make sure he was safe.
he didn’t mean to get so mad at you. and he definitely didn’t mean to shut you out like that.
once he’s completely cooled off, guilt being the only thing remaining, he stands up and walks over to the door. when he presses his ear to the wood he can hear you sobbing quietly, and his heart breaks at the sound.
he slowly opens the door and sees you on the couch, shivering from the cold air, hiccuping softly. he sighs and pads over to you, coming up behind you and sitting down. you stiffen at his presence, but he rubs a hand over your back, and you relax.
he leans down over you and presses a kiss to the sensitive spot behind your ear, a silent apology in the gesture. you turn to look at him, and you’re surprised to see how soft his expression is; how great the contrast is from his mood from earlier.
“i’m sorry for yelling at you,” he mumbles, burying his face in your chest to hide. “and for making you sleep out here. i shouldn’t have shut you out like that.”
you exhale shakily, forcing him to stop hiding from you, and the look in his eyes is genuine.
“i’m sorry for not being understanding,” you murmur regretfully, and he nods, kissing you softly.
“so, does this mean you’ll come back to bed with me?” he asks, hopeful. you giggle.
“only if you cuddle me.”
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well... to put it frankly, atsumu was jealous
he came to your work to surprise you only to see that you were having dinner with some random guy in the break room
the entire ride home was silent and you couldn’t understand why atsumu was so mad
but when you got home, he started going off about how your coworker was giving him bad vibes
“are you just completely oblivious? he was totally into you!”
“oh my god, tsumu. not every man i talk to wants to date me!”
and it went on like this for a while until he finally snapped
“you should’ve seen the way he was looking at you! like you hung the damn moon,” he sneers, bitter.
“atsumu, why the hell are you so pissed? why can’t you just trust me?!” you reply angrily. he scoffs, rolling his eyes.
“this isn’t about trust, y/n. this is about you letting guys think they have a chance with you and not doing anything about it!” he yells, and you laugh incredulously.
“seriously? god, you’re such a pain sometimes! why does it matter if other people are into me?! i don’t care about them!”
the jealousy simmering in atsumu’s gut crawls up his throat, tasting sour.
“yeah? well if i’m such a pain, why don’t you go date him instead?” he shouts, livid.
“are you seriously that insecure?!” you gape, astounded. at that, he scoffs, turning on his heel and storming into the bedroom.
“you know what? fuck this. if you hate me so much, don’t bother spending the night in my bed!” he spits venomously, before slamming the door loudly.
“fine! i’m better off without you anyway!” you blurt angrily, frustrated tears brimming hot behind your eyes.
you stomp over to the couch and throw yourself onto it, rolling onto your side and stuffing your face into the cushion there. you want to yell and scream and kick and there’s just so much anger inside you that you feel like you’re going to explode.
but instead, the only things escaping you are heavy sobs, wracking your body and making it hard to breathe. it feels like everything is going wrong and you don’t know how to fix it.
so for the time being, you wrap your arms around your waist and attempt to wait it out.
atsumu buries his face in his pillow, helplessly trying to ignore the hot tears pricking at his eyes.
he forces himself to take deep breaths, in and out, and tries to cool off a little.
but the longer he sits there, the more his head begins to clear, and the easier it is for him to be overcome with guilt.
now that everything has calmed down, atsumu can’t believe the things he said to you. he’d really lost his temper for no reason at all, separating the two of you even further.
he paws at his eyes, trying to wipe away the regret and the shame he’s feeling, but it’s futile. he still feels just as terrible, maybe even worse.
when the guilt gets so bad that he just can’t bear it anymore, he stands up.
he opens the door quietly, and makes his way over to the couch, where you seem to be in a similar state. you’re sobbing into the couch, the sounds muffled by the fabric, and atsumu has never felt so bad in his life.
he sits down on the side that isn’t occupied, afraid to speak.
“hey,” is all he manages to utter, uncharacteristically quiet, and you look up, sniffling.
the two of you exchange glances awkwardly, and atsumu hates himself for making it this way. so he does the only thing he knows how, and opens his arms hesitantly, praying you’ll accept the offering.
your lip begins to quiver, eyes filling up all over again, and you dash into his lap, clutching onto him tightly.
his eyes widen, and he wraps his arms around you, keeping you flush against his chest.
“i’m so sorry, baby,” he whispers, chest stinging at the sight of you sobbing into his shirt. “i let myself lose my temper and i took it out on you when it wasn’t your fault.”
your breathing starts to slow down and you begin to relax against him, inhaling and exhaling slowly.
“please come to bed with me?” he asks, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. you nod, but don’t make any move to get off him. “come on, baby,” he coaxes, but you don’t budge.
he sighs, nudging at you gently.
“alright. looks like we’re doing this the hard way, then,” he shrugs, hauling you up and carrying you away. you squeal, protesting, but he ignores you.
“tsumu, stop!” you yell, laughing.
“never,” he whispers.
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sukunasbabymama · 3 months ago
When someone tries to make them jealous.
⌗ Pairing: Manjiro Sano (Mikey), Ken Ryuguji (Draken), Baji Keisuke, Mitsuya Takashi, Nahoya Kawata (smiley).
⌗ Warnings: Sugestive on Draken’s part but just bc reader is petty as fuck, cursing.
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Manjiro Sano Mikey.
This happens too much with him, people from other gangs or not even in a gang see him so small that their first thought is to mess with him. How wrong they were.
Because he has made his mission to be your protector he doesn’t fight people in front of you for stuff like that, he thinks you don’t deserve a man that loses his cool so easily. And that’s okay, he can do that, but you can’t.
Y’all were at the beach with all the captains and vice-captains, you were laying on your front while Mikey was putting sunscreen on your back when two guys stop just in front of you, you frown and lookup.
“Hey gorgeous, want to play volleyball with us?” One of them says ignoring Mikey on purpose, you feel his hands tense on your back.
“No, thank you”
“Why is that? Oh, is this your lil stepbrother or your boyfriend? Can he even handle all of that?” The other one says motioning to your body, you laugh and see all the captains starting to stand up.
“Do you need him to have his hands on my ass so you can judge if he’s my man?” You take Mikey’s hand and put it on your ass. “Is this enough for you to back the fuck up or do you need me to go there and smack you the fuck up? I’m cool with both”
They were about to say something but if there’s one thing you like more than being praised by Mikey, is putting mfs in their place.
“If another thing comes out of your lame ass mouth toward me then I will be kind enough to let my man use both of yall head as a ball since y'all are so fixed in playing volleyball,” You raise your eyebrows with a small smile. "get. the. hell. outta. my. sight"
Everybody was in shock, they knew Mikey's partner isn't the one to be messed with but they never saw why. This was more than enough proof.
"So I restrict myself from fighting people and you go and do this? "Mikey says with a smile, he bends down a little and kisses your temple.
"You can do that all you want, but ain't nobody gonna disrespect you in front of me, Manjiro," You say deadpan, he hums satisfied.
"I was going to put the ring on your finger anyway, you know"
What's with this mf and his desire of being so damn bold?
Ken Ryuguji Draken.
He doesn't like fighting just anyone because he knows his strength, and he is really sure about his relationship with you. That doesn't mean he doesn't get annoyed as fuck every time someone hit on you, like, he sure as hell ain’t short so they can see his ass right by your side.
You were accompanying him in his bike shop, you do that from time to time because he would be in front of you talking about bikes with a big smile while you were helping him organizing all the documents and sales for him so he can focus on his bikes.
You were doing just that, in a comfy silence and humming a random song when two guys about your age enter the shop.
“Good afternoon, how may we hel—”
“Well damn look at this hottie!” Your smile drops and Draken looks over his shoulders frowning. “Forget why we here, what’s your name?”
“How may we help you, gentlemen?” You say deadpan.
“By letting me take you out, pretty face,” One says and that’s when Draken walks behind the counter, acting like he needs something from the lower drawers.
“That’s not gonna happen,” You say, getting irritated already. Patience was your boyfriend’s virtue, not yours.
“You scared of having a good time? I promise I’ll make you happier than your man” Uh, that’s it.
You grab Draken by his collar and pull him up without breaking eye contact with the guys.
“This man’s right hand can make me feel better than both of you combine could in a whole day with me, please do yourself a favor and don’t embarrass yourself anymore and, get the hell out of my shop” Your tone almost makes Draken get out of the shop too.
After they go out you tried to go back to your work but were interrupted by Draken turning the chair around and getting between your legs.
“I can do that just with my hand?” You roll your eyes and he laughs. “Yes”
“Yes, what?” You ask curiously.
“Yes, this is your shop too, our shop,” He says and smiles.
You pout and he kisses you.
Baji Keisuke.
Now, here… you are just rude. You don’t play that acting respectful first and then snapping, you would snap as soon as someone tries you when you are with your man. Nobody can’t play with the times with your man, period.
You were out on a walk and y’all saw a group of cats so naturally, y’all went to pet them.
“Honey, go and buy food for them, please?” You say while petting the mom of the little family, he nods.
While he was there you put your backpack in the grass and sit on it, putting Baji’s jacket on your thighs because your skirt would betray you if you don’t.
“Oh? And what’s this little one doing here?” An older man says in a flirty tone and you roll your eyes and look up.
“I’m waiting for my man, keep walking buddy,” You say and see Baji coming back with a plastic bag and drinks.
“Mhm, I don’t think he cares about you if he lets a pretty little thing like you alone in—” Baji was in silence with his eyebrows raised, listening to everything behind the man.
“He doesn’t need to care about me meeting creeps like you because I find joy in making them suffer,” You say and the man opens his eyes in surprise. “I’m gonna repeat myself one more time, move or I’ll take the time to rearrange your fucking face”
“Let me know if their warning isn’t enough so I can just skip that and beat your ass past recovery,” Baji says and the man jumps when he hears the deep voice, he walks away fast.
After giving you your drink he starts taking everything out of the plastic bag with a big smile.
“Why you seem so happy?” You ask, he moves and gives you a quick kiss.
“I would never get tired of you cussing people out in my presence,” You roll your eyes. “Whaaat? I take pride in being your man and you stating that fact in every chance you got put me on cloud nine”
“It better be,” You pull him back to your face and smile. “Since I really like you being mine, baby.”
“All yours~” He sings cocky as hell.
Mitsuya Takashi.
Oh, this good soul. You were his total opposite. While he tried to not fight unless he has to, you would always pop off first and ask questions later.
That doesn’t mean you go on life fighting everybody, it’s just that you were fine with being a confrontational person if you feel like you or him are being disrespected.
You were at his crafting club hanging out with him, today you weren’t being his model tho, it was some guy because they need different measurements so you were sitting at his desk comfortably while Mitsuya was moving all over the place.
“Are you a model?” The new guy says, and you smile politely at him.
“I am not,” You say and lean back when he leans forward. Uh, has anybody told him about personal space?
“I think you could be one,” He says in a flirty tone, and at that moment you feel Mitsuya’s hand on your shoulder, letting you know that he can help anytime. “You are really pretty, do you have a boyfriend?”
“I do”
“Well, that doesn’t matter,” He shrugs. “I don’t think he can’t compete, so let’s go—”
Mitsuya closed his eyes with a knowing smile.
“Of course he can’t compete,” You say with a laugh. “Look at him and look at you”
He shows a shocked expression when you lift your hand, sliding it under Mitsuya’s shirt. He’s behind you and that’s the easiest way to demonstrate what you were saying, also because, come on, you want to show off your man. And he has never put your hand away when you do this.
“You can’t compete where you can’t compare, mister universe,” You say in a bored tone, and from where you were you could see his ego being hurt. “Now if you don’t mind, I would like to make out with my man before he has to go back to work.”
The boy didn’t even try to talk back, he just went on his way, Mitsuya looks at you with a raised eyebrow.
“So we are going to make out, now?” He smiles.
“Yes, please, let’s go,” You say taking his hand and smiling at his satisfied laugh.
Nahoya Kawata Smiley.
This mf, this mf!!
He’s feral, yeah we know, but with you, he tries to not submit into his inner self telling him to whoop the ass of every man that looks your way. Why is this? Because you can match his energy. He’s still thinking of a comeback when you already had the person crying at your feet. So, he prefers to see you being feral.
Y’all were at a ramen shop, both of you and his brother. They like to take you with them on a food tour to taste all kinds of ramen so they could get a hold of what they want for their own shop.
“You like the decoration, baby?” He asks and you hum in agreement.
Y’all thank the waiter when he put the menú on the table, and that’s when he starts being weird.
“Would you like me bringing you some dessert, pretty?” He says with a flirty tone and you let out a giggle when you feel Nahoya hand sliding up your thigh.
“I haven’t even decided what’s gonna be the main dish and you already offering me a dessert, you gonna pay for it?” You smile while sliding your hand upon your man’s thigh, he instantly opening his legs a little bit to give you better access.
“Their boyfriend is literally in front of you…” Souya says confused and you smile at him.
“This kid? This is a whole kid in front of this angel,” He says cocky, and your head snaps to your right to look at Nahoya’s smile tightening, you smile and look at his brother.
“Oh, my baby, there are people like this dumbass who likes to embarrass themselves pulling stupid shit like this,” You smile sweetly and Souya does the same. “That’s what I think because there’s no way in hell that a motherfucker like this think he can compete with a whole Nahoya Kawata”
“Bitch, you—” Before he finishes Nahoya already has jumped over the table and was already punching him in the face.
You see, Nahoya loves to see you feral and for that, he would not submit to his aggressive side, but that ends the moment a person calls you mean names. He doesn’t give a fuck if it’s inside a temple, if someone calls you anything other than your name or a respectful alternative name, they’re gone.
You smile and stand up, you interlock your arms with Souya and resting your head on his shoulder. When the others waiters come out of the kitchen you smile politely at them.
“You can cancel the order from table number 7, we aren’t hungry anymore,” Souya let out a giggle because y’all didn’t actually order anything.
Ah, how funny is to be part of the Kawata twins' dynamics.
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@saturnmitsuya bestie i got u some taka content.😩🤞🏾
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tequchiha · 4 months ago
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your first time having s*x with them (Hc) (GN)
Characters : Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Fushiguro Toji, Geto Suguru, Sukuna Ryomen, Fushiguro Megumi, Itadori Yuuji
contains adult language
Note : All characters chosen here are of the age 18 and above and no ones a minor here
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He would try his best to be slow and smooth with you, but loses his crap when you start to moan his name.
Mf will ruin you if you keep turning him on over and over like that.
Likes to be the Dom here so… y’all can imagine.
Would remove his blindfold mid-way and put it over your eyes and fuck you hard.
Has a huge dick you can’t deny, the girth isn’t much but the length ooooooh….
Good guy.. does aftercare… but only on him 😃
He’s a man of class we all know it by now
he will make sure your first time is special and nice.
You’re euphoric by the way he fucks you.. your toes curling, and you’re losing your mind.
wont be so rough on you.. he will take it slow.. let you adjust.. give you as much time as you need.
He is very patient… but god that dick..
He’s huge, and when i say huge i mean fucking Eiffel Tower.
That girth, that length, ugh you’re drooling.
He will keep praising you, and will tell you that you’re the only person who can make him feel this way.
you’re a sucker for compliments too babe…
Aftercare is his thing, he will treat you so politely and sweetly, your heart will melt.
I have no words for the man😃.
He won’t give two shits about you adjusting, he has his own target and that is to ruin you and fuck you merciless.
He is fucking Burj Khalifa, that’s how huge this mf is.
He will pound you from behind while you keep begging him to go slow.
He can’t. He will fulfil his needs first.
Although that’s not it, he will give you a fair share of pleasure too, he eats you out so good you’re a moaning mess.
The walls aren’t that thick y/n calm your tits a little?
Will cum inside you and fill you up no matter what you say.
“Aftercare..? what’s that?”
He will make sure you’re getting the pleasure too and that he’s not just fixed on getting his high.
He will go at a fast pace but it’s not as rough for you to be literally ripped apart.
He has great length and good girth, not bad. For you it’s more than enough and well… you’re not complaining.
He would love it the most if he could cum all over your tits, that’s the one thing that can throw him off the edge.
Okay okay he will do a bit of aftercare. A bit of it.
Might even stay for cuddles, who knows? he’s a moody hoe.
It’s like he invented degradation.
He will degrade you like anything, it’s like a mantra for him.
You think he will just degrade you and go on a fine pace right? wrong.
He will fuck you merciless and it’s nirvana for you.
Kind of similar to toji except keeps the breeding part a little away, doesn’t want you to have his kids.
Loves to see you beg for his dick though.
He doesn’t even make you feel like it’s your first time to say.
might even choke you to death or something idk man don’t ask me he has a lot of things in that cursed head of his 🙄
He will prolly leave afterwards and won’t stay for your cuddles or whatever😒
He’s kinda clueless i think.
He will try his best to help you reach your high.
He surely needs time to understand what you love and what could really help you get into it.
Isn’t really aware of your turn ons and all so it’s better to have a little discussion with him.
Once he knows you, you’re done for.
Sex with him is ecstatic.
you’d always be wanting more and more and he would be the happiest to give you what you want.
He’s a sweetheart really <3
the most loyal person you’ll ever come across.
like nanami, he will try to make it as special and memorable as he possibly could.
He would never let this opportunity be wasted.
Just like you, it’s his first time too. So, an eye for an eye.
You help him out and he does so for you.
He will try to make sure he never hurts you in any way and it’s always pleasure for you.
Selfless. It’s all i can say.
Although would love to eat you out, and i swear no one can do it like him.
He can make you come undone plenty times just like that.
Aftercare? He will pamper you with whatever he has. God he will take care of you like a new born baby and if you say that you can take of yourself, he won’t listen and keep doing his thing.
He will repeat “I love you” over and over again like it’s some chant.
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© all content and rights belongs to @skunaryomen do not modify or post without consent
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pitifulbaby · 14 days ago
business as usual
pairings: mob!bucky x reader
warnings: mature language, sexism, stabbing, nonconsensual touch, rough past
a/n: so i could easily turn this into a little story if y’all want? but if not this is just a little random one-shot! so if you would like to see that please let me know! anyways i really love the idea of mob boss Bucky, he makes my heart go awooga okay.. happy reading!
full masterlist
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The sun was bright in the sky, not a cloud in sight. It wasn’t often New York was like this, usually there were clouds covering the big blue sky, but not today. With a huff you fix the apron that was tied around your waist, brows furrowed in as you gently hit the side of the coffee machine. “Stupid thing.” You mumbled out, biting at your bottom lip. Shifting your gaze out the window you sigh, hands resting on your hips before your name was being called from the office of the café. “Coming!” You soon replied, turning on your heel and heading into the office where Mr. Gene was.
Elmer Gene was an older male, his hair greying that matched his beard. He was a kind man, his wife was sweet as well. The two never had kids, just wanting to spend their lives with one another and that was it. They were a sweet couple, still in their honeymoon phase even after sixty three years of marriage, high school sweethearts turned into soulmates.  
Your hand reaches out and wraps around the door knob, turning it before stepping inside. “Yes sir?” You call out, pushing a loose strand of hair out of your face as you smile at the elder. Though the couple never had kids they almost felt as if you were one of their own.  
Your life hadn't been the easiest, your father walked out on your mother at a young age and your mother wasn’t the most loving person. You were an only child and yet you were still your mothers least favorite. Elmer smiled at you, motioning you to come into the room more.  
“Listen,” He started to speak, his voice thick with a Brooklyn accent. “My nephew has another deal today and he is gonna be having it here.”  
Ah yes, Daniel Gene. Mr. Gene’s family had ties with the Mafia and Daniel was very heavy in the Mob. And because of that, a lot of his deals were made in this little run down café.  
You didn’t really enjoy being around when the deals were happening, a lot of the mob bosses that were brought in were strange. Often staring at you and making sly comments about you. And you couldn’t do anything about it, these men had guns strapped to their bodies and bodyguards within earshot. You had to take everything with a smile and a nod.  
“Do you know what time? The coffee machine is broken again and I know how those men drink through coffee like its air.” Your eyes were slightly wide, thumb motioning out the door. Elmer let out a small laugh, gently shaking his head. “Around 5:15 he said, did you try hitting the side of the machine?” He questioned, you nodded soon after. “Yes! We are gonna need to get a new one, this is happening at least three times a week.” Your hands went to your hips at that, the elder only smiled at you. “Molly said she was looking into getting a new one.”
Money was tight in the little café, you didn’t make a lot of money from it either. But you didn’t want to get a new job anywhere else, you felt at home in the quaint café.  
Being as you didn’t make a lot of money, you didn’t live in the nicest apartment. It wasn’t in the nicest of areas, the walls were thin and you swear the building was ever so slightly slanted. There were only three floors so it was rather small which was nice.  
Soon a ding was heard through the café, causing you to soon snap back into work mode. You made your way back behind the counter, letting your eyes gaze to the clock that was hung on the wall. It was only 5:03, you wish Mr. Gene had told you about the meeting a little sooner, but you assumed he didn’t find out till late as well. You plastered a smile on your face, fixing your vintage uniform.
You let your eyes shift around the café to see who had walked in, it didn’t take you long to see who had walked in. Seated in a booth in the back was a male in a suit, his hair was dark and slicked back out of his face.  
But oh gosh his face.
His eyes were a piercing blue, his features were chiseled to perfection and a stubble adorned his jaw. You could cut yourself on his jaw. He was absolutely stunning. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone, a chain peeking through against his tan skin. And if you looked hard enough you swear you could see a tattoo peeking through.  
Your mouth was dry as you stared at him, the only thing that snapped you out of it was the bell chiming once again. In walked Daniel, he was a shorter male with shaggy hair. He wasn’t that bad to look at, but compared to the hunk of a man in the corner? He didn’t come anywhere close. You watched as Daniel made his way over to the other male.
Of course, that is the guy he is meeting.
The mysterious man stood up to shake his hand, and gosh was he tall.  
Tall, Dark and Handsome.
You wanted to swoon as you stared at him. You never got like this over men, yeah you found some guys pretty, but nothing was ever like this. You watched as they soon took their seats, and that was your cue to collect your little note pad and pen and make your way over to them. While grabbing said paper you caught sight of yourself in the reflection of a freshly cleaned cup, scrunching your nose up as you quickly averted your gaze.
Didn’t need to see that.
You nearly stumbled your way over to them, cursing yourself to the moon and back at your amazing ability to mess up something as simple as walking. Once you finally were standing next to their table you smiled, looking between the two.  
You had noticed that this male didn’t have anyone else here with him, usually they brought someone with them as back up in case of an emergency. So you found this rather odd. Once Daniel noticed you he let out a whistle, his eyes shifting up and down your body.  
Daniel was a sleazy man, you weren’t fond of him and the remarks he made towards you. You also knew that even Elmer and Molly weren’t fans of their nephew either. Daniel thought so highly of himself and held himself at such a high standard. He was narcissistic, cocky and all around not the best guy.  
In his eyes you were nothing but a weak girl who had to do the things a man said. It took everything in you not to recoil in disgust as his eyes wracked over your body. As his eyes made its way back up your body they stayed on your chest for a second too long. Finally he looked back up at you, a smirk on his face. “Good evening, good looking.” He flirted with you, you tried your hardest not to look as uncomfortable as you felt.  
“This right here is my good buddy James.” Daniel spoke, his voice loud and boastful. You let your gaze shift to James. Now you were very good at reading people, but James had his guard up high. But you could tell that he didn’t like Daniel. You could only guess that they were using one another for their job.  
You smiled softly at James, once his eyes met yours his seemed to soften ever so. “It’s nice to meet you, doll.” James spoke, for such a gruff looking man his words were so soft spoken.  
You wanted to listen to him speak over and over again, the faintest accent laced his words.  
Little did you know he didn’t talk to a lot of people like that. After he spoke Daniel scoffed at that, chuckling to himself as he repeated the nickname ‘doll.’  
“Listen, go whip up me and my buddy some coffee. Make sure it’s nice and hot.” Daniel commanded you. Your smile turned nervous as you shifted awkwardly.  
“I’m sorry but that coffee machine hasn’t been working today-“ before you could finish Daniel smacked his hand against the table.  
“Does it look like I care? Fucking fix it, isn’t that your job? Little miss waitress?” He raised his voice, causing you to flinch back ever so. The grip on your pen and paper becoming tighter. James furrowed his brows deeply at that, his jaw clenching as he turned to Daniel.  
“Don’t be a dick, Daniel.” He spat out, his voice was low and gravely this time. It was odd how that made your heart skip a beat. Whenever Daniel had any of his ‘buddies’ over for a meeting they would usually join in on the belittling of you. No one had ever stood up for you like that.  
“No, James. It’s her job. I don’t know why my uncle hasn’t fired her already.” After he spoke his eyes scanned your body once more before he smirked again. “She is quite appealing to the eye though.” His words sent shivers down your spine, looking away from his quickly.  
God, you hated men sometimes.  
You soon smiled nervously, “It’s okay, sir. I’ll have your coffees right away.” You aimed the first part of your sentence towards James before speaking the rest, turning on your heel and making your way back behind the counter.  
Standing with their back to you was Elmer, his glasses low on his nose as he stared at the coffee machine, smacking the side of it a few times, hoping for it to work. Once you stood next to him he spoke lowly. “I’m sorry he’s such a terrible person. If I didn’t fear him I’d be on his ass.” He spoke to you.  
You smiled sadly, placing a gentle hand to his shoulder. You didn’t blame him though, none of this was his fault. He didn’t have much of a choice but to let Daniel have his meetings in the café. The times he declined it was always met with Daniel threatening to have the place shut down at the drop of a hat. And this café was the elder man’s life. “No one can talk sense into that boy. Not even his late mother, God rest her soul.” He spoke sadly, missing his sister dearly. “And his father is no good either, and who knows where he is.”  
You and Daniel did have one thing in common and that was daddy issues, but he had a loving mother and he still came out horrible as can be.  
“It’s okay, Mr. Gene. Really it’s not your fault.” You try to comfort him. “But he is demanding coffee so if we could get that fixed so I don’t have to deal with him anymore…” you trailed off, Elmer chuckled quietly as he nods. “I’m trying.”
Soon the ever so familiar whirling of the machine was heard, causing you both to sigh in relief. You quickly got two mugs ready. Placing the creamer and sugars on the tray. It didn’t take long for the coffee machine to finish brewing, quickly once again you filled each cup with the piping hot liquid before putting it on the tray. With much balance you take hold of the tray in one hand and bring it over to the men, plastering your smile once again.  
“Here we are, sorry for the wait.” You say sweetly, placing the creamers and sugars in the middle of the table before setting down the two cups. Daniel of course ignored you, his focus now on fixing his coffee to his liking where as James smiled and said a gentle thank you. “Is there anything else I can get you both?”  
You asked, Daniel only rolled his eyes at you, making a shooing motion. With a tight lipped smile you held the tray to your chest before turning on your heel and going to walk away.  
But the moment you were turned around you felt a smack land on your bottom, causing you to gasp and stumble before whipping back around. Your eyes were wide as you stared at Daniel who was only cackling. But his laughter soon turned to a pained scream as James stabbed a fork into Daniels hand.  
“Fuck!” Daniel yelled, his eyes wide as he stared at his hand that was resting on the table with a fork  protruding from his flesh. “Sorry, my hand slipped.” James said to Daniel, a fake worry etched on his features. The male sent you a wink before Elmer was rushing over, his eyes wide as well. “Is everything okay?” He panicked, Daniel only smiled painfully, “Yes, everything is fine.” He spat out.  
You were appalled at that, why was Daniel brushing it off? If this were anyone else Daniel would be wasting no time to throw punch after punch at the perpetrator. But what was so important about James?
Besides his dashing looks and respect for women.  
James folded his hands on the table, “Daniel I think you should go get that checked out, make sure there isn’t any serious damage to your hand.” He spoke smoothly, Daniel only grunted with a smile, standing up and collecting his things. “You are so right sir, I’ll see you later.” You have never seen him leave so fast in his life. At some point during this all Elmer had waddled away back to his office, probably to go call Molly.  
You let your attention shift over to James, who was already looking at you. “Are you okay?” He spoke, which only confused you. “What?” You asked, he stood up with a small laugh.  
You were right, this man was tall.  
Craning your neck back you look up at him. “I asked if you were okay, does he always do that to you?” His voice was soft, you only blinked before shaking your head. “The words yes- touching no-“ you were tongue tied, which James found so damn adorable.  
He took ahold of your hand before pressing a kiss to the back of it, sending you a wink before he started to leave. “I’ll see you soon, and don’t worry about him.”  
And with that, he opened the door and was gone.  
What just happened?
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ladyartemesia · 10 months ago
All I Want For Christmas is You
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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 •
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:
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“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. 
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?”
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“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. 
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“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.”
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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.
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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.”
“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.”
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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.”
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“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. 
“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. 
“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. 
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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. 
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“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. 
“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?!” 
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?”
“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.”
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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...
“No,” you whispered, “he has no idea.” 
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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. 
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.” 
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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. 
… 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. 
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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. 
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?” 
“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!” 
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“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.”
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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 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.” 
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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. 
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. 
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“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. 
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“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.”
“Sixteen thousand dollars.”
“Seventeen thousand.”
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. 
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. 
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!” 
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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. 
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...
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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. 
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. 
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. 
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?”
“I had to give him your spa passes.”
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“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. 
“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.
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.”
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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.”
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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. 
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.”
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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. 
The lady sighed and gave him a heated once over.
“What a shame.”
Then she strolled off with a rueful smile. 
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“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. 
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.”
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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. 
“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. 
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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. 
I didn’t even want to talk to Aubrey! How are you acting like anything she said was my fault?!
Why is challenging people to duels illegal? I would fight Min Yoongi at dawn. I would fight Min Yoongi now. 
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!”
“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.
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. 
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. 
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. 
"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. 
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.”
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. 
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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 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.
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?!”
“—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?!”
For a moment there was absolute silence. 
Then your head popped out from the massive pile of bedding. 
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.”
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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.
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toastmyrolls · a month ago
Astrology Notes & Observations ~
🔮These notes & observations are based on personal experiences and from what I’ve observed in natal charts. They may or may not resonate with every zodiac sign.
Feel free to comment and ask questions🌷✨
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Mercury signs that would investigate one’s situation and pretend they know nothing about it and will ask you questions when they already know the answers would be Scorpio, AQUARIUS, Pisces and Virgo’s.
Venus in Capricorn & Virgo natives tend to hold high expectations within relationships. They tend to have very high standards and can be hard to please.
Pisces, Scorpio & Taurus placements have the hardest time letting things go. Like I’ve noticed that these specific zodiac signs can still stay mad even after an argument. You could explain everything to them and if it truly pisses them off or makes them distrust the situation that much, it’s incredibly hard to get on their good side again. At least trust wise.
Jupiter Square Neptune natives have such special gifts within themselves, but they have to work extremely hard to embody those things. Once they do, they are unstoppable. Can be very psychic with this aspect
If you want to please a Virgo Moon, tell them like it is and give them beneficial advice as to how they can fix and improve themselves as individuals. They prefer to not sugar coat things
Aries Moon may always be seen as someone who is angry or has a bad temper all the time, but Pisces Moons are even worse when it comes to bad tempers and anger.
Capricorn Moons usually aren’t the best at expressing themselves clearly and can often get into situations where the other party could easily take what they say in the wrong manner.
Gemini, Scorpio, Aquarius Sun & Moons always seem to have a come back to everything. Someone could roast them and they bounce back so quickly with something so ruthless 😩 they can be ✨spicy✨
Taurus & Cancer placements sleep so freaking much. These people can sleep for 14 hours and plan to take a nap at 4 PM. I’ve also noticed that Pisces do the same thing. These people prefer to sleep than to be awake lmao
Zodiac Moon Signs who are quickest to leave toxic relationships are Virgo, Aquarius, Gemini, Sagittarius, and Capricorn Moons. They’re the least likely to deal or tolerate other peoples projections and drama. They will but to a certain extent. They also hated be lied too especially if they can sense it out.
Sun Sextile Moon natives are very much smooth talkers. They can either express themselves quite easily or it can be the complete opposite.
Taurus Moons can have a whole other side to them that nobody or only a few could know. They can feel things much deeper than as to how they portray their feelings in general. They could have the tendency to want to have their cake and eat it too.
Virgo and Pisces placements tend to get really flustered or blush easily when people compliment and flirt with them. It’s actually pretty cute🥺
Libra Sun, Moon, Rising and Mercury may have a habit of telling white lies or making a story much more dramatic than it tends to be.
Scorpio & Libra Mercury and Moons could receive an essays worth of a text from someone, and they’ll immediately start typing their own words if they see something that’s off to them. They read through texts also while typing their shit out. They make sure what they say is correct and on point.
Aries & Libra Mars might just be the most petty of the Mars placements. They’ll make a step by step plan as to how they will purposely annoy someone.
I’ve noticed that Aquarius, Sagittarius, Aries and Leo’s tend to love dubstep music or love going to raves. I don’t know why it’s a thing, but it is.
When Air & Fire signs are together, it is a wild adventure for all of them and they vibe all too well together, but when it comes to Earth & Air signs together, you know that car ride is more than likely silent while y’all just stare out the window hoping they get to their destination quicker 😩
Capricorn Rising Women give me the energy of a bad boss bitch that would stomp on you with their huge boots or stiletto heels just for talking shit to them. You are not above them in their minds🙅‍♀️
I’ve noticed that Taurus Risings, Moon & Mars tend to binge eat if they’re stressed tf out. Same goes for Virgo Risings as well.
Gemini Risings are actually pretty intelligent because they know things that people do not know. I’ve noticed that they’re very good with technology and know how to navigate to loop holes or they are absolutely horrible at it lol. They’re also good at cheating (not relationship wise)
Midheaven in Aquarius Individuals came here to fuck shit up (in a good way) they’re always ahead of their time and know a lot of strange facts or topics that aren’t necessarily of the norm to society or the rest of the world. They’re more than likely known for what they do online/the internet.
Chiron in Leo individuals can truly turn their pain into power and gold if they choose to do so. They must learn to not shame themselves as well as others.
✧・゚: *✧・゚:*    *:・゚✧*:・゚✧ ✧・゚: *✧・゚:*    *:・゚✧
🌷Written with much love, Em.
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tommybaholland · 24 days ago
Hey love, may i request jjk men during a big argument/ fight with reader (basically how they act during, after, what caused it etc) basically heavy angst with comfort😁 You can choose the characters but i would like megumi and itadori to be in it! Thank you
when they have an argument with their s/o
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featuring: yuji itadori, megumi fushiguro, and kento nanami
there was an idea similar to this on the list so thank you for requesting! sorry it took so long but i feel good about what direction i took for each character. y’all know i love some angst with comfort....enjoy :)
he can let something bother him pretty easily if you don’t tell him and didn’t think that it would be a problem with him because he’s usually laidback 
both of you make good points to each other but you’re also not hearing and understanding the other which causes you to start making accusations about each other
then he says something that he totally doesn’t mean and makes you start to cry
he immediately regrets it and tries to fix it as soon as he can where you’re able to talk out your misunderstandings and forgive each other
“babe, i’m home!” you call out to your boyfriend as you enter your shared place. you didn’t think much of the non-response as you removed your shoes and walked down the hall with your bags, thinking you would see him eventually. 
“yun-yun? oh, there you are,” you said aloud as you found him huddled on the couch, looking comfy in his sweatshirt and lounge pants. you went straight to the kitchen to put away the purchased items
“oh, hi,” he greets flatly. “you’re home kinda late.”
“yeah. megumi and i ran a little late with training and then i thought i’d stop by the store. i should’ve texted you, i’m sorry,” you explained as you continued to unbag the groceries. 
he paused, the mention of megumi lingering in his mind. “you’ve been spending a lot of time with him recently.
“who, megumi?” you verified to which he nodded. “we’re working on combining our techniques. right now we’re just working out all the kinks and loopholes but he thinks it could work.”
he nods again, looking down and defeated. “i see.”
you notice his melancholic expression, realizing that he hasn’t been his normal bright self since you arrived. “you okay, yun-yun?”
“why don’t i get to train with you guys?” he asks suddenly. 
“well, um,” you stutter, “because you’ve never asked.”
“yes, i have,” he disagrees. “and you said that you would see if there was a way we could all get together but i never heard anything after that.”
“oh, well, i can ask him right now,” you offer, pulling out your phone. 
meanwhile, he continues to sulk. “i mean, it shouldn’t be that hard. we live together, i’m sure we could find a time for him to come over.”
“that’s a good idea,” you commented. “but we like to go out where there’s a lot of space, just in case anything happens, you know?”
“yeah. i guess that makes sense,” he mutters in response. 
you looked over to him, seeing that something was still putting him off. “is something wrong?”
“i just don’t see why you hadn’t thought to ask him until now,” he remarks.
“i just forgot, yuji,” you replied simply. 
he suddenly looks up at you, scowling, “you forgot? really? you spend enough time with him, how did you forget?”
you looked at him for a second. he’s never been this heated about something before and of he was, it was usually while he was trying to exorcise a curse.
“i don’t know. it just happened--”
“oh, okay,” he interrupted. “did you forget that you have a boyfriend too?”
a scowl of your own began to form on your face. “no, yuji. it’s not like that.”
“it certainly seems like it. you spend more time with him than you do with me lately! don’t you see how i would find that suspicious?” he retorts.
“not if i’m telling you what i’m doing and where i am,” you defended. 
“not always,” he threw back. “tonight you ‘forgot’ to text me to tell me that you were going to be back late. regardless, how am i supposed to know that anything you say is true?”
“do you really think that i would lie to you, yuji?” you ask, your voice getting quieter.
“i don’t know,” he replies, looking away from you. “maybe.”
you felt your eyes began to water as he continued to look away from you. you wiped your eyes as you pulled what looked like a piece of fabric out of one of the bags you brought home. “glad to know you feel that way,” you sob, throwing the fabric at his face. “that’s all you want if you don’t trust me enough to finish the rest. happy early birthday.”
he looks at you, confused, as you walk away and into your room. he winces as the sound of the door slamming echoes into the kitchen. he looks down at the fabric in his hand, holding it up to see that there’s a picture printed on it. it was a group picture of all his friends and loved ones, looking happy as they smiled into the camera. he was in the picture with you, hugging you close to his side. 
this was clearly part of something bigger which you had been working on for him. he suddenly felt very stupid for making such harsh assumptions about you and his friend. he decided to let you have a few more minutes to yourself before making his way back to the bedroom. 
he entered the room carefully and quietly, seeing that you had buried yourself under the blankets. he sat down next to where your lump of a form had ended, placing a hand on top.
“sweetie,” he roused. “i overreacted and acted like a complete jerk. i’m so sorry. i hope there’s some way i can make it up to you.”
he felt you shift around before you sat up in your seat, glossy eyes looking over at him. 
he grinned softly. “hey, beautiful. how’re you feeling?”
you adjusted yourself before reaching out, gesturing him to sit beside you. he climbed fully on top of the bed before sitting right next to you, wrapping an arm around you to snuggle up. 
“i do have one request,” you said finally. 
“that you act surprised when you open it,” you reply, nodding to the piece of fabric that he was still holding. 
he chuckles. “okay. i’ll probably forget that you even showed me by then. what is this supposed to be anyway?”
“it’s going to be a part of the blanket we’re making,” you explained. “megumi and i have been doing some training but we’ve also been working on this on the side. i’m sorry if it seemed like there was something else going on.”
“no, babe, don’t be sorry. it’s my dumbass who was making all the assumptions. but thank you, in advance. i can’t wait to see the finished version,” he beamed, hugging you tightly into his side. 
“i think you’ll really like it. i know how much you love your pictures but a scrapbook seemed too boring so i came up with this.”
“i already love it, baby,” he replied, kissing the side of your head. “and i’ll get to see your pretty face everyday!”
“for now, you’ll just have to wait until your birthday.”
“that’s easy since i’ve got the greatest gift right here with me.”
he’s habitually moody but can get especially upset when you do something that he deems reckless and stupid meanwhile you think it’s nothing
similar to itadori, he ends up saying stuff that he doesn’t mean but you don’t cry, at least, in front of him
instead, you put on a brave face and act as nothing happened but he notices that you don’t pay as much attention to him as you used to
he tries to act like it’s not bothering him but in no time he accepts that he misses you and apologizes in his own little way, of course
he may seem calm and collected but you were always the calmer one out of the two of you. 
despite that you were a sorcerer, had your own technique, and were very capable of dealing with curses on your own, he still would have his reservations about what he thought were your reckless and clumsy ideas. 
you would just say that he was a worrywart. 
but some things you would do would really push him over the edge. like when sukuna got loose and you decided that you would ‘take care of it.’ really, you just wanted to prove that you could take on a challenge like a thousand-year-old curse.
so a few minutes in and you were about spent, blood dripping from your mouth and down your face. sukuna’s taunting didn’t help either. 
“you might want to learn a thing or two from that little boyfriend of yours,” he jeered. “he could at least stand against me in a hand-to-hand fight but in the end, i always win.”  
meanwhile, megumi was racing to catch up with you when he lost sight of you when you went looking for sukuna. he didn’t understand why you would want to put yourself in such a dangerous position. he hoped he wasn’t too late so that maybe you would learn a lesson. 
suddenly, something in the sky caught his eye. he looked up to see a figure falling in the air and suddenly recognized the shape of your uniform. 
“nue!” he yelled as he clasped his hands to conjure the shikigami from his shadow. “don’t let them fall!” 
he felt he could finally breathe when the giant owl had caught you just in time before sukuna could do any more harm to you. he accepted you from the bird’s talons before releasing the shadow, carrying you back to the main campus. you were conscious but barely.
“you idiot,” he grunted, looking down at you. “why do you do such stupid things? i told you to wait for gojo and you just ran off.”
“put me down,” you instructed, not even bothering to answer his question.
“no. i’m taking you to see shoko,” he refused. 
“megumi,” you warned. “put me down.”
he set you back down on your feet, steadying you as you immediately stumbled. 
“see? you can’t even walk.”
“i’ll be fine,” you replied solemnly, taking careful steps. 
he stayed close by you as you walked through the forest, making sure you wouldn’t fall. 
“you never answered me,” he reminded. 
“i was fine, gumi. you don’t need to worry about me,” you responded. 
“stop saying you’re fine. seeking out the most powerful special grade curse isn’t fine. you’re lucky he didn’t use his domain expansion.”
“i was just trying to buy some time for gojo. rather me than some innocent people who don’t see it coming,” you explained. 
“well, it was stupid,” he commented. “you don’t think before you do anything, you just act. you’re going to get yourself killed!”
“okay,” you replied rather lightheartedly. “i’m sorry.”
he was taken aback at how quickly you accepted your fault. you could be pretty stubborn at times and wouldn’t back down if you felt your actions are warranted. 
“no need to be sorry. just don’t do it again,” he reiterated. 
“noted,” you responded, grinning at him. 
the next few days would prove that something clearly was amiss with you since that day. at first, he figured it had finally hit you and you were just in shock that you survived. 
you just seemed very distant with him. you were usually the one to initiate any sort of affection or teasing with him and he would eventually follow suit. you would still talk to him but only when he would start the conversation. your replies were short and not very detailed. you still grinned and smiled at him but he didn’t know if that was real. 
you had been going to bed earlier too without him. bedtime was usually his favorite part of the day with you, next to waking up with you as he liked laying in bed and talking with you (and also some cuddling and kissing). when that seemed to have been taken away from him, he couldn’t take it anymore and decided it was time to have a real talk with you. 
he decided to follow you into the room and wait until you had gotten into bed to climb in himself and push forward with his little plan. he snuggled up real close to you as you read your book, nuzzling his face into your shoulder. 
he knew that this would get your attention as he normally wouldn’t start something like that. and as expected, it had worked. 
“what are you doing there?” you asked with an amused tone.
he before answering. “i need warmth. you never hold me anymore.”
“that’s not true.”
“name one occasion within the last two days that you have,” he pressed, continuing to lay on you. 
you stayed silent for a few moments. “well, it’s not like i never hold you.”
“but not recently, you haven’t,” he remarked. “is this because of what happened?”
“i don’t know,” you replied, avoiding his gaze. “you seem to think that i don’t think and everything that i do is stupid.” 
“i know, i did say that and i’m sorry,” he apologized. “i didn’t realize what your intentions were at the time but after thinking about it over and over, i know that you were just trying to stop mass destruction.” 
“but i’m also sorry for underestimating you. i really don’t like seeing you hurt or getting hurt and it’s really selfish but i care about you too much to let you go through that. when i saw you falling from midair, i didn’t think i was going to get to you in time. i don’t know what i would do with myself if you died or even if i didn’t have you in my life. you’re not stupid, you’re actually really incredible and i feel so lucky that i’m with you. i’m sorry that i yelled at you, you didn’t deserve any of it.”
he finishes his sentence, wondering if he should say more just so that it wouldn’t be so quiet. but you finally turned and looked at him, smiling.
“who are you and what have you done with gumi?”
you giggle as he pushes your jaw with a gentle fist. “shut up. i’m trying to apologize.”
“i like when you get all mushy,” you commented.
“i’m not mushy. are you going to forgive me or not?”
“i suppose,” you answered. “you really just want cuddles back, don’t you? and i know you absolutely missed being called gumi.”
you wrapped your arm around his shoulders as he moved even closer to you, hugging you tightly. 
“i actually did. a lot,” he admitted before lightly kissing your neck.
“good to know,” you laughed, brushing a hair through his wild hair. “i love you.”
“i love much,” he reciprocated. “i need kisses, right now. you’ve deprived me for too long. this is all your fault.”
“alright, alright. come here, pretty boy.”
he sighed in content as his lips met yours, over and over until he felt satisfied. 
he’s stingy about certain things or how things are done and won’t get mad at you for it, especially if you didn’t know, so he’s willing and happy to teach you
it’s when you did everything right but he comes home in a bad mood which causes him to invalidate your hard work
you try to not be too beat up about it and give him his space but his heart breaks when he finds you doing something that was clearly meant for the both of you all by yourself
he tries his best in apologizing and making it up to you for being so harsh
you both have a method to your madness but he likes everything done in a hyper-specific way. when you first began living together, you weren’t doing things up to his standards. this was not due to negligence but rather that you simply did not know about it. he didn’t mind showing you what you could do to ameliorate the situation. 
“dear, let me show you how to fold the sheets,” he offers. “this way, they take up less space in the closet.”
and you were happy to learn from him. you both had a similar mindset of finding more conservative ways of saving anything whether it be space, money, or time. however, he just liked some stuff done a certain way and you were willing to respect that. he was never condescending about teaching you either and was always accommodating about it. 
recently, he had been feeling a little off. he never really considered himself an easily stressed or anxious person but when he was overwhelmed, it wasn’t good. he simply wanted to go home and rest, trying to get himself together for the next day. 
he walked into your shared apartment after a long day in the office. you must’ve been in the kitchen cooking as he smelled something wonderful in the air of the space. 
“hey, sweetie,” he greeted as he entered the kitchen, making his way over to you to give you a quick kiss. 
“welcome home, ken,” you replied. “how was your day?”
“busy. i’m pretty tired. what’s all this?” he asked, looking around at the various ingredients and appliances out in the kitchen. 
“i had a lot of time after getting some work done so i figured that i would make a hot pot for us tonight with all your favorites,” you explained brightly. “i also have a surprise for you.”
“oh? and what’s that?” he questioned. 
you took his hand, leading him away from the kitchen and over to his home office. 
“i also got into a little cleaning and some redecorating...ta-da!”
you opened the door to show him the room. he looked around and found that his office had basically been flipped upside down. everything was moved around into a anew position and all of the documents that he had neatly organized for filing had gone missing. 
“what did you do?”
“do you like it? i just thought that you would like a change of scenery and would want your desk to face the window,” you elaborated. 
“you could’ve asked first before you went touching everything and moving it into new places. where are all the papers i had set out?”
“i put them back in the filing cabinet,” you nodded, a little disappointed by his reaction. 
“oh, no, no, no, no. this took hours to sort out,” he remarked. 
“ don’t like it i guess?” 
“well, gee, what gave you that impression?” he replied sarcastically. “i didn’t ask for you to do this, dear.”
“i know,” you responded. “but you had been talking about how you wanted to rearrange the room so i thought i’d help you out. i’m sorry if i messed something up.”
“you did more than simply mess something up. this is going to take forever to put these back the way i had it,” he sighed angrily. 
“i tried to keep it how you had them. i’m sorry, ken,” you apologized. 
“sorry? is that really all you can say? look at this!” he replied firmly while slamming the stack of paper on the table, making you jump a little. 
you felt tears come to your eyes and you tried to swallow it all back as you spoke your next sentence quietly. 
“i really don’t know what else to say. it was my mistake. i’ll be sure to ask next time.” 
you left the room without another word, leaving him all by himself. he spent the next few hours trying to get everything back in its place. the room itself actually looked nice, it was just this minor inconvenience that had sent him over the edge. he was able to finish sorting everything before it got too late, realizing that he probably overreacted to your little gift. 
walking out of the room, he saw that you had not yet gone to bed. instead, you were sitting at the dinner table by yourself eating the hot pot. he frowned at the sight, making his chest ache that you were eating what you worked so hard to make all alone. he couldn’t just leave you like that.
“dear?” he called, catching your attention as he stood by the table. “what are you doing?”
you rubbed a hand under your eye, it was clear that you had been crying. 
“i’m about to clean everything up.”
he sat down in his seat. “can i try some?”
“sure but it might be everything might be a little cold now,” you warned. 
“well, that’s what the hot pot is for, to keep it warm,” he replied playfully, able to get a small glimpse of a grin out of you. 
“it’s very good,” he complimented after taking his first bite. “thank you, lovely.”
“no problem,” you replied, your voice still very quiet. 
“baby, look at me,” he called. “look at me, please.”
as soon as your eyes meet his, he doesn’t waste any time with his apology. 
“i’m sorry that i snapped at you. i have no excuse for doing that and it was completely unnecessary for me to do that to you. the room looks very nice and i love it. i was just too focused on something else, but again, i should not have talked to you like that. i love you very much and appreciate everything you do for me.” 
“you do?” you replied.
“yes,” he confirmed, reaching out to take your hand. “you are so wonderful to me and i’m very lucky to have someone like you in my life.”
you let a smile grow on your face as you nodded, silently forgiving him. “i love you too, nani.”
“that’s my precious s/o.”
“can i have a hug?”
“you want a hug? of course, darling. come here,” he gestured, before gathering in his arms. he hugged you tightly around the waist while pressing several kisses to the side of your head. 
 “even if things get a little out of place, we can always put them back where they need to be again,” he said, still in your embrace. he felt you nod, agreeing with him. 
“let me clean everything up, okay? you’ve done a lot today, you’re probably tired, yeah?” he asked as you pulled away slightly. his one hand was still rubbing your back, suddenly making you very sleepy. 
“okay, let’s get you to bed,” he declared. 
“no, no. i want to eat some more with you,” you protested.
“alright,” he chuckled. “but if you start to fall asleep in your seat, i’m taking you to bed.”
“whatever you say, mr. nanami.”
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ptersmj · 7 months ago
If you do smut can you do like stark!reader x peter parker (spiderman) are dating 3-4 month and y/n and peter had their very fluff first time then next morning y/n has hickies all over her neck and her thights stomach... and tony/ her dad sees it and is confronting them with it😂 i love your stories 🤤
just saying hi
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w/c: 2.5k
warnings: veryyyy suggestive, swearing, some pretty embarrassing moments
a/n: thank you babe! i didn’t write the actual smut but y’all can guess what happened 😭 also this is super long i couldn’t help myself
it was everything. it was everything you ever wanted your first time to be and more.
you’d brought up to peter during a make out session one night that you were ready to go farther than you two already have. there was one base you didn’t hit yet. the fourth, the final. you were thinking about it for a while before that, and peter would be lying if he said he didn’t.
your love has always been physical, whether it’s you kissing peter’s cuts after a mission or him tracing hearts on you with his fingers. there’s also the more sexual side of things. that part, you both enjoy just as much, maybe even a little more because you know exactly how to make each other feel good after all the trial and error.
what better way to combine the two than, well, making love?
last night was your sign from the universe, your go ahead to do it. you had the compound to yourselves because your dad had taken all the “big kids” out for the night. you’re both well into college, but he refuses to see you as adults. that meant no peter and no you. you two were a little offended until you realized you could make use of your alone time.
you started off searching for a movie. that turned into you wrestling peter for the remote because you didn’t feel like watching back to the furure yet again. wrestling turned into you on top of him, which turned into you kissing him, which turned into peter throwing the remote somewhere and carrying you up to your room with his lips still on yours.
neither of you had to say it. you were on the same page, same wavelength, two brains in one as peter layed you down and trailed his kisses lower and lower.
peter was so gentle with you, except for when you told him not to be. those were the times he didn’t hold back. he was attentive and sweet and showed you quite a few times how much he loves you. you showed him just the same. yeah, it was really everything.
“morning, baby. you awake yet?” peter hums against the shell of your ear, arms wound comfortably around you. “kinda,” you mumble back with a goofy smile. he presses his lips to your ear and nuzzles his face in the side of your neck. “kinda... how’d you sleep?” you can hear the grin in his voice. his nose nudges your bare skin where a fresh hickey lies and makes you scrunch your own up.
“good, really good. always love sleeping with you.” you’re both aware of the alternate meaning that has now. “funny,” peter lets out a breathy laugh against you and brushes his thumb over your stomach where your shirt got ridden up. you sigh, enjoying his soft touch and reaching behind you to play with his curls. they’re a lot messier than usual from you tugging on them all last night.
peter removes his face from your neck and carefully turns you onto your other side. you’re facing him now, eyes trained on his concerned expression. “hey, just wanna check. how are you feeling? still sore?” a tiny smile stretches your face. he really does care about you and how you feel after everything. you know for a fact most other guys wouldn’t.
“i mean, yeah. you were... it was a lot, but i’ll be fine in a few days i think.” the mention of peter being a lot makes color rush to his face. you laugh quietly at that, cupping one of his cheeks that’s turning pink. “oh. i, um, i didn’t know that. sorry.” he smiles shyly as you smooth your thumb over his warm skin. “don’t be. it wasn’t as bad after i... adjusted a little,” you reassure him, making him lean into your palm.
“i really am sorry, y/n/n. can i make it up to you?” peter checks with you, eyes going up from yours to down your body. he hooks a finger in the waistband of your pajama shorts. “make you feel better?” the way he finishes his question with a bite of his lip is definitely tempting. so is your stomach yelling at you to put some food in it. you’ll have to wait.
“later. right now, you can make me breakfast,” you beam at him and take his hand. peter pushes his palm against yours, letting you lace your fingers together as he puffs some air out of his cheeks. “yeah, that’s gonna go well.” “i’m supervising. it will.” you capture his lips in a kiss, one he instantly reciprocates, free hand resting on your hip. just as it’s heating up, you break it.
“i’m hungry for actual food,” you giggle and roll out of his embrace. “ok, ok, ok. let’s go see what we have,” peter gives in with a chuckle, grabbing the same hand he was just holding and following you down to the kitchen.
he ends up popping some frozen waffles into the toaster, you sitting up on the counter with your phone out while he struggles through the different settings. “should i put it on bake? no, that doesn’t sound right,” he talks to himself with eyes squinted in concentration. “your dad made this thing so... detailed.” it’s an old stark industries toaster, one with options you probably don’t even need.
“yeah because he loves his toast, so maybe don’t break it. he’ll kill you or something,” you half playfully half seriously suggest. peter is one clumsy guy. he tsks at you and crouches down to read the words on the dial. there’s conveniently a setting for waffles, so he hits that one. he’s not sure how he hadn’t noticed it before.
since he’s down there, he takes one of your ankles in both hands and starts to kiss up your leg. it tickles when he gets to your knee, drawing a giggle out of you, but your phone still blocks his face. you’re doing it on purpose. “baby,” peter tries to get your attention in a soft voice. he presses a couple more kisses to your knee. you have to hold your breath so you don’t laugh again.
“baby girllll,” peter drags out, lips moving up your thigh. he nudges your phone with his nose much like a puppy would. “aye, i’m talkin’ to you here,” he says in a fake new york accent. you finally put it down next to you. “i’m listening.” you’re giving him a satisfied smile as he goes back to kissing you.
“just saying hi,” he looks up at you and moves your shorts aside while he kisses further and further to where you want. you scoot closer to him on the counter.
that’s when he stops. not only stops, gasps in horror. “what?” you ask quickly, his eyes fixed on your inner thighs. “i kind of, uh, marked you up. like, a lot.” he runs a finger gently over the bruised skin. you’re suddenly very aware of it now. it doesn’t exactly hurt, just feels bumpy and weird. you peer down at yourself to see the damage, eyes going wide.
“shit... they’re on my neck, too,” you remember, murmuring to him. you’ll have to cover these up before everyone gets home. worry flashes across peter’s face. “oh my god, i didn’t even realize. it- it was dark and you told me-“ “pete, it’s okay. it’s pretty hot,” you stop his rambling, reaching down and putting a hand on his shoulder. he frowns up at you.
“really? are you sure i didn’t go too far? because you can tell me.” you’ve always appreciated how much peter genuienly values your thoughts on things, in the bedroom and in other parts of your relationship. it does lead to a lot of second guessing, though. you squeeze his shoulder and let out a breath. “i’m sure, okay? it’s really not that serious. i’ll just change so no one can see.”
peter winds an arm around one of your legs, body relaxing ever so slightly under your touch. “okay.” he gives your thigh one final kiss, then rests his chin on it. “what about your neck?” “uh...” you hadn’t considered that yet. “makeup? a scarf?” you’ve seen enough tv to know neither of those work, but they’re your only options.
“yup. mr. stark is really gonna kill me now,” peter says under his breath, tensing up all over again. you furrow your eyebrows at him. “what? we’re literally grown adults, we can do whatever we want-“
tony claps loudly as he steps into the kitchen, announcing his return home. peter jumps up from between your legs faster than fast. he moves so he’s next to you, and you hop down from the counter.
“hello, daughter of mine. spider of man,” your dad greets you two, you pulling down your shorts with a plastered on smile. “or would it be man of spider?” he plucks an apple from the bowl on the table as he ponders his question. steve and wanda file into the room next. “second one,” peter replies, grinning a little too much to be normal. tony takes note of that.
wanda comes over to the fridge for a snack, which is close to where you and peter are. “how was last night?” you ask her to take the attention off you two. wanda settles on a yogurt and turns to you. “it was good. we shared a few hotel rooms, had our own party.” she glances over at peter, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. “seems like you two had a fun night of your own.”
peter’s mouth drops open. “how did you-“ he forgot she could read his mind and now knows everything that happened. you slap a hand over your forehead. “you couldn’t think about anything else? for, like, a minute?” you whisper yell at him. he uses his eyes to plead with you. “i’m sorry! i was looking at the hickeys-“ he realizes what he’s saying. “crap.”
shooting you a wink, wanda shuts the fridge and goes to join the rest of the team in the living room. lucky for you and peter, steve started lecturing tony about washing his fruit before he eats it. he didn’t hear any of that. there’s still the problem of your visible hickeys that you have zero seconds to hide.
“how the fuck am i supposed to cover these? they’re right in the center, peter!” you panic, your heart starting to race as peter fumbles for a dish towel. that’s the best he could come up with? “no!” you toss it back at him. he throws it on the counter with a pained look. tony and steve make their way over to you.
“oh, hush. a couple of deadly pesticides won’t shake me, stevey boy,” tony insists and takes another big bite of his apple. steve huffs in disapproval and crosses his arms. “you’re a big baby, tony. if you’re not gonna do the right thing, at least buy organic-“ with the world’s longest sigh, tony chucks his apple into the open garbage can.
“there. no more apple discourse.” steve shakes his head at your dad’s behavior. “that was a waste. you could’ve finished it.” “not with your nagging into my literal ear.” steve raises his hands in surrender before making his way out of the kitchen. tony side steps past him and over to you. “enough of that now. let’s have a welcome home hug from my girl.”
you share a look with peter, a look of pure fear that’s in both of your eyes. he’ll definitely notice the hickeys if he gets that close to you. he holds out his arms expectantly while peter scratches the back of his own neck. “sure, dad. welcome home.” an awkward smile on your lips, you bury your face in your dad’s chest and wrap your arms around him in one motion. this way, he didn’t have time to see you from too close up.
peter exhales in relief at the narrowly avoided disaster. that’s until tony makes a request. “missed me that much, kiddo, huh? come out of there.” “but, i’m so comfortable. i wanna stay like this,” you insist, a niceness to your voice tony immediately sees through. he drops his arms from around you, eyeing peter suspiciously, who averts his gaze to the floor.
“nuh uh, you did something. both of you,” your dad states, taking a step to stand between you and peter. peter gulps down a breath before speaking. “mr. stark, it was-“ tony holds up a hand. “don’t worry, kid. i’ll figure it out.”
he gives peter a proper stare, searching him for clues of some sort. it’s a good thing he isn’t wanda because the details of your night would have been exposed. he couldn’t find anything, so now it’s your turn. he’s a little disappointed you’re the one hiding something.
“oh, y/n. not you,” tony sighs as he gives you a looking over. he starts with your face, your eyes following down as his do. it’s when he gets just past your chin that he sees them. the little hickeys littering your skin, some already deep shades of purple. he rips off his glasses in disbelief.
“absolutely not.” he closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with the same hand his glasses are in. “i’m not seeing this. i’m not seeing this if i don’t look.” you scoff at his reaction. “dad, you know we’re together. you can’t expect us to not...” “don’t say it,” tony begs, getting the urge to hurl his half eaten apple. he turns and faces peter.
“parker, you really did all of that?” peter only blinks, nervously meeting the eyes of his mentor. “to my daughter?” tony adds on to scare him even more. “i- i-“ a burst of frustration comes out of peter. “you left two teenagers alone the whole night. what’d you think was gonna happen?” he’s shocked at his own words, his face showing it. tony raises his eyebrows. both your hands cover your mouth.
not wanting to deal with peter, tony addresses you instead. “i don’t care how you do it, cover those up. don’t let me see them ever again. understood?” you nod a good amount of times and reach for peter’s hand. he’s about to give it, then tony glares down at what’s happening. peter pulls back immediatelty. “understood. we’ll, um, do better next time,” you agree, tony winching at the idea of a next time.
“you, parker... treat a lady with a little more respect, eh?” tony clicks his tongue at him. he’s referring to all the hickeys. peter’s lips form a line, a sarcastic one that says oh well. “i tried, mr. stark, but y/n wanted me to-“ “christ, that’s enough.” tony furiously shakes his head and starts to walk away from you two. “never again!”
you’re thanking god when he sets off for the living room, you hiding your face in peter’s chest, his face in your hair. “that was terrible. that was the worst thing ever,” you say into him. “i’m sorry, baby. we gotta be more careful.”
it’s not over yet because then, the toaster dings. you’d completely forgotten about the waffles. you and peter both separate with your millionth shared look of terror. tony comes rushing back into the room, very familiar with that noise.
“first you destroy my daughter, now my toaster? pete... you’re in for it, kid.”
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star-puff · 9 months ago
hq boys as wholesome boy things
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note: inspired yet again by @seijch​, we’re each other’s ghost writers (though i’m still not sure if i’m using that term correctly). anyways! spawned after i was pleading eye emoji over school memories; all of the below have happened to me or my friends at least once (guess which ones are personal experiences LOL).
the sequel: here
feat. hinata, bokuto, terushima, kuroo, suna, futakuchi, osamu
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hinata → walks from class to class with you to finish your conversation even though his class is the opposite direction from yours. the first time he does it you honestly thought his classroom was right next door, up until you reach the door of your class and hinata takes one look at the clock and says a cheerful “bye! talk to you later!” and just bolts to the third floor. you feel kind of bad, honestly, but when you tried to make a stop at the staircase one day he says, “it’s okay, i like talking to you!” and honestly who could argue against that :') a sweetie through and through <3
bokuto → asks to try your eyelash curler when he sees you fixing up makeup during free period. he looks so genuinely curious you can’t help but say yes, but, knowing him bokuto probably goes in for the kill and gets his eyelid caught in the curler despite your warnings. it’s one of those eyelash curlers that open when you press down too, so bokuto is just...very panicked and confused 💔
you: let go!!
him, wailing: I CAN’T!!!!!
yes you can babe, just press down again 💔 i promise it’ll get better soon just squeeze the curler it’ll come right off 💔
terushima → looks at your scented hand lotion longingly until you notice and offer him some. immediately says yes, probably uses more than he needs just to get the maximum fragrance, but honestly he looks so happy after he's done putting it on you just...let him. now he just walks into class and looks at you all wide-eyed and expectant and lets out the happiest cheer when you toss him your hand lotion. it's a early morning ritual—you buy the bulk pack of hand lotion now.
kuroo → you're in one of those period filler classes and he lets you paint his nails with highlighter when you're both bored. when you use certain colors and you wipe them off after class they still kind of stain but he wears them with pride, our masculinity king. in like a week you look at him with your collection of mildliners and he just sighs and sticks his hand out. thanks for being the ultimate trooper tetsu, we all love you <3 he still won’t let you do french tips with white out, but it’s currently a work in progress.
suna → daps you up whenever he sees you in the halls. y’all are in-class buddies cause one time he was tired from practice the night before for nationals and pokes you with the back of his pencil, does the “psst psst nudge nudge can i copy” and you’re like “yeah sure go wild” and slide your paper over to his side of the desk. forever indebted to you, truly. there’s an unwritten rule you have where if one of you sleeps in class, the other one stays awake and takes notes to give to them after class. so far the two of you have a pretty even score of sleepyhead vs. notetaker. the twins are jealous cause they don’t have you as their in-class buddy; suna likes to rub it in their faces.
futakuchi → another in-class buddy, the chaotic variant. he originally sat behind you and y’all just would not stop talking so the teacher had to move you away from each other. now, you pass notes like you’re spies during the cold war. except, not really. at this point the teacher has probably given up because kenji is literally flying paper airplanes at the back of your head with notes on it 😭
you: what did you get for number 7
kenji: figure it out yourself dumbass
you: bitch nvm i bet you’re not even on it yet
you were right, he just finished writing his name on the top line, had to rewrite the date a few times because he got the new year wrong again even though it’s literally june. doesn’t stop him from making the most offended face when he reads your note though 💔 it’s okay kenji we’ve all been there 💔 comedic duo of the entire year to be quite honest.
osamu → brings an entire four course meal during math class and shares it with you--not really of course, but he brings so many snacks it might as well be. mealtimes with osamu is the only getting you through trigonometric identities at this point. he literally has everything, sometimes takes requests on what you’d like that day but for the most part you like to be surprised on what he brings! although every time you eat it’s like those silent eating challenges because you’re technically “not allowed” to eat in class but. nothing can stop your hunger, everything can be a comfort food if the math is distressing enough. literally in the middle of the lecture it’s just:
the teacher: why are you eating again you literally just had lunch
you and osamu, snacks piled up on your desk: yeah, and??
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zeeroweenies · 4 months ago
Let me put y’all on smth bc I’m unreasonably horny for geto and exhausted all my fic sources. Either prof! Geto and you aint just fucking for a good grade he’s just so hot. OR OR step dad geto because he’s s u c h a dilf. I need dilf geto fics man ugh
ight y’all I managed to retype it...
cw: dark content, stepdad sugu, heavy daddy usage, age gap, sneaking out/getting caught, orgasm denial, facial, asphyxiation, impact play, reader is in her 20s, 1K words, not proofed.
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Your stepfather Suguru was a very good hearted man, he always showed you kindness and treated you like his own after your mother died even though you weren’t his real daughter.
Sometimes you don’t understand though, when he stealthily sneaks into your room in the darkness of the night to rub his cock against your ass and toy with your little clit until you’re trembling and can’t whimper anything but his name. Was this okay to do? Of course it was, Suguru would never take advantage of you, and it makes you feel good so it must be!
It’s been like this ever since your mom passed away in some mysterious accident. It was devastating, but Suguru was there to pick up the pieces, healing your broken heart with his kind words... and his fat cock.
Suguru’s a patient man, but every once in a while that patience runs thin when you do something to act out. Usually it’d be you throwing a tantrum when he didn’t let you get your way, folding your arms and stomping your foot in rebellion with a frown on your face like a spoiled brat.
“Why not, daddy? You never tell me no!”
“Because I said no, did you not hear what I said?”
It always results in him bending you over his lap and spanking your ass until it’s numb and bruised, fucking you from behind on his huge bed with you crying about how you’re sorry for being such a bad girl. But inevitably he ends up giving you what you what you ask for, he could never stand to see his precious baby so sad after hurting her.
He sometimes worries that he spoils you too much though, that this causes you to take advantage of his kindness to you. He realized it when you came skipping up to him in that dulcet voice, all slutted up in your skimpy clothes leaving a sweet kiss on his cheek with your fingers tracing circles on his shoulder. “Hey daddy, can I have some money? Wanna go shopping with my friends.”
Of course being the nice daddy he is he didn’t even ask how much you wanted, simply handing you his black card along with a large wad of cash from his thick wallet that could be mistaken for a small book. It was way too much money to just hand over, especially to an irresponsible girl like you. But you were an expensive girl with expensive tastes, the only acceptable amount of funds was all the money in his wallet.
“Have fun baby, and don’t stay out too late.” his attention is fixed on your tits, almost drooling at the way they bounce as you keen at his unusual compliance.
Your eyes marveled at the amount of money, taking his face in your hands to crash your lips against his in a messy kiss before skipping out the door with a giddy smile. “Thanks, daddy!”
Suguru wasn’t dumb by a long shot, and he didn’t trust you as far as he could throw you, he knew you were going to meet up with a boy. Especially since you’re wearing those whore clothes with your tits nearly falling out of your top. He didn’t appreciate you lying to him, and that’s why you were in the position you were in now, soft thighs tucked behind his big hands as he brutally thrusted into you.
One hand lands against your cheek hard, sending your face in the direction he hit you leaving behind a sting. “You think you can just lie to me, huh? Think you can act like a little slut and get away with it?”
You whimper at the harsh treatment, his venomous tone contrasting with the usual sweet words he’d use while fucking you. “N-No daddy, m’sorry!”
His grip tightens around your neck, your nails digging crescents in his forearms from the lack of air. “No, you’re not sorry. Cause you’re whoring around on me, prancing around in your slut clothes while I stay here waiting for you.” he grits his teeth, an angry scowl forming on his on his mouth with his hips forcefully fucking into you, your body beginning to become limp from the restriction around your throat.
“Maybe I should just give you away like some cheap whore, give you to someone who won’t love you like I do.” The words make your heart rate pick up, the thought of someone taking you away from your precious stepfather causing your eyes to nearly bulge from your skull, clinging onto him for dear life. “Daddy please, I love you– wanna be with you—”
“You love me?” He questions, voice and brows softening as his rough pace turns into a more manageable one. “Oh baby, daddy loves you too.”
“Daddy’s gonna marry you. How’s that sound, hm? You wanna be daddy’s wife?” he coos, a lazy smile playing on his face as his lips teasingly hover over yours.
You give him a shaky nod, pressure in your core building as your stepdad pounds your soaked cunt. “Don’t want anyone else, I just want daddy,” you whimper.
The sensation of your approaching orgasm is interrupted by Suguru pulling out of you with a loud pop, whining at the emptiness before he comes to straddle your chest, pumping his thick shaft in his hand over your tear stricken face. “Good, no more cheating on daddy.”
His groans become louder, head thrown back as you wait for what you know is coming next as his gaze is drawn back to you. “C’mere so I can cum on that pretty face.” You do as he tells you, rushing to perch yourself up on your elbows as his thick seed shoots onto your face, ropes coming out in white strings and weighing down your fake eyelashes.
It’s degrading, humiliating as he swipes his cock against your face like you’re next to nothing, taking his cum with two fingers before hooking them into your mouth with a harsh tug, his previous honeyed tone replaced with a stern one.
“This pussy belongs only to me.”
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🏷 @sunas-cumdump @thouxanbanfaunii @riefushiguro @icyoni @kageyamakock @naoyailoveu @uwubby-1
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flightlessangelwings · 5 months ago
No Stranger to the Dark
The Darkling (General Kirigan) x gn!reader (no y/n, no pronouns)
Word count: 4.3k
Warnings: spoilers for the end of season 1, angst, hurt/comfort, injury, pining, bigoted views from others, kidnapping, minor character death, feelings, happy ending
Notes: I really hope y’all like this one cause I spent a lot of time on it! Thank you to @the-purity-pen​ for the title and thank you to @we-can-be-himbos​ for beta reading! If you wanna be tagged in future fics, I have a Shadow and Bone taglist or Ben Barnes characters taglist so let me know if you’d like to be added! Also posted on AO3. 
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The Darkling, General Kirigan, stumbled through the woods as blood dripped from his many wounds. The shadowy volcra had long since disappeared; he no longer had the strength to keep them at his heel for the time being. It had been some time since he saw another person, but he was more than ok with that. His only dilemma was if he could reach a healer before he collapsed to the ground in the middle of nowhere.
Just as he leaned against a tree to rest, a rustle from the woods caught his attention. Kirigan flexed his palm in an attempt to summon some shadows, anything to protect himself. But, his power dropped when you emerged from the trees and he saw you were just an ordinary person. You had a look of worry on your face and you immediately rushed over when you saw how injured this stranger dressed in all black was.
“Hey,” you spoke when you got close enough, “What happened? Are you ok?”
Kirigan opened his mouth to retort that obviously no he was not ok, but his strength finally gave out before he could and he fell over unconscious. The general cursed himself for his weakness and his last thought before he passed out was how angry he was with himself.
When he woke up again, Kirigan found himself in an unfamiliar house and an unfamiliar bed. He groaned as he sat up and noticed that all of his injuries were cleaned and covered with bandages, although the soreness and exhaustion in his body remained. His kefta was also no longer on his back and he vaguely wondered where it could be.
“You’re awake,” your voice came from the far end of the room. Kirigan’s eyes quickly snapped over to meet your figure as you leaned against the doorway. In your hands he saw more bandages and a small jar of what he guessed was something to clean his wounds.
“It appears so,” he mumbled as he tried to get up. He didn’t make it far though and a sharp pain brought him back down onto the bed.
“Don’t try to move,” you rushed over to his side and helped him settle back in a more comfortable position as you dropped your supplies to the floor beside you, “You were badly hurt. I did my best with what I had, but I’m no grisha healer,” your eyes held an emotion that Kirigan couldn’t quite place as you stood and took a few steps back to give him some space.
“You know I’m grisha?” he asked in a raspy voice, suddenly genuinely curious. 
You nodded in response, “I recognize a kefta when I see one,” you gestured to his black kefta that you hung in the corner of the room, “Although I’ve never seen a black one before.”
He scoffed as a half smile flashed across his face, “So you know what I am. And yet you helped me anyway?” The question was loaded, but he was genuinely curious about what your response would be.
“Yes,” your tone was hushed but your answer was instantaneous, “You may have magic that I don’t have, but we’re both still human aren’t we?” The sincere look in your eyes stirred something within the general, but he pushed that feeling down and buried it.
It wasn’t often that Kirigan was stunned to silence, but here you were, a complete stranger and he had no words to respond with. His face faltered for a brief moment, but you didn’t quite catch the expression that flashed by. Your own eyes drifted down to the floor where you dropped your medical supplies.
“Do you mind if I…” you drifted off as you stepped closer to him and gestured to his bandages, “I want to make sure it’s healing ok.”
Kirigan held your gaze with a stern expression for a moment before he dropped his head and nodded. You missed the way he swallowed hard when you were close enough so that he felt the warmth from your body.
You stayed silent as you gingerly sat down beside him and pushed his coat open to inspect the wounds on his chest first. Kirigan hissed in pain as you lifted the bloodied bandages from his skin and you shot him a quick apologetic look as you rubbed some salve onto the wounds.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, “I know it stings, but I made this myself and it’ll help you heal faster,” you couldn’t bring yourself to look into his dark eyes but you could feel his intense gaze on you as the handsome stranger watched your every move.
After you covered those wounds with fresh bandages, you tenderly closed his jacket to cover him up again before you turned your attention to the slashes on his face. Your breath caught in your throat for a moment when you met the man’s eyes finally and you froze for a moment under his gaze. You dipped your fingers into the container of salve and lifted your hand up to his face.
“May I?”
It was Kirigan’s turn to freeze as his breath hitched for a brief moment. His dark eyes bore into you and it felt like he looked directly into your soul, yet you did not feel any fear toward him. Instead, there was a feeling that you couldn’t quite place and you felt a pull towards him unlike anything you’d ever felt for anyone before. You waited until he gave you a nod before you touched his skin with the salve.
Again he hissed softly in pain, and you gave him another apologetic look, but no words were needed this time. Kirigan stayed still under your touch, and the feeling of your hand on his face was electrifying. The tension was palpable in the room as you caressed his face and covered the wounds with your homemade salve. The entire time, Kirigan’s gaze never left your face as he studied you intensely.
“What’s your name?” you broke the silence as gave him your own name and set the little jar down on the floor.
He thought for a moment. There were several names he could give you, but which would he choose? Would he want you calling him General Kirigan? The Darkling? He imagined what each would sound like in your voice, and when he finally opened his mouth, he surprised himself with his answer, “Aleksander.”
A smile lit up your face and the general felt something stir within him again, “It’s nice to meet you… Aleksander.”
Weeks passed and every day General Kirigan grew stronger. You checked on him often and spoke with him about nothing and everything as you cleaned his wounds and changed his bandages. He sometimes joined in on the conversation, but for the most part he stayed quiet; he found that he actually enjoyed listening to your voice as you filled the silence. If he were to guess, it had been some time since you had someone to talk to. You definitely had an air of loneliness about you, but Kirigan chose not to bring it up.
Every day, Kirigan stood and stretched his muscles; he did not want to lose any more strength than he already had by staying so still. He also tried to summon his powers, but for the first week, every time he tried, he fell over in exhaustion. You were there every time and caught him before he hit the ground. As much as Kirigan hated to lean on you like that, he was secretly grateful that you were there for him. He would never actually voice that out loud, though.
“How are you feeling today Aleksander?” you asked one morning as you came into the room.
“Better,” he stood on his own and crossed the room to grab his kefta. 
In one of the early days of his stay with you, he had watched as you meticulously cleaned the blood and dirt off of it. As he did, a fresh rush of feelings ran through him at how pristine it looked. It was in better shape than the day he got it, and he could tell how much you put into fixing it. Much like you put so much into fixing him. As the days passed, it became harder and harder for the general to deny and bury the fondness that he quickly developed for you. He made sure that his internal conflict never showed on his face, however, and you remained blissfully unaware of his struggle.
“I hope I did an ok job with your kefta,” you spoke up from behind him, “I’d never actually been able to touch one before,” you reached out and helped him put it on and your hand lingered on his arm as you felt the fabric under your palm, “It’s beautiful.”
Aleksander turned around to face you and rested his hand on your shoulder, “It’s fine, thank you,” he was quiet for several moments as he studied your face, “You told me you’d never seen a black one before,” he paused as you nodded, “Let me show you why.”
He stepped back from you and lifted his arm up in front of him as he summoned his strength and energy into his hand. Slowly, the room descended into darkness as shadows surrounded the two of you. You gasped softly, but stayed still as the darkness danced around you. Aleksander’s deep eyes never left your face as he studied your reaction. Feeling his strength leave him again, he retracted and the shadows slowly started to disappear as he stepped close to you once more.
“Are you afraid?” he asked as his dark eyes bore into your own.
Though you were initially surprised at the demonstration, your face never faltered and you remained strong, “I’m not scared of the dark.”
“I meant of me,” his gaze was intense as he waited with bated breath for your answer.
“No,” your voice was genuine, “If you wanted to kill me you would have done it by now.”
Aleksander let out a heavy breath, “I don’t want to hurt you.” He couldn’t explain why, but the black general genuinely did not want any harm to come to you, be it by his hand or another’s. He should want to or at least not care, given the rage he felt towards others in his veins before he met you. And you had nothing to offer him: you had no power, no influence, nothing. But there was a pull that he felt towards you that he couldn’t deny, as much as he tried to.
“Thanks,” you deadpanned with a grin on your face as you deflected with humor, “I mean I did patch you up and I’m letting you stay in my house and everything.”
He knew you meant it lightheartedly, but he remained serious, “Are you sure about keeping me here? The people don’t take too kindly to grisha these days.” He left it unsaid that especially now after the demonstration he led in the fold that led to his injuries, but he wasn’t sure you were aware of those events. Surely you had risked a lot to keep him hidden in your house for the past few weeks. And the longer he stayed the greater the chance he would be found, especially with his strength returning.
You let out a sigh, “I know,” you turned and looked out the window. Your house was in the woods, far removed from the town and you lived alone. “I don’t share the people’s consensus on grisha though. It got me ostracized but I’m ok with that,” you were silent for a moment as Aleksander studied your profile, “It’s lonely, but I’d rather be alone than surrounded by people who give in to such needless hate.”
Again, your words stunned him to silence. When you turned around and met his gaze again, the look on your face nearly stopped his heart. Who were you to have this strange power over his heart like this? Aleksander swore to himself to never have feelings towards another person after everything that happened in his past, yet here you were breaking down walls that you didn’t even know were there.
You parted your lips as you let out the breath you held and the look in your eyes set Aleskander’s mind ablaze. You took a few steps closer to him, but kept your arms to yourself, as if you physically held yourself back from touching him. The two of you stayed locked in an intense stare, neither sure of what to say to break the silence. Perhaps neither of you wanted to. His gaze dropped down to your lips for the briefest moment, but he made no attempt to move.
It was you who finally spoke first, “You can stay here as long as you like until you’re strong enough to be on your own,” you sounded disappointed in your own words as if that wasn’t what you actually meant to say, “I’ll let you leave when you can show me you can cover the whole house in shadows. That way I know you’ve gotten your full strength back,” the genuine concern in your voice was something that took him by surprise, but it was a welcome one.
Aleksander balled his hand into a fist as he only nodded in response, unable to voice his true thoughts.
Another week passed and both of you danced around your growing feelings as you helped him regain his full strength. Every day, he was able to summon more and more shadows and the inside of your house got darker and darker. You still weren’t afraid though. You couldn’t explain why: you knew you should have been because of how powerful he appeared to be. Yet, this man did not frighten you at all. Maybe your heart made you biased as you tried to push down your feelings for the tall, handsome man that could manipulate shadows. 
Every day, Aleksander was able to cover more and more space with shadows until the day came when he could finally cover your entire house in darkness. It created conflicting feelings within you: on the one hand you were happy he was back to his full strength, but that also meant he would most likely leave you and disappear from your life. You knew that a grisha and a regular human was an impossible dream, but you held onto the illusion for the past few weeks while you shared your house with him.
“I suppose you’ll leave now then,” you fiddled with your hands as you stood close to him. You tried your best, but you were unable to hide the melancholy in your voice.
Aleksander closed the small gap between your bodies and cupped your face in his hands. You heard your heart pound in your chest as you felt warmth spread across your face. Vaguely, you wondered if he felt it too. You grabbed onto his shoulders and held tight to his kefta. Neither of you spoke as the tension that the two of you danced around finally felt impossible to ignore.
Without a word, he glanced down to your lips for a moment and you saw the question in his eyes. You swallowed hard, and as much as you wanted to pinch yourself to make sure you weren’t dreaming, you also didn’t want to wake up if you were. With a subtle nod, you gave him the permission he silently asked for. 
He leaned in close and you felt his breath on you as his lips ghosted over yours. The kiss was feather-light and your eyes fluttered shut as you let yourself get lost in him. Even just that soft touch was enough to engulf your entire body in flames and you felt like your heart would explode from your chest. And Aleksander hid it well, but he felt the exact same way. Just as you parted your lips to deepen the kiss, a loud knock at your door interrupted the moment.
You jumped in surprise as Aleksander scowled in the direction of your front door and wrapped his arms around you protectively without even a second thought. You both heard a group of men shout your name as they pounded on the door even harder. You looked over at him with fear on your face. But you quickly swallowed that fear and composed yourself.
“It must be the townspeople,” you whispered, “Let me deal with them,” your voice was stern, but Aleksander could hear the hint of fear in there as well, “We can’t risk you being seen. I can take care of this, ok?”
Reluctantly, he nodded and retreated to the back of your house while you moved to answer the door before the townspeople knocked it down.
“Open this door!” they shouted as they called your name.
“I’m coming for Saint’s sake,” you called back as you swung the door open, “What do you want?” you tried to put on a brave face, and you hoped that you wouldn’t give yourself away.
“We’ve gotten word that an injured grisha was seen around these parts,” an older man said, “You wouldn’t happen to have seen anything have you?” his tone turned accusatory as his gaze pointed at you.
“I haven’t seen anything,” you easily lied.
“I hope you don’t mind then if we take a look around,” he replied as he pushed past you and he and the other men poured into your home. Obviously they didn’t believe you, and they ignored your protests.
The men swept through the house in no time, but they found nothing. The room that Aleksander had stayed in the past few weeks was empty, and his black kefta was nowhere to be found. You followed the men closely and let out a soft sigh of relief when they found nothing. Begrudgingly, they left empty handed without as much as an apology for bursting into your house.
When you were alone, you looked around and let out an even heavier exhale. You were relieved that Aleksander was able to slip out unseen, but you also felt an emptiness now that he was gone. You walked over to the bed where he laid for the past several weeks and gently ran your hand across the sheets. They felt cold already, as did the rest of your house. But, he was free and safe, and that was all you could ask for, and you hoped that he was ok on his own now.
General Kirigan... The Darkling… Aleksander was now free to continue what he started before he was incapacitated for several weeks. His strength was fully returned, and his kefta was fresh and clean. He should have been eager to look forward to what came next for him, but he found that his thoughts lingered on you. As much as he hated to leave you alone without a word, you both knew that was the necessary action.
Yet, you never left his mind for a moment ever since he slipped away. Kirigan tried to push his feelings down at first; he knew how detrimental it was to have someone to lose and he couldn’t bear to go through that again. No, this was best for both of you. He would continue on the path he started for himself and you would live out your life in peace.
But, as much as he tried to convince himself that was best for both of you, Kirigan couldn’t keep himself away and he soon found himself back at your house.
It was quiet in your little house… too quiet. He let himself in through the door and called your name, but was only met with silence. He searched every room, but you were nowhere to be found. Panic set in as his mind raced and only came up with the worst scenario. 
That was when he came to the window and saw a pillar of smoke in the distance. 
Kirigan rushed out the door in a blur, hopped on his horse, and ran as fast as he could down to the village. He hadn’t felt a panic like this in a very long time, and his mind only thought the worst as the pillar of smoke got closer and closer. His breath caught in his throat when he got to the town square and his worst fear was realized.
You were tied to a pillar in the center of the burning flames, slumped over and barely clinging to consciousness as smoke filled your lungs. The townspeople all congregated around you and watched with glee as the life slowly started to leave your eyes, and it made the rage within Kirigan boil over dangerously.
He let out a yell that was both filled with rage and sorrow as darkness overtook the entire area. The people barely had a chance to react before he lifted his arms and his most formidable weapon launched forward: the cut. He didn’t care about anyone there except for you, and the cut swung through the circle of people. No one could even let out a scream before they were cut down to the ground in several pieces. 
While he viciously attacked the villagers, Kirigan made sure that there was enough darkness to snuff out the flames and save your life. What felt like an eternity was only a matter of seconds, but with your life on the line, time seemed to slow. The moment all the villagers were dead on the ground, Kirigan rushed over to you and called out your name as he held your head in his hands and lifted you up.
Your eyes were glazed over and you struggled to breathe, but when you saw the one face that had been on your mind, you smiled softly, “Aleksander…” you whispered hoarsely before you fell forward, unconscious. 
He screamed your name as he cut the rope that held you to the pillar and held you close. As much as he tried to fight it, tears formed in his eyes as he cradled your unconscious body. Kirigan knew he had to act quickly, and while you still clung to life, you were fading fast. He kept his rising panic down as he carried you over to his horse and took off. While he held you close to his body, he found himself doing something he hadn’t done in a long time: he prayed to the Saints that you would be alright.
With a cough, you woke up and found yourself in an unfamiliar place. You gasped as you tried to scurry away, but you were quickly out of breath before you could even get out of the bed you laid on. That was when you heard a familiar voice call your name.
“Don’t move,” Aleksander wrapped his arms around you and set you back down onto the bed. His hands brushed over your face as he looked down at you, “I got you to a healer but you’ll need time to recover,” he left it unsaid that had he been just a few minutes later, it would have been too late.
“You saved my life…” your voice was weak but your eyes never left his. You clung to his arm as tightly as you could, as if you were afraid he would disappear if you let go. You tried to speak more, but you coughed when you inhaled, and Aleksander quickly brought you a glass of water and helped you drink. “What…?”
“Don’t,” he warned in a gentle tone. He did not want to have to explain what he did to save your life. Not that they mattered to him anyway, but he couldn’t bear it if you looked at him any differently. “Rest now.”
You let yourself relax back onto the bed, “Thank you,” you reached out for him and took his hand in your own. You wheezed as you inhaled before you spoke again, “There was a rumor in the town that the grisha who could control shadows passed by,” you took another heavy breath as you felt Aleksander’s deep stare, “I guess they figured out he stayed with me for a time and they…” 
Aleksander sat down beside you as you spoke, your hand secure in his own. As you spoke, he felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time: guilt. And the thought flashed in his mind what would have happened if he had been too late. It was then that he finally accepted how much you actually meant to him, having already proven the lengths he would go to in order to protect you. 
“What happens now?” you asked after you were quiet for some time, “I can’t go back there,” you stated simply and you felt his hand squeeze yours just a bit tighter.
“Come with me,” he said without hesitation, “I can protect you,” your eyes stayed locked on his as if you waited for him to change his mind, “It’ll be a dangerous life with me,” Aleksander sighed as he squeezed your hand tighter, “But I promise I will keep you safe.”
Several moments of tense silence passed where you said nothing, but just kept your eyes on his. With a grunt, you pushed yourself to sit up, and Aleksander quickly wrapped his arms around you to help you. As soon as you sat upright, you leaned forward and took his lips with your own in a heated and passionate kiss. Aleksander immediately held you close and returned the kiss with just as much passion. All the unspoken words between you were told in the kiss, and you both knew what the other wanted to say without the words needed as you both got lost in each other.
It would be a new and challenging life for both of you, but you were ready to face it head on. As long as you two had each other, you could handle whatever came at you. Together in the darkness. 
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sukunasbabymama · 3 months ago
A little jealousy.
⌗ Pairing: Manjiro Sano (Mikey), Ken Ryuguji (Draken), Baji Keisuke, Chifuyu Matsuno.
⌗ Warnings: None i guess.
⌗ A/N: This is to see if I can write proper reactions (with scenarios(?), later I’ll try with headcanons and so on.
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Manjiro Sano Mikey.
No, no, no, you don’t understand, he physically CAN’T fake it when he’s jealous. It doesn’t matter if y’all friends, lovers, enemies whatever. He will make sure you know.
Didn’t y’all see how he went off on poor Inupi when he just nominated Takemichi to be the leader of the Black Dragons? Yeah, he doesn’t play around.
Let’s say you’re ordering for him and you're making sure they got the order right because you aren’t in the mood to hear him whining for a damn flag in his meal, but the waiter keeps flirting with you. You noticed, Mikey noticed.
“Mine. Just mine, get yours somewhere else” he said pouting, the waiter thought he was too childish to be with you so he laughs it off.
“If I repeat myself one more time I’m not gonna be so chill about it.” Mikey says, this time in his I’m-The-Leader-Of-The-Strongest-Gang voice.
“You heard him, I'm his.” You laugh because by now you should know what you signed up for.
There go the waiter hopes, Mikey smile at you and you just rolled your eyes. What a man-child.
Ken Ryuguji Draken.
He doesn’t get jealous, or that’s what he thought, till he saw you leaning comfortably on the counter of the tattoo shop he got his tattoo. You were being instructed on how to take care of the new tattoo you just got, but the man behind the counter hasn’t stopped trying to flirt with you, not even when he was tattooing your leg. Draken was annoyed.
He walks up behind you and hugged you, putting almost his whole weight on you, hiding his head in your neck, he kisses it.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be the one taking care of it, no need to flirt through all the damn instructions” He says deadpan.
The other guy is embarrassed because he thought he was being subtle about it he wasn’t.
“That was weird, you don’t get jealous, what happened?” You ask Draken when the guy took a moment to look for some stuff they would provide for your tattoo.
“Who says I don’t get jealous? I have the prettiest angel in all Shibuya baby, I get jealous, a lot” He isn’t looking at your eyes because he’s embarrassed but he’s also really honest with you. “Sometimes tho, I have to show it so people know their place.”
Baji Keisuke.
We know this mf is feral, okay, but he’s also a very observant person, remember he got all the conclusions by himself in that arc.
So, when he went to your school for the first time so he could take you to hang out with his mom (she loves you okay) and he saw you walking out with a bunch of guys he started to get mad.
Not at you, but because he could observe they were harassing you, you were trying as much as you could to keep a serene expression, but he can see. When you see him you smile and run to him, with the boys behind you thinking you were running from them.
“I’m going to beat them” Is the first thing he says.
“No, I don’t want your mom to think I condone any of this,” You say fixing his glasses, he was coming from his school so he was wearing his nerdy attire.
“Is that your boyfriend? That nerd?” The group of guys starts making fun of both of you now, still following you, you ignore them till they started with the nonsense. “Does he knows you run to me every morning before the ring bells?”
You look at Baji and you swear you can see smoke coming out of his ears like in cartoons, you smile at him and take his backpack and glasses from him.
“I’ll make an excuse for your knuckles when we get to your house” You give him a quick kiss on the cheek and whispered in his ear. “Beat them all”
He smiles, what a joy to have his soulmate with him uh.
Chifuyu Matsuno.
Now, I know we like to portrait him as this soft boy, and he is, but when he means business, he’s a MENACE. Let’s not act like he wasn’t about to mop the floor with those little gangsters the day he met Baji. before they tried to jump his ass.🙄
You have been telling him about this guy that you have to do a project with, and the more you tell him about the way he talks to you when you’re working together, the less Chifuyu likes this guy. It’s more than obvious that he is interested in you, you knew that and Chifuyu too.
Now, Chifuyu wasn’t worried about you, he knows you and trusts you, but he didn’t like the fact that you have to go through that flirting just for a damn project. So, like the menace he is one day when your project partner was calling you, he took the call, with your permission obviously he’s a menace that’s afraid of you, you were playing with his cats so you told him to take the call.
The thing is that my man can be rude as fuck, and when the guy started with a “hello beautiful” he was pissed, so he said a couple things and that’s why now you’re on an alleyway with at least 7 guys surrounding you, Chifuyu and his friend Baji.
“Gonna beat some propers manners into you,” Your project partner says, and you quietly got behind Baji at the same time he was getting in front of you to protect you, he was smiling amused at everything that was happening.
Your dumb ass boyfriend gave the guy a head butt while smiling.
“Whoops, my bad, I was trying to bow but you got in the way,” He says watching the guy sway in confusion.
“First division vice-captain, Chifuyu Matsuno, you have permission" As soon as those words let Baji's mouth your boyfriend started to beat all the guys' asses.
Well, they should have known better, you thought.
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nihachulovebot · 10 months ago
what’s a king without his crown? [technoblade x reader]
request: Hi I was thinking of a really fluffy Dreamsmp AU with techno. so maybe after the final war the reader manage to land a strike that broke his crown and he was kinda upset about it so reader secretly leaves a flower crown in his base with a note saying "a king shouldn't be without his crown". just some fluffy stuff with a sprinkle of angst because they're enemies now cjdkfmji
pairing: Technoblade x reader
warnings: Nov. 16 Dream SMP spoilers, cursing, blood mention
author’s note: I rewatched Techno’s VOD to write this and I got all emotional lol, I hope you all enjoy this!! I got a little sidetracked from the main request, but I had so much I wanted to add, I hope that’s alright! Would y’all be interested in a part 2?
You felt bad. And not like you were just upset, you felt sick to your stomach with everything that had happened. I mean none of it was your fault, but you felt incredibly responsible because this was your home. Honestly, you thought Dream was just spouting bullshit when he said there was a traitor amongst you, I mean you wouldn’t put it past him. And you really weren’t expecting both Wilbur and Techno to betray you guys. God you missed Wilbur. Currently you were sitting at the end of the prime path with Fundy and Niki, taking in all the damage. You hadn’t noticed the tears streaming down your face, but Fundy had, handing you a tissue with a comforting smile on his face. You wrapped your arms over their shoulders, pulling them both into a hug before pulling away and addressing them.
“Okay, let’s not sit around here and cry and be sad” you sniff, taking Niki’s hand in your right and Fundy’s in your left, knowing how hard this must be for them, they both lost Will as well “let’s get to work, I know us, we can fix this place up, we can make it better! And I mean, who better than us” Your short speech earned a smile from the pair before you headed down into the crater where the country used to be, surveying the wreck. You three split off from each other, decided to cover more ground that way. You head towards the podium, boots clicking against the rubble beneath your feet. You’re periodically blinded by the sunlight reflecting off something buried a bit under the debris, you crouch down, pushing some of the rocks out of the way to reveal the shattered pieces of Techno’s crown.
“You wanna be a hero Tommy?” Techno’s voice was calm while he addressed the boy in front of him “Then die like one.” He spawned the Withers, devilish smile spreading across his face. Your eyes widen as you run towards Tommy, tossing him an ender pearl before you chase after the man. He begins to chase down Sam and you threw an ender pearl to step between them.
“Techno, I can’t let you kill Sam, I can’t just stand by and watch you kill anyone else” You frown, drawing your own netherite sword. Techno sighs, stopping in his tracks pinching the bridge of his nose “(Y/n), get out of my way, I don’t want to have to kill you too.” You stand your ground, drawing in a deep breath, in which Techno chuckles at.
“Are really going to stand there so you can lose a fight against me? Christ (Y/n), you have the option to side with me, or you can stay there and follow Tubbo, president of the ashes.”
“See that’s your problem Techno, you may have the power to destroy a country, but you have no loyalty to the people who actually care about you.”
“Then you can die too.” Techno states, drawing his own sword. You charge him, sword clanging against his. Techno fights defensively, blocking every hit you throw his way. Your anger only grows as you notice the lack of attack on Techno’s part. You swing unexpectedly at Techno’s head, causing him to duck at the last minute. You barely miss his head and shatter the crown on his head. Techno furrows his eyebrows before hitting you in the stomach with his shield before knocking you to the ground.
“Stay down” he growls, sword pointed at your neck, “I gave you the opportunity, yet you passed it up. So, stay the hell down, or I’ll knock you down again.”  You wipe your nose, blood dripping down your face. As he turned back to the chaos, you yell out at him, trying to shout over the sound of the withers destroying what was left of L’Manburg.
“We trusted you Techno! We all did! You’re our friend!” Tears filled your eyes, stopping Techno in his tracks. He looks over his shoulder, hair falling into his eyes.
“I didn’t ask you for that,” his voice low, “you have no one to blame but yourselves. Think about it for a second, I’ve made my intentions clear since the minute I’ve gotten here. Just because I came to assist in taking down JSchlatt, doesn’t mean I was here for you. Friends don’t win wars, Weapons do.” All you could do was sit there with the wind knocked out of you, as you watch him walk towards the chaos.
“Shit,” you sigh, dropping the pieces you had picked up before heading off to mine some cobble and gather some wood to help with the rebuilding. As you were about to let the others know about your plan you notice an area of land that had remained untouched, just outside the border of L’Manburg. You decide to do something else instead.
“Niki! Fundy!” you call, gaining the pairs attention “get over here for a second!” they rush over and you begin to drag them over to the grassy field. You sit down in the middle of the flowers, earning quizzical looks from the two with you.
“(Y/n)? what are you doing?” Niki asked, slightly concerned at your sudden change in mood.
“Yeah, we have a ton to do if we’re gonna fix up L’Manburg” Fundy said, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“All of that?” you say, gesturing to the crater, “will be there tomorrow, we just fought in a war! Let’s do something good now, we’re not in L’Manburg right now, so that’s not our concern. Please, let’s just, live our lives for one goddamn moment, without having to worry about the hell we just went through and still have to face again later.” Niki throws Fundy an unreadable look before Fundy shrugs and plops down on the grass next to you. Niki follows a moment after, before picking a couple of flowers and weaving them into a crown, much to your fascination.
“How did you do that?” You ask, eyes wide “can you teach me?” To which Niki nods in response, soft smile gracing her face. You three sit in the field laughing and sharing stories from before everything went to hell. After Niki showed you how to do make the flower crown you made one for Fundy, placing it on his head. You hadn’t realized that you had been there for so long until Tommy appeared over the hill, followed by Quackity and Tubbo, all three covered in bandages. They look confused for a second until you speak up.
“Sit down, let’s be kids for once, before we have to go fight in another war” you sigh, patting the ground next to you. Tubbo gave in quickly, taking a seat between Niki and Fundy. Quackity followed quickly afterwards, lying down on the grass on your right, closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath. Tommy stood there a moment, unsure on whether to stay or go. You look up at him, holding out your arms to which he falls to the ground next you, resting his head on your leg, wincing slightly, forgetting about his injuries. You begin to retell the story you had started telling Niki and Fundy, now adding more details this time around, earning laughs and chuckles from the group. You run your hand through Tommy’s hair in a comforting motion, hoping to relax the boy. You watch Niki place a flower crown on Tubbo’s head, causing his face to light up. You begin to create one last flower crown, alternating between weaving flowers into it and placing some in Tommy’s hair.
“(Y/n)! you can’t do that! I’m supposed to look tough!” Tommy complains, yet not removing the flowers from his hair. Quackity snorts before opening his eyes to look at the sixteen-year-old, “I don’t know Tommy, I think you look mighty tough like that.” You all laugh and joke around for a bit longer, choosing to ignore the passing time. As the sun begins to set, you all decide it’s if you headed out. Before everyone starts to get up, you scramble to your feet and take a quick picture of the group.
“I want to remember this,” you say “we’re happy now, and if we can be happy after everything that just happened? We can be happy again, and I liked seeing you all like this, so this picture is going in my base” you state, crossing your arms, earning a laugh from the group.
“No one’s gonna fight you on that, (Y/n)” Quackity says, “you can keep it, you know unless big man Tommy here wants no evidence that he had fun for once.”
“Big Q!” Tommy gasps, “I’ll have you know I have a lot of fun, usually it’s just when you’re not around”. As the boys began bickering again, everyone began to get up to leave, saying their goodbyes, laughter bubbling up under their words. Niki offers to walk you back to your base, considering it’s on the way to hers, which you politely decline, saying you had something else to do before you head back. As you walk away, Niki notices the final flower crown you had made being held at your side.
Techno gets back to his base later in the night after spending the night with Philza. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, shrugging off his cloak. He goes to remove his crown without realizing that he no longer had one. The strangled groan that left his body sounded like it originated from his soul, as he rested his head on the table in front of him. As his head hit the table, he felt something brush against the top of his head he hadn’t noticed earlier. Sitting in front of him on the table is a flower crown, along with a note.
Hey Techno,
I know this is probably s u p e r weird considering we’re supposed to be fighting and you hate us, and we’re supposed to hate you and everything. But, honestly, I can’t bring myself to hate you, I care about you a ton. Like I know you said friends don’t win wars, but god win or lose, it sure feels fucking good to have them around afterwards. And I mean, I’m here for you, because I mean we forgave Eret, and he actually changed for the better! And honestly, I don’t care if you hate me, I mean I care, but I’m still gonna be here for you. You’re still my friend, and a king! And honestly, what’s a king without a crown? So, I made this, and the longer I spend writing this note, I’m starting to this this isn’t a good idea? Whatever though, I feel bad for breaking your crown, and I saw pieces in the rubble and wreckage of L’Manburg, and I couldn’t stop thinking about you. That sounds like something a simp would say, but at this point does it matter? But I’m getting sidetracked, I hope you like it!
          - (Y/n)
Techno puts down the note, picking up the crown cautiously. He places it on his head, before looking in the mirror and smiling softly to himself. A king really does need a crown.  
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