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oftenderweapons · 4 years ago

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Love Talk - Taehyung

Pairing: Taehyung x reader (nicknamed Lace)

Wordcount: 11k words

Genre: smut, fluff, (Taehyung is moody but no angst I guess) dating au, idol au

Rating: 18+

Finally! I can post this! My inner praise-thirsty brat has been missing y’all’s attention so here I am!

Actually I’ve managed to write the end this afternoon after I finished writing a whole chapter of my dissertation (God, why do I need a degree...)

Anyway, here is Taehyung’s take at love talk. This is clearly smut, so minors please, do not read or interact.

Quick recap/everything you need to know before reading. Taehyung and Lace (in this fic called many many nicknames since “Lace” hasn’t sticked yet) have been dating for a couple months and Tae has been taking it slow, they have done some coupley stuff and have made out, but they haven’t been really physical yet. Until he visits her late at night after coming back from a trip in Paris with Jimin. And he has a gift which might spark up something interesting.

Disclaimer: Personally, I don’t see Lace as the stereotypical slim girl, but there’s a very generic reference to this. Also, Lace has taken bondage and basic domination lessons in a dungeon. Taehyung knows this. Both of them treat this fact as something serious rather than a kinky fun fact, since it comes from one of Lace’s insecurities.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: woah. so. Foreplay, mostly masturbation (male and female receiving), making out and grinding, marking, biting, Oral (male receiving), duality king Kim Taehyung, mental health and depression, body image issues, the characters discuss public sex, food play, oral sex, sensation play and impact play, wax play, tantric massage, BDSM, domination, bondage and submission, sex toys, exhibitionism, dungeons. Both the characters have had same-sex experiences and relationships. There might be a few swearwords here and there.

Wordcount: 11k. This thing is big so I’ll come back and edit it a bit at a time.

Here is my masterlist!

And remember to vote for next prompt :) (link in bio!)

Enjoy <3

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“Hey.”

“Hey.” He replied right back. He was standing in the empty corridor at three a.m., the light coming from your doorway illuminating his chocolate curls, his eyes gleaming darkly. “Can I come in?”

You nodded, opening the door and letting him in.

The low lights of your hallway made him move slowly in the room, since he’d never ventured upstairs before. Reaching your living room, you switched on the small lamp beside the sofa, a gentle yellow warmth diffusing.

“Your house is very pretty.” He said, looking around.

“It’s basic. I’m still trying to buy some pieces as I go.” You commented, your mind still slowed down by sleep.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s late.” He said. He was being extremely scarce with his words. “We arrived in town ten minutes ago.”

“How was our trip?” You asked out of habit. You were still trying to understand what to expect from this.

“Very tiring.” He murmured. “I think I’ll be jetlagged all the way to next week.”

He had been in Paris with Jimin after being in London for group schedule. Of course he’d been conflicted between coming back to you and spending some time with his best friend, but at the same time, he thought you'd been dating for a short time and after all, he should give Jimin the priority.

You smiled. “Eight hours?”

“Seven.” He corrected. “May I?” He gestured to the sofa, a two-seats dark red velvet number dominating the room entirely.

You nodded.

“You look incredible.” His low voice made your insides shake. “Have you just woken up?” He shook his head in disappointment. “I’ve woken you up, haven’t I?” He shook his head, reprimanding himself.

“It’s okay.” You said, sitting beside him at a respectful distance. “What brings you here at three a.m. on a workday?” You asked, mischief tinting your voice.

“I wanted to see you.” He replies dryly.

What’s with the atmosphere?

Something felt off. It wasn’t just your sleep-addled mind. There was tension.

“Okay.” You argued back in his same attitude.

He shook his head, throwing his spine against the pillows, inflating his lungs. As he turned towards you, something lustful and obscure possessed his eyes. “Say yes.”

You furrowed your brow. “To what?”

“Fuck, just say yes, ____.” He begged with a growl.

You bit your lip and nodded.

He was on you in a millisecond, kissing you with an intensity that you didn’t think his lithe figure could muster. Yes, of course he was solid under your touch but his body was sinewy rather than bulky. It was a matter of kinetic force rather than actual strength.

He smothered you under his torso, your lungs constricting with the impact. The kiss wasn’t even an attempt at gentleness. It was a matter of teeth and tongues and sucking straight away. Your hand gripped the hair at his nape, trying to control him, slow him down. If he kept this up, he was going to bruise your lips. Soon he grew breathless and parted from your lips. His body was thrown over the sofa, over your lap, into your arms.

“I’ve been thinking of this single spot for days.” He murmured, diving for the crook of your neck, immediately nibbling on it. One hand already on your hair, he tried to move the other one around you, between your back and the soft burgundy velvet. “And I find you all fuzzy and warm from sleep, skin tender, freshly woken up, wearing this sorry excuse of a nightgown.” He snarled.

“Taehyung.” You murmured.

“Lace looks incredible on you, dove.” He lowered his head and started sucking on the upper curve of your left breast, clearly intending to leave a bruise.

You combed his hair back, looking at him while his eyes stared into yours.

“Tae, baby. Why don’t we get more comfortable? I have a queen size bed in the other room, are you sure you want to stay on the sofa?” You offered gently.

He shook his head, still latched onto you, no intention of letting go whatsoever.

"Taetae, you're gonna get a cramp, darling." You caressed his face with affection, his wide-eyed look making you weak.

He finally parted from you and inspected the bruise. Happy with the result, he kissed the mark, drying it with his cheek, slightly scratching you with his stubble. "I think we should stay on the sofa." He argued with a rumble.

He wouldn't answer for himself if he had you in bed. And it was too early to go all the way anyway. Of course his aim was getting his hands under your clothes — and possibly your hands under his, — but he also knew he wanted to take his time. His will was still strong enough to wait, but he knew, were he to be tempted, he would not hesitate. And he knew he wanted to play it slow, go one base at a time before diving all the way in.

"Were you listening, Tae?" You asked, noticing the absent look on his face.

He shook his head with an innocent look, his curls tickling your bosom.

You giggled, fondness warming your gaze. "You want to stay here?"

He nodded, his hair grazing your skin once more, his expression sparkling with a playful smile.

"Then we'll stay here." You declared. "Do you want something to drink? Something to eat? To you it should be dinner time, right?" You fussed.

"No, I'm okay, I'm trying to adjust." He explained. His expression went blank for a moment before lighting up in an Eureka! moment. "I have a gift for you!" He chimed happily.

"Really?" You replied, incredulous.

"It's a bit artsy and sexy, but it's from Paris, so…" He shrugged.

"Oh, now I'm curious." You combed his hair back, exposing his forehead.

"Let me—" He sat upright, disentangling himself from you. He sat cross-legged on the sofa and dove for his canvas bag. "Here." He said, handing you a paper bag.

"Is it…" It was heavy. Very. You opened the bag and you were met with the heavy scent of printed paper. "A book." You realised, taking the volume in your hand, gently removing it from the bag. It was still covered in a thin layer of plastic. "Oh, God! It's that book! How did you find it?"

He grinned. "A friendly bookseller. A connoisseur." He winked. "I didn't open it. I didn't want to ruin it. And I wanted to open it with you. Do you like it?" He dove into the crook of your neck once more, shaking his shaggy locks against your tender skin.

"Thank you, baby." You kissed his cheek. You were still getting used to his mood swings from dark, charming gentleman to his bubbly tiger cub persona. “Do you mind if I go grab a glass of water and then we leaf through it together?” You asked.

“Yeah. Grab one for me too.” If he had to have you half naked beside him for an hour or so, he’d better have something to keep him cool.

As you did your thing in the kitchen he looked around, wide eyed. The relaxing golden light coming from the lamp illuminated a shelf of fashion books and a series of black and white pictures on the walls. He recognised one as a feather. It looked very classy, still he knew you had bought it in a cheap shop downtown, a vintage parlour the two of you had visited during your fourth date.

“Here, Tae.” You said, entering the room, putting the glasses on the small tables at each side of the sofa, one of which hosted the lamp.

“Thank you.” He was sitting comfortably, legs slightly parted, his back laying on the sofa, elbows propped on the pillows. You stood in front of him, admiring him a little.

He was used to being watched, but your scrutiny was so fierce and detached that he felt crystallised, as if any movement would send him shattering on the floor like a frozen leaf.

He looked up at you, mesmerised, but also so terribly afraid of your next move. Like you could incinerate him with your eyes. Slowly, he raised his back from his slouching, hands naturally meeting your hips. It was intimate and cold at the same time. You felt afraid of the intensity he could evoke with a simple touch and a glance.

He called your name and it felt like an awakening, like you had never had a name before. His long lashes covered the upper part of his irises, giving you the sultriest, darkest look.

“Taehyung.” You whispered back, in hope you would sound just like he did.

His hands moved from your hips to your waist, bringing you closer, right in front of him. He scooted closer to the edge of the cushion, his nose skimming the soft silk of your nightgown from your sternum to the dip of your navel. “I missed you, darling.” He kissed your belly, propping his chin on your stomach.

Again, you combed his hair back. “I did send you a small gift, though.” You reminded him coolly.

Once again he remembered the picture, the voice text, your breathy moans and needy whines as you whispered how much you were missing him, how dumb you had been to tell him that you could wait one more week before seeing him again. Your relationship wasn't sexual yet, but during his short stay in Paris you realised how quickly it had escalated, feeling the need to simply tell him how he made you feel, how hot it was to listen to his deep, warm voice as he talked about his day. He could have been reading his shopping list and you would get wet anyway.

"You did send it." He replied. "And it was wholeheartedly appreciated." He said with a growl.

You licked your lips as you noticed his legs spreading farther, parting to accommodate your standing figure.

"Are you gonna make me beg for it?" He murmured, a pinch of worry in his voice.

You raised an eyebrow, playing confused.

Shaking his head, he tutted and grabbed your waist, his strong fingers digging into your skin as he turned you with his back to him, making you sit heavily between his thighs. "I won't beg for you tonight, Lace." He huffed minaciously in your ear, one arm coiling around your waist while his other palm dragged possessively from your hip bone to your knee, fingers digging into the soft skin of your inner thighs.

“Let’s look at your kinky, niche art book.” He growled at your ear.

Nodding silently, you bent to the coffee table, lunging for the book, your hair tumbling forward and exposing the naked expanse of your shoulders.

Of course he profited from the moment, lunging forward, drawing the line of your spine with the tip of his nose, from the upper hem of your nightgown to your nape, inhaling the flowery scent of your shampoo.

You almost lost your grip on the heavy book, your body responding to his touch with a deep shiver and a slight loss of balance. He gripped your waist tighter, helping you up. “Did you like that?” He asked.

You let your short breath and stumbling heartbeat speak for you.

“Did you like that, sweetheart?” He asked again.

“Yeah.” You huffed.

He chuckled gruffly. “Open the book.”

You used your nail to open the thin plastic foil, ripping it until you managed to open the cover. The first page was an unmade bed, the title printed in a dark, heavy font.

“Passion portrayed”

The theme was very… French. Your ex-flatmate had recommended you the book, printed by one of her former university classmates.

It didn’t even feign being ordinary or appropriate. From the very title of it, it was unmistakeably an erotic book, meant to expose intimate parts of the subjects’ life, exhibitionism in its most artistic vest.

“How does it work?” Asked Taehyung, his chin settling on your shoulder.

“It’s a book.” You said, matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, but the theme.” He said, taking the book from your hands and turning it around, searching for an abstract.

You shrugged. “From what I’ve been told, some couples asked the photographer for a series of intimate pictures. They loved the results so much that they asked if the author ever thought of publishing them as a collection. The pictures were selected and rearranged to create this book.” You explained, using your forearm to sustain the back of the book, your hand turning the first page.

“I like this.” Taehyung said, the page printed fully offering a wide, light green clearing in the middle of a wood. The straw field was bathed in orange twilight, the light cutting perfectly into the lens, creating small, interference halos in the picture.

You smiled, nodding, your hair brushing against his cheek.

He exhaled, his body relaxing. You felt so soft. Like his personal teddy bear. The skin of your thigh was warm against his palm, if slightly clammy. You were holding the book so to allow his hands to wander and he felt somehow confused and grateful for it, not knowing whether he could take advantage or whether you were just testing him.

“Tell me when you want me to turn.” You said quietly.

“Turn.” He said. The following two pages were only partly printed, hosting a smaller photograph on the center of each page. Both offered the same setting as before with a change of perspective, one lowered to the ground, in a picnic, the traditional chequered blanket laying on the ground, a wicker basket, small glass cups for wine, grapes, cheese and picturesque, cliché sandwiches; the other filtered through the backseat of a pickup. The definition of an American Sixties teenage rendezvous. “I can kind of figure where this is headed.” He murmured.

You snickered. “I can only imagine.”

You turned the page again. Black and flashes of neon pink. Probably a club, empty.

“Wow.” You said. The atmosphere had changed dramatically, contrasting with the previous page. The juxtaposition was somehow interesting.

“Turn?” He asked.

You obeyed. Same disposition of pictures: two, smaller, at the center of the page, same setting — the club — but through a different cut. A gothic black velvet armchair, the seat surrounded by elaborate swirls of sculpted ebony. The glimmering of metal in the darkness, reflecting the neon hot pink.

“It looks like an adult club.” He murmured, his finger exploring the vague shape of chains hanging from the wall in the picture on the right.

“I think so, too.” You agreed. “Have you ever visited one?” You asked, turning slightly to examine his reaction.

He denied with a tut. “I’d like to visit one, though. It would be curious.” He shrugged. “Have you?”

You cocked your head to the side. “Kind of.”

He waited for you to elaborate.

“Call it an occupational hazard of sort for a lingerie retailer. You just get used to a lot of crazy stuff, meet a lot of crazy people, get into a lot of crazy hobbies.” You approximately justified yourself.

“Was it for your… extracurricular?” He asked, a lazy smirk on his face.

“Yeah.” You confirmed, licking your lips.

He nodded delicately, trying not to punch his chin into your collarbone. “Next?” He called and you turned the page.

A bluish bathroom. Maybe a spa room, it had a massage bed. But everything was blue. Entirely blue. Blue tiles, blue floor, blue carpet, blue supplies. Blue. everywhere. Soothing, calm. “So much blue.” He commented.

“I think she’s going through primary colours. Yellow, reddish pink, blue. We’ll see what’s next.” You explained.

Tae stared at the picture. “Do you like it?”

“I’m not sure.” You turned the page. Again, two smaller pictures at the center of each page. The first one was a closeup of the massage bed, with its plush blue cover and a small shelf of products and candles. The other picture contained another detail, a white, thick candle and its burning wick against the dark blue tiles.

You nodded with a knowing huff.

“Want me to turn?” You asked.

Taehyung hummed in approval.

Black. And white. And grey. This is the same setting as the title page: bedroom, silken, glimmering sheets. But now you could figure out the rest of the room. A plain bedroom, the headboard made by a sophisticated tangle of iron swirls and bars, the rest of the scene empty except for a big wardrobe and a drawer. The setting in time is completely anonymous, the black and white chromatism killing any light that could suggest day or night or twilight.

“Turn.”

First detail: the silken sheets appearing through the iron bars at the foot of the bed.

Second detail: some absolutely ordinary, if not cheap and old clothes abandoned on the wooden floor of the room.

This is where it starts.

Taehyung was growing impatient, his hand getting restless on your leg. He started drawing small circles with his short nails on your inner thigh. "So…"

You stopped turning the page, leaving it perfectly standing, pinched between your fingers.

He suddenly shut his mouth, as if he had decided not to speak, however his glance gave him off, his eyes stuck on the page you had just uncovered.

He moved his hand from your belly, catching your wrist and making you turn the page fully.

On the page on the left a dainty, lithe female body occupied most of the picture, picturing the torso and lower body, covered only slightly in a cute, gingham lingerie set with small embroidered cherries. It looked like coquettish demureness, the combination extremely girly and juvenile on the model’s barely-there curves.

You turned to Taehyung as you felt his adam’s apple bob against your neck. He was staring at the picture on the other page, where a wooden honey dipper hovered over the girl’s lower abdomen, dripping the sticky, sweet liquid on her skin, her bent thigh hiding her crotch from the camera. “I like the angle. And the colours.” You commented.

He nodded simply.

You observed the picture for one more second before letting your fingers reach for the corner of the page to turn.

“Would you let me do that to you?” He growled, leaving a soft kiss on your neck.

Let him cover you in honey? “Would you lick it away?” You asked, curious, trying as hard as possible to play it cool. Secretly you were self-combusting.

“Duh. Of course.” He kissed you again.

“Yes.” You replied, without even thinking about it for half a second.

The following page moved back to the club, all black and magenta. This time everything you could see was the silhouette of someone laying on their front, naked, on a flat surface. It was impossible to recognise a male or female anatomy. It made everything more interesting. On the page beside, the picture focused on the dip of their spine, showing a vague outline of the shoulder blades and the frilly tip of a feather barely grazing the skin, as if the person in the room with them was running the… tool? down his or her spine.

“And you, would you let me do this to you?” You asked, curious, looking at him.

His fingers clawed at your lower thigh, making you hiss at his vicious grip. “You want to torture me, sweetie?” He teased, parting your thighs. The cool air licked at your sweaty skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. “Want to make me furious? Get me mad?” His lazy, soft kisses turned into an aggressive nipping, his main intent that of making bruises bloom on your tender skin.

“I want to see you wild.” You replied, still hoping to sound detached, even though at this point it was your own arousal rather than your sweat making your thighs clammy. “I’ve seen your stages. You roar.” You used your free hand to grab and knead his knee, but unfortunately he stopped you.

“Hands on the book.” He reprimanded. “What about my stages?”

Flashbacks of his Singularity performances ran through your mind. “You’re sultry. Seductive. Predatory. And so aggressive.” You explained. “So sinful...” You admitted.

“I know it drives you crazy.” He whispered, nuzzling into the underside of your ear.

“Fucking insane.” You huffed out, leaning into him.

He chuckled. “You’re so weak for me.” He mocked you.

You wiggled a little in his hold, your backside brushing against his lap, a deep, vibratoed moan exiting his mouth. “You’re so weak for me.” You teased back.

And then you squealed. He had just bitten your shoulder. “Turn the page, you menace.”

You did as you were told. This time it was a woman for sure laying on the massage bed, her body covered from chest to knee by a pale fluffy towel. Again, everything felt a bit too blue. You liked that she looked overall fuller, curvier than the previous models, the towel draping around her curved belly, her fleshy thighs. It wasn’t that strategically planned plumpness. It was genuine, showing both the traditionally attractive and the socially unaccepted parts of body fat. It wasn’t all tits and ass. It was arms, calves, belly. And it looked beautiful. Still, you couldn’t see her face.

“You like her?” Taehyung asked.

You shrugged. “Her body's non-canonically beautiful. You can tell that she loves her body. I like that she didn’t let society kill her vibe, that she likes her body so much that she wanted to have this kind of pictures taken. I think she trusts the photographer a lot.” You shook your head. “I’m so dumb. All of them must have trusted the photographer a lot. I don’t know why a curvier person would be more insecure about her body than a slimmer person.”

“I think society kind of taught us that people who don’t adhere to a certain beauty standard should or actually do feel ashamed for it.” Taehyung mumbled. “I don’t see why a curvier girl should be ashamed. And curvy is not just the sexy curve. Curvy is fleshy, handfuls everywhere. I don’t really care. I just want flesh and fullness to grip while I’m fucking.” He continued mumbling with a slightly careless but also complaining tone.

Suddenly the meaning of the hand coming around your middle, gripping the skin on your side and occasionally your love handles changed meaning. “So that’s what you were doing when you gripped me?” You asked. The first time he did it during one of your previous dates, you had felt wary, almost called-out by his action.

“When?”

“The first time we kissed. And then some.” You blushed. “I thought you were pointing out that I’m fat.”

“You’re not fat. You’re beautiful and sexy and yeah, you’re soft, so what? You feel so good. And we all have body fat. You like eating. You eat regularly and healthily. You care for yourself and love yourself. You’re one of the most confident women I’ve ever seen.”

You dipped your head, trying to avoid spilling the tear almost rolling down your cheek. “Thank you.”

“And you make lingerie look like sin.” He added, turning your head and holding you tighter. “I grip you and grab you because you’re sexy and because I need to stop myself from doing dumb, ridiculous stuff. And you’re squishy. It calms down my nerves. It soothes me.” He kissed your cheek. “If you ever decided to lose weight I would support you, of course, but if it were for me, I wouldn’t want you any other way.” He kissed you again. “And look!” he pointed to the following photography. “She seems to like curvy girls too.” He pointed to the other female figure appearing in the picture, standing beside the bed, untucking the towel and revealing the top of the laying woman’s breasts. “I like that they have a same-sex couple. Do you think they’ll have two boys too?” He asked.

“Are you interested?” You asked, no judgement or excitement in your voice, trying to silently communicate that he was safe whatever his reply would be.

“I mean, you have two girls, why not two boys?” He said, raising one shoulder. “Plus, I’m not opposed to it.”

“Have you ever had a boy?” You asked, quite blatantly.

He tutted. “It was a quick thing. I prefer girls, I think. The female body is more attractive.” He confessed. “It has way more secrets. It’s more interesting to explore.” He pushed his hips against your backside. “I think that the moment I feel attraction and curiosity, I let myself experience it. I don’t limit myself to something as dumb as gender.”

You loved his eclectic, versatile tastes. He is experimental and seductive, a natural hedonist.

“That sounds good for you.” You admitted.

“Have you had girls?” He asked, curious.

You smiled. “Yeah. I was in a relationship with a girl, in uni. A small thing.” You told him. “And yeah, they’re more interesting.”

“Right, you mentioned.” Taehyung remembered.

“I don’t wanna sound rude or pervy but… how was the sex? I mean, is it different, other than anatomically speaking?” He asked.

You exhaled, thinking about it more accurately, trying to remember. “Every person is different. I never really had male lovers, but the few subs I had all had something special and different — not that I had that many, that is.” You blushed.

He nosed his way through your hair and against your nape.

“It was more… conversational?” You tried finding the right word. “We gave each other a lot of constructive feedback.” You reminisced. “And fuck, I loved how responsive she was.” You scrunched your face. “I do miss fucking a girl every now and then. Wrecking a pretty girl gives me quite a boost of adrenaline and self esteem.” You admitted with a wild, embarrassed laugh.

“I agree to that.” He laughed too, his diaphragm moving with a belly laugh that ricocheted from his stomach into your back. “I can’t wait to wreck you.” He spoke with a dirty, hot, gruff voice.

You arched your neck, offering him the curve of your shoulder as you licked your lower lip. “Why aren’t you inside me already?”

The hand on your thigh, which had lost some pressure, climbed half an inch higher. “Because you couldn’t wait to see this book.”

You shook your head in disagreement.

“And because I’ll put my fingers inside you first.” He said aggressively. “And because I’m waiting. When I’m so desperate that I’ll wake up sweaty and horny in the middle of the night because I was dreaming of your dripping, sweet cunt on my face, then I’ll come fuck you until your entire body is nothing but a pretty toy trained for my pleasure.” His hand shifted from the harsh grip on your side to the devious, light, teasing fingertip tracing your puffy areola and erect nipple which were pushing against the satin of your nightgown. "I need to wake up so fucked out that I can conjure your taste in my mouth, that I can almost feel the wetness of you around my fingers. Your pretty, red lips around my cock.”

You hummed at that, wanting nothing but the stretching feel of his blunt, long erection inside your mouth, warm and salty down your throat. “Fuck my mouth, Tae. Please.”

He snarled and snickered. “Not a chance, darling. Now, turn the page.” He felt dumb for turning you down, but he had plans. He needed to resist. Good boys go to heaven.

Turn the page. The black and white felt soothing after all the coloured shots. “Oh.”

Taehyung breathed out loudly. “Fuck.”

You were too fascinated by the picture to look at him.

“Yes?” He asked.

“Yeah.” You replied.

“You’d let me?” He asked again.

You nodded. “Would you? Let me, I mean...”

“You wanna tie me up?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

You momentarily put the book on your legs joining your pointer fingers together at the fingertip. “I have taken lessons, so...” You bit your lip, blushing.

He kissed your shoulder. “I can’t wait to try that. With you.” He gave you small bites this time, playful and caring. “And I’d be very happy if you taught me too.” His hand caressed your belly gently, the other one digging in the valley between your joined tights.

“Thank you, baby.” You pressed your shoulders into his chest enjoying the solid feeling of his body supporting yours.

“Anything for you.” He replied politely. “Now, can we move on?” He asked, trying to ignore the picture that had sparked the conversation, where a man wearing only boxers laid in bed, his wrists tied to the bedpost with a sturdy, rough rope.

You nodded, picking up the book and turning the page. Back to the babygirl in the field. This time her lover had his mouth on her; the shot a closeup of his stubbly cheek and chin and his open mouth sucking at her inner thigh. In the matching picture his mouth was on her small breast, sucking her nipple over the fabric of her bra. You clenched your legs slightly, wiggling a little in your seat.

It went maybe unnoticed. Maybe. Taehyung stopped breathing for a second, until you settled and he managed to gain his cool again.

You managed to keep it cool with the second set, the dungeon, where the only thing really happening was for the feather to caress the submissive’s ass, in the picture on the left, only to be substituted by a furred glove on the following photograph.

The third set had Taehyung gasping and moaning. You simply breathed out a small laugh. “Will you do this to me too?” You asked.

“I’m gonna worship you head to toe, dove.” He grinned, observing the pictures. Both involved the standing woman massaging the laying one, with strong, oiled hands kneading the round globes of her ass and thighs, the soft and pale plants of her feet.

“I love your hands.” You murmured, placing yours atop the one on your navel.

He smirked. “Don’t you?” He twisted his wrist to intertwine your fingers.

Nodding, you added: “They look so strong. And big.” You took a deep breath, daydreaming about the feel of them grabbing your breasts, your ass, your neck, pinning your wrists, moving inside you. Your brain had a special gallery dedicated exclusively to his hands.

“I bet you can’t wait to have them inside you.” He teased, the hand on your thigh climbing a little closer to your heat. You were wondering how long it would take for him to find out about your little surprise for him.

Let him live in innocence for now.

“That, yes.” You admitted, not even playing coy. “And also I can’t wait to see them on yourself.” You provoked him, hoping that he would understand.

“You want to see me touch myself?” He asked, his face absolutely impassive.

“Yes.” You replied plainly.

He laughed with a series of quiet exhales. “We’ll see.”

You turned a few pages, observing all the small details of the four different foreplay scenes.

“Would you do it outdoors?” He asked at a certain point, his stare fixed on the coquettish blonde angel sucking off her partner at the picnic.

You raised an eyebrow. “If the setting was right, yes. Though here in Seoul it's quite difficult.”

“We could visit my hometown. There are a lot of empty, remote fields over there.” He said, his arm holding you tight as he made both your bodies scoot back, away from the edge of the sofa.

“I would rather avoid you risking your career for a fuck out in the open air.” You commented pragmatically.

“We’re only risking that if we get caught. And I’m sure we’re smart enough.” He tried to convince you.

“What about insects? Bugs? Safety?” You asked, concerned.

“We’ll think about it in detail if we ever decide to walk down this path, yeah?” He suggested respectfully.

You pouted, nodding in agreement.

“Holy shit, look at this.” You commented, quite shocked. In the dungeon, the dom was sprinkling glitters on the backside of his submissive, which you had discovered being — much to Taehyung’s chagrin — also a man.

“I want that. Oh my God, they're gonna get all over the place.” He replied, frowning at the thought. “You can go through major catastrophes and those bitches would still colonize every nook and cranny of your body.” His brow creased. “But fuck it looks amazing.” Especially since in the second picture the dom was using a leather glove to spank his sub, making all the glitter disperse into the air at the impact, creating a purplish halo around the silhouette of the spankee.

“I’m gonna spank you.” He said, out of the blue. “I hope you’re okay with that.”

Yes, sir, Your slutty brain replied. “We’ll see,” you said out loud.

Ha laughed dryly. "You'll want me to. It's only a matter of time."

You turned around, smirking at him. You tipped his chin back with a finger, kissing him with a cruel tenderness. His eyes closed, initially surprised, but then he became more than eager to deepen the kiss. Still you drew back, while his mouth tried to chase after yours.

"No." You whispered.

"Are you telling me no?" He asked gruffly. "Mh?" The hand between your thighs had kept rising and by now his palm laid on the junction between your hip and thigh, his index tracing your mound. "Is it a no?"

You moaned lasciviously. Was he going to discover your surprise for him?

He finally reached your sex, expecting to meet a wet patch on your underwear. "____. Where are your panties?" He murmured in your ear.

You bit your lip. "Not wearing any." You murmured gently.

"Say it again." He growled.

"I'm not wearing panties, Tae." You mewled tauntingly.

He moved his hand from your navel to your breast, the other one cupping your crotch.

"Naughty girl." He snarled. "Bad, bad girl." His mouth latched at your neck while his hands pushed you further into him, his erection pressing against the small of your back.

"I want you." You whined. "So bad, Tae. Please."

"You're wet for me?" He said, his mouth parting from your skin long enough to interrogate you, only to continue to lick you as soon as he was done talking.

"I'm drenched. I want you. Make me cum, Tae, please."

His chest shook with an evil laugh. "You told me no earlier." He replied.

"I made a mistake. I only wanted to tease you." You cried out, your free hand trying to reach for his between your legs.

"Hands on the book, bad kitty." He said, nibbling your earlobe.

You obeyed with some quiet complaining.

"Why would you tease me?" He asked

"I wanted you to want me." You confessed. "I wanted you to stop resisting me."

"I'm not gonna fuck you." He repeated. "But nothing is stopping me from making you cum with my fingers." He kissed your temple. "Are you okay with that?"

You nodded. "Just make me cum, Tae."

He snickered. "Then keep your hands on the book. Keep watching your kinky pictures. Let's see what makes you even wetter."

You whimpered as his long fingers moved against your folds, and you parted your legs further to grant him better access.

On the following page, the women had moved from a tantric massage to a steamy, slow session of waxplay. The receiving partner was now laying on her back, her breasts exposed for her lover, her skin glistening with oil as the other woman let a droplet fall on her unmarred skin, however you could tell it wasn't the first drop from a stain barely visible in the corner of the picture, out of focus.

Taehyung interrupted your musings with a twitch of his fingers, while he spoke directly in your ear. "What about waxplay, darling? Would you like to try that?"

You exhaled at the movement, your head falling forward as the muscles on your neck went slack.

"Your body would be a work of art, covered in coconut oil, sweat, droplets of wax and my cum."

You felt your soul leave your body. From your seated position your inner organs were positioned so that his fingers perfectly reached your g-spot. "Fuck, Tae, you're fucking perfect."

He kissed the corner of your mouth, the hand on your chest toying with the hem of your nightie until he slipped the strap off your shoulder and uncovered your naked breast. "Oh, you like it." He bent some more trying to reach for your mouth. He thought about using one hand to turn your face but he was content with where they were at the moment.

The black and white bondage scene turned into a submission exercise, the woman standing on her knees over the face of the laying man, using a vibrator to pleasure herself.

And he simply laid there, mouth open, waiting. You almost turned when Taehyung stopped you. "I'd love to try that." His voice was slightly strained, probably from the strange angle he was in. Both his arms were busy and working from a difficult position. Not that you noticed.

Ever since he had started touching you, you had been in a haze, your head feeling extremely light and floaty.

"Anything you want." You replied before your voice broke in a mewl. "I'm close." You were, already, and incredibly so. All you needed was for him to keep talking. "I wanna hear your voice."

"What do you want to hear, Lace? How soft your cunt feels on my fingers? It feels like fucking velvet, darling. Do you want to know how much I wanna eat you?" He moved closer to your ear. “I wanna hear you scream for me, Lace. I want you to be so loud that everyone will know you’re having the best orgasm of your life.” He bit your earlobe. “I’m gonna make you cum so many times you lose count. I’m gonna make you regret teasing me. I’m gonna make you cry in every best way possible.” His fingers moved faster between your legs, his thumb meeting your clit. “I’m gonna fuck you so much you’re gonna hate yourself for complaining I haven’t fucked you yet.”

His dirty words got to your head like liquor, your hips undulating to find the final stimulus you needed to come apart. You felt your backbone roll dangerously and in a few seconds you snapped forward, his forearm on your chest keeping you upright through your climax. “That’s it, Lace. Ride my fingers.” He commanded and you complied, like the needy, desperate animal you are for him. Only for him.

Never in your life had you experienced the need to bend over backwards for anyone, least of all a man; yet, here you were, pliant like putty in his hands, feeling submissive for the first time of your life. “Taehyung.” You whispered, too lost to realise it was barely hearable. Still, he noticed, slowing down his movements.

“Are you okay, dove?” He checked on you, his voice warm and caring.

You shook your head yes. “I need a second.” You said through heavy breath.

He moved away the hand on your breast, bringing it to your cheek, making you ease back against him and cradling your body gently. “It was beautiful, Lace. Beautiful. I can’t wait to see you do that again.” He murmured, comforting you and praising you.

You giggled cutely in reply, turning toward his face and puckering your lips.

He read your cue and pressed his lips to yours chastely. “Need some water, dove?” He asked.

You nodded and for a second he thought how he could possibly grab the closest glass with both his hands busy. Noticing that, you caught his dirty hand and brought it to your face.

“Lace.” He groaned as you observed the slick coating his fingers.

“Tae.” You groaned right back at him, turning to give him a nice view before you put his fingers in your mouth, sucking lewdly.

His hips rolled below you, his eyes fighting to stay open while his forehead met your temple, jaw hanging low in a silent invitation to slide your tongue in his mouth. What you did, your devious will overpowering you, was to free his digits and part them in a V against your lips and chin, lashing your tongue out in the valley between his middle and ring finger to make out with him.

The sound he emitted was something so dirty and lewd that you found yourself turned on again, ready to slip his hand between your thighs once more.

“I cannot fuck you tonight.” He reminded himself once he parted from your tongue — and his hand.

“I still don’t see why.” You teased, always the temptress in a wild attempt to lure him into your bed.

“I need to take my time.” He gave himself the whole talk. “I need to learn you, your language, your tells and cues. Let’s run the bases and then I’ll take it home. Let’s enjoy every little step that takes us there.” He explained, giving you his whole vision.

You nodded. This is what he wanted. To make every single milestone meaningful, important, unique. “You should have said.” You caressed his face. “I wouldn’t have been so bratty, had I know of that.” You kissed his cheekbone.

“It’s cool.” He breathed out, eyes shut, teeth gritted.

“Are you okay?” You asked, fondling him some more.

“I’m just… dealing with something.” He replied, stressed, pressing his hips against your.

And you felt him. He must have been pretty big.

“Would you let me take care of you?” You questioned tentatively.

He shook his head. Then waited a few second. “Would it be okay if I grind against you?”

You raised your eyebrows, only to grin madly after it. “Yeah. Whatever works for you, love. Touch yourself, grind, I don’t care, just… let me be there for you.” You comforted him.

“Water first.” He said, using his clean hand to reach for the glass, mourning the departure from your chest for a quick second. As soon as he brought the glass to your lips, you took it from his grasp and placed his palm back to your chest, taking a small sip and and offering him some. He stretched over your shoulder and you helped him drink, tipping the glass carefully to avoid him choking or spilling. As soon as he was done you moved the glass back to the small table, grabbing the book in the process.

“Okay, back to where we left.” His hand covered in a dried up mixture of your and his spit laid on your navel, hiking up your nightie. The other was cementified to your naked breast, toying with your nipple.

On the pages there was an escalation of foreplay, the American sweethearts moving on to her offering him a blowjob.

“You okay with that?” You asked Taehyung, refusing to assume that all men love blowjobs.

“I think so, yeah. I hope in the near future I’ll be able to feed you my cock multiples time a day, sweetie.” He indulged in your kink, still shocked by your earlier request to suck him off.

You had to stop yourself from asking him to feed you now. He had asked for one step at a time. You owed him that. “All you need to do is ask, Tae.” You simply reminded him.

“Can’t wait to see you on your knees for me.” He mumbled, his hips thrusting up against you.

“What about spanking tools?” He asked as you turned the page, amazed by the riding crop that the dom was sporting.

“I’ve used them in the past, but I’ve never had them used on me.” You confessed. “I tested them on myself first before using them on someone, obviously, but I was never… I’ve never been truly dominated by someone else, so—”

He moaned and caressed your neck with the tip of his nose. “That’s okay. We don’t have to...”

You shook your head. “I want to, though. Just— easy. As you said, one step at a time.”

He ohed at that, nipping at your jutting collarbone.

You went through some more pages, discussing details, objects, feelings.

Of course your fascination with the dungeon scene grew when Taehyung cupped your pubis once more as a flogger appeared in the picture. “I’m close, I just wanna feel your wetness.” He explained. “I’d love to use that—” He indicated the flogger with a gesture of his chin “—to tease you. Drag its soft tips from your toes to your breasts, flick it innocently over your sensitive nipples. Draw lazy circles on your belly. Watch you lick, suck and hump the handle.”

You awed at that. Most importantly you awed at how he was pressing his hard on against your asscheeks through his trousers and your nightie.

“I’m close.” After ten minutes of being on the very edge of it, he gave up and brought his hand to his crotch, just adding more pressure. You felt somehow disappointed that you wouldn’t feel him on you anymore.

The next page was his undoing. In the bedroom scene, the man was still bound, propped up against the pillows, wide eyed, imploring. On the right page you discovered why: the woman was showing him her backside, on her knees, chest to the mattress, fucking herself with a huge dildo. “Fuck” he growled. “Lace, would you?” He asked, needing you to talk, to give him a scenario.

“Yes, I would. I would do it like that but I would also do it with your cock in my mouth, the dildo making me so relaxed that I could easily deepthroat the monster you’re hiding in your pants, mister.” You teased.

He smiled like the devil, barely holding in a snicker. “Fuck that, Lace, you just want my cock in your mouth, don’t you?” He mocked.

“I’ve never been so hungry for a cock, Taehyung. I just want to see you fucked out.” You had never felt so dirty and sexy in your life. You were fighting with your teeth and claws for him. There were so many people out there willing to do anything to get him. Might as well set the bar up high and offer him more than anyone else would ever dare to.

He whimpered, his forehead pressed to your nape.

You turned, grabbing his chin, making him look at you. “Let me see that bliss, Tae. Show me your pretty face when you cum for me.” You spurred him on gently. “Give me your best look. Come on, I wanna save that for the next time I fuck myself with my toy. Please.”

And he crumbled, holding your gaze, precipitating into oblivion. His mouth hung open, releasing a deep cry while his chest fell into your shoulders, pressing into you. He couldn’t care less about cumming in his pants, or messing up his trousers, in that moment he was only looking for a way to let his soul slither under your skin and tangle with yours. He wanted closeness and warmth and to leave his body and feel light.

When you saw his eyelids tremble, you tutted repeatedly, calling for his attention. “Keep looking at me, baby bear.”

He whined at the nickname, fighting the postorgasmic haze threatening to drag him under.

You fumbled with your hold of the book, freeing a hand to caress his wavy hair. “That’s it, baby.” You murmured, finally allowing him to let go of the snippet of control he had left over his body. “Are you okay, Tae?”

He nodded and inhaled against your neck, his mouth opening and laving your skin with heavy, wide and wet licks. He still had his hand between your legs and it looked like he was very happy with it.

"Are you happy, baby?" You asked him, combing his hair back.

He simply offered you an elated smile, nodding and nuzzling into you.

"You look so pretty when you cum, Tae. And so damn sexy." You praised him, being absolutely straightforward about your thoughts.

"I feel so good, ____." He said, his expression completely blissful.

"Do you want to keep leafing through the book?" You asked, still completely focused on him.

He scratched his cheek and nodded, even though he barely hid a yawn.

After making sure that he really wanted to keep going, you took hold of the book again. The couples in the pictures moved on from foreplay to actual intercourse, simply showing the closeness of body parts, but never including genitals in the photographs. It was only possible to identify which belonged to whom because of the light and setting. You appreciated the so-to-say gender neutrality of the shots.

"It's interesting how all the couples feel the same. The positions are slightly different but still there's always the same closeness, intensity, passion and intimacy." He noticed.

You agreed.

"It feels like they're together not just as in doing stuff together but actually exist together. They're one." He said, running his finger along the same possessive pose of the arm — snaking around the lovers back and keeping them close — which was featured on four different pictures put together, side by side, from each of the couples.

And finally it was the open mouths, the hard grips, the arched backs of an orgasm.

"It's so… Natural. The way we feel pleasure." He murmured, his heavy breathing and the movement of his lips teasing the sensitive spot behind your ear. "I mean, I know that there are some people who don't like sex. Or who don't perceive it as a necessity. And that's natural too." He thought about it some more. "But this feels like a universal language. Like music. You can read it in its little signs."

You were growing impatient again. The book was almost over, only a few pages left. What happens now? Does he want to leave? Is he going to stay?

You hesitated before turning the page, but he spurred you on.

This was aftercare. While the other photographs looked like they were made for the observers' aesthetic pleasure, this looked like invading the models' privacy.

"I feel uncomfortable." You spoke gently.

Taehyung worried. "Is it… Do you need space?" He asked, realising that you've been sitting for almost an hour in a very uncomfortable position. He started unraveling his hold on you but you stopped him, blocking his hand between your legs with the muscles of your thighs and blocking his other arm by catching his wrist. "I was talking about the pictures. It feels like I'm seeing something that I'm not supposed to see."

"Yup." He agreed. "But I like the one in the field. The one with the sweethearts." The sun had almost completely set behind the trees and the boy and girl were sitting exhausted in the backseat, her body perched on top of him, his head resting on her breast. "I would stay inside too." Taehyung said. "It's so warm. Intimate. And when you're tired and vulnerable it's so good to feel that emotionally together with someone. To stay sheathed inside." He mused.

You felt his fingers twitch almost imperceptibly on your folds. A wave of wetness oozed out.

"Oh, you're ready for another, doll?" He grinned, brushing against you more pressingly.

"Tae." You cried out.

"Yes, Lace?"

"Let me suck you." You said with a more imposing voice than before.

He made you turn your head and look him in the eye.

"You want that so bad?" He asked mischievously. "I guess you won't have any problem saying it again as you look me in eyes if you're truly so desperate for my dick."

You shook your head briefly. "Please Tae, let me suck your dick. If you don't give that to me I swear I'll go down the street and suck it to the first attractive man I see." You said, growing impatient both to his denying and his teasing.

"How can I say no to that?" He grinned sardonically. "Plus it would be dumb of me to put you at risk, wandering through the streets at this hour of the night wearing that skimpy mess of a nightgown." He parted your hair and moved it to the side, removing the locks that had stuck to your neck because of your sweat and his saliva. "And no panties.” His hand squished your breast aggressively. “You're driving me crazy with all this lace, baby.” He took a small pause, like he was thinking. “Come on, you want my cock in your mouth? Get in position and be ready to take it." He directed you harshly.

You put away the book, only the acknowledgements page left unread, and jumped to your feet, much to his chagrin, kneeling on the floor with the speed of a lightning.

“God, you sure are hungry for my dick, uh?” He kept getting cockier and cockier.

You probably should have played it cool, but you were too into it to fake aloofness. “Undo your trousers, Tae, please.”

He smirked, his eyelids lowered to look at you on the floor. He looked like a sex god, the kind of god that teaches unspeakable, sinful things.

His hands moved slowly and deliberately, so that you had the time to spot a wet patch of fabric where his tip was located. As soon as he undid his belt, you threw your hands at his button, but he stopped you.

“You don’t want me to block your hands, do you?” He warned you.

You raised an eyebrow as if doubting his words.

“I know basic knots, doll. Don’t test me.” He growled.

You pouted and looked at the floor.

He tutted. “Have I offended you, doll?” He questioned.

You rocked your head in a way that meant “so and so”.

He shook his head. “I’m so strict with you. I’m sorry, Lace.” He took a moment, thinking about how to make it up to you. “Would you be happy again if I asked you to pick a toy to play with while I use your mouth, doll?”

Your mouth opened slightly in surprise as you processed his request. You looked up at him. His zipper was undone, his cock partly out, his hand slowly, heavily petting it.

“Is this what you wanted to see, doll?” He threw his head back, licking his lips and giving you quite the show. “Go pick your toy, nymph.”

You sucked your lips in, indecisive between staying and not losing one second of this view or going to get something to relieve yourself.

“Go quick, doll.” He ordered.

Staying with your eyes fixed on him, you stood up and walked backwards to your room, running as soon as he got out of your sight. You quickly fished your favourite dildo from your bedside table, rushing back to the sofa.

“Here already? You chose quickly, doll. Are you sure you chose wisely?” He questioned, his voice caving when his hand reached the tip and circled it slowly but energetically.

“Yes, Taehyung.” You said, showing him your candidate, turning it so he could analyse it.

“It’s a very nice toy.” He commented, “It looks squishy.”

“It’s a special silicone.” You explained. “It was expensive but it feels amazing. And it’s safe, most importantly. No silly, cheap rubber.”

“Excellent, sweetie. Come kneel, doll.” He invited you and you complied obediently. “Such a good girl.” He praised you. “Look at you, all pretty, diligent, cute and wide-eyed. Who would guess that you’re the filthiest nymph ever?” He sat on the edge of the pillow, spreading his legs as far as his trousers allowed.

“May I roll them down?” You asked, leaving the toy stranding on its base on the floor while he nodded, your hands tried to push his linen trousers to his calves and ankles.

“I want you to put the toy inside, doll.” He growled.

You looked at him with an endearing expression. “Will you make it wet for me?”

“Want me to spit on it, doll?” He asked and you nodded neutrally.

He started collecting some saliva in his mouth before ducking to collect the accessory and rolling his tongue out, letting the liquid spread over the thick head.

“The base is important.” You tipped him, “it’s were I need it to be more slippery, since it’s thicker.”

“Okay, dove.” He said, his lips puckering dragging a thick coat of wetness all around the base.

It looked very erotic. Especially with his other hand stroking his shaft

What looked even more erotic was to see him stare at you before sliding his face up, all the way to the tip, his mouth opening and swallowing two thirds of the impressive length. His hand became faster on his hard-on.

“Holy shit, Tae, I— ” Words lost sound and meaning when you saw him bob his head on the toy, closing his eyes and moaning. He played with it for a minute or so before slipping it out of his lips, offering it to your chin.

There is a saying. No sub is truly trained unless they kiss whatever their dom puts before their lips.

And you kissed it.

He grinned with lust-fevered eyes. “Put it in, Lace.”

You took a second, staring at him. Your hands naturally reached the hem of your nightie and dragged it up and away.

“Fuck, doll. Look at those tits, you’re delicious, babe.” He praised you, and you beamed up at him, retrieving your toy and bringing it between your thighs, the tip already at your entrance.

“In, Lace.”

Once more you obeyed.

A moan escaped your throat and echoed from his own lips. He had moaned himself.

“Shit, all the way in nymph. All the way.” He said, replicating your pace on his cock.

When you bottomed out, he gripped his base, slipping his hand down to his balls and squeezing them delicately. With his eyes closed, head thrown back, he rumbled: “leave it there. Don’t move. If you can make me cum before you do, I’ll stay the night. But remember I won’t be fucking you.” He regained his controlled demeanour, staring at you, voice empathetic. “It’s up to you. I’ll still go if you want me to. Just know that there’s a way, if you want to make me stay.”

Distracting yourself from the filling sensation, you dragged yourself back to reality, making the best of the moment. As his hand gripped his base, you leaned in and licked the head with the tip of your tongue.

His rumble sounded like an earthquake. “Do what you want to, doll. Remember our game.”

Grinning, you opened your mouth and took him in as far as he would go.

You took maybe one third of him.

God, he was so big, his skin glistening, his veins pulsating so fascinatingly just under the surface.

He caressed your face and hummed. "Beautiful."

You took two more inches, eyes watering, lungs burning, but oh so determined to take all of him.

Backing up a little, you released some of his length to focus on the tip, twirling your tongue around it as you regained your breathing.

When you felt ready, you sinked again, adding one inch to your previous goal.

"Fuck, so tight, doll, you're a crime." His hips jutted forward and you opened your eyes wide, a little surprised by the motion. A single teardrop spilled, not due to discomfort but only to his shaft hitting the back of your throat.

"You okay, doll?" He checked in on you as soon as he felt the droplet hit his thumb. His hand gently tangled in your hair and pushed you back delicately, trying to free your mouth. You whined as his tip slipped out of you with a pop, even though you had tried to suck on him to keep your hold.

"Listen carefully, _____. I need to fuck your mouth, nymph." He said, panting, trying to control himself. "Can I put my hands in your hair? Is it okay if I stroke in?" He asked, worried.

You just nodded. "I want that, Tae. Just use me." You pleaded, caressing his erection, placing small kisses on the thick underside.

"Good. I just thought it was good to warn you. And make sure that you like that, doll." He combed your hair. "Now let's get it, sweetheart."

He showed no mercy. The moment you sucked his tip past your lips, he started pushing in with short, quick jabs. However, when he saw you getting more and more of him inside, he lost all semblance of control.

In the meanwhile you had lost any sensation apart from those coming from your mouth, almost forgetting the toy inside you, of which you were reminded the moment he started thrusting so hard that your whole body began to roll back and forth.

He groaned before murmuring deeply, "I'm gonna cum." At that he zoned out, going completely silent, his thrusts getting sloppy before he spilled into you with a long, raspy hum.

You welcomed his taste in your mouth, as he fussed, whimpering ‘don't swallow’. His first spurt was already down your throat but you focused on the second, the third, the last one a weak series of drops. He stayed still a few second and you admired his form: lush ringlets of hair sticking to his forehead, head tipped back as he filled his lungs hungrily before huffing out, his breathing pattern quick and heavy. His lashes fluttered and his brows knitted together every few second as he tried to get a grip on himself. He licked his lips, which had grown too dry with all the panting, his eyes finally opening and focusing on you.

You slowly pulled him out of your mouth.

"Lemme see." He growled.

You knew what he meant.

"Such a little nymph." He praised you, and you felt your inner walls flutter at that, moving the toy inside you.

"Do you want to swallow it? Drink me?" He asked with a condescending tone.

You nodded, trying not to spill his release from your tongue.

"Do it."

Eagerly, you did, the gulping sound almost too loud in the quiet room.

"Show me." He said, just as you parted your lips to do just that, assuring him that not a drop had gone to waste.

"Come here, doll. Keep the toy inside.” He grumbled, lowering himself to put on his boxers, coming close to you and kissing the top of your hair in the process.

Biting your lip, you stood up, quickly propping one knee on the sofa and straddling him, one hand gripping the base of the dildo.

“Tae.” You whispered.

He kissed your lips delicately, simply pressing his lips to yours. “Want me to do it?” He asked.

You nodded.

He caught your hand on your crotch and substituted it with his, the other one grabbing your ass. “Can I move?”

You nodded, “I just need hard and fast, please.”

Taehyung grinned, kissing your forehead as you lowered your head, looking at his veiny forearm starting to pump the toy inside. “Is it good like this—”

“Faster!” You exclaimed, your hand tugging at the hair of his nape.

In response he placed his lips on your cheek, nibbling at your soft skin. He hammered the toy inside you, teasing you on how nasty, kinky and absolutely divine you were, how incredible you looked, how much he wanted you to cum, how he was going to destroy you the moment he’d get to be inside you.

You felt on the very edge of pleasure, the sensation so disturbing since you felt like something was missing.

“Tae?” You asked with a whiny voice.

He slowed down, trying to let you focus on talking“What is it, doll?” He huffed gently.

“I need to touch myself.” You said with a pout.

He nodded and bent to your mouth. “It’s okay, sweetie. I’ve got you.”

He kept his pattern slow, trying to adapt it to your fingers on your clit. He synced up so nicely that you managed to rub yourself for maybe a minute before the tip of the toy reached the perfect depth, making you come apart in Taehyung’s hold.

“That’s lovely, doll. Lovely.” He whispered in your ear, speaking sweet nothings that you couldn’t quite register from your fucked out state.

After a couple minutes you managed to go back to reality. “Are you okay, Tae?” You asked.

“I should be asking that. You moaned your lungs out, doll.” He kissed your lips, bringing your wrist up from your mound to his mouth, smearing his lower lip with your wetness before licking it sinfully.

“Kim Taehyung.” You said in warning and exasperation.

He looked at you wide eyed, playing innocent. “I believe you earned me as your sleeping buddy tonight.” He joked.

“Indeed.” You said, wincing a little as he extracted the dildo.

“Are you sure it’s okay, you’re okay?” He asked.

You simply nodded. “Let’s just head to bed. It’s four thirty. I’ve got work tomorrow morning.” You explained.

“Can we have have breakfast or will you have to rush out?” He asked, already in tiger cub mode.

Your body deflated in desperation over your lost sleep but you smiled gladly when you looked up at him. “I’ll be happy to wake up early and have breakfast.”

Cleaning up was a bit messy, especially finding sleeping clothes for Taehyung, still you managed to hit the bed at five am, Taehyung managing to stay in his lane for maybe five minutes before cuddling up against you and falling asleep like a toddler.

Of course your head tried to process how you felt about the whole event, but your exhausted body and his gentle embrace cradled you to sleep.

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imnotevenhere9 · 4 years ago

Note

If you're still doing Matchups, could I please get one for Lotr and The Hobbit please? Thanks so much!

🌱 She/They Nonbinary // Bisexual // Autistic and Chronically Ill with a bonus Anxiety Disorder // 18 years old at the moment

🌱 I know a lot of Home Remedies and Superstitions for like no reason. For instance, did you know that Raspberry Tea helps with Menstrual Pain, or that knocking on wood invokes the protection of the tree spirit and that’s why it’s said to give you luck? I don’t know why I know that, but I do.

🌱 Winning a fight is on my bucket list, but it has to be for a good reason. I’m not one to just pick fights for the sake of fighting, and I’m actually pretty conflict-averse, so I need to actually have a solid reason for throwing hands. But I’ve always wanted to do it for some reason.

🌱 I often get the inexplicable urge to bake something, so my loved ones just kinda end up with surprise brownies and zucchini bread at random. This habit has only worsened over Quarantine, of course.

🌱 I really like studying Witchcraft for some reason. The first spell I ever performed was a Healing Spell to help my friend who was sick with Crohn's Disease. Thirty minutes after performing the ritual, I got a text saying he felt a lot better and he was released from the hospital a couple days later, so I guess it must’ve worked. 😁

🌱 My love language is definitely gift giving. I’m pretty cheap, but I’m also an artist, so when push comes to shove I’ll just make something for someone when I like them. I pay very close attention to what people like because it gives me more ideas on how to interact with them. I’m essentially a large, flightless Crow. You were nice, so you get something shiny. But though I like giving gifts to others, I’m not very materialistic at all. I prefer to be practical when it comes to things, and I get very nervous when spending money.

🌱 I LOVE going outside and getting messy. Playing in the mud, getting soaked in the rain, I’m the type to go outside and come back home covered in dirt and twigs. It’s just really fun to me.

🌱My Dad’s a really good cook and I seem to have inherited that gene. He actually has me make dinner whenever we’re having eggs because I always cook them better than he does.

🌱 I’ve always wanted to be a really good gardener. My dream house is just covered in flowers and plants and such. I want to live in a Greenhouse, basically.

🌱 I have a habit of giggling to myself just by remembering something funny that happened, even if it was a couple years ago. I also laugh when I do something stupid, because I find my flaws and shortcomings funny for the most part. I love to laugh with people, but never at them.

🌱 You know the sort of “Girl Next Door” trope? That’s my type. Like the guy in the dorm just down the hall, or the girl in my neighborhood who I casually flirt with. I’m a sucker for cute little interactions like that, so it’s not too much of a surprise that I always fall for people like that. I never forget people I meet on the road, and often find myself hoping to meet up with them again someday.

🌱 I know way too much about Spirits and Fae. My favorite book is called ‘The Encyclopedia of Spirits’ and it shows you how to contact and interact with a ton of different deities and spirits, and I’m addicted to reading it. It’s the best.

🌱 I’m basically like a tiny, less-impressive Aragorn. I love travelling on foot, getting messy outside, I was kind of a Horse Girl as a kid ngl, I’ve always wanted to be a knight or king of some sort, chances are that I haven’t bathed in awhile, and I too would pine for a hot elf girl for literal years on end.

🌱 I always have to have some sort of weight on me to feel comfortable, because of my Autism. That usually takes the form of a large backpack stuffed with books and snacks, or a big jacket. However, my muscles are always pretty stiff and achy, so that does kinda backfire too.

🌱My closest friends say I give off “Dwobbit” vibes. That’s a ½ Dwarf and ½ Hobbit btw. I’m around 4’ 10” tall, I don’t shave, I love crafting and art, I live in the Mountains, I’m tomboyish but I also love gardening and can be a bit of a homebody, I love going barefoot, etc.

🌱 I really love History, Folklore, Mythology and Fairy Tales. My favorite is the Irish myth of Oisín in Tir Na Nog. Look it up if you don’t know it, it’s a fantastic story. But I also appreciate myths from all sorts of different cultures, like the myth of Annapurna in India or the tale of Princess Kaguya in Japan. Did you know that in Mesopotamian Mythology, Nonbinary People were said to be given the gift of prophecy and magic by the goddess Ishtar? And that a recurring figure in Slavic Folklore is the Snake King, who’s just a big ol’ snake with a doofy looking crown? I love it.

🌱 I’m an Aquarius, INFP and 4w5 if that means anything. For reference, characters who are also 4w5 INFPs include Lydia Deetz (Beetlejuice), Wirt (Otgw), Frankenstein’s Monster, Luna Lovegood (HP), Napstablook (Undertale), The Phantom of the Opera, and Celeste from Animal Crossing. That kinda tells you a lot about me, doesn’t it?

🌱 I’ve been growing my hair out, so it’s getting pretty long too. It’s always messy, and I both use a lot of conditioner and it naturally curls when wet, so I basically end up having a very fluffy mane with a lot of stray hairs and weird curls. Also, fun fact, I never learned how to braid because I’ve only really made friends with boys and I have very poor hand-eye coordination when it comes to such things. And my hair is so thin and fluffy that it’s impossible to tame anyways, so the best I can do is put it in a ponytail, since I’m basically incapable of doing anything fancier than that. When worst comes to worse, I have plenty of hats though.

🌱 I have really pale skin that’s always covered in moles, freckles (especially on my arms) and lots of scabs. It’s also getting warmer out, so chances are that I have a farmer’s tan. I have blue eyes and glasses.

🌱 I have a habit of seeing shadows move out of the corners of my eyes, frequently mistaking them for people or animals, but when I turn to look there’s nothing there. I’ve gotten my eyesight checked multiple times, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary, so it’s either a lack of sleep, or the Fae are getting antsy with me. Probably the former of course, but part of me would like to believe the

Oof, sorry that description was so long! I really hope you don't mind. Thanks so much in advance!!

A/n: I made it really wholesome (at least in my eyes), so I hope you like it! ^_^

Masterlist • Prompts • S/o match ups • Taglist

S/o from The Hobbit: Kili!

will take your hands and kiss all the moles and freckles when you two are alone

listens to you talking about Fairy Tales while hugging you from behind and plays with your hair

likes to fall asleep with you on his chest, so he can plent small kisses on your head

loves everything you bake, it doesn’t matter if he heard of it or not, he always gets so excited to try what you baked

gives the best massages. He will prepare a bubble bath, help you stretch, whatever makes your achy muscles hurt less

small peaks behind your shoulder when you're

S/o from LOTR: Arwen!

adores your hair. Like literally. She loves to braid them, brush them, run her fingers through them, basically everything you can think of

please share everything you know and learnes about Home Remedies and Superstitions. She loves listening to you talk, it doesn't matter if she already knows all of it, she just wants to listen to you talk about it

your random giggles? In her eyes the cutest thing ever. Just hearing you giggling brightens her day so much

will probably go outside and get messy with you, because she loves to see you happy

gets shy when you give her gifts, she loves them all so much tho

will get you different books about Witchcraft, so you can learn and practice more!

26 notes · View notes

elsanna-shenanigans · 3 years ago

Text

December Contest Submission #15: Arthur

Words: ca. 5,500 Setting: modern AU Lemon: No Content: Language

^^^^

St. Olaf was a quiet town in the far reaches of the snowy northern realm known as Minnesota. The snow only melted for a few short months, and every year the town celebrated with an onslaught of festivals, gatherings, and celebrations.

One such festival has become a yearly tradition since its inception in 1965. Nothing got this tranquil piece of forested township up in a frenzy of excitement like the unique scented concoction of dirt, gasoline, and horse shit. Cheap satin and heavy brocade flew off shelves. The ground swelled with the excessive irrigation of beer, ale, and mead.

Welcome to the St. Olaf Viking Renaissance Fair.

It was an entire week filled with eating, dancing, horse riding, and plays aplenty that culminated into a singular spectacular event at the heart of the expansive ranch-turned-medieval-village. A contest put on by the high school to determine the year’s undisputed champion who then got the privilege of a seat next to, and a dance with, Freya at the festival ball.

Cheers filled the air from the central fixture. A coliseum constructed with expert craftsmanship by the Minnesota Log Cutters Association. Ornate carvings of horses and ships looked down upon the makeshift aluminum bleachers hidden behind a façade of colorful banners depicting the logos of local businesses and Target.

The battle in its heart would begin shortly, but not before another battle ensued in the private chambers of this years’ chosen Freya.

“This sucks. I hate the Ren Fair!”

“Elsa, you used to love the Ren Fair.”

Elsa Rúnarsson paced anxiously in the cramped space of the trailer. Her arms were crossed and her shoulders were tense and her mother feared for the stitching in the heirloom blue dress that looked less Renaissance and more 1986.

“Yes. When I was a child. When everything was dragons and fairies. Not when I’m seventeen and everything is jocks and testosterone.”

Iduna Rúnarsson felt her daughter’s anxiety and wanted nothing more than to alleviate it. She wanted to place a reassuring hand on the girl’s shoulder but found it difficult to catch an opening.

“Come now, it’ll be fun! You can’t keep yourself locked in your room all summer. It’s your senior year, you’re supposed to get out there and have fun with your friends.”

Elsa barely heard her mother’s plea through her frustration as she continued venting. “What even is a Viking Renaissance? It doesn’t make sense. Those are two completely different periods of history.”

She snatched the program, printed in Old English font. “And have you seen some of these names that the boys have chosen for themselves? King Arthur? Hercules? Those have nothing to do with either Vikings or the Renaissance. And what the hell is a Nuktuk?”

Iduna shook her head but with a grin of amusement. “They are just trying to be creative, sweetie. And poor Artie, what else is he supposed to choose? His name is Arthur.”

“What about Hans then? He literally signed up as ‘Hans’. Because he’s the quarterback and he speaks in the third person. That’s not creative. That’s being a douche.”

Iduna gasped at her daughter’s blunt words. “Elsa! I know he’s a bit… self-absorbed but be nice. He is the favorite to win this year you know.”

“I don’t even know why Artie is competing. He’s like eighty-five pounds. He doesn’t even reach my shoulders. Hans is gonna kill him.”

Elsa had finally stopped pacing and Iduna jumped at her chance to massage the tense shoulders (and relieve the poor seams). She had wrapped Elsa’s French braid in a tight bun to better fit the tiara and so her fingers had clear access to work some soothing magic into her daughter.

“I know. But he’s always had the cutest crush on you. Hopefully, the other boys go easy on him. And look—” She turned Elsa around so that they could look into the near-identical mirrors of sapphire irises that mother and daughter shared. “If you really don’t want to do it, I won’t force you. This is supposed to be fun! If it really bothers you, I’m sure that Mandy will be more than willing to fill in.”

Elsa’s eyebrow twitched at the sound of her academic and social rival and she looked away from the discerning gaze of her mother to try and hide the reaction that she knew her mother wanted.

Mandy was seemingly perfect at everything. Elsa was constantly compared to her in grades, arts, drama, even the way they braided their blonde hair was treated as a competition.

“She’s had that Rapunzel dress made years in advance for this Ren Fair. If it means she doesn’t get to be Freya then I’ll do it.”

Iduna smiled but kept her brows knotted with concern. “While I question your motivations, honey, I think you’re making the right choice. I know you’ll have fun. And who knows, you might enjoy yourself more than you expect. You know, this is how your father and I—”

Elsa groaned as loud as she could before finishing her mother’s story. “—met when you were Freya and he was champion ‘Agnar the Red’. Yes. You tell the story every year. And I can assure you, I will not be finding true love out in that dirt today. I don’t need a bunch of sweaty boys fighting over me. It’s dumb and barbaric and it’s the twenty-first century for God’s sake.”

Iduna gave her daughter a final once over, straightened out the creases, and fluffed the ruffles.

“I just want you to have fun, honey.” Elsa’s rage had given way to a newly formed void in her core that manifested into a look of sadness on her face that she could not hide from anyone, much less her mother.

“…I wish Anna were here…”

Her mother stopped fussing and instead placed her finger under Elsa’s chin to return her affectionate gaze when she said “I know sweetie. When your sister gets back from her game in Chicago we’ll have lots to tell her. And I’m sure she’ll have lots to tell us. Hopefully with a championship trophy in her hands.”

The sound of horns through an aged speaker system popped its way into their trailer.

“It sounds like the games are starting. Are you ready Elsa?”

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and filled her thoughts with the image of her sister beaming in her own arena, leading her team from between the goalposts and exuding confidence. She breathed in just a fraction of that confidence before exhaling and opening her eyes.

“I’m ready.”

^^^^

Queen echoed through the arena. “We Will Rock You” to be specific.

Elsa sat in her throne of uncomfortably ornate carved mahogany. Her arms were crossed and her face was annoyed as she barely registered the announcer list off the competitors.

“Let’s give it up for KIIIIING ARRRRRRRTHUUURR!!”

The cheer was polite but mixed with unfortunately audible laughter as the scrawny figure, dressed head to toe in cardboard armor, stumbled out into the arena. His medieval-style helmet sat big on his head with the visor covering almost the entirety of his face, probably making it incredibly hard to see. He raised his wooden sword and nearly tripped over his own feet in the process.

“Poor Artie…” Elsa thought to herself. They were next-door neighbors. The sandy blonde boy was cursed with brothers who were all built like mountains and a father who often forgot he had a third son.

“Next we have the Hero of the South! …Uh… Nuknuk?”

“IT’S NUKTUK!”

The familiar voice prompted Elsa to reach for her forehead in embarrassment. Kris was her sister’s best friend and always hung out at their house.

A few more names came and went through the speakers. Hercules, Thor, Lionheart, Darth Ravenous.

Then the main event.

“Now, ladies and gentlemen. Let’s all rise for your hometown hero. The undefeated champion. The all-star quarterback. The Mauler of Minneapolis. The Scourge of St. Paul. A true knight and gentleman. The pride of St. Olaf!”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Elsa was ready to go back to the generator and pull the plug on the entire stadium just to get it over with.

“Here he is, the moment you’ve all been waiting for! HAAAAAAANNNNNSSSS!!!!!!”

The crowd went wild. Chants of “HANS” filled the air. Banners with his name inexplicably fell from the highest points. A crop duster plane appeared trailing his name behind it. Elsa half expected jets and a full fireworks display.

Hans appeared, obviously on a horse, in glittering armor made from real steel (an unfair advantage). He waved to the crowd like a prince with a smug smile to match. Star of the dressage team, he performed his way around the circumference of the arena a few times before he stopped right below Elsa sitting atop her central dais.

He pulled a rose from his armor and tossed it up to her. She didn’t bother catching it. He smiled at her, bowed, and trotted back to the lineup of would-be suitors.

A line of twelve boys faced Elsa from the opposite side of the arena. She couldn’t help but feel a swell of emotion from the sight. An emotion of helplessness and fear that told every fiber of her being to hide behind her chair from the onlooking desires of twelve boys all hopped up on hormones and hell-bent to get a chance to be within her proximity.

It disgusted her.

“The first match. Hercules versus King Arthur!”

Elsa swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Jeez Artie… I can’t look.”

Tate Apostasi, son of Greek immigrants who opened up a grocery store in St. Olaf, was the star linebacker for the football team. He was built like Mr. Universe, and posed like it constantly. His hair was impeccably quaffed and his teeth impeccably white. He wore a facsimile of Greek armor that showed off his biceps, his thighs, and his vanity.

He towered over Arthur like a buff gorilla standing over an insect.

Elsa, indeed, couldn’t watch. So she missed the five seconds it took for the insect to bring down the gorilla.

The arena was silent. It was stunned. It was confused and perplexed and outright unbelieving. Elsa only opened her eyes when she realized that she hadn’t, in fact, gone deaf but that everyone was dumbfounded mute at the sight of a stick of a boy standing five foot five inches above the mass of muscle that lay prone with his face in the dirt and his perfect hair perfectly caked with dirt, hay, and shit.

The stumbling, quivering boy-next-door found some kind of hidden confidence and raised his wooden sword high in the air. He didn’t look toward Elsa but instead faced the other ten competitors. He silently stepped off the unconscious demi-god and walked back to the waiting area where the other boys sat in complete shock.

A few more matches proceeded. Elsa couldn’t even feign interest as each one was more boring to her than the next. She found it difficult to wrangle her thoughts away from the first match. She had closed her eyes. She didn’t see how he did it. She had known Arthur her entire life and he never demonstrated any hidden talents. He never took martial arts. He never did sports. As far as she knew, he spent most of his time on his computer playing online role-playing games. She didn’t realize it, but she spent most of the contest staring into the bench where the boys sat waiting their turn. Arthur sat motionless, not talking with anyone else. And most curious of all was that he never looked in her direction. All of these guys were supposed to be fighting for her yet he had not once acknowledged her presence. She knew he was always shy around her. Maybe he didn’t want to jinx his unbelievable luck. She wasn’t sure but she knew one thing.

She would not look away from the next match.

“Next we have King Arthur versus….. Stoiccccccc the Vaaaaaast!!”

Gerard Haddock was the nose tackle of the team. What does that mean, Elsa had no idea other than it meant that he was the widest player. Less muscle than Tate but enough girth to generate his own gravity. His beard sprouted seemingly before he could spell his own name. Elsa couldn’t even see Arthur standing in front of the truck of a man.

He carried no weapon, relying entirely on his mass to stampede over the unfortunate opponents. His balding head was fastened with a stereotypical horned helmet.

He scratched his feet in the dirt like a bull preparing his charge. Arthur, armed only with his wooden sword, stood his ground. He positioned his body angled to the side so that his chest faced the bleachers and his head looked over his shoulder at his opponent.

Stoic bellowed and began his run. His stump-like feet seemingly shook the ground. He was surprisingly slow for an athlete. He put his head down and aimed his impressive wingspan, giving Arthur no room to escape.

Arthur didn’t need to escape.

He stood motionless until Stoic was within the reach of his wooden sword. He waited, and watched, and timed his attack perfectly. As soon as Stoics left foot hit the ground, one step away from his shoulder barreling into the frail body, Arther swung his sword into the soft, squishy spot of the unprotected knee between the kneecap and shin.

Stoic ended up in the air. Arthur’s swing spun him around and he rolled his diminutive form underneath the vast body as it entered orbit above his head. The horned helmet ended up in the ground and stoic landed on his back. Arther exited his spin standing, looking away from his fallen foe with his sword at the ready.

This time there was no silence.

The crowd went wild.

Hans, who did not sit with the other contestants but in his private booth, looked on with growing anger at the supposed weakling that garnered massive applause from his crowd.

Elsa was amazed. She watched as Arthur raised his sword again, not to her, not to anyone in particular. He turned back to the bench, again without even glancing in her direction.

She wasn’t sure what she was feeling. Annoyed? Frustrated? She hated this whole antiquated practice. She didn’t want any of these guys fighting for her like some damsel in a tower who has her husband chosen for her instead of by her. Then why did Arthur’s seeming indifference bother her so much?

She decided to find out.

More matches continued, but Elsa didn’t care. She left her private viewing box and made her way through the concession areas to the other side of the arena.

She entered the “backstage” hallway, at first being barred by one out of five of the local sheriff’s department. She flashed her “Freya Badge” which got her access to pretty much everything in the festival.

When she reached the waiting area, really just a wooden bench in a dugout, the first person she encountered was Kris.

“Elsa! What are you doing here?!”

“Hey, Kris. I wanna talk to Artie.”

Kris seemed a little preoccupied with himself to register her request. “Did you see my fight? It was pretty cool, huh. I vanquished the god of thunder!” He made a vain attempt at a hero pose, flexing his surprisingly substantial muscle for one of the few contestants not on the football team. He wore no shirt. Instead, relying on a fur shawl that was draped over his shoulders.

Elsa was not impressed.

“Ya, ya, sure. Can you get out of my way? I need to talk to Artie.”

“Oh. Uh, ya but he’s like in the zone, you know? He’s not talking to any of us. Frankly, he’s got the other guys kinda scared. Or pissed. Or both.”

Having lost her patience, Elsa shoved Kris out of her way and found Arthur sitting on the bench farther down the dugout. As she approached him, she gave the most sincere smile she could muster.

“Hey, Artie. How’s it goin?”

Arthur turned his helmeted head and looked at Elsa. He was like an animatronic, barely moving any muscle except the ones in his neck to turn and look at her without saying a word. Elsa began to feel a bit awkward and uncomfortable when he continued to not say anything.

Finally, a muffled voice found its way out of his boxy helmet.

“Why are you here?”

Elsa took the vocal acknowledgment as an invitation to sit next to him. It was the first time the entire day that Arthur had registered Elsa was even there.

“You’re doing really good out there. I had no idea you could fight.”

Arthur turned his helmet back toward the center of the arena. In a cold voice, he simply said “video games.”

Elsa felt her eyebrow twitch at his indifference.

“Look, Artie, I’m sure you know, I… everyone expected Hans to win this. And I was prepared to tell him off because, you know, he’s an ass. But… you’re my friend. And, honestly, it looks like you might actually have a chance. So I wanted to let you know, face to face, that I’m not interested in the whole ‘prize’ thing. I don’t intend on dancing with any—”

Arthur cut her off. “—I’m not doing this for you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t care about the prize. Or the dance. Or you. I’m doing this for me. I don’t care what you do. So go back to your tower and leave me alone.”

Elsa was flabbergasted. Arthur had never spoken that way to her before. He could barely get out two words through his bashfulness whenever she was near.

She tried to get a read on him, but it was difficult with the helmet muffling his voice and the thick layers of cardboard duck taped around his body. It was again as if she didn’t exist.

And that pissed her off.

She rose from the bench and without another word, spun on her heel and left Arthur in her wake.

“Yo, did Artie tell yo—” Elsa brushed past Kris, nearly knocking him over with her shoulder. She stormed all the way back to ‘Asgard’ or the ‘Freya Box’.

Once she got back onto her throne she fumed at the indignation. Sure, she didn’t like the idea of all the boys fighting for her. But she was now pissed off at the idea of this one boy thinking that she was insignificant. She didn’t want to be fought over but she didn’t want the winner to make it all about him. What she wanted was… what she really wanted to do…

“I want to get down there.”

^^^^

“Alright ladies and gentlemen, it’s come down to this. Two fighters left standing. The undefeated champ, HAAANNSS!”

Cheers and cheers and more cheers.

“And the unexpected tiny terror.. King Arrrrthuuuuuurrr!!”

The cheers erupted louder than even for Hans which sent no small amount of visible annoyance over his chiseled face and preposterous sideburns.

“It’s all come down to this, vikings and shield maidens. The final match. Last one standing is this year’s champion and will be graced with a sacred dance from our lovely Freya!”

“Fuck you,” Elsa muttered under her breath.

The fighters squared off. They each had wooden swords held ‘en Garde’. Hans was as cool and relaxed as if he was playing golf. Arthur… just stood there. He gave away nothing. His helmet covered all expressions and his posture was firm and confident.

It was difficult for her to see, but Elsa did hear a *crack* as wood struck wood. Then a *clang* as wood struck metal. And then the *cracks* grew louder and more frequent.

Hans was captain of the fencing team as well as the quarterback. He moved with expert precision. Arthur was clearly outmatched but held his ground. Pieces of cardboard had been sheared from their adhesion to his clothes and littered the dirt around them. Hans’ steel armor had dents and scratches but was all superficial.

The duel raged on. The *cracks* of their wooden swords filled the silence of the spectators as they were transfixed by the match.

Finally, Elsa could make out a voice.

“You have no chance, Artie. Give up and it will all be over. Stop hurting yourself.”

If Arthur gave a response, Elsa couldn’t hear it through the muffling of the helmet. But it quickly became apparent that Arthur indeed said something because it sent Hans into an offensive blitz.

Hans swung and parried and knocked Arthur’s sword to the side just long enough to send a quick swipe across Arthur’s face. The boy backed away in the knick of time to avoid a solid blow to his temple, but not without Hans’s sword knocking a chunk of cardboard clean off from around his jaw.

That’s when Elsa saw it. A glint in her eye. A tiny, almost imperceptible sparkle from the tip of Hans’s sword.

“That asshole…!”

She had enough.

She left her throne and ran down to the entrance of the arena. As she made her quick journey she heard more *cracks* but this time they started to take on an unnatural *ring* to them. As she reached the gate, flashing her ‘Freya Badge’ once more, she heard a final *CRACK* that was louder than all the rest. She made it to the dirt, walked out into the arena, and saw Arthur’s sword split in half, Arthur on his backside looking up at Hans who stood over him with his wooden sword.

His wooden sword that had split revealing shiny metal underneath.

Everyone could see it and the referee started to approach but Hans shot him a death stare. And he stopped cold.

This was Hans’ arena. It didn’t matter that metal weapons weren’t allowed. Everyone accepted his behavior because he was the local hero. The undefeated champion. The fucking quarterback.

Everyone except Elsa.

She walked over to the wall, grabbed one of the decorative round wooden shields, and ripped it off with her bare hands. Then she tore the skirt of her dress (somewhere in the crowd Iduna feinted) and kicked her heels off, leaving her bare feet in the dirt.

She made a sprint toward the fighters, neither being aware of the new presence in their midst. As she got within a step of Hans, she clenched one end of the shield with both hands, brought her arms across her body, and swung the shield with all her strength onto the only unarmored part of his body. His face.

He collapsed on the ground in a heap of metal. His nose bled and his eyes darted around in a daze. His teeth seethed with the words “What the fuck!”

Arthur shot up from the ground, just as shocked. “Elsa?! What are you doing?!” Without the piece of cardboard covering his mouth, his voice somehow sounded odder to Elsa. Something about the adrenaline of the fight and his newfound confidence, she wasn’t sure.

She decided to go for showmanship. “Hans. I, Freya, have deemed you unworthy. You have lied and cheated your way through this contest. I hereby disqualify you.”

The crowd gasped, as did Arthur behind her.

“Are you insane?” he said.

“Back off Artie. I’ve got this.”

“You shouldn’t be doing this. I can handle him. Don’t worry, I won’t let him win.”

Hans finally got to his feet. He was angry and shouting but his words carried no weight. Elsa didn’t even register them. All she heard was Arthur as he positioned himself between her and the angry quarterback.

“I told you, I don’t need a couple of boys fighting over the chance to touch me,” Elsa said as she cut in front of Arthur just in time to deflect the oncoming blow.

As the sword bounced into the air, Arthur came around Elsa’s body and planted his palms as hard as he could into Hans’ chest, sending him stumbling backward. “That’s why I’m doing this! So that you don’t have to—”

He stopped his words just as Elsa deflected another swing with her shield. “So that I don’t have to what? What do you mean?”

“I…” Arthur hesitated. Elsa glanced in his direction for a split second to see he was trembling. Was it the fight? Was it Hans, as he was rapidly boiling over with rage?

Or was it because of her?

“I thought you said that you weren’t doing this for me.”

She quickly realized that Arthur had become immobilized with fear. That confidence that carried him through the tournament to unlikely victories had vanished as he seemed now focused on trying to simply find the words to say to her.

“I… I lied. I entered the fight because… because I couldn’t stand the thought of you being forced to spend a night with someone like him. When I heard that you were chosen to be Freya I just… I…”

Hans brought Arthur back into the fight. He was practically foaming at the mouth with a slew of slurs and juvenile locker-room insults that neither of his opponents even cared to hear. He shoved Elsa back just enough steps to take a cheap swing at the boy seemingly paralyzed. Arthur brought his broken stick of a sword up just in time to catch the heavier metal blade in the guard causing the shift in momentum to carry it into the dirt.

Elsa came back with a bare foot square in Hans’ breastplate, the cool steel felt refreshing against her sole. “You entered the tournament so that no one would win the prize?”

“…Yes.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because—!”

This time, Elsa froze with confusion as her focus shifted to Arthur. He kicked Hans’ sword away, causing it to land in the dirt beyond. Hans’ breathing was haggard, the weight of his armor and the length of the fight finally having their toll on the quarterback. He slumped to his knees between Elsa and Arthur, his eyes slowly rolling into the back of his head, having lost the will to stay forward.

His body fell to the ground, leaving only the two of them in each other’s vision.

“Because I have a crush on you, OK!?”

Elsa shouldn’t have been surprised. The whole school knew that Arthur had a crush on her. But something was off. Something was wrong. Something didn’t seem… real. But before she had a chance to figure it out something unexpected happened.

“For the Dark Side!!!”

Darth Ravenous, defeated in an earlier match by Hans, entered the arena with a glowing beam of red light in his hands. A facsimile of neon energy, trapped in a tube of glass and jammed into the plastic hilt of a toy lightsaber.

He ran toward them, screaming and swinging his neon light like a madman desperate for one final burst of attention. The poor deputy was hot on his heels.

He tripped.

Neon flew through the air.

It shattered against the wall. Gas and faulty wiring sparked with cheap battery acid to ignite against the wooden structure.

The cheers turned to screams combined with the disembodied voice saying “—alright, everyone. Stay calm and proceed to your nearest exits—”

The bleachers rapidly emptied as the flames rapidly encircled the arena.

Elsa looked toward the exit where the deputy was shoving Ravenous through the door in handcuffs. She started to follow when she heard “Hans is still unconscious!”

She spun on her heel and ran toward Arthur who was hurriedly trying to unbuckle all of the pieces of expensive armor. They each flung an arm over their shoulders and ran toward the exit. Smoke began to fill the cavity of the coliseum, entering their lungs and burning their eyes.

They reached the exit where the deputy ran out to meet them. He took Hans and left, with Elsa and Arthur close behind.

Then a flaming banner fell between them. A massive letter ‘H’ engulfed in flame blocked their exit.

“Shit, what do we do now?!” Arthur coughed with his panic.

Elsa scanned the arena and found a gap in the wall not yet in flames. They ran toward it and she realized that it was where she had torn the shield from.

Elsa tried to get Arthur through but his armor made him too bulky to fit. She started ripping off the remaining pieces of cardboard. The pauldrons from his shoulders, the grieves from his shins. Finally the boxy helmet—

As she grasped the helmet with both hands, Arthur stopped her. His fingers wrapped tightly around her wrists. “That’s good, I can fit!” he insisted. But something came over Elsa. Something she didn’t expect. A realization that was nagging at the back of her mind through the entire day that finally compelled her to a single act of desperation.

She placed her lips against his.

She felt the shock through their touch but no resistance. A layer of charcoal mixed with salt from their sweat and sweet honey from Burts’ Bees chap-stick.

It lasted for a single second. A single moment where everything was allowed to burn as hot and intense as the flames around them. Where nothing was hidden any longer.

The second was over.

Arthur squeezed through the gap with Elsa right on top of him. They were under the bleachers, a maze of scaffolding blocked their path. They navigated the web of pipes as the air around them became thick with smoke. Tears, sweat, and makeup stung her eyes, blurring her vision.

She thought she saw a sliver of light in the wood paneling. Her coughing became intense and her throat hoarse. Air refused to fill her lungs where smoke occupied all space.

Black filled her vision and pain erupted in her temple as her head smacked against the floor.

^^^^

She awoke on a bench near the parking lot.

She gasped as much fresh air in her lungs as they would allow.

She was alone.

Panic struck as she looked back toward the coliseum, still engulfed in flame. She began to rise from the bench when her hand knocked something to the ground. She looked down and picked the object up.

The cardboard helmet. Torn, dented, burned. And unoccupied.

^^^^

Elsa sat in her mother’s car, her dress charred and torn, her makeup runny with sweat, and a singed cardboard helmet in her lap.

“Well, that was something, huh dear? I’m so glad no one was hurt! I’m sure the festival com—”

Her words trailed off through Elsa’s eardrums. Her heart still raced and her thoughts were wholly consumed by what she had done.

As their house entered view, her mother finally said something that she could hear. Something that, despite Iduna’s reaction, did not surprise Elsa at all.

“Is that your father’s car? They’re back from Chicago already? I wonder if the game was postponed.”

Iduna parked her Camry next to her husband’s SUV in the driveway. Elsa’s head was still swimming in confusion as she made her way through the car door, helmet in hand.

“Don’t forget to return that helmet. It looks like he put a lot of work into that costume.”

Elsa’s voice caught in her throat and she barely wheezed out a “yes, mother…” through her smoke encrusted esophagus.

When she entered the house, the first thing she saw was a pair of feet dangling over the edge of the couch.

“Anna sweetie! You’re home so early.” Iduna said as she quickly made her way toward the kitchen.

“Hi, mom. Hey, Els.”

Elsa found herself next to the couch, looking down at her younger sister with her face buried in her Switch. Her normally vibrant ginger hair was wrapped in a towel and she smelled like Garnier-Fructis-Curl-Nourish shampoo.

“Soooo. How was the Ren Fair?”

“It burned to the ground.”

“Come again?”

Despite the somewhat shocking admission of a flaming end, Anna did not look away from her screen.

“We’ll… talk about it later. I need to shower.”

Anna didn’t respond. She seemed to barely register her sister’s presence. Elsa turned away from the couch potato and walked down the hallway.

She started to enter her room, but suddenly felt compelled to spin around and enter the room on the opposite side. She opened the door and walked toward the bed.

She hesitated.

Her fingers clenched, the corrugation of cardboard slightly crunching under the weight. She held her breath, somewhat difficultly, and then resolved herself.

What happens next, she had no idea. All that mattered at this moment was that she returned the helmet to its rightful owner, regardless of the consequences.

She placed it gently on the bedspread.

She left the room light on her feet, a weight suddenly having been lifted from her shoulders. Finally, she let out her breath as she closed the door…

with the letters “A-N-N-A” left to linger on the surface.

A/N:

The first names are taken from the character’s respective voice actors. Tate Donovan - Hercules Gerard Butler - Stoic Mandy Moore - Rapunzel

Last Names are random. Apostasi means distance in Greek Haddock is Hiccups last name

St. Olaf is the fictional town in Minnesota where Betty White’s character, Rose, is from in the Golden Girls. We love you Betty.

#elsanna #december 2021 contest #prompt: traditions

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wishingforatypewriter · 4 years ago

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The Four Elements

Summary: On the eve of Prince Wu's coronation day, Kuvira tries to be productive and Baatar does not let her.

The presidential suite at the Republic City Four Elements was equipped with a hot tub, a sauna, a well-stocked open bar, and a television that was roughly the size of a mover screen...and Baatar’s fiancée was still sitting behind a desk with a stack of paperwork the size of a baby moose lion in front of her.

Kuvira was wrapped in a plush Four Elements robe, feet propped up on a red and gold ottoman as she filled her pages. Another person—one who didn’t know her quite so well—would make the mistake of assuming she was feeling rather relaxed. But Baatar could read the displeasure in her posture, the carefully restrained aggression in each precise stroke of pen against parchment.

Her correspondence never made that scratching noise when she wasn’t royally pissed off.

“How was the prince?” he ventured, although he would bet all the gold in Gaoling that he already knew the answer.

“That child is lucky to still be breathing,” she said dryly. “If I had any doubts about our plan before, they’re gone now.”

“Did you?” he asked, before he could think better of it.

“Did I what?”

“Have doubts.” The plan had always seemed like a plain inevitability. Black and white. Kingdom to Empire.

Kuvira sighed, bringing two fingers up to the middle of her forehead in a familiar gesture of fatigue. “It wouldn’t matter if I did.” She used the pen to point to a folder on the far side of the desk, dark green with the insignia of the nascent Earth Empire stamped on the front cover. Inside were files on a number of Republic City business leaders and minor bureaucrats.

“What’s this?”

“Wu’s cabinet, handpicked by President Raiko to turn the Earth Kingdom into a vassal state of the UR, while the prince empties the national treasury throwing parties and buying fancy scarves.”

“It was a nice scarf, wasn’t it?”

She gave a small hum of consideration, conceding the point. “Better still as a garrote, if you asked me,” she replied with a wry smile. “But anyway, it seems we’re doing this.”

She went back to her writing then, drafting marching orders for the officers in Omashu and Gaoling. If all went according to plan, they would take Zaofu in a month’s time.

Wordlessly, knowingly, Baatar moved behind his fiancée and started massaging her shoulders, working out the knots and tension in the same way he would approach a complex algorithm.

Kuvira gave a little sigh and tilted her head back, dropping the pen and gazing up at him with an expression suspended halfway between appreciation and crossness. “You are the antithesis of productivity, you know,” she said. Then after a beat, “Don’t stop, though.”

Baatar then left a kiss on the patch of skin where neck and shoulder met. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Do you want to order room service?” Kuvira asked much later on, after Baatar had convinced her to stop working and share a bottle of obscenely expensive champagne in the hot tub.

Her voice was muffled by the fourteen pillows and cushions arranged artfully on the king bed, but he still managed to make her words out. “I thought we could go out instead.”

She lifted her head slightly, and pulled a face that signaled she found the notion of setting foot outside the suite before the coronation unsavory. “Out?”

“It would be helpful to do some reconnaissance in the city ahead of the Yu Dao campaign,” he pointed out. “Besides, I can’t remember the last time we went out on a real date.”

Kuvira groaned, emerging from the plush bedding that had all but swallowed her up. She stretched languidly, hair sticking up at all angles and robe sliding further down her right shoulder. The fearsome general looked rightly adorable, but by now Baatar knew better than to say as much.

“Alright, fine.” She ran a finger through her hair, trying to tame it a bit. “Where are we going?”

“The concierge got us a table at Kwong’s Cuisine. Bolin says it’s one of the nicest restaurants in town.”

Kuvira made an unimpressed noise. “Bolin would eat polar bear dog food if he was hungry enough, and you know it.”

That was...true. Just true. What was his sister even doing with that guy? “Still, it’s got to be better than the refectory.”

“You’re not wrong,” she admitted, stretching again. “Okay. I’m getting up.”

--------

“You’re lucky we came here from Gaoling,” Kuvira said as she stepped out of the dressing room, clad in an emerald gown with a slit up one side and a skirt that brushed the floor when she walked. She also traded her practical military gloves for a pair of evening gloves that went up to her elbows. “If we had left from the Omashu base, I wouldn’t have any of this shit.”

In fact, she probably still wouldn’t have brought any formal attire had the household staff—many of whom had been serving Baatar’s family since before either of them were born—not insisted that “Lady Poppy would roll in her grave” if her future great-granddaughter-in-law left for Yu Dao without her pearls.

Kuvira walked over to the vanity, where the pearls in question sat on a neck mannequin that reminded her more of a severed head than anything else.

The necklace was a double strand of Yokoya pearls, held together with a round white gold clasp fashioned into the insignia of the flying boar. It was the type of piece that the woman who gave birth to her would try to approximate with her cheap costume jewelry. Kuvira blinked at her reflection after the heirloom was clasped in place around her neck, wondering—as she did every so often—how in the name of Oma and Shu she had ended up here.

“Are you sure Su doesn’t want this?” she asked, turning back to her fiance, who was fastening a pair of silver cufflinks.

“Positive. She must have a hundred pieces of jewelry from her grandmother, but wears exactly two because ‘the rest are too old fashioned.’”

Kuvira shook her head as she stepped into her black heels and fastened them at the ankles. “Oh, Suyin,” she said dryly. “You spoke to her earlier, didn’t you?”

“I did.”

“How is she?”

“She...is.” Baatar crossed the distance between them and kissed her before she could ask anything else. “You look gorgeous, Kuvira.”

“I look hungry,” she said with a glare, but still took his hand when he offered it. “If the food at this place isn’t any good, we’re fighting.”

#baavira #kuvira #baatar jr #legend of korra #lok #korra #prince wu #suyin beifong #poppy beifong #bolin

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gasp-iwrotesomething · 4 years ago

Note

How about G26, G27 and R5 for Cal, please and thank you.

No problem, @jewalsgem! Thanks for taking the time to send in a request and I hope you enjoy!

G26: “I was on the fence for a while but I’ve finally come to the conclusion that… you’re brutally wrong.”

G27: “That’s bold coming from someone with a pretty generic fashion sense.”

R5: “It’s not everyday someone manages to make (Caleb North) swoon.” “What can I say? You’re a rare specimen.”

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What does Caleb North do when he’s losing in a card game, you ask? Well, he bluffs--and he bluffs hard.

He’ll have his losing cards stuffed in his hands and a determined, smug expression, his blue eyes alight with the promise of winning. He’d remark about how little he’s trying and how hard MC seems to be playing, when in reality, he was the one who was desperate to win. Cal was swindling her, obviously, but MC wasn’t that gullible. She didn’t fall for his show of sportsmanship--MC was playing to win, not build relationships. Rapt for victory, MC dishes out a red seven and sends Cal a challenging brow arch. “Your move.” Cal returns her challenge with an equally cocky smirk. He flicks a card from his lofty hand and it flutters onto the growing pile, and MC groans once she realizes it’s a red skip. “Yes, my move, oh, and my move again,” Cal tosses down another skip, this time blue, followed by a blue three, “well, would you look at that? Looks like you’re not as untouchable as you think.” Cal bluffs, laughter twinkling in his eyes. If she wasn’t seated at the opposite side of the table, MC would’ve jabbed her fist into his shoulder blade--how dare he skip her back to back like that?

“Never said that. Just said that you have no hope of winning against me, that’s all.” She shuffles through her deck as she scoffs, fingers sifting through the many choices. Down to just five cards against Cal’s whopping ten, MC could play a couple different cards, all with varying outcomes. Two threes and a wild card, hmm... what should I play next? MC selects the one of the yellow threes that she had, considering that a majority of her cards--excluding the wild card--were yellow. She adds the card to the pile and Cal makes a thoughtful noise, his eyes narrowing as he examines his hand. Ha. Got him. “Drawing again, are we?” MC suppresses a snicker at the glower on Cal’s handsome face as he reaches for the drawing deck. That had been the third time in just ten minutes and probably the next beginning for his wealth in cards. “Yeah, yeah, make fun of me all you want. I’m gonna get you after--what the hell?! Where are the yellows?!” Cal’s rebuke is intercepted with his frustration of finding no compatible cards three cards deep. MC can’t help it this time; she snickers behind her petite supply of cards. Oh boy, I almost feel bad for him--having to lose so pitifully. Finally, after plucking three more cards to add to his deck, Cal finds an appropriate card and angrily throws it down; a red three. He slumps in his chair a little, eyes cast to the side; sulking silently. MC plays her second three, which is yet another yellow three. She almost felt bad for playing it on poor, yellow-less, three-less Cal... until out of nowhere, the gunslinger plops down a draw four card! Her heart just about stops in her chest. What?!

“Gotcha,” he preens, “thought you had the advantage, huh?” His words causes the pieces in her mind to click and she scowls--it was all a part of his grand plan, wasn’t it? “I think I’ll go green this time...” Cal then slams down a green plus two before MC can even draw, his complacent grin somehow even more annoying than stacking a plus two--which is what Cal does. He adds another green plus two which ups the amount of cards MC needs to draw to a staggering eight. Now Cal had as many cards as her: thirteen to thirteen. Welp, guess we’ve got another half hour to go before anyone wins. “You... you filthy, slimy, snake! Can’t you just play without being such a buzzkill?!” MC snarls. She hated how he always seemed to have the upper advantage, so when he suggested a card game to pass the time, MC had been eager to show him that there was some things he couldn’t be king of. But now that starting motivation fizzles out into frustration as Cal smiles at her, eyes wickedly gleaming with pride. Doesn’t he look pleased with himself... it’s okay, he can have his those five seconds of gratification. They’ll be his last once I win. “Come on, MC, don’t be such a sore loser,” his pure blue eyes hungrily follow her hand as she collects the eight cards he tolled her, “it’ll already hurt your pride enough to watch me win.”

“You’re going to eat those words, Caleb North.” She states as she shuffles her larger deck of cards, prepared to see his downfall.

...Tch.

“I was on the fence for a while but I’ve finally come to the conclusion that… you’re brutally wrong.”

Just ten minutes later and Cal was on Uno, while MC still had four cards to use; all useless as Cal plays his final card. The trick shooter had won. “I win and you don’t, just like I promised would happen earlier.” That accomplished grin on his face... MC really wanted to swipe it off--why’d he have to draw a plus four when she was on Uno just a minute ago? MC rolls her eyes and glares at him pumping his fists in the air. “That’s bold coming from someone with a pretty generic fashion sense.” She snipes defensively, crossing her arms over her chest. It was something that came out of her naturally, like an insult ingrained in her system that was ready to be weaponized at any time. Maybe I’m bitter, but that was such a dumb game. I think I have a right to be bitter. Cal takes the ramshackle pile of cards--with his winning card on top, rubbing his victory all in her face--and clacks them against the tabletop to fix their disorder. A knowing grin climbs his mouth. “Going after my looks now, huh? You really are a sore loser...” He trails off as he absently organizes the cards in his hands, so graceful that it made MC’s aggravation heighten. She just about explodes. “If being angry that your opponent is a tryhard and doesn’t play by the rules makes me a sore loser, then hell yeah I’m a sore loser!”

The table rattles as she limply throws her arm down on the surface and Cal hisses. “Hey, not so hard! You wanna lose a table while you’re at it?!” Even through his frustrated reprimand, MC could sense the cocky aptitude lacing his words--it left something unsaid. She could almost guess what he was about to say. “...cause you seem like you’re losing a lot today.” Cal mumbles under his breath, the cards in his hands slowly assembling into a neat, flawless stack. She kicks his shin from under the table just to watch him yelp. “Ow,” he sends her a pained glower as he reaches under the table to touch his shin, “the hell was that for?!”

“You know what that was for, jerkface,” MC matches his indignant expression, teeth gritted, “you didn’t have to be so mean about it, you know. Not every victory has to be a jeering contest.” Her eyes soften. The truth of their banter had just dawned on her--they were fighting over one little card game. If this sets them off, how in the hell do they get along day-in and day-out? Maybe it was a cheap move to morph this banter into a lesson but MC didn’t really care; maybe a cheap lesson is what they needed. Cal, still massaging his aching shin, sets his pristine pile of cards aside and reaches for the drawing deck. He notes the reflective expression on MC’s face and sighs quietly. “Now you’re reminiscent, huh? What’re you thinking now?” His voice is gentler when he says this, gaze sweeping over MC as if checking for an unseen injury. The gesture, however insignificant, tugs at MC’s lips. It was nice to see that his ego hadn’t blotted out his thoughtful nature. She fidgets with her jacket’s zipper, her ankles crossing then uncrossing and crossing again as she thinks of what to say. Maybe she was thinking too much these days, maybe that was her overall issue. “Well, I don’t know, I just... I guess I’m being harsh. We both are. That’s not like us.” MC confesses, low and timid, as if her words could shatter a bond that had lived for so long.

She was being precautious again, wasn’t she? Careful to not strike a nerve in Cal or stub her own interests, dipping her toes in just enough to judge her next move. Maybe that was something she needed to work on in the future. Or maybe she didn’t, if Cal didn’t mind. Since when did I consider changing for Cal’s approval? Something must be in the air. In front of her, Cal’s eyes become thoughtful as they scrutinize her features. Like hundreds of times before, MC felt the magnetic pull of his eyes, how the blue seemed to yawn out for her to drown in--a sea of emotion that she wanted to be in the waves of. That same blue softens as Cal rests his chin in his palms, cheekily smiling a lazy smile. The posture reminded MC of someone whose charmed--but that couldn’t be true. Cal, charmed? Only myths spoke of such a thing. “Worried about us, huh? Here I was, thinking you were the most bitter loser this world has ever seen-” a frown spreads over MC’s features that has Cal hurrying to finish his thoughts “-and here you are, proving that you’ve got enough heart to take an L.” He smooths a hand through his windswept hair with another sigh as MC smiles to herself. I think the translation of that is that I’m right. “No one likes a sore loser,” MC agrees, watching in awe at how his fingers’ prowess seemed to melt the cards all into one tidy stack, “so I’d rather not be that kind of person, you know?”

Cal slides the deck he’d just organized to the side, nodding his head. “Figured. You’re not the kind of person that’d fit in those shoes too well.” Again, just like before, Cal’s tone is delicate and observing and nearly fond. That made her heart jump a little in her chest, pumping just a little harder than before. Perhaps she was jumping to conclusions and this next sentence would be the biggest regret of her life, but...

“It’s not everyday someone manages to make Caleb North swoon,” she braces her elbows on the tabletop and leans forward slightly, “I think I’ll go down in history as the first.”

...what was the worst that could happen? Except being teased and embarrassed daily by the person it was directed towards, of course. MC can’t help but suck in a breath and hope that she didn’t just screw anything up. Her sights were on the word ‘swoon’ and how effortlessly she used it, like she was exposing feelings even she didn’t know of herself. Cal’s eyes flicker up to hers, amusement dancing within their depths, before he slants back against his chair with a faint scoff. “Tch, you really make it easy to hate you, MC.” The trick shooter licks his lips--a brief action that catches MC’s attention. She could feel heat creep up her neck at how quickly she latched onto the movement, almost like she’s touch-starved or something. Which I am definitely not! Nope, not at all, I get touches all the time from gorgeous gun-wielding assassins and this isn’t totally taboo!

“But what can I say? You’re a rare specimen.”

Uh-oh. Here comes the second wave of embarrassment ready to swallow me whole... As discreetly as she can, MC fans her face before the blood can rush to the surface while Cal’s miniature, practically affectionate smile pushes her into his spotlight. ...What is composure again? I forgot what it meant again.

Needless to say, MC left Cal curious and baffled, her feelings starting to wrap tighter and tighter within her chest. Soon the strings would get knotted and twisted, then what? How could she decipher the warmth she felt in Cal’s presence?

And most of all, what ran through that boy��s head when intimate moments like the card game happen between them?

What was he thinking?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thank you again for your request! I loved writing this for you!

If you want to request something, here’s the Prompt List, here are the Guidelines, here’s Who I Write For, and here is where you can Request me.

#cal north #sin with me

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masseurrsvp · 7 months ago

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chris-bodywork-euston · 6 months ago

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gabbyfluffy · 4 years ago

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𝓓𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓒𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓜𝓮 𝓐𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓵

Chapter 9

Eloa

Eloa saw how Emma’s figure disappeared into the trees, and looked at her two step sisters; Ariel was taking sketches of a squirrel and Diana was growling at a dog, who growled back. Great, I’m stuck with the weirdoes, she thought bitterly. “Ok, come on, were going to explore a little bit” Diana looked at her with narrowed eyes “You don´t tell me what to do miss-perfect” Ariel let out a little laugh without even looking up from her sketchbook. She massaged her temples “ok, would you like to go exploring?”

“Yep” Diana winked at her, and Eloa rolled her eyes. Ariel let out a deep sigh and got up, but didn´t complain. They walked without speaking until they arrived to a fountain “Heeey look! It has an angel on top! Who do you think it could be?” Diana pointed at the top of the fountain and Eloa sighed “Yes Diana, now if you could stop being so childish...”

“Look! Bubbles!” the golden haired angel rushed where a man was making bubbles of all sizes and started popping them. Eloa was about to tell her of, but she saw how much she was enjoying herself; maybe it was fun. She could try... No. A real princess couldn’t be seen doing something so mundane and childish as popping bubbles. Thank god mother can’t hear my thoughts. Ariel sat on the edge of the fountain and started scribbling things on her sketchbook. Eloa sat down on a bench next to a mother “Which ones are yours?”

“The one drawing and the one with the bubbles”

“Oh. Aren’t they a little... old?”

“Yes. Yes they are” She let out a sigh and scrubbed her forehead.

They walked back to where they had met up with Emma, who was waiting with a tall and handsome man. “So, this is my boyfriend. Jacob, these are my roommates: Ariel, Diana and Eloa” She forced a smile over the pain. Wait, what pain? I don’t even like her in that way. I just think she’s pretty, I mean, I don’t even know her. And anyways, I can’t be in love with a girl, I need to marry a king. Oh, mother would be so disappointed in me... “Eloa? Are you there? Well, Jacob knows a cheap store for phones, so if you want we could go there and get you one?” Diana crossed her arms and looked at Jacob with suspicion “Why do we need a phone? And how do we know this isn’t a trap?” Emma looked at Jacob and smirked “Well, you need a phone to communicate, and I doubt Jacob will lure us into a trap” he smiled kindly and nodded, but Diana took out one of her knifes “Listen up Jacob, if this is a trap I swear I’ll...” the boy looked at the blonde with panic.

“Diana! What have we spoke about threatening people with knifes?”

“But Emma-“

“Diana!” She pouted “I must not threaten nice people with knifes” Diana mumbled, an Emma nodded “good. Now put the knife away honey” she did as she was told and returned the weapon to its original place. “Now let’s go get you some phones”

“what is a phone?” Jacob, who had not said a word and appeared quite shy, answered Diana “Well, its a little device with a lot of uses” Diana let out a little ‘oh’ and kept walking. They arrived to a store and bought three white boxes, and then headed home.

Eloa sat on the sofa with the box on her lap, and following Jacobs instructions, she opened it and extracted the little ‘phone’ inside. It was like a mini TV, but much lighter and thinner. “Ok, so now, press this little button here and you can give it to me” She did as she was told and passed the phone to Jacob. He passed the phone back to Eloa “So, I’ve added Emma’s number and your sisters, If you want to call, go in here” he pressed a little square thing that seemed to be inside the phone “and if you want to text, go here. These are called apps, and if you want, i can download a game for you” Eloa heard Diana’s voice make another question “You can play games in here? Like tag? I’ve never played with anyone” Eloa’s head turned quickly to look at Diana’s face. She didn’t seem to notice that everyone was looking at her with a mix of worry and pity. “Um, not tag, but yeah, other games” the room fell silence again. Eloa noticed how her stepsister was sitting in the carpet again, she had never seen her in the sofa, but why? She remembered on the feast day, the look of terror when her mother dragged her out of the table, but she was probably just scared because she was going to get grounded... right? But her mother looks so nice, she would never hurt her in any way. How can I even think of this? She probably just doesn’t like the sofa, and that’s it, she thought, but wasn’t fully convinced. An hour later of learning to control their new little TVs, Eloa headed to her room. Jacob was staying over, and Eloa just wished they wouldn’t make a lot of noise. She let herself fall on her fluffy bed, after putting on a light blue night gown. She covered herself with the blankets and closed her eyes.

A squeaking sound woke her up, and a fluffy snake with legs was looking directly at her. She muffled at scream and then noticed that its eyes were pink. This must be Diana’s transformed pet. No fair, mine hasn’t arrived yet. A whimper came from another room and Eloa felt tempted to cover her ears. I do NOT want to hear Emma and Jacob doing their things. Just... go back to sleep. She rolled onto her right side and closed her eyes, but the fluffy snake bit her ear “You little...!” she tried to grab it, but it jumped of the bed and started to scratch the closed door “yeah get out!” the white thing disappeared into the dark corridor, and then Eloa hear another sound. But it didn’t come from Emma’s room, but Diana’s. It was like a little cry; Eloa was going to close the door, but she heard scratching again. That little disgusting thing. She walked quietly and followed the scratches blindly. When she got there, she opened Diana’s door, and the thing entered. “Hello?” Diana’s voice filled the silent house, and Eloa entered her room.”Hey Diana. Are you... are you ok?” she sniffed her nose “Yeah” Eloa turned around to leave, but Diana’s shaky and scared voice stopped her “Could you- could you maybe stay until I fall asleep?”

“Sure.”

Next chapter

#Diana Leliel #Eloa Harut #Ariel Jehoel #Don't Call Me Angel #fictional characters #original character #mystory #bedtime stories #story #storytelling #writing #writers #writeaway #written #angel #angels #angelcore #angelic

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masseurrsvp · 8 months ago

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thecandywrites · 5 years ago

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Orctober- Winter Formal and New Years

Ok, at the demand of absolutely no-one, I made a part 2 to my Fall Formal piece because dang it, I wanted more so I made more and this gets into my headcanons about modern orcs A LOT. LIke, A LOT. So I have the headcanon that orcs would treat the new year and then the reaping, which according to @momolady was in the spring, I thought (assumed) it was in the fall because, well, that’s when you usually reap your crops when you’re gardening, but whatever, I don’t care either way but those two events are some of the bigger “holidays” orcs would celebrate. And in my other headcanon that orcs LOVE SPICY FOOD. Like they would so eat jerk chicken, hot pot and well just any dish with lots of spice, lots of flavor and for me, hot pot is quitessentially like hot spicy person’s dream food. Because you eat it communally which orcs are all about their family and their clans and to me that just makes a lot of sense and please don’t think I’m trying to make any racial or ethnic slights in any way one way or another, this purely fantasy and conjecture at this point. So I started writing this at like 9pm last night and I of course- ran out of time and conciousness but it’s still the first for a few more hours and dang it, it’s gonna count. Thanks for reading. Also because I’m a lemon flavored factory there’s some smut at the end. Just...heads up.

Orctober- Winter Formal and New Years

Even though you had graduated early and had even started your higher education to be a medical massage therapist, you returned to your highschool for the honor of going with your boyfriend, Kihro to the winter formal which coincidentally was Kihro’s also last school function because he had taken your cue of graduating early and did so himself since his on the job training also counted for credits and cashed those in so he could get a head start on working full time at the sister branch of Wright Plumbing. And ever since your last hospital stay, you and him had been rather inseparable and had been going steady. It helped that you were friends and had that to build your romantic relationship on.

You had only started your massage school a week before and thankfully you still got to wear the dress you were going to wear to the fall formal, only this time- neither of you were really that stressed out this time around, instead both of you were so happy and excited and anyone who didn’t know you two were now an item definitely knew now and both of you felt like adults with both of you being out of highschool and in your chosen careers full time.

“Happy to be out?” Kihro asked as you both swayed to the music on the dance floor, the rest of world falling away except for just the two of you.

“Yes, you have no idea. I hope this is the last time we’re in this building, well besides maybe prom and maybe graduation- which I don’t know if I even want to come for those unless you wanted to go to those.” You admitted.

“Well, now that I’m out, I really don’t want to come back just for those either unless you really wanted to go to those but I could be making money on those days instead if you didn’t want to go.” Kihro confessed.

“Did you want to go?” Kihro asked you bluntly.

“To Prom? I wouldn’t mind, but to graduation? Eh.” You shrugged your shoulders. “I wouldn’t mind just waiting to see where we’re at then and cross that bridge when we get there.” You offered as Kihro nodded in agreement.

“By the way, I wanted to tell you that next month, after I turn 18 and can rent from whoever, I wanted you to come apartment shopping with me.” Kihro invited since legally orcs were considered adults at 16 and could drink and buy liquor that young and even could choose to graduate early at 16 if they had a job lined up that would give them the required credits and could even move out and rent from other orcs while others required their young ones to be 18 before they were considered adults and do all of that although more and more orcs were choosing not only to stay in school the extra two years, but get their own higher education too before they went out into the work force.

“Aww, that’s very sweet and I would love to but you know there’s no way in hell my dad would let me go to live with you before we got married, but it would make me really happy if you had a home to bring me to if that were to ever happen, even if it’s a little one room apartment, that will allow pets because I’m not leaving home without Kelly or Duchess.” You reminded him.

“I know, I’ve been keeping that in mind as I scope some places out, trying to keep your school and my work in mind. But the more I dance with you, the more I realize that I really, really don’t want to dance with anyone but you- for the rest of my life.” Kihro confessed before he pulled a gold bead out of his pocket and placed it in your hand and you knew enough about the orc bead culture now that you knew what this bead was and more importantly what it meant.

Orcs gave each other beads all the time between friends and family- some of them were cheap metal or wood, or stone or semiprecious stone and there were millions of glass beads that had an array of meaning and tradition because now that everyone lived in a more “civilized” world- beads didn’t always have to be so tough that they could last through wars and raids, now they could be more delicate, intricate and beautiful and the wearer could afford to be more careful with their display.

But gold- or any precious metal for that matter, that was reserved for very serious relationships, and usually engagements or weddings. And they kept the gold beads behind glass at the counter at the bead stores and they had levels to them, they had the cheap, flashy gold or silver plated ones with crystals and rhinestones and usually just about the time the plating would come off or tarnish- the relationship would probably fall apart and usually orc kids in elementary school or middle school bought them, but then after that, they got really simple in design, but solid gold and in your opinion- a bit more dignified and discreet and from there- then they could get crazy again, this time- real precious stones inlaid into them and could cost as much as engagement rings could and were just as varied and to orcs- just as serious as engagement rings. Your jaw dropped at how beautiful it was as you stopped dancing to look at it closer before Kihro pulled both of you off the dancefloor so you didn’t get run over as you got to look at it in better light before you realized there was beautiful pave diamonds in the delicate and intricate gold carving. He must have dropped a fortune on it as you turned it in your small delicate fingers and you could see that it was real 24 karat gold according to the stamp at the base and it was heavy, just like solid gold should be.

“Are you- are you proposing to me?” You had to ask as you were so touched your eyes started to water but you couldn’t stop smiling.

“Well, yes and no, yes in that this is exactly what it looks like and no in that it’s not an “engagement ring” engagement ring which when the time is right, I’ll get one for you because I don’t think that’ll fly yet at least with your parents, but think of it like a promise ring, but in a bead and it’ll hopefully remind anyone and everyone that sees it on you- that you’re at least spoken for- if you want to be.” Kihro explained, his own heart hammering in his chest and in his ears louder than the beat to the music because the more he was around you the more hopelessly in love he fell in with you and he needed to make good on his promises to himself that he would always take care of you and protect you and do whatever it took to make you happy.

“I definitely want to be spoken for, especially by you.” You beamed happily before you happily jumped up on your tiptoes and kissed him as he welcomed it with open arms.

“I love you Brie,” Kihro professed as he pressed his forehead to yours as you did the same.

“I love you too Kihro.” You mirrored, meaning every word before you had him put it with the others. One of which was actually his to signify that you two were officially dating because again in orc culture- the intended mate got a stack of their pursuers beads presented to them and the intended got to pick out their favorite and wear it in their hair and it was not unusual for them to trade beads so that most orc men wore one feminine bead or even a gender fluid or gender neutral bead with their masculine ones to show that they were in a relationship with whoever while others did the reverse with their chosen gender.

A couple of weeks later you were at a proper New Year’s Eve party- orc style where Kihro’s family had made a feast for themselves that they brought to the clan’s Hall where everything that happened within the clan took place as you watched as all the tables had special metal pits in them to hold charcoal fire pits with a huge fire in the middle of the hall to get the briquets burning and the pots of broth and everyone brought their own feast but also gave to the clan’s “hoard” of food at the front where huge refrigerators were to keep things cold- in case anyone ran out of food or needed food or simply wanted to try something they didn’t bring and you gladly donated a few 5lb bags of shrimp to which made Kihro and his family happy and proud of you for your generosity.

The feast signified that the next year would be even more prosperous than the last as you pigged out on dumplings and king crab since your dad had “blessed” your relationship by not arguing or making a big fuss over your gold bead and now- he made sure to send you with a huge box of king crab- which was your favorite kind of crab along with a few bags of shrimp that were the size of langoustine lobsters and smoked salmon and some crawfish along with a cooler full of beer and specialty flavored moonshine that you and your dad flavored yourselves since the Soche’s were providing everything else including chipping in to get the clan a keg for the festivities, many families doing the same so that there were just as many kegs of beer as there were families, many of them seemingly to drink their weight in beer alone.

The Soche’s also provided all the noodles, hand made and homemade dumplings which you had come over to Kihro’s house every day for the last few days to help get everything prepped as Rhiox and Kihro were beyond pleased that you helped and because of your small nimble fingers, all the dumplings were folded beautifully, the different folds differentiating the fillings. The family also provided vegetables and beef and other meats for their family’s feast, most of them sliced thin so that it cooked in the spicy broth quickly or thick steaks cooked over charcoal fires in the tables themselves next to the hot pots since his clan’s tradition was have a huge communal hot pot gathering and cook out, but because of your delicate system, his mother made a special broth just for you that was flavorful but not nearly as spicy which you were eternally grateful for and even Kihro and his younger siblings enjoyed it and one of the traditions was that you sent the first bowl to the clan’s elders to pay homage and respect to them as they all sat at one table next to the “hoard”, none of them having to cook, but got served by the clan as a whole as you placed the bowl full of your own broth and other meats and vegitables in front of Kihro’s grandparents who were part of the clan’s elders.

His whole clan seemed to be beyond pleased that it was Kihro who had claimed you even though Kihro was embarrassed by that and had made sure that you understood that who you were as a person was all he cared about and what family you were from didn’t have a bearing on how he felt about you which made you happy and your face hurt from smiling so much and you eventually got used to everyone coming up to congratulate you when they saw the gold bead in your hair that Kihro and Rhiox had braided your hair spectacularly just for this occasion and you were happy that you at least got a huge orc sized bib to cover your clothes because of the hands on nature of this feast and of course you were happy to drink a really good chocolate mocha caramel cream stout with your meal because orcs loved to drink- beers especially and even though you weren’t fond of beer- this one- you made an exception for and greasy spicy kisses with Kihro were especially delicious from your spot practically in his lap because the special picnic tables were huge to accommodate orcs so because of that, there was enough room on the bench itself to sit between Kihro’s legs and leaned back into him and he was able to rest his head on top of yours, careful not to get any food in your hair as he ate one handed, the other arm wrapped around your waist possessively as his dad Kidron tended to the grill part of the feast while Rhriox made sure to feed Kihro’s yonger siblings who adored you.

Also because of your close proximity, you could feel how hard Kihro was, his cock tucked into his right pant leg as you “practiced” your effleurage and other techniques on his legs in between eating as his hand splayed over your belly under your apron sized bib that covered most of you like a blanket from your neck down as his fingertips ever so amazingly teased your slit through the fabric of your leggings and it was hard yet easy for both of you to act nonchalant and innocent and it was easy to brush off your flushed cheeks on the beer and the spice and it wasn’t until his parents and his younger siblings broke off to catch up with the other members of the clan that you and Kihro snuck away to the roof to “cool off” after he had gone to the bathroom to wash his hands extra good before he brought you up to the roof you happily got inside Kihro’s huge coat with him to stay warm in the freezing temperatures, the snow continuing to fall in big fluffly flakes, your head popping out of his collar as you literally sat on his lap this time as he sat down on one of the benches before he shoved his hand down your pants to find your still drenched pussy aching for him before he fingered you because you weren’t on any birth control but he wanted to prove that at least he could please you without his cock, even if it was just through his fingers which thankfully didn’t compromise your maidenhood as his other hand greedily grasped your breasts as he managed to kiss, lick and nip at your neck and shoulder as you plowed your head back and let it rest on his shoulder as you in turn pulled his length out and it squeezed in between your upper thighs and outer lips before it would poke out your front where your hand eagerly awaited the head to stroke it in time with your pelvis grinding the top of it and it was the closest you could get to the real thing.

“Kihro,” you panted desperately in a hushed whisper as his touches were sending you over the moon and all you got back was a growling snarl by your ear as he playfully yet softly bit down on your shoulder as he twisted your nipple between his fingers while his other fingers pinched your nub before his middle finger dove into your center to tap and rub at your G-spot and you grinded on his hand while your own hands squeezed around his length and pinched the head, his precum completely coating your hands and dripping down to your own lap as Kihro moved his own hips in sync with yours and because you were both pressed for time because you didn’t want to get caught, it only heightened your arousal and in no time at all, you came, another keening muffuled cry of Kihro’s name inside his coat as your core constricted and fluttered around Kihro’s finger which spurned him to shoot out a load so huge you couldn’t hold it in both of your hands and you had to quickly try to throw it out of the warm cocoon of his coat onto the snow around you so it wouldn’t get on either of you before you wiped your hands off on the snow on the bench on either side of you as Kihro recovered as you felt his sweat make his chest and your back that was pressed up against him wet.

“Damn.” He grunted before he pressed soft and sweet kisses into your neck and shoulder before he helped put you back together and get your bra back in place and your underwear and leggings back into place before he got himself put away and once you were straightened up he wrapped his arms tight around you to hug you and kiss your cheek before you turned your head to really kiss him over your shoulder.

“I love you so much, thank you,” he thanked you earnestly.

“I love you too, and thank you, ending this year with a bang and starting the next one off right.” You giggled before you checked the time on your phone.

“We should get back,” you urged before he reluctantly let you go and you both had to hide the “evidence” in the rest of the snow as you made a butt print on the bench next to Kirho so that it looked like you were sitting side by side before you went down stairs, passing another couple coming into the building as they were coming out and judging by their own giddyness, were probably about to do the same or probably even more than what you and Kihro just did which made Kihro and yourself burst into laughter once you got inside to warm back up for a few minutes, all of you watching the ball drop on the huge tv’s on the inside counting down before kissing Kihro once more when it was the new year and oh so happy that it all started with a boy, asking a girl to a dance.

#modern orc love story #modern orcs #orc #orcs #Winter Formal #New Years

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andy-loves-corgis · 5 years ago

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All of The Lights - Ch 4 (TRR AU)

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: well, now just the dysfunctional Rileyx Liam and the awful Liam x Madeleine

Rating: PG

Word count: ~ 3,300

Notes: I’m so sorry and I hated this chapter, that’s all I can say. Thanks, whoever is still here ♥️

WARNING: Read the Prologue! Every chapter has TWO timelines, Before (about a year before the Prologue) and After (two years after the prologue), if you don’t pay attention to that you might get confused!

Fast cars, shooting stars

BEFORE

Drake stretched his fingers absentmindedly, after a week immobilized he decided upon taking the gauze off and though a little sore, they seemed to have healed perfectly.

“What in the seven hells?!”

Liam was horrified, Drake could see by his contorted face looking outside the tinted windows of the limo.

Looking like every bit of a Cordonian Sweetheart, Riley stood in front of the press, half of her chocolate locks now a deep shade of red, some blonde spots seen between the brown and the red, redder than Liam’s livid face.

“I’m telling you, Drake. She has a very unique way of driving me insane” Liam said burying his face in his hands.

“I think it suits her” Drake tried to control the smirk in his lips.

Yes, Riley had her own way of bringing hell to Liam, or basically anyone who crossed her way. He knew she had been stressing over her broken ankle and not being able to care for herself, whether dying her hair herself or painting an entire wall of her home, she would always find a way to express her need of change.

Leaving the limo with a now very composed Liam, Drake spotted another livid individual, Madeleine’s nostrils flared under her perfectly done makeup, of course she would hate to divide the spotlight with Riley.

The press went wild as Liam walked to Riley, pressing a chaste kiss on her cheek, and whispering something on her ear that made her face fall as he turned smiling to the camera.

That’s none of your business

He just walked away from the frenzy of the crowd, who had just spotted Leo, poor guy, Leo was suffering so much he even lost weight, which could be completely related to his drinking habits and whole-night sex with his maids. The future king was doing anything to forget that he would soon to be married to one of those uptight bland women or worse... Madeleine.

On the far corner, next to the boats, Drake found his father’s pupil, looking as tired as someone could be.

“You look like shit, Bastien” Drake laughed, standing beside his only living father figure.

“Every night with Leo takes a week out of my life span” Bastien whispered.

Drake tried unsuccessfully suppress a laugh.

Looking at all the nobles in their exclusive designer clothes gathering around the harbor just to see those girls who never tied a knot in their life, Drake felt glad for living in the invisible sidelines, he always thought that he preferred the snarky comments and side outraged glances than the fake smiles and sugar-coated condescending words.

“I hate those stuff, how to you manage to survive to every one of these things?” Drake sighed as soon as the boats sailed. “It’s just so boring.”

“It’s just work, it’s not every time that we are breathing on some terrorists neck” Bastien simply said. “Sometimes you are in Bósnia-Herzegovina at 04:23 am to pick up a drunk heir to the throne.”

Drake snorted again, excusing himself to get some water.

“No, Liam, YOUR problem is that I didn’t tell you I was going to dye MY hair!” It was undoubtedly Riley’s voice behind the drink station.

“Well, if you wanted so much to look like Olivia, you should’ve dyed it all” Drake could almost picture Liam’s smirk, knowing he’d hit a soft spot.

“EXCUSE ME?!”

Drake cleared his throat and the voices turned to angry whispers, until he heard hard steps towards the Riva, Liam appeared chewing the insides of his cheeks and adjusting the collar of the shirt under his sweater, barely throwing a second glance at Drake.

The commoner made his way to the secluded place where Riley stood leaning on a fence massaging her temples.

He was about to greet her when they heard the cheering voices of the crowd.

“Shit!” Riley exclaimed.

Even though what unfolded in front of him wasn’t anything new, every time Drake saw Riley inhaling deeply before putting the most dazzling smile on her face, he was amazed - saddened to the core, but amazed nonetheless.

“Oh hi!” She said in a cheerful tone, if Drake hadn’t grown up with her, he might have believed she was happy. “Mind to help?”

One of her crutches had fallen to the ground and Drake quickly lowered himself to get it, he noticed her swollen calves and a crease formed in his eyebrows.

“Thanks” she smiled and left walking like with her head held high.

Sometimes he couldn’t understand what it took to be like that, to live like that.

Madeleine won, obviously, as if she hadn’t paid Nick Thompson to sail for her, but in the end, it was all power games during social season.

Imagine a dozen of the most well-crafted women of the kingdom, they were molded since they were able to walk to sit still, look pretty, pour tea and to think like true strategist.

No, Cordonian court wasn’t a complete sexist place, of course as in any patriarchal society men would have the upper hand on the ladder to success, but women were always behind that.

Drake watched as Madeleine hugged Riley while the other suitors clapped, those sweet smiles only hiding their next step.

“Do you like whiskey?” He heard Liam’s voice next to him.

“Was that even supposed to sound like a question?” Drake rose an eyebrow to his best friend.

“Hope McCallan isn’t too cheap for you” Liam’s smirk grew.

“Liam, every time you come up with the whiskey talk it’s because you’re gonna ask me to do something I don’t wanna do... what is it?”

Liam cleared his throat but kept the smirk

“Well, there’s whiskey... in Olivia’s yacht”

The prospect of that night becoming a huge nightmare has shifted to 112%.

“Please...?” Liam gave him a forced smile.

Gathering all the force he still had, Drake just nodded, rubbing his eyes to avoid the scowl.

Well, at least there will be whiskey.

Olivia’s yacht was big enough for a family of four to live comfortably, but oddly enough she gathered her guests on the small deck by the jacuzzi.

The sun was setting and they were a swimming distance from the shore, but the view was still a breathtaking, sipping from his whiskey, Drake noticed that Riley was focused on another view.

By the jacuzzi Liam laughed with Olivia, their elbows touching as they sat side by side in the hot water. To any spectator the scene unfolding would look as friends having a good time together, but to anyone who knew that little love triangle, it was way more than that.

York: I’m about to throw myself in the waters.

He tried not to laugh at the message on his phone, Riley was known for being dramatic, so he casually walked to the jacuzzi, under Kiara’s blushing gaze and Olivia’s scowl.

“Hey” he squatted next to Liam. “I don’t think Riley is feeling well, I’ll take her back okay?”

Liam’s knitted his eyebrows puzzled.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s feeling nauseous” Drake came up with the first excuse he could think of.

“Oh, well...”

“Leighton can take them to the shore, Li” Olivia interjected without looking at Drake.

“See you at the palace” Drake taped Liam’s shoulder, wetting his hand in the process.

He walked between the crowd, their champagne glasses glinting on the fading sun.

“Let’s get out of here, York” he looked at his miserable friend.

“Thank God” she answered grabbing his hand for support.

It was a short way to the shore and they made their way in silence as droplets of sea water splashed on their faces.

Drake helped her hop on his truck and finally felt at ease feeling Riley get comfortable turning the radio on.

Night fell as the black truck made its way through the woods near the palace where a clearing welcome then along with a smirk Riley couldn’t suppress.

“And I thought you were just going to leave me alone in my room to scroll through Twitter” she laughed as he helped her out of the car and proceeded to open the pick up truck bed where some pillows and covers awaited them.

“I got your back, York” he smiled as she got cozy on the pillows and he pulled his guitar.

After a minute of only the soft melody he was playing and the wind hushing on tree leaves she turned to him.

“Sing something”

He gave it a little thought, slowly striking the chords before he decided.

I wanna be drunk when I wake up

On the right side of the wrong bed

And never an excuse I made up

Tell you the truth I hate

What didn't kill me,

It never made me stronger at all

Love will scar your make up

Lips sticks to me, so now I maybe lean back there

I'm sat here wishing I was sober

I know I'll never hold you like I used to

But a house gets cold when you cut the heating

Without you to hold I'll be freezing

Can't rely on my heart to beat in

'Cause you take parts of it every evening

Take words out of my mouth just from breathing

Replace with phrases like 'when you leaving me? '

Should I? Should I?

Maybe I'll get drunk again

I'll be drunk again, I'll be drunk again

To feel a little love

“That’s beautiful... and sad. You should really start playing it somewhere” her small voice filled the silence. “Is it about Erika?”

Drake shrugged.

“I guess it was when I first thought about it”

“You never told me why you two broke up” she propped herself on her elbows.

“It just didn’t work out”

“Well, I never liked her” Riley laughed.

“You never liked any of my girlfriends, York” he threw a pillow at her.

“Hey! I’ll like her when it’s the right one okay?”

“Yeah, now shut up and look up” he adjusted himself next to her.

He heard her soft gasp at the sight of the falling stars, as if she was the same 10-year-old girl he brought there along with his sister and father to see their first meteor shower. He felt her hand grabbing two of his fingers and smiled.

“Make a wish, Walker”

AFTER

The sun wasn’t too high in the sky when he finished shaving, God forbids Madeleine saw a glint of facial hair on anyone at any of her events, not that he minded what she thought, but he rather be invisible at this event.

A cup of coffee and a croissant later, he found himself at the site of the barn raising, it would be so fun watch the nobles having the day to pretend they have any inclination to do hard work. Penelope and Kiara for example were wearing high heels, he betted 5 euros one of them would fall in 5 minutes.

Drake laughed to himself but got pulled out of his thoughts by a loud engine blasted on the road, the feeling of déja vu overcoming him, he knew exactly who loved loud engines drawing the attention to her entrance.

Shit

A white Bugatti stopped at the entrance and for a second, after seeing the frightened face of Hana getting out of the car, he forgot that he was pissed.

Although he remembered on the next second when Riley got out of the driver’s side laughing heartedly, she was wearing a simple plaid shirt, jeans shorts and sneakers, all the flashes were on her, the first press appearance since she was back two weeks ago.

“Lady Riley! Lady Riley!” The press screamed to get her attention. “How does if feel to be back?”

“Amazing!” She smiled, but he saw right through her, she didn’t get any better at hiding her lies and discomfort than she did at 18.

“Lady Riley! How do you describe your style today?”

“Riley York ready to build a barn” Maxwell made his way through the press to hug Riley and Hana.

“Lady Riley! Don Brine here! We see your coming with a new crew, Lady Hana and Lord Maxwell, does this has anything to do with your best friend getting engaged to your ex while you were away?”

Her smile faltered for a second, Drake held his breath without even knowing, across from the press he finally acknowledged Madeleine grabbing Liam’s arms forcefully while the future king didn’t blink watching Riley getting close to them.

“I think I’ll have to set the record straight” she pulled Madeleine’s hand into hers, locking them in an uncomfortable hold. “Liam, Madeleine and I all grew up together, and some people change along the way, some relationships change along the way.”

Riley’s angelic face gave the future monarchs the sweetest smile, Drake could almost touch the longing in Liam’s eyes.

“Liam and Madeleine will rule wisely and will be remembered for generations, and I couldn’t be more than happy for them. i guess that’s all.”

“One more thing Lady York. Ana de Luca for trend. We got an anonymous tip that you were away on a rehab clinic for self harm, what do you have to say about that?”

Drake saw Riley twisting Madeleine’s hand.

“Ana, some people don’t know when to shut up” she smirked and left them under the urges for more words and flashes blinking.

He watched as Liam cleared his throat and gave his speech on the barn raising, completely mechanical as he forced himself not to look over to Riley laughing with her friends.

Drake saw himself standing awkwardly with his hands buried in his pockets until he felt a light touch in his arms.

“It will all happen again, won’t it?” Kiara’s black eyes met his and wandered where Riley was. “She’s a bulldozer Drake, I remember how you were when she left, how Liam was, god, even Penelope...”

“Shall we start?” Liam started gathering everyone, not giving him any time to answer Kiara.

“Kiara and Penelope can help with the hay, Maxwell and Hana can take care of painting the fences and... Drake and Riley will work lifting the wood of the barn walls.” Madeleine smiled proudly at herself and Liam choked.

“It’s too much of manual labor for a Lady, my dear, I’m sure Lady Riley could trade places with Maxwell” Liam pondered.

“No way, it would give my hands blisters!” Maxwell interjected and Riley laughed.

“Don’t be silly dear, Lady Riley spent the last year as a working woman in America.” Madeleine’s fire gaze pierced through Liam’s blue eyes.

“Hey Liam, it’s okay really, I used to do some heavy lifting at work...” Riley finally spoke and Liam’s gaze went from her to Drake.

At that moment Drake understood why Liam didn’t want her inside the barn.

“Told you so..” Kiara whispered beside him.

“I can help you two...”

“No, you can’t!” Madeleine exclaimed more fiercely that she probably intended. “We need to make rounds and pose for pictures dear, it’s our engagement event after all.”

“Then we should go!” A completely anxious Penelope stated, wanting as much as any of them to be excluded from the awkwardness.

Drake sighed and made his way to the structure of the barn without a second glance to Riley. He was preparing the wood when she reached their spot.

“Hey, let me help” she said smiling and reaching for the wood he was carrying, he didn’t reply.

They worked in silence for almost an hour, she didn’t back up from any activity, from carrying heavy buckets of water for the horses, to helping him pulling up the wood.

“We’re still a good team!” She exclaimed after most of the work was done, he stole a glance and her proud look and warm smile, a drop of sweat descending from her neck.

“We’re not a team” he grunted at his relapse.

The smile vanished from her face.

“After everything, how you can say that?”

“After everything, how can YOU say that?” Drake spat turning fully to her. “Why the hell did you come back, Riley? Why didn’t you just disappear and let us live our pathetic lives here?”

“Why didn’t you let me drown, Drake? It would definitely be better than be here now, right?”

Drakes face fell, and suddenly flashes of that fateful afternoon flooded him like the gelid winter see, the white dress plastered on her numb skin, the muttering blue lips, his heart beating so hard in his chest, wanting to trade places with hers, to make her alive again.

He got close to her, closer than he should for the sake of his sanity, he could feel the heat coming from her body as her resolve slowly crumbled and his rage grew.

“Go to hell, Riley. Fuck you!” She shrank at his words, spat so cruelly it made her eyes watery.

Drake suddenly couldn’t breath so he left the almost finished barn to the hired workers to complete, the sun hanging low in the sky only heating his chest more, he wanted to scream, but he refused to be seen by anyone of the court, so, like a coward, he just sneaked out.

The humming sound of his truck engine was the only thing calming him right now, he drove aimlessly for more than an hour until night came and he saw himself somewhere he almost forgot it existed, somewhere he locked in her mind along with every other memory of Riley.

He sat on the empty boot of his truck, opening a can of beer and looking at the sky, as if he was a child, he was desperate for a shooting star so he could ask for everything to be normal again.

The loud engine once again pulled him from his thoughts, the white Bugatti now had several brown spots of dirt on its side, she sat on the hood, no respect for a €4 million car, one more reason he could add to the list for hating her.

“I’m sorry.” She said without looking at him, her tired eyes lost, miles away, in the sky.

Drake looked at the beer in his hands, then back to the sky.

“I shouldn’t have said that today.” He heard her sighing. “I actually never thanked you, so thank you, Drake.”

“For what?” He gave another gulp to his beer.

“For taking me out of the waters, whichever mean it has, you saved my life in more ways than that for years, but that day, that day I only came back breathing because of you.” Her eyes were full of tears once again, eyes pleading to him. “I didn’t come back to screw everything, I just... I miss my best friend, Drake.”

“I just can’t understand why, Riley?” He licked his dry lips, thinking of how to say it. “You gave up on us, you decided to stay, and then... why? You really meant it? You really wanted it?”

He really hoped she said no.

“Yes” Her voice was almost a whisper. “I wanted to die that day.”

“Why?” He tried in vain to keep his emotions under control.

“I don’t know” she dried her cheeks with her sleeves. “ I came back to try and find it out, it’s the only thing holding me back, I need to find out. Then I promise you’ll never hear of me again.”

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