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xmalereader · 3 years ago

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Bruce Wayne X Male Reader

|| Masterlist ||

😭 This shit gonna make me cry, the soulmate trope always gets to me depending on how they do it but I’ll try my best to make it soft and not too ANGSTY! I’ll also do the sentence tattoo since it’ll make the story a lot more emotional. Child, I made this too long and way too emotional. I listened to the song attached below as I wrote this, I enjoy the first minute of the song but the tune explains the story.

Requested: soulmate au with bruce? where a person has half a tattoo on their (wrist, finger, hand, somewhere..) and their soulmate has the other half! not exactly sure how theyd meet.. maybe at a gala or bruce saves him?

Warnings: Fluff, slight angst, soulmate trope, Bruce is romantic, reader is also a romantic, protective Bruce, kissing, slow burn because of angst, lovesick, mentions of abuse, toxic family.

Tags: @bigassbisaster

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—

Bruce got his soul mark at fifteen.

“I’ll stay as long as you need me too.”

He didn’t know what it meant back then.

He remembers showing Alfred and asking the older man if he knew anything about it. But Alfred simply told him that soulmates are considered sacred and special and whoever spoke to him those words is the one who’s to remain by his side for forever.

Thirteen years later and he still hasn’t found his soulmate. After starting his nights as a vigilante he can’t help but forget that we will ever have a soulmate, even if he did find them he couldn’t get them involved in his life after becoming Batman. It was far too dangerous. So, he hides his mark. Not in shame but in safety. He didn’t want people looking at it or asking questions about it.

He was a very closed off man that not many people approached him during events or charities. Too busy brooding back at home and focusing on his night patrols. So, imagine his surprise when he’s standing alone in a gala that he is forced to attend. Alfred had told him that he is to attend the gala. He honestly didn’t know what it was about but he is to show up and show the public they he is still around and cares for Gotham. He is the prince of Gotham. Hs is to keep up his image and do what he can to keep it that way.

Bruce ignore the press and photographers as he walks up to the building, keeping his head low as he enters the building where many other guests were gathered. Once he’s inside he is met with a warm welcomings and soft music playing in the background, he tells himself to hold up his appearance as he held up a fake smile.

He greets various people and lets them know that he is doing ‘fine’ and working on something ‘new’ for his company, knowing that none of it was true. He was too busy being the vigilante of Gotham, keeping the city safe from danger and making sure that everything went well.

“Mr. Wayne.” Bruce turns around to face a young man he hasn’t seen before. “I’m sorry to both you but, Mr. and Mrs. Changretta wish to meet with you.” He says in a polite voice, keeping up his own persona. Bruce is quick to tell that the young man doesn’t want to be here either, the way he Fidgets and avoids eye contact is enough for Bruce to know.

“Right.” Bruce mumbles out and gives his apologizes to the small crowd he was speaking with as he follows the young man towards an older couple.

“Mr. Wayne this is Mr. Changretta.” He points out to the older man who was sipping on champagne. “It’s nice to meet you.” Bruce says, greeting the other as Mr. Changretta chuckles. “It’s good to see you Mr. Wayne!” The two held up a conversation, talking about there own companies and the changes that are too come. His wife sure did gossip a lot and spoke badly of other tamiles that were attending the gala.

“Ugh, there he is.” He hears Mr. Changrettas wife says as she eyes over her husbands shoulder. Bruce raised a brow in confusion. “Always alone, that man should just get himself a nice women to bring every once an awhile to these things.”

Bruce follows the wife’s eyes, looking over see her watching another young man who had entered the gala. Bruce’s breath hitched, he didn’t know what he was feeling but the man from afar was stunning. He wore a nice all black suit, holding his head high and his smile—god that smile was doing things to him.

Bruce is quick to look away, his face heating up. The last time he has this feeling was when Selina Kyle was in Gotham before leaving him. The two didn’t have a relationship but he did have feelings towards her. Feelings he wasn’t able to reveal to her.

“Mr. Wayne—“ he is pulled out of his thoughts by Changrettas wife. He gives her an apologetic smile as he moves around her. “Please excuse me.” He says in a soft tone, separating himself from the couple. He is glad that he got away from the two, their bad mouthing was something he doesn’t appreciate and made him uncomfortable. They always expect him to say something horrible about others but Bruce was no where near like that.

“Changrettas giving you trouble?”

Bruce looks up to see the same young man who had entered the gala. He clears his throat and chuckled lightly. “They can be—“

“A lot?”

“Yes.” Bruce laughs out, not making what else to say.

The other hums. “I’m y/n.” He adds, holding his hand out for Bruce to shake which he gladly accepts. He glanced down at his wrist and took notice of his mark being covered. Y/n is quick to pull away, hiding his wrist. “Sorry—I don’t usually like it when people stare.”

Bruce shakes his head, not wanting to offend him. “I understand, soulmate marks are special and private. Im sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” He didn’t want to make the other uncomfortable for staring, he had grown curious of the others mark and was just surprised to see it hidden.

“I—thank you.” Y/n says. “Not many people respect the privacy of my mark. Always asking and wanting to know what it says.” He chuckles out, standing near Bruce as the two watch the crowds, people dancing and laughing as they gossiped amongst each other.

Bruce is the first to speak up. “Did you come alone?” Y/n nodded. “I always do.” He shrugs his shoulders, these types of things never caught his interest. He was always told to bring a guest with him so that the public wouldn’t think he was alone but he didn’t care about the publics opinion. If he wanted to be alone he’ll remain alone. “My family always tells me to bring a partner each time I attend these parties, but I always refuse.” He explains. “I never cared on how the public thinks of me. Most of them Pity me because I’m always alone.”

Bruce laughs. “That makes two of us.” He butts in, earning a laugh from y/n as the two had similar experience. “A family friend always tells me to attend these things, tries his best to set me up but I always reject the offer.“

“At Least he was nice enough to set you up. My family almost forced a marriage on me.” Y/n sighs, his family is very well known in Gotham, but they were too strict. They didn’t care if he found his soulmate or not, they wanted him to get married soon and to start his own family. Y/n was always the one to put his foot down on his families crazy ideas. He lost contact with them after that, too upset to speak with anyone since all they wanted was for him to be married off to some stranger he didn’t know or love.

“I’m sorry to hear that, couldn’t image the stress you must’ve felt. Them forcing you to do that.” Bruce turns to face him, taking him in properly. The other cleaned up nice and held the appearance of a rich man. But he didn’t act rich, no. He was a bit like him, faking his way through life

Bruce lets out a deep sigh as he takes in the music, smiling softly as he offers his hand to Y/n. “Care for a dance?” He asks, catching the other off guard as he chuckles. “Im not a very good dancer, I wouldn’t want people to judge you by your choice of partner.”

“Who says we have to dance in front of everyone?” Bruce questions, a smirk on his face. Y/n narrows his eyes, not knowing if he is to trust him or not. “What do you have in mind?” Bruce’s smirk can only widen as he takes Y/n’s hand and guides them far away from the main event, entering an empty room as he leaves the door open slight ajar, the two still being able to head the music playing.

“We can dance in here.”

The two weren’t very social and the room was empty a perfect setting. Y/n hesitates at first before taking Bruce’s hand again, the other pulling him in close as he placed his hand on his hip. The two dance in silence, taking in the music as Y/n leans his head against Bruce’s shoulder. He’s never had a dance like this before, always being forced to do it in front of the public, to show them who he was.

“I’ve never had a dance like this before.” He whispers against Bruce’s ear, causing the other to blush softly. “I’m glad I’m your first.” Bruce responds back, pulling away and spinning his partner who laughs quietly and shakes his head. “I’m not a women.”

“I know that—you’d be my first dance partner who is a man. I don’t have much experience around that area.” He admits.

“So I’m guessing your into both?” Y/n asks, facing Bruce again.

Bruce does a thinking face and shrugs. “Something like that—I’m not quite sure, I spent majority of my time staying away from crowds and people. I’ve never had the time to be with someone.”

Y/n hums, focusing on there dancing as he sways against him. “I would say the same.” He can relate to Bruce. He’s the kind of person to stay away from parties like theses ones. He always bombarded with questions about his love life and tries his best to dodge them or to change the subject. His family always expected him to do better, he was never enough to them.

The music, shortly came to an end. The two looking up at each other, staring in each other’s eyes. Bruce is unable to look away as y/n swallows nervously and gently pulled away from Bruce, turning his gaze away from him. “I—uh, thank you.” He whispers, his fingers tracing over his left wrist where his soul mark is located. He didn’t know what he was doing, soulmate were sacred and he didn’t want to lose the loyalty of his future partner.

But Bruce made him feel something, he made him feel special. He was the first person he’s ever gotten close to at a gala who didn’t judge the wha he spoke or dressed, or the way he came alone. No, bruce didn’t do any of that. He didn’t want to believe these sudden feelings growing inside of him.

He shakes his head, no. He can’t allow this no matter how much he wants it he can’t. “I’m sorry.” He croaks out, brushing past Bruce as he leaves the room. He walks away, not looking back as he heads towards the exit of the building. He avoids peoples stares and whispers as he calls for a cab. He wanted to leave he wanted to stay away but something kept pulling him back.

He shakes the thoughts away and gets inside the cab, slamming the door behind him and giving his address. He sits in the back seat in silence, tracing his fingers over the bandages as he unties them, revealing his mark.

“I’m not a religious person but I do sometimes think that god made you for me.”

The sentence always made him feel something inside, excited and joy. He always waited for someone to say those words to him, to find out who his soulmate really was but he never had luck. He always held his expectations high whenever he met someone only to be disappointed.

He didn’t want Bruce to disappointment him. The man was far too nice and sweet. He was a gentleman who didn’t judge him and respect him, he was kind enough to listen about his family. Most people would brush it off and complain about there own problems, not caring about him at all. But Bruce didn’t do any of that.

—

Bruce had returned back home early from the gala, tossing his tie to the side as he falls back into his chair. He didn’t know what he did to scare off Y/n, but the man ran out like he just got caught doing something bad. He doesn’t know much about him or what he does for a living but he can’t stop thinking about him.

He sits up in his seat and furrowed his brows, staring down at his mark and sighing deeply. He stands up and heads towards the living room where Alfred was seated near the fire, reading the paper and asks. “What happens if I can’t find my soulmate?”

Alfred looks up from the papers. “If you were to die your soulmates mark will disappear forever. Letting them know that there other half is no longer around.” He explains.

Bruce bites his lip. “What if I never find them but end up with someone who isn’t my soulmate.”

Alfred raised a brow. He sets the papers down and eyes Bruce up and down, taking in the stage he’s in before piecing the puzzles together. “You found someone.”

Bruce looks away. “Not really.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think they feel the same. He ran away looking frightened, afraid of something.” Bruce explains, sitting across from Alfred as he stares into the fire. Watching the wood crackle and pop, Alfred shuffling next to him. “I heard stories that people do fall in love with someone who isn’t there soulmate, they get married and start there family.” Alfred sighs. “But what hurts most is when one of them finally finds there soulmate, the person who fits in well with there life and matches with them. It’s painful having to let go of everything you have in order to be with that one person.” Alfred’s tone carried pity, likes he’s seen it happen before.

Alfred clears his throat, focusing back on the paper. “It’s your discussion to decide if what you want to do is right or if waiting for the one is a better choice.”

With that the room grows into a comfortable silence. Bruce still thinking about Y/n, the time the spent together at the gala was short but yet, memorable. He can’t stop thinking about him, the way he moved when dancing, how soft his voice is when he speaks and the softness in his eyes. Bruce can get lost in his eyes for hours and oh, how desperate he wanted to kiss the other man.

He placed a hand on his chest, near his heart as he feels it beat rapidly as he thinks of Y/n. His face growing hot as he stands up quickly. “I’m going out.” He mumbled to Alfred, heading downstairs to the batcave and getting himself ready. He needed a distraction, he can’t always think about Y/n. So, he escapes into the night as Batman, hiding in the shadows as he moved around quickly and quietly.

Gotham will soon be covered in rain as the clouds moved closer, it started off soft, until the rain suddenly came pouring down. The streets of Gotham slowly growing empty as everyone looked for shelter or rushed home, not wanting to deal with the rain or getting wet.

Bruce on the other hand was used to the rain, his suit protected him from getting too wet and still being able to move around easily. His eyes scan the city until taking notice of a figure sitting on top of a building, near the ledge.

Bruce sighs to himself as he stands from his spot, taking out his grappling hock and using it to swing to the next building over, landing softly as he stares at the hunched over figure. He slowly approaches, the dark figure looking over there shoulder once they hear him approaching.

Bruce froze in spot as he takes in the sight of Y/n sitting near the ledge. He was wearing casual clothes, all wet from the rain and his hair damp, sticking to his forehead. “Don’t worry,” he hears him say. “I’m not jumping.” He turns back to Face the city.

Bruce takes another step forward, standing next to him as the two remain quiet. “You shouldn’t be to close to the edge.”

Y/n scoffs. “It’s not the first time I’ve done this.” Which was true, he was always sitting alone at night. Not matter how bad the weather is he always finds a way to sit alone in silence, lost in his own thoughts. Y/n gives Batman a glance, he’s heard of him before. Everyone in Gotham knows who he is, this’ll be the first time he’s ever seen him in person or up close.

“It’s still dangerous.”

Y/n appreciates him. “I know.” He slowly shifts, moving back as he moves further away from the edge, not wanting to keep Batman worried. He lets the rain pour down on him, using his sleeve to wipe water out of his eyes. “Shouldn’t you be out patrolling and kicking peoples ass?” Y/n asks, turning to face Batman.

Bruce chuckles. “Only when they are doing something that is considered bad.” He moves closer to Y/n, wanting to make sure he didn’t slip and fall. “I thought you were gonna do something bad.“

“By jumping?” Y/n cuts in, smiling at him as he shakes his head. “I usually just sit here in order to get away from everything—from everyone.” He wraps his arms around himself, gripping his wet coat tightly as he breaths out. “Sometimes I feel like I’ve already seen everything that’s gonna happen and it’s a nightmare.”

Y/n thinks back to his family, the disappointment they show him. Always comparing him to his relatives or siblings and how they were doing better than him, he was oldest in the family and they expected so much from him. He always tried to find ways to get there approval but they were never happy which lead him to leaving. He couldn’t handle being around them anymore that he cut off all communication.

They have tried various times to contact him after he created his own successful company. They only try to reach him in order to take apart of his fortune and company, but he wasn’t allowing that to happen. He’s been at peace with himself for five years, he can handle a few more.

Batman moves next to him, causing him to look up. He still doesn’t trust him to be here alone, he doesn’t blame the man. He would also be worried if someone he knew or cared about was sitting alone near the edge of a rooftop. He shifts to move.

“You can stay.” Y/n hears Batman say, noticing the sympathy and worry behind his blue eyes. Y/n gives him a sad smile, turning back to face the city, taking in the lights and silence.

“I’ll stay as long as you need me too.”

Y/n doesn’t notice the way Batman’s eyes widen.

—

Bruce was back in the cave, his mask discarded and thrown somewhere as he reviewed tonight’s recording. Rewinding his interaction with y/n over and over again.

“You can stay.”

“I’ll stay as long as you need me too.”

Bruce didn’t know how to feel, his soulmate was standing in front of him the whole time, he had spoken those words engraved into his wrist. He traced his fingers over the mark, looking back at the recording as he takes in Y/n’s sad smile.

Now that he knows that they are soulmates, he still has to find a way to confirm it. He can’t go after y/n and expect the other to accept him on the spot. Soulmates were sacred but not everyone was accepted. Majority of people who meet there soulmates are rejected, either due to one of them already moving on and not wanting to leave whatever they had with another person behind. While others were easily accepted. Bruce didn’t know how Y/n would react if he found out that they were chosen to be together.

He slams his notebook closed, tossing his pen aside as he rubs his eyes tiredly, smudging black eye makeup on his fingers. He paced in spot and groans to himself, he was going to regret this. He quickly sits up and goes on the computer, typing away as he enters y/n’s name and waits for his information to pull up.

He gets a file of him in seconds, pulling it up and reading through it. He knows that y/n owns his own company but spends majority of his free time in libraries, he does volunteer work there in order to get away from the press. He knows that he doesn’t have a partner and lives alone.

Bruce quickly turns his computer off and marched upstairs to get himself cleaned. He had to see him, he just had too and it couldn’t wait. He gives himself a shower and changed into something casual, he checks the time and cursed under his breath.

It was still too early, the sun was just rising and he hasn’t gotten any sleep. He lied in bed awake, staring at the ceiling as he tries to think of a way to tell y/n about him being his soulmate. He’s never dealt with something life this and felt embarrassed to ask Alfred. The man already teased him enough, he didn’t need to add more fuel to the fire.

All this thinking makes him tired and passes out, he sleeps for a few hours before being startled awake by his alarm. He winced and covers his ears, groaning deeply as he slams the alarm off, checking the time. It was noon and he’s been passed out for hours.

Y/n comes back to mind, causing Bruce to jump out of bed and get something on and quickly. He’s rushing out of the tower, too anxious to eat any of Alfred’s cooking or to even speak to anyone. He’s quick to get on his motorcycle and drive off into the streets of Gotham.

It only takes an hour for him to arrive to the library, parking his bike and throwing his helmet off. He doesn’t care if he doesn’t look decent or presentable, he stumbles inside the building and quietly walks around, ignoring peoples stares as he looks around frantically for Y/n, not seeing him anywhere.

He’s heading down the bottom floor where it’s empty. He walks past several shelves, where he finally finds him. He’s standing at the farthest section of the room, putting books away as he hums a soft tune to himself. He doesn’t take notice of him until he’s moving towards him.

Y/n is surprised to see Bruce and asks. “Bruce, what are you doing here?”

Bruce stops in his tracks a few feet away from him as he breaths heavily. He was running everywhere, searching for him. He was tired and hungry and anxious. He didn’t know what to say or how to start.

“I—I don’t know.” He stutters out, looking down in fear.

Y/n pushed the cart in front of him to the side. “Bruce.”

“I just—“ Bruce starts again. “Ever since I met you at the gala I couldn’t stop thinking about you and then you ran away. I thought I did something wrong and tried to stay away but I—I don’t have the strength to stay away from you anymore.”

Y/n’s eyes are soft. He too couldn’t stop thinking about Bruce, that one night they spent together dancing was enough for him to fall in love. He always told himself to remain loyal to his future soulmate, that he is to spend the rest of his life with them, but this feeling his has for Bruce is too much. That he breaks his vow for him.

“Then don’t.”

Y/n says in a soft tone, his eyes growing glossy. He hears Bruce chuckle to himself.

“I’m not a religious person but I do sometimes think that god made you for me.”

Y/n eyes widen in realization, he grasped his wrist. Staring at Bruce with shocked expression. “You—“

“I guess that confirms it.” Bruce says, stepping forward. “You knew?” Y/n asks, still processing everything.

“I did.” Bruce whispered, his voice sounding close. His hands reaching up to cup his face. “I just wanted to make sure that I was right, that my soulmate is standing in front of me.” Y/n sniffles, he tears up quietly and leans his forehead against Bruce’s. The two stand together in an empty section of the library. “Shh it’s okay,” Bruce whispers. Cleaning his tears away. “I’m here and I’m yours.” With that he captures his lips into a soft kiss, holding him close.

#Batman x male reader #Batman #dc #dc x male reader #male reader #Bruce Wayne x male reader #Bruce Wayne #au #soulmate mark #soulmate #SoundCloud

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ladyartemesia · 4 years ago

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All I Want For Christmas is You

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Female Reader

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

Genre: Comedy • Fluff • Smut

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

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

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

Rating: Explicit (18+)

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

Acknowledgements:

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

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

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

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

Please Picture This Taehyung:

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Yes. Because you absolutely owe me.”

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

Jimin raised a single unimpressed brow.

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

The man in question shifted uncomfortably.

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

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

Taehyung’s jaw dropped.

“You RECORDED IT?!”

Jimin grinned, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

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

“He did WHAT?!”

Your mother winced.

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

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

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

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

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

“This is about Milo… isn’t it?”

The silence that greeted your statement was confirmation enough.

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

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

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

You would play along with their humiliating schemes.

For now.

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

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

“Kim Taehyung.”

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

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

The man in question could barely restrain his grin.

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

“I could pay you more.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully.

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

“Seen? Maybe three—four years.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A woman.

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

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

Because the sight of you could make a man desperate.

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

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

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

And just like that the brat was back.

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

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

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

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

“Of course not,” he chuckled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harkins?”

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

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

“Okay... What about Kang?”

“He was verbally abusing one of the waitstaff.”

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

“She was about to grab your ass.”

Taehyung’s mouth dropped open.

“She’s eighty-five!”

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

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

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

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

“Is nothing sacred?” he mused hollowly.

You shrugged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taehyung crossed his arms smugly.

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

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

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

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

He just barely caught the hitch in your breath before-

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

“Jealous?” Taehyung drawled cockily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It would be my pleasure.”

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

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

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

Jungkook picked up on the second ring.

“Sir?”

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

“You want me to what?!”

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

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

1 New Message from: Jungkook

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

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

You picked up on the fourth ring.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you alone?”

You snorted.

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

Taehyung saw red.

“I’m coming over.”

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

“Wha- No! I’m trying to go to bed!”

“With who?!”

“With myself, you idiot!”

“Prove it!”

“Fine! I will!”

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

1 New Message from: Park Gremlin

He almost choked on his tongue.

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

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

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

You were exquisite.

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

Desire.

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

1 New Message from: Kim Grinch

I didn’t know you liked Van Gogh.

Your head tilted in confusion.

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

Oh NO.

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

… You just sent Kim Taehyung a topless mirror selfie.

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

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

Taehyung groaned from underneath his covers.

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

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

“Is that the bad news?” Taehyung yawned.

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

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

PARK ANGEL TRADES ONE CORPORATE HEIR FOR ANOTHER AT MIN GALA

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

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

“The Park Angel?”

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

“Can’t imagine why,” Taehyung mumbled.

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

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

“This is a flaming disaster.”

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

“Which one was that?!”

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

Tae ran his hand down over his face in exasperation.

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

“She has. Twice.”

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Something wrong, Mr. Kim?”

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

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

He peeked again.

I would pay a million dollars to suck those tits.

“Nothing at all,” his voice cracked.

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

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

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

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

Taehyung was laughing.

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

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

Something that felt an awful lot like longing.

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

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

Almost.

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

Disaster struck at dinner.

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

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

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

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

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

“I-I need—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why won’t this—”

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

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

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

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

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

He blinked. Twice.

“I’m sorry—What did you just—”

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

He gulped.

His eyes dropped to the matter at hand.

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

Taehyung wet his lips reflexively.

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

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

You were so warm.

So soft...

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

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

“Hold on to me.”

You nodded and wordlessly slid your arms around his waist.

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

You could almost pretend that it meant nothing.

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

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

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

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

You drew in a final steadying breath.

“Do it.”

He nodded.

“One… Two… Three—”

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

Your breasts bounced almost entirely out of the corset.

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

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

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

“... Is… everything alright here?”

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

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

He gulped again.

“I can explain.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just like you.

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

Lies.

… and pitifully transparent ones at that.

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

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

1 New Message from: Park Gremlin

I made it home safely.

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

To: Park Gremlin

I require proof… like last time.

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

You’re playing with fire, Kim Taehyung.

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

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

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

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

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

same mirror.

Yet this time, the reflection was quite different.

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

He wanted to rip them off with his teeth.

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

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

1 New Message from: Kim Grinch

Green is my favorite color.

“WHERE IS HE—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PARK ANGEL TOPS KIM TAEHYUNG’S CHRISTMAS TREE

He winced a bit at that last one.

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

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

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

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

Jungkook began surreptitiously filming the whole debacle from the corner.

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

Taehyung sighed heavily.

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

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

“WHAT?!”

“NO! Mother! Oh my—”

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

Taehyung waved his arms wildly in exasperation.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I never thought I’d see you here.”

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

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

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

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

“I avoided them.”

I avoided you.

Milo nodded.

“I—I figured.”

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

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

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

“Excuse me.”

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

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

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

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

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

Milo’s eyes narrowed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taehyung laughed.

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

You grinned.

“I’d forgotten about that.”

“Well I’m sure Tyler hasn’t.”

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

“I wish I could forget about Milo.”

“... Are you still in love with him?”

The words tasted like ash in his mouth.

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

Taehyung tilted his head curiously and you found yourself continuing.

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

you.

You cleared your throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I should kill him.”

You shook your head, amused in spite of yourself.

“That’s exactly what Jimin said.”

“He has good instincts.”

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

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

It would be so easy to care for you.

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

You nodded.

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

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

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

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

“... Like you?”

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

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

“What’s going on, guys?”

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

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

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

Jimin’s eyes hardened immediately.

“Where is he?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You look like a vampire.”

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

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

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

Still…

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

“I think I’m offended.”

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

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed.

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

You shrugged playfully.

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

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

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

Lord have mercy.

“Of course not,” he coughed.

“You’re what?!”

You rolled your eyes.

Tonight had been going rather well.

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

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

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

“Does your brother know about this?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then it was your turn.

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

“Ten thousand.”

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

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

“Eleven thousand.”

“Twelve thousand.”

“Fifteen.”

“Sixteen thousand dollars.”

“Seventeen thousand.”

“Eighteen.”

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

“Twenty thousand.”

“Twenty-five thousand.”

“Thirty thousand!”

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

Milo.

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

“Forty thousand.”

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

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

No.

Milo was still bidding.

“Fifty thousand dollars.”

Not her.

“Sixty,” Yoongi countered.

She’s mine.

Suddenly Taehyung was on his feet.

“One hundred thousand dollars!”

The silence in the backseat of your limousine was deafening.

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

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

And hope.

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

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

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

Yet you never dared hope for it.

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

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

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

But he didn’t need to buy your heart.

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

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

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

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

Taehyung’s gaze flew up in concern.

“Is everything alright?”

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

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

“Do you want to see?”

Taehyung’s eyes rose slowly to yours.

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

Then he nodded...

And you both were lost.

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

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

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

He bit back a moan.

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

You nodded.

“Kiss it better.”

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

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

He knew he shouldn’t—

but he could never deny you.

“Of course.”

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

It was for you.

He wanted you.

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

Touch me… please.

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

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

“Taehyung—“ you moaned.

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

Sweet merciful heavens.

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

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

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

“T-Tae—”

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

He was marking you.

And you wanted it.

Oh how you wanted it.

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

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

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

“Speak up.”

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

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

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

“Madame. We’ve arrived.”

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

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

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

Did we just...

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

1 New Message from: Taehyung 🙄🥴🙈

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

You grinned.

Greedy boy.

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

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

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

Taehyung growled in frustration.

She would be a tease.

To: Angel 🤬🥵😅

I tend to worry. Put my mind at ease.

He shook his head.

I have officially gone insane.

The phone buzzed again.

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Well… We can’t have that can we…

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

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

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

He groaned, biting down hard on his bottom lip.

To: Angel 🤬🥵😅

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

The screen lit up again almost immediately.

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

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

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

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

Jungkook took a long satisfying sip of his cocoa.

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

“I need to talk to him.”

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

“I need to talk to him now.”

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

Jimin stomped his foot like a petulant child.

“I know he’s up there.”

Jungkook grinned.

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

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

Jungkook took another long pull of his drink.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jimin scowled and crossed his arms.

“Are you by any chance open to bribes?”

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

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

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

“Oh… Well.”

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

“He has to come down eventually.”

“One would think.”

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

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

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

“Sir, I’m sure it was just the maid!”

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

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

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

Jimin stopped struggling.

“Oh?”

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

“He’s gone, sir.”

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

“However…”

“... However?”

“I had to give him your spa passes.”

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

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

Taehyung rolled his eyes.

“I don’t pay extra for commentary.”

“It’s complimentary, sir.”

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

Why do these events always have to be so uncomfortable?

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

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

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

Jungkook bit his lip.

“Is this about Ms. Park, sir?”

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

Both men winced.

“I think that was your grandmother’s.”

Taehyung sighed.

“I admit there have been… some developments.”

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

“... Such as?”

Taehyung gulped.

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

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

Taehyung colored guiltily.

“Well—”

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

“Absolutely not.”

Jungkook grinned.

“That’s what I thought.”

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

“Things have… escalated a bit.”

“Escalated how?”

I licked her tit in the back of a limo.

“Physically.”

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

“That’s… shocking.”

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

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

“So what are you going to do, sir?”

Taehyung was silent for a long moment.

“I honestly have no idea.”

Watching you walk toward him was an experience.

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

Your dress tonight was deadly.

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

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

Oh help.

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

So he didn’t say anything at all.

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

And you tolerated that for about three minutes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She is definitely trying to kill me.

“Should I be worried?”

Now it was your turn to grin.

“I guess we’ll find out.”

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

But it was well worth the price of admission.

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

It was like stepping into a fairytale.

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

You were breathtaking.

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

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

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

Your eyes widened.

“N-nephew?”

Taehyung shrugged.

“I don’t really talk about it much.”

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

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

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

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

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

The Governor just shook his head and laughed.

“Oh kid, you’ve got it bad.”

Everywhere you looked there was beauty.

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

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

Until she showed up.

“Kim Taehyung! Is that you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes. Of course. This is—”

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

“His date,” you deadpanned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taehyung pointedly removed her hand from his elbow.

“Some other time perhaps.”

Aubrey pouted prettily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aubrey... Listen I—”

She cut him off with a finger to his lips.

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

He grinned.

“Never.”

The lady sighed and gave him a heated once over.

“What a shame.”

Then she strolled off with a rueful smile.

“You know what I don’t understand?”

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

“What don’t you understand, Mr. Min?”

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

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

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

Oh he’s good.

You made a show of tapping your chin thoughtfully.

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

Yoongi sighed and shook his head.

“Couldn’t be me.”

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

Alas.

You tilted your head speculatively.

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

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

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

Yoongi held out his hand.

“I’d be delighted.”

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

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

—at his private dining table with Min Yoongi.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh boy.

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

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

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

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

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

You squeaked and nearly spat up your drink.

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

“Are you alright?”

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

You glared.

“Just fine, thank you.”

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

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

You nodded sharply.

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

Yet you made no move to stop him.

You should have.

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

But you didn’t.

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

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

“T-Taehyung—”

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

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

You seriously considered stabbing him with a fork.

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

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

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

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

Across the table, Yoongi nodded in blissful unawareness.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ms. Park, are you well?”

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

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

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

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

Your entire body, however, was vibrating like a plucked harp string and Taehyung was still brushing back and forth against your clit, driving you toward a release that promised to be explosive.

There was no way—simply no way—that you would be capable of hiding it.

“Yes! I would love to dance with you,” you squeaked, grabbing hold of Taehyung’s wrist frantically. The feel of him pulling out of your sopping core was nearly enough to have you coming right there.

Thankfully, Yoongi remained utterly oblivious to the debauchery unfolding beneath the table. He took your hand and helped you to your feet with an eager smile (and it was a good thing too because your legs were still shaking).

When the two of you reached the dance floor, you turned back for the briefest instant—

just long enough to meet Taehyung’s heated gaze as his lips closed over the finger he buried in your cunt.

Emotions were a funny thing.

They impacted your judgement, affected your body, altered your behavior…

And occasionally eroded your common sense.

Sitting alone in the corner of the Governor’s ballroom, Kim Taehyung found himself experiencing a full spectrum of emotional side-effects.

His hands clenched as he watched Min Yoongi spin you around the floor.

His heart pounded every time he caught a flash of your shapely leg peeking through the slit in your gown.

His blood boiled when you threw your head back and laughed at something the other man said.

It was difficult to pinpoint which emotion was to blame for each of these reactions. There were certainly a number of them boiling over in his subconscious.

Frustration—

I didn’t even want to talk to Aubrey! How are you acting like anything she said was my fault?!

Rage—

Why is challenging people to duels illegal? I would fight Min Yoongi at dawn. I would fight Min Yoongi now.

Jealousy—

You asked her to dance while my fingers were in her pussy. We are not the same.

But perhaps the most persistent—the most overwhelming— emotion twisting through him was longing.

You and Taehyung spent nearly four years apart, and he was so desperate to be near you—even then—that he resorted to childish pranks in order to remain a part of your life.

He hadn’t recognized his actions or desires for what they were. He hadn’t realized what you meant to him...

But now, after spending the last several days with your hand on his arm and your laughter in his ear, he could no longer imagine spending another moment without you.

Everything seemed to crystallize as he watched you laughing and dancing in the arms of another man.

Uncertainty became clear. Complications became simple.

And when he saw Min Yoongi’s hand slide dangerously close to the perfect swell of your backside—

Emotion became action.

“Mind if I cut in?”

It wasn’t a question really. Taehyung was already shouldering his rival out of the way and pulling you into his arms.

“Taehyung,” you hissed, shooting the bewildered Yoongi an apologetic look over his shoulder, “what are you doing? This is so rude—”

“You’re absolutely right,” he agreed, sweeping you through the couples on the floor with practiced ease. “It is unpardonably rude to steal someone else’s date. He’s lucky all I did was steal you back.”

Your mouth dropped open.

“Oh? So you finally remembered that I was your date?”

Taehyung’s grip on the curve of your waist became a shade rougher as he pulled you through the next turn.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means—” you stepped forward vigorously, nearly smashing your body into his, “—that you spent forty-five minutes with Aubrey Alicia St. Valentine when you were supposed to be having dinner with me!”

Taehyung growled and yanked you flush against him.

“I spent forty-five minutes looking for you while you were giving away my table to Min Yoongi!”

The two of you sailed through the next several movements glaring at one another before you snapped again.

“None of this would have happened if you had just told Aubrey St. Spray Tan that you were with me—”

“I did!”

“Instead, you let her call me a baby!”

“What let? Aubrey is a grown woman!”

“But—”

“And—you stormed off before I could say anything, so how would you know what I let?”

“You didn’t come after me!”

“Yes actually I did—but she grabbed my arm!”

“Really? Well what else did she grab?”

Taehyung abruptly realized how silent everything around you had become.

People were staring—and not even discreetly— just full on staring with their mouths hanging open.

Well that’s great.

Taehyung’s hand closed around yours and you suddenly found yourself being marched across the dance floor at a breakneck pace.

“What are you doing?”

“Continuing this discussion in private.”

“We can’t just go somewhere private in the Governor’s mansion!” you sputtered, struggling to keep up with his larger strides.

“You mean in my uncle’s house? Yes—actually we can—and we will.”

Taehyung proved to be a man of his word, dragging you past two security guards and into the roped off section of the manor with nothing more than a nod.

The residential wing of the Governor’s home was beautifully decorated with traditional Korean artistic touches—all of which you were unable to appreciate while Taehyung was speed walking you through the halls.

After a surprising amount of turns and archways, he yanked open an ornate wooden door with the words Reflection Suite written on a plaque above it in beautiful calligraphy.

You almost giggled when you got a look inside.

On the surface it was a tastefully furnished guest room with a simple cherry wood desk and a cozy double bed set in an elegant matching frame.

However—

The ceiling and one full wall were nothing but massive mirrors.

Reflection suite indeed.

The door slammed shut and Taehyung rounded on you with a stormy expression—though you weren’t waiting on him to fire the first volley.

“This is definitely going to get us in trouble.”

“I told you, I can go wherever I want in this house. It’s fine.”

“Then why did you take us here?”

“Because you were shouting—”

“I was shouting?! You were shouting I just—”

Suddenly your back was against the wall and Taehyung’s mouth was on yours.

He hadn’t brought you here for this. When he grabbed your hand, he was only trying to get away from the crowds. He told himself that he needed privacy so you could talk—so he could clarify things.

But the minute the door closed and you flared up again in all your magnificent rage, he was lost.

He had to kiss you then.

You were so lovely. So fierce. So wildly irresistible and he was too utterly smitten to fight the need to be near you—to be with you in every way that he could—for a single second more.

The shock of Kim Taehyung pressing his lips to yours lasted about two full seconds—and then there was nothing but ravenous insatiable need.

Finally.

Everything was him.

Everything was this—this sweet indescribable ignition of a desire that spanned years. You moaned eagerly against his mouth in wanton delight. After a decade of sparks, you were more than ready to burn.

“Taehyung—”

His name poured out of you like a prayer. You needed him everywhere and miraculously he seemed to understand—

Not that he was prepared to be polite about it.

“Where’s that smart mouth now, Angel?” he growled, tangling his hands in your hair to expose the tender column of your throat. “Nothing to say?”

Your only answer was a desperate whine as he spread hot-open mouthed kisses down the soft skin of your neck all the way to your collarbone.

Now was not the time for patience. He would be tender with you later. You absolutely deserved soft sweet caresses and slow leisurely love making and he was absolutely going to give them to you—every day if you’d let him.

But not today.

The minute his mouth encountered the barrier of your dress, he gripped onto the sides and yanked it down to your waist.

“You knew just what you were doing in the back of that limo, you little brat,” he hissed, taking one swollen nipple into his mouth and tormenting it with his tongue.

“Tae-ahhh!” Your back arched involuntarily in ruthless pleasure.

“I spent hours—days even—wanting to get my hands on these perfect tits.” He licked the other nipple obscenely, squeezing the soft mound till it bulged through his fingers. “And you offered me the barest taste with that coy little grin, knowing it wouldn’t be enough—”

He reared back and landed a firm slap on both breasts and you screamed.

It was so so good.

“Look at them now,” he murmured, “so swollen and needy and mine.”

If any other man had said those words, you would have cut his heart out with a butter knife.

But you had always belonged to this man body and soul, and to hear him acknowledge it so primitively felt like the sweetest vindication.

“Yes!” you sobbed.

The affirmation only inflamed him further. He teased and fondled the tender flesh till you were shaking.

Your fingers curled into the soft waves of his hair as he indulged himself. He looked so ridiculously good sucking your nipple, moaning lewdly with his eyes pressed shut in cathartic bliss.

“This is all your fault, Angel,” he groaned. “You just don’t know how to behave.”

His hands gripped the curve of your backside, lifting you right off the floor and into his arms. Your mouths fused together heatedly as he carried you to the bed, and you giggled against him when his words finally processed.

“You’ve been saying that for years.”

“It’s been true for years,” he muttered, pulling one of your legs up around him so he could grind against your cunt while you kissed.

Your fingers tugged at the buttons of his shirt, tearing them off when they didn’t unhook fast enough. You waited too long to be with him like this to care about anything other than the feel of his skin against your own.

“Impatient, are we?” he chuckled, bringing his lips around to nip at your ear.

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, yanking the ruined garment right off his shoulder just so you could sink your teeth into it.

Taehyung moaned loudly, snapping his hips against yours with an involuntary jerk.

“You really are such a brat,” he hissed, fisting his hands in the satin length of your skirt. “Let’s see how fierce you are with my tongue in your pussy—”

His words were so filthy and raw, yet they stoked a frenzied need in your belly like nothing you had ever encountered.

“This dress is evil,” he snarled, fumbling with the zipper for a moment before switching to a more destructive tactic. “It has tormented me all night and now it’s in my way.”

The stitching proved no match for his resolve, and—after a few vigorous tugs—he ripped it apart from the slit on up, leaving you covered in nothing but the thin cotton underwear he had breached earlier that evening.

After disposing of your shredded gown, Taehyung paused for a moment just to take in the sight of you.

“What a perfect little angel,” he taunted playfully, snapping the band of your lingerie against your hips with a cocky grin.

Then he brushed his nose right up against the sopping fabric and inhaled deeply. “You smell just like heaven,” he growled before licking you right through the cloth, “and you taste even better.”

The sensations twisting through your body were merciless. You needed more or you were going to shake apart.

“Taehyung please,” you whined, pressing against him shamelessly.

“Oh a please?” he chuckled, throwing your own words from the first night back at you. “Who knew you had manners?”

You would have screamed in frustration, but he cut you off with an open mouthed kiss right over the wettest part of your panties.

“Perhaps I can make a good girl of you yet,” he chuckled, as you opened yourself wider to encourage him.

You nodded frantically, letting out another moan when he yanked the flimsy little scrap of lace down your legs—smearing a line of arousal over your thighs.

“So messy,” he tsked, tapping his finger right above your knee where the naughty little streak ended. “What am I going to do with you?”

Then he pressed his tongue over the shiny trail of slick and licked it right off.

You gasped loudly and his lascivious smirk was almost beautiful enough to make up for all of the shameless teasing.

Almost.

"You want my mouth, pretty Angel?” he whispered, letting the words brush maddeningly against your folds. “You want me to feed on this sweet little cunt?”

Every cell in your body cried out for release. He already edged you under the table at dinner and now he was determined to unravel you entirely. You would say anything—do anything.

"Please—" you whispered.

"Please who?"

Normally you met his arrogance with a cutting riposte, but an entire evening of methodical torment had left you beyond desperate.

"Please Taehyung,” you begged needily.

He grinned.

“That’s right, Angel. Kim Taehyung. Not Min Yoongi or any other pathetic trust fund prick that’s panting for a taste of this pussy.” His eyes fastened on yours significantly. “You belong to me.”

Then his tongue licked a flat stripe over your glistening slit and you sagged onto the bed in relief—only to be thrown back into oblivion when his lips closed over your clit.

Your body arched involuntarily as a ruthless wave of pleasure tore through you. Your eyes and mouth flew open in a silent scream and it was in that moment you remembered exactly where you were.

Underneath a giant mirror.

The passionate woman staring down at you was nearly unrecognizable. Her body was littered with her lover’s marks. Her hands gripped feverishly into the sheets beneath her—-

And Kim Taehyung was kneeling between her thighs, suckling on her weeping cunt with obscene satisfaction.

It was the sexiest thing you had ever seen in your life.

Your hands reached down to tangle in his hair, using it for leverage as you ground against his face.

Then suddenly his grip on your legs tightened and his tongue plunged roughly into your trembling core.

“Tae—ahh oh my—I can’t—”

The sensation was so intense that your hips bucked violently. You could not keep still. You were charging towards an explosion and your body was shaking itself apart.

The noises tearing from you were incoherent. Everything around you focused in on the juncture of your thighs where Taehyung was licking inside of you again and again until—

You shattered.

And the force of it nearly bent your back in half.

Delirious sobs poured from your lips as he worked you through it, letting the obscene flood of your cum soak his face.

The sight of him slowly lapping at the release between your folds, was unspeakably erotic. He ran his hands in soothing circles over your skin while you twitched and fluttered back down from your high.

Then he was kissing you again.

It was softer this time, but you felt truly depraved—and instantly obsessed—with the taste of yourself in his mouth—on his skin.

You could barely understand this ravenous hunger. You’d just found relief, yet you were already reaching for more.

Your hands snaked down and wrapped around his still covered cock and he hissed in ragged pleasure.

“So eager,” he gasped, as you pushed him back against the headboard—but you didn’t have time to bother with his teasing.

You were gonna blow Kim Taehyung into space.

He bit his lip when you yanked down his pants and boxers together, freeing his arousal with stunning efficiency.

It was almost unfair to discover that his cock was every bit as beautiful as he was.

“Of course,” you muttered.

The sultry smirk he shot you in return had your cunt flooding all over again.

“You think Min Yoongi has a cock like mine?”

“I don’t think about Min Yoongi’s cock,” you retorted, wrapping your hand around his length, “you’ve always been the biggest dick I’ve ever met.”

“I knew you thought about my dick,” he groaned as you began to work up and down the swollen shaft.

After a moment, his hand slid over your chin to grip your hair, drawing you forward till your lips were almost touching.

“I wonder what this pretty mouth can do,” he whispered.

You gasped against him and he smiled.

“Do you know how often I pictured your lips around my cock, Angel?”

You mewled shamelessly and he growled, cupping your cheek as your hands continued to service him.

“Do you know how often I imagined this perfect throat stuffed full of my cum?”

His palm slid down to lightly grip the soft flesh of your neck and you shuddered against him with a needy whimper.

“I know you could suck me so good, Angel. I’ve wanted it for so so long...”

Your mouth actually watered with anticipation.

The desire to be good for him—to give him whatever he asked for—consumed you.

Taehyung let his head fall back against the headboard with a groan at the first brush of your lips along his shaft. His hips rutted involuntarily as your tongue wrapped around the tip and you hummed with pleasure at his enthusiastic response.

After a moment you slid him into the welcoming heat of your mouth, taking him in as far as you could in one stroke. His jaw dropped open and his entire body jerked forward.

“Yes, that’s it, Angel—feels so good.”

His praise was addictive.

You loved that you could bring him to this. You loved to see the haughty Kim Taehyung coming apart as you sucked him.

It made you feel beautiful—powerful even—and you reveled in every second of it.

Your eyes were starting to tear. His length began to throb and pulse against your tongue and you knew he was close—so close you could almost taste him—

Yet suddenly he was pulling you back and you whined pitifully at the loss.

Taehyung chuckled, dragging you toward him till your dripping core slid across his cock.

“I’m not coming before I get inside that pretty little pussy,” he swore, working your hips over his sex till it was drenched in arousal.

The crass words filled you with the fiercest, most incredible want and you clenched reflexively against him in response.

“Is that what you want?” Taehyung whispered as he bore you back into the mattress, pinning both your wrists above your head. “You want me to fill your empty little cunt?”

You did.

You wanted it so so bad.

“Please.”

Taehyung gently lowered himself closer to you, resting his forehead intimately against yours as he lined up his cock at your entrance.

“Are you sure, Angel? Because there’s no going back after this... If you give yourself to me, then you’re mine—and I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep you.”

“Taehyung, you idiot,”—a tender smile spread over your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck—“... I’ve always been yours.”

He swore violently—letting the slight tremble in his voice betray just how deeply your words affected him.

Then his fingers tightened on the soft flesh of your hip and he filled you to the hilt with one delicious thrust.

There was a moment—the smallest space in time—where your eyes locked together and everything seemed to suspend; a strange perfect calm before a monumental storm.

Then your world caught fire.

Taehyung drove himself into you with passionate fury, letting years of denial fuel the insatiable rhythm of his strokes.

Every time he told himself no. Every time he held himself back—

Every bit of it burned away as you screamed his name.

The feel of him was indescribable.

You imagined it too many times to count, yet your dreams fell pitifully short of the visceral reality.

He was bloomin’ magnificent.

Your fingers clawed up and down his back, desperate to hold on to something while he pounded into your g-spot like an animal.

“This tiny cunt is the tightest thing I’ve ever had around my cock,” he gasped and you whined needily at his praise. “Like it was made for me—” his hand came up to grip your breast, “like you were made for me.”

“Yes—”

Taehyung’s need seemed to amplify with every whimper and moan that fell from your lips. The feelings you sparked in him were fierce and unapologetically primitive.

He would go to war for you—build a fortress for you—fight a dragon if one dared come close.

You were his.

And he felt like a savage every time you cried out for more.

Suddenly an unexpected movement in his periphery caught his attention.

He’d been so consumed with the extraordinary rush of claiming you that he’d forgotten—

This guest room was thirty-five percent mirrors.

And now… he couldn’t look away.

The sight of your bodies tangling together in headless bliss played out before him like a scene from his most debauched and forbidden fantasies. His reflection grinned back at him in fascinated ecstasy while his beloved nemesis lost herself in the pleasure of his cock.

Something dark and wild began to burn in his chest as he studied the lovers in the glass.

“Look at you, Angel,” he whispered softly, “you really are perfect.”

Then he pulled out of your core and you whined bitterly in protest, chasing his body to rid yourself of the sudden unacceptable emptiness.

“Still so needy,” he taunted, gripping your hips and flipping you on your stomach before you could even think to protest.

“I want you to watch that pretty angel in the mirror come on my cock,” he groaned, plunging back into you from behind.

The new angle was somehow impossibly deeper and your body shook as another wave of pleasure overtook it.

Your fingers clawed into the mattress for purchase as he pistoned into your trembling mound.

Only Kim Taehyung could rail you like a whore while he worshiped you like a queen.

He gave you a moment to adjust before drawing your body back against his chest. His arm wrapped over your stomach as he slowly eased your legs apart, unfolding the lewd tableau of your bodies joined together for the voyeuristic gaze of the glass.

“Look at yourself, Angel,” he growled, mesmerized by the way your breasts bounced with every thrust. “Look at how well you're taking me.”

Then his fingers slid down to rub your clit and you screamed.

“Tae! Ah-ahh!”

The pleasure building within you now was violent. You were coiling too tightly, too fast—

“That’s right Angel. Take it all.”

Your eyes locked with his in the mirror for the briefest instant.

And then you flew apart.

Taehyung threw his head back with a carnal moan as you clamped down around him. His body was hurtling toward its own release with reckless speed.

“I’m close,” he panted, “where can I come?”

“Come inside me please,” you begged, and Taehyung’s eyes widened in frenzied lust.

“That’s what you want? Huh?” his thrusts became rougher as he chased his relief, “You want me to fill this puffy little pussy with my cum?”

“Yes, I want it so bad—“ you sobbed.

“Sweet Angel,” he groaned, gripping at your breasts as he pulled you tighter against him.

Then he met your gaze in the mirror again.

“I want everything with you; a home—a family—your body in my arms every morning when I wake up—” his voice trembled, “I want it all.”

The raw vulnerability in his eyes nearly broke you.

“Tae,” you gasped softly, too overcome with joy to manage anything else.

His mouth pressed hungrily against the curve of your shoulder. You could feel his cock throbbing in your core as he bent you forward, pounding into your sex with exquisite precision.

"Stay with me, Angel,” he whispered. His thrusts became erratic as he neared his high. “I don’t want to live without you anymore.”

The glorious thrill of his words tore over your senses with euphoric brutality. Your walls tightened greedily around his cock and the taunt cord of pleasure finally snapped.

He came with a broken groan, flooding the welcoming heat of your womb with his release.

“KIM TAEHYUNG!”

The sound of his name being shouted by the absolute last person in the world whose voice he wanted to hear woke Taehyung from a dead sleep.

His eyes widened in panic as he began yanking pillows and covers from all over the bed in a frenzied attempt to hide—

The doors to his bedroom flew open with a resounding crash.

“Jimin,” he squeaked, trying to look as casual as possible next to a giant pile of bedding. “What uh—what brings you here at—” his eyes darted to the clock on the wall, “—7:30 in the morning?”

Then he frowned.

“And how the hell did you get past Jungkook?”

Jimin’s murderous expression broke momentarily to allow for a smug grin.

“Kendra.”

Kendra Jackson was Jimin’s executive aide. She was fierce, capable, intelligent—

And insanely gorgeous.

Taehyung groaned.

Poor Jungkookie never stood a chance.

To the surprise of absolutely no one, yet another newspaper landed on Taehyung’s lap.

KIM HEIR BRINGS NAUGHTY ANGEL HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

Underneath the headline was a picture of you and Taehyung (dressed in clothes you stole from Jin’s childhood bedroom) kissing passionately against the side entrance of the Governor’s mansion.

One of your legs was wrapped around his waist and he was clearly grabbing your ass.

“Ah… well you see the camera distorts everything from this angle—and-and the lighting is bad so it’s not really what it looks like—”

“Is that so? Cause it looks like you’ve got your tongue down my baby sister’s throat!”

“Okay—okay,” Taehyung massaged his forehead nervously, “so maybe it’s sort of what it looks like but—”

“I’ll kill you.”

“No wait—” he held up his hands to delay an already advancing Jimin.

“Why should I wait?!”

“Because—”

“—I trusted you with the most important person in the world to me—”

“The situation is just not that simple.”

“—and you grabbed her ass in public!”

“Admittedly not my finest hour.”

“So you tell me right now—”

“But you don’t understand it’s—”

“—Why the hell would I wait?!”

“BECAUSE I’M IN LOVE WITH HER!”

For a moment there was absolute silence.

Then your head popped out from the massive pile of bedding.

“Really?”

Jimin’s mouth fell open.

Taehyung groaned again.

“As usual, your timing is impeccable.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his comment.

“Are you really in love with me?”

“Of course I’m in love with you! What part of I want you to have my children did you not understand?!”

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Jimin choked.

“That’s not the same thing!”

“It is for me!”

A radiant smile lit up your face.

“I’m in love with you too.”

Taehyung’s expression softened.

“Angel I—”

Then you were kissing and Jimin swung around with a horrified shout.

“Oh! No no no—Come on!”

He stumbled out of the room, hands firmly clamped over his eyes.

“This is not over, Kim Taehyung!” the scandalized young Park heir howled in exasperation… but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Back in the bedroom, Taehyung shook his head at Jimin’s ridiculous caterwauling.

“No, it’s not over,” he laughed, pulling you deeper into the comfort of his arms. “It’s only just begun.”

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story.

This baby took FOR-EVER to write. I started it in November and literally worked on it a little every day.

If you enjoyed it— even just a tiny bit—please consider taking a moment to leave me some feedback. It is so incredibly uplifting and rewarding to hear reader thoughts and reactions to my work.

I promise to treasure every word like gold. It took a lot to bring this story to life. Your kind words would mean the world to me.

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actuallylorelaigilmore · 2 years ago

Text

my third grade teacher was probably the most amazing teacher i ever had. she looked at the little autistic weirdo in her class who zoned out a lot, distracted other students by chatting, and couldn’t be normal if my life depended on it...and she was the first person to tell me ‘normal is overrated.’ she told me that albert einstein was a genius who couldn’t tie his shoes using the bunny ears method--the same one i was unable to master.

instead of scolding me for talking all the time, or being easily bored because i found the lessons too easy, she sat me in front of the class and had me read aloud to the other students while she did mysterious teacher things nearby. unlike the teacher i had the year before, she never fixated on my eating issues or lectured me about being ungrateful. she didn’t treat me like a charity case.

she worked behind the scenes to get me into an early computer camp, when nobody i knew could come close to affording a computer--and then when a kid in town was getting a new computer and looked to donate his old one, my elementary school recommended me as the recipient. i’m certain that mrs. furnia had something to do with that as well.

she talked about me as though i were special in some magical way that really made me believe it, saying ‘you have to go to college’ with such emphasis that it felt inevitable, my destiny set at age nine. knowing how precocious i was, a tiny mimic and a sponge, i can imagine what she saw in me. but she was still the first to say it, outside of my own family: that underneath the five separate disorders i would one day have diagnoses for, lie a shimmering potential.

the news today reminded me of her, polio in new york slipping through our vaccination efforts and what that could mean. mrs. furnia walked with a very pronounced limp, and she was probably another first for me--the first physically disabled person i knew as a child. she set the kind of example that i think helped us all become better tiny people, matter-of-fact about her limp but expecting our respect.

i remember her telling us about a disease called polio, that had afflicted many, many children just like her before there was a vaccine. she told us how lucky she was to have survived with just a limp. we learned how lucky we were to have vaccinations that protected us, and how much the world could change, could progress, in such a short time.

it baffles me that so many people deliberately avoid vaccines now. even understanding the religious objections, the historical bad behavior of doctors and pharmaceutical companies...it’s hard for me to wrap my head around compared to the risks. deep down i’ll always be that little kid hearing the story of how i was safe from polio, the scary disease that almost took the life of a child who would one day grow up to be a woman who taught me that i mattered.

today the news is all about a british monarch i didn’t personally know, and i’m enjoying the serious takes and the funny ones--though i definitely am struggling to process the fact that charles will actually be king now. it does not compute. but other news sidetracked me into thinking about someone i did personally know, someone i still think about fondly sometimes, and i needed to share that.

school was not easy for me in many ways. i didn’t learn much outside of english and math, bullying turned me from a cheerful performer to someone trying not to be seen or heard, and undiagnosed adhd took me from a gifted student to a failure by the time i arrived at college. but even with all of that, even with my firm belief that some kids could thrive in nontraditional schooling where public school is hell for them...i had some great teachers. i’m grateful for that.

#education #life stuff #my formative years #my childhood #rambling #long post #polio #vaccines

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kenmaskitten10 · 4 years ago

Text

Dilf Deku Headcanons

Midoriya Izuku x GN!Reader

warnings: swearing, NSFW themes (nothing graphic just briefly mentioned),brief mention of bullying/scars, idk this is pretty tame nothing is really described... if u don't like dilfs then don't read this :)

a/n: okay! this is my first time writing/publishing anything on Tumblr so please go easy on me haha... I've had ridiculous Deku brain rot lately and I decided I had to jot a few thoughts down. I'm playing with the idea of turning this into a writing blog, but I am undecided! If anyone wants to thirst for one Izuku Midoriya please come talk to me please anyway without further ado here are some Dilf!Deku hcs.... I'm playing around with doing a NSFW version after this so if you would like to see that let me know!

w/c: 1,498

Okay everyone today I want to talk about Dilf!Izuku

This may be controversial but I personally believe that he has the most Dilf potential out of any of the class 1A boys and no I will not be taking criticism at this time

Sorry but even when he’s younger he has Dilf energy - he’s caring, considerate, takes your feelings into account like a dad he just wants to take care of his baby

oh fuck this man no no no

And listen, here me out on this one….. he has more dilf potential than Bakugo and allow me to tell you why

We can all agree that Bakugo has been confident his entire life, so of course he’s going to be confident when he’s older?? duh

But IZUKU is a different story altogether, he’s never felt confident in his life

His whole childhood he was looked down on for being quirkless, and bullied by someone he thought was his friend kachaan

THEN he got a quirk but oh every time he uses it it breaks all his fucking bones and leaves him with all these scars, and he appreciates them because of what they represent but also he’s young when he gets them, he’s already prone to insecurity and when he’s younger ESPECIALLY i think they just remind him of previous failures

He only started to gain a little bit of confidence in his UA days, but it takes time to rebuild yourself after you’ve been torn down for so long, so I honestly imagine he doesn’t even feel an inkling of confidence until his third year or later and even then, it’s new, it’s unfamiliar, he doesn’t totally know how to act

Because yes, by his third year, he’s starting to realize, oh wow okay, I have an incredible quirk and all these new abilities that I can control better, and wow people are paying attention for good reasons , because he’s tall and attractive, probably cuts his hair undercut Izuku supremacy and he’s made some solid friends who help boost his confidence too

But despite all this, deep down he still feels like that quirkless little kid who has to work three times as hard as anyone else and still doesn’t get the recognition he deserves

But OH BOY

DILF IZUKU??? This man is dripping with confidence

he’s older now. he’s overcome a lot. he’s gone to therapy, and worked his way through the pro hero ranks until he earned his number one spot fair and square, that’s something no one can take away from him

He’s loaded now (see below because I go on a whole tangent), he has nice tasteful style that can only come with age and experience

He knows he’s hot now, because its simply no longer something that can be denied, anyone with eyes can see how attractive he is

If he catches you staring at him, he doesn’t shy away. His cheeks might tint slightly, but he stares right back with the biggest smirk on his face. “See something you like, angel?”

Probably finds reasons to show off slightly but he’s Dilf!Izuku so it’s subtle, it’s meant just for you and god does it drive you crazy

The way he’ll reach for and grab at things when he’s around you because he knows you like his hands (he wants to hold your bags and please let him he just wants to feel needed)

They way he stands behind you while you cook, or work, or read…. He sees you sitting or standing so peacefully and he’ll come up behind you to check out what it is you’re doing. He’ll lean down slowly, quietly, stopping when his breath is on your neck and your nose is filled with his scent, and take a quick peek at whatever it is you’re working on. It takes you a moment to turn around, your heart starting to beat faster in your chest due to his looming presence behind you (I DON’T KNOW WHY THIS IS HOT TO ME IT JUST IS OKAY). When you finally turn to face him, his face breaks into a small smile of victory as his strong hand catches your jaw in a gentle grip and he places an achingly soft kiss to your lips before saying “You look so cute when you’re concentrating,”. As you’re about to go in for another, he lets you go and stands up again, his eyes twinkling. “No no, you’re working so hard baby, don’t let me distract you,” WHEN ALL HE WANTED WAS TO DISTRACT YOU and he succeeded and now you’re all hot and bothered, with no hope of resuming what you were doing

Dilf Deku is a tease I know he is but it’s okay he’ll make it up to you later ;)

He’s got shorter, slightly more cropped hair with grey mixed in with the green, his face more lean and angular… not to mention years of pro hero work have toned his body into an absolute work of art I’m gonna pass out just thinking about it

Freckles splashed across his skin like hundreds of little constellations, accented by scars and marks from old wounds (which he’s come to appreciate - they show how hard he’s worked, how much he’s sacrificed to get to where he is now) he’s muscular but I don’t think he’s quite as big as All Might (his fighting style is a lot different so of course he would build muscle in different places) so this means LEGS LEGS LEGS

LEG MUSCLES FOR DAYS

THICK FUCKING THIGHS oh my god

And holy shit his back muscles too WHEW sometimes in the morning when he gets up before you, you watch him sit on the edge of the bed and flex his shoulders and arms to stretch out in the hazy morning light and Jesus Christ

Dilf Deku is older now, he’s spent his entire life working himself too hard and he missed out on a lot of the fun, impulsive, chaotic things young people do, so I think he wants to let loose a little in his older age, have some fun for once

And what’s more perfect than sweet, youthful, tantalizing little you to indulge in ?

He’s so doting, just wants to make you feel special and cared for

And on that note, if you will indulge me for a moment

he’s fucking RICH like

He’s the number one pro hero, he has brand deals on brand deals on brand deals

And I don’t mean to slander All Might and Endeavor, but in terms of a hot, fuckable number one pro hero, Deku has them beat by a landslide so I imagine he has a wider range of brand deals too, because he can sell the sex appeal angle

I mean can you imagine him in interviews? Interacting with fans? Confident yes, but still soft spoken and kind, almost gentle but anyone can tell he’s completely in control, of himself, of the interview, of the audience, this man has the entire country world wrapped around his little finger

All this to say he’s DRIPPING WITH MONEY

he’s like the guy that overtips an OBSCENE amount like if the waiter is really nice he’ll tip like $300 dollars and won’t even blink (I know they don’t tip at restaurants in Japan but this is more for vibes yk)

sugar daddy deku isn’t a stretch it’s a REALITY

Y’all can be officially together or not, either way Deku loves to spoil his precious little y/n

All you have to do is smile sweetly and ask, and he’s absolute putty in your hands

Complies with even the most egregious of your demands, because hey, he has the money to spare, and how could he say no when you look so cute asking so politely?

GOOD TASTE too like he has a lot of money but he knows how to spend it 😏

Additionally he’s, ya know, him, so he’s insanely charitable and donates to charities, go fund me, personal Venmo accounts of fans that need it

if a fan has like a go fund me for some reason that catches his eye, he’s going to donate and he’s going to donate a lot (A LOT)

he doesn’t even do it for the press, he does it bc he’s a good person but my GOD the press eats it up and so do the fans

These hc’s are so self indulgent but all this to say

Dilf!Deku gets what he wants when he wants it and no one is standing in his way

So when he decides it’s you he wants? Well then it’s you he’s going to get!

#bnha #bnha x reader #bnha headcanons #bnha x y/n #mha hcs #mha x reader #dilf izuku #izuku midoriya headcanons #deku #dilf deku #deku x reader #deku x y/n #mha #mha x y/n #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya x y/n #izuku

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blazehedgehog · 2 years ago

Note

Why do you think sonic games have been tightening their scope after Unleashed. Every main game after has had a less than a $60 price tag. Do you think Unleashed underperformed in Sega's eyes and they scaled back their budget/staff, etc in response?

That was absolutely the case. Sonic Unleashed was the first mainline Sonic game after Sonic 06, and I think there was rightfully a lot of spillover of emotions from that game.

Because "good" and "bad" are subjective, right. A sour mood one day can make something look really bad, but if you circle back around to it days, months, or even years later, you might have a completely different experience with it.

A lot of people in 2008 were very, very nitpicky about Sonic Unleashed. It's a game that has problems, sure. But it's an incredible game that does a lot of things extremely right, too, and it established basically everything that lead to Sonic Colors and Sonic Generations.

But a lot of people still saw it as "the game that followed Sonic 06." So they complained about hub worlds, and human NPCs, and side quests, because those were things it shared with Sonic 06 and therefore they were still points of contention.

Sonic 06 sold a weirdly high amount. It was a "Platinum Hits" title on 360, and even got included in a special charity bundle (with Shrek and Viva Pinata Party Animals, I believe), where all proceeds were donated to some children's hospital thing. It was the first Sonic game of a new generation and it sold a lot of people on the idea of being this big, impressive thing.

Sega clearly banked on Unleashed being more successful, given how much money they were willing to spend on Sonic Unleashed. It was an ambitious, high-budget, bleeding-edge game. And it pulled it off better than most Sonic games usually do!

But the wounds were still fresh after Sonic 06. It was the biggest disaster the Sonic franchise had ever had at that point. All that hype burned a lot of people.

So I imagine Unleashed didn't sell quite as well, yeah. Which probably lead to Sega trying to find ways to scale things back in future games. The profit from Unleashed did not support its budget, so they adjusted where necessary. Smaller levels, less story, less intricate detail, etc.

It's always made a lot of sense to me. It sucks, but the ripples of Sonic 06 reverberated outward like that in ways I don't think people remember anymore.

#questions #Anonymous #sega #sonic the hedgehog #sonic unleashed #sonic 2006

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1ddiscourseoftheday · 4 years ago

Text

Mon 10 May ‘21

LOUIS NEWS-- label and tour!! First, Louis has announced (or, well, Simon Jones PR has anyway, no word from Louis direct and yes, SJPR is still in the picture) that Louis is “partnering with BMG to release his second album globally”, an interestingly specific/ limited reveal. Fans are eyeing the wording and questioning whether he actually signed with them as a label (which they are) or just for publishing rights or distribution (which they also do, unlike most other labels)- the mention only of a ‘partnership’ supports the possibility that it’s something other than his new label, but it isn’t definitive and the simplest explanation of the press release is that BMG will be his label for LT2, as well as distributor and publishing company. The fact that they are small (relatively speaking; not one of the “Big Four” record labels but they’re hardly tiny) and somewhat new as a label does not to me seem like a reason why Louis wouldn’t have chosen them, as some are suggesting; there’s something to be said for being the big focus of a label rather than just another act, and Louis already chose that route once before when he signed with Arista (who are umbrella-ed by Sony but themselves not one of the big four) just after their relaunch, making him their biggest act by far. Also vague: “global” in this context doesn’t necessarily mean BMG has replaced Arista (his U.S. only label), it just for sure means UK plus the ‘international’ market, ie most of the rest of the world. It could mean U.S. too! Or not. We have reason to believe Louis was still with Arista as recently as a few months ago, and no evidence to suggest otherwise. The official press release says “recording is already underway” on LT2, and quotes Louis as saying: “I’m very excited to start the next part of my journey with BMG”. BMG- a new company founded after splitting from older label SonyBMG in 2008- claim to be “a new kind of music company” who are “not just a music publisher or a label” (they instead combine both of those things) in which “service to artists and writers is key,” and as part of that combine label services with holding publishing rights for their clients, often handled by separate companies and an area where songwriters tend to get screwed. BMG’s press also mentions their involvement with new technology a lot, and they represent Kings of Leon who have been at the forefront of the music industry use of NFTs (including releasing their next album as an NFT on a special NFT label despite being BMG artists). BMG’s twitter following more than doubled [edit: tripled now] in the hours after the announcement, and they followed Louis and tweeted to welcome him aboard from three different twitter accounts, including the U.S. one.

Slightly more commentary from Louis about the updated tour dates though mostly still press release style-- “Let's try this one last time!” he said, “All shows on my world tour will be moving back to 2022 and I’m excited to announce the first wave of new dates. I can't wait to see you all soon, it's going to be special!” and what should be the final dates for tour dropped, all in Spring ‘22- including a London show at Wembley, holy shit! Not every rescheduled date has been announced but those that are mostly have one thing in common-- much bigger venues than they were originally booked into. At at least one show so far fans will have to buy tickets again which sucks, but they are offering a pre-sale for previous ticket holders so at least those buyers only have to fight each other and not all the fans that joined the scrum in the time since the tour sold out. “After all this time and years of waiting this tour is going to be incredible, I can't wait!” said Louis and he’s not wrong!

And that’s all for serious news, over in Harry land things are...a lot sillier. A “bardcore” version of Watermelon Sugar was added to Harry’s official Spotify, LOL, and it is even more ridiculous to listen to than it is to imagine! I don’t picture it topping the charts anytime soon but it’s certainly an entertaining twist I was NOT expecting over the quiet weekend. The idea of Harry and friends deciding that needed to be legitimized on the official 36 million follower page is PRICELESS, and I would love to see Harry in a Gucci doublet and hose (or a nice laced bodice), but sadly it seems that the addition of the 2020 cover song to Harry’s account is a fuck up on Spotify’s end, as acknowledged by the Bard himself (no not Harry or Shakespeare, the person who did the weird cover- they do lots of covers in this style, it’s like a whole Thing. Medieval style covers of hits.) Meantime OUR bard was seen on the My Policeman set in a t-shirt reading “don’t ruin my fantasy”. New merch? I’ve never seen something more perfect for harries, they should consider it! This shirt though is from a designer with a focus on gender neutrality who donates to queer youth charities. And Kid Harpoon said, about WS (modern version) “at first, and I get this quite a lot with his lyrics, I thought, that’s kind of weird. Then you’re like, man, it’s brilliant. I remember thinking that with this. Harry’s so good at lyrics, he’s really growing into his own thing.”

Meanwhile Niall reposted (to insta AND facebook) the same outfit of the day video post he posted and deleted yesterday but left it up this time. It is clearly NOT today’s outift- damn Niall is my whole life a lie?! What can we trust in this treacherous world?? NOT YOU I GUESS. He also popped up on twitter to claim “no idea what you’re talking about” wrt him and Anne Marie teasing their collab without offering any actual clues about WHEN-- mhmm, like I said...

#louis tomlinson #harry styles #niall horan #Arista is a Sony label and Simon Jones is a Simon Cowell associate who was PR for 1D and has been for Louis since he went solo #and who sucks a whole lot. That said I know very well that the reason people are so obsessed with Louis cutting all ties with his old labels #etc #is that they believe all stunts will immediately be canceled on that day and I have to say… I don’t really think so #and arista being somewhat tied to sony isn't actually particularly meaningful #still distance from the old teams is always nice to see and at this point Louis has very few threads left tying him to them #10 may 21 #bmg #bardcore #lttour #louis label #arista #anne marie #it's very early to post but I don't wanna have to rewrite this whole damn thing in an hour lol #even if we get more clarity later there are parts of the NOW discourse I want to address which there won't be space to do if more info #comes to light #I had to do RESEARCH this better get good notes and correct some misinformation going around #besides now I can focus on other things like FUCKING HELL I have to buy tickets for LA Again??? BOOOOOOOO #I ALREDAY DID THIS #AND IT SUCKED #AND i HAD GOOD TICKETS #arrgh #I don't usually do this but you know what? PLEASE REBLOG THIS #I just saw someone say that louis definitely signed a distro only deal and that syco was going to profit off it #i... don't even know where to beg #begin #syco literally no longer exists fro starters...

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some-kindofgnome · 4 years ago

Text

for auld lang syne

“And then I woke up in the hospital alone, and I saw the doctor alone and took a taxi home alone. I went to physical therapy alone and saw my counsellor alone. Whatever you thought, Katsuki, whatever you believed made me spend six months staring at my phone and thinking I’d ruined everything.”

It’s time for your agency’s extravagant New Years’ Eve party. But after a little sabbatical, there are some things you’re not ready to come back to.

characters: katsuki bakugou x f!reader

wc: 7.2k

warnings: smut (18+ please!) aged-up characters, pro hero!bakugou and pro hero!reader, mentions of injury, near-death experiences and gunshots, smoking, drinking, angst with a (filthy) happy ending, me being a whore for glamorous new years’ parties

notes: This fic has been dragging me across the coals since Christmas- I could not get it out of my head, despite how much work I knew it would be to get it out on time. Still, it feels supremely worth it. I have a metric ton of love to give to @hoe-doroki for beta-ing this mammoth on such short notice (I dumped it in her lap at 4am) because she really helped me whip it into shape. As always. 💖

Happy New Year, everyone.

(MASTERLIST)

“Won’t be long now.”

Anxiety bleeds into the already-nervous voice of your driver, muffled by the plexiglass divider that separates you. You’ve been sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic for the past four red lights, barely inching toward the intersection with every green.

You’re well past fashionably late at this point. You’re sure that the commissioned driver’s fearing for his job at this point, knowing exactly how long ago you were supposed to have arrived at your own party.

But you couldn’t care less. The longer it takes you to get there, the better. The vodka you’d downed neat, standing over the bar cart in your polished apartment, sours in the pit of your stomach. And the fact that your outfit barely allows a spare breath isn’t exactly cooling your nerves, either.

You’re draped over the door, resting one elbow on its edge to cushion your jaw as you lay your forehead against the chilly glass. Outside, the crowded traffic casts a golden warmth over the bluish urban night, betraying the slow swirl of fluffy snowflakes that drift lazily into the street.

Tonight has all the makings for an ideal, albeit bitterly cold, New Year’s Eve. But if it were up to you, you’d be watching all the wonder unfold from the comfort of your own bed.

You’ve been away long enough, though, says your agent. It’s time, says your manager. You stay away from the spotlight for too long and we’re going to forget about you, says the Internet.

The glittering gold fabric your stylist presented you with would’ve swelled your heart on any other occasion. He knows your taste to the button. And after breaking into exhausted sobs at your first fitting together, you’d been able to tell him that the outfit was perfect.

At long last, the glossy windows of your agency loom outside. You push the backseat door open before your driver can even kill the engine, stepping out as gracefully as you can muster and pulling the folds of your designer coat demurely closed around your glamorous party clothes. You’re greeted by swaths of flashbulbs and determined shouts of your hero name, and suddenly the practiced gracious smile that you’ve always saved for the cameras is stretching your lips one more time.

You used to love something about this. But you’ve almost never had to face it alone.

Inside, the party’s taken off without you. Your coat’s taken before you can even see who’s hands are slipping it deftly off your shoulders, but by the time you’re ushered into the elevator and sent all the way to the top floor, you’re already sweating with the anticipation of all that’s waiting for you.

The doors open to a rush of guests, each noticing you simultaneously and pushing in to greet you.

Arriving late does absolutely nothing to dissolve the grandness of your entrance. Your attention is immediately pulled in a handful of different directions as celebrities and dignitaries and politicians shake your hands and congratulate you. People you’ve never met are telling you how good it is to see you on your feet again and, despite the overwhelming distractions, you can’t stop searching the crowd.

You don’t want to let yourself search for somebody in particular, but you spot him long before your shame catches up with you.

It’s not a glimpse of his mussed hair you catch, bobbing through the crowd. Nor is it a slip of the edge of his suit, the most devastating shade of midnight blue you could have possibly imagined.

Your eyes, like magnets, are drawn right to his crimson gaze. Lightning shoots through your chest, and you look away so fast you nearly pull a muscle in your neck. You cast your gaze immediately to the red-faced MP in front of you and let yourself stare. Still, from the corner of your eye, you can see the way he lingers, still facing you.

You haven’t seen Katsuki in months. Luckily, your ability to multitask has not faded, and you make easy small talk with the mayor and his wife while you sense him, in all his midnight splendor, disappearing into the crowd again.

A close call. Too close, in fact, not to warrant a drink. You excuse yourself kindly from the mayor’s attention, cutting through the glamorous partygoers until you reach the bar at the center of the room. It’s crowded, but you grab the bartender’s attention quick enough and order the first of many glasses of Dom Perignon.

The agency knows how to spend, for a special occasion.

It’s while you’re trapped at the bar, waiting for that imperative first drink, that he corners you. You spot him an instant too late, sidling between two dancing couples and crossing the short distance between you. There’s no way to skirt subtly away from him now. Instead, you lean more fervently across the bar and immerse yourself in an intense examination of the liquor, shelved decoratively behind the working bartenders.

He hesitates—possibly for the first time ever—but you’re determined not to watch as he searches for the right way to bridge the silence. You spot the way he stuffs his hands into his pockets, and when he finally speaks it’s low and sharp and bitter.

“That’s a nice dress.”

He has to lean too close to make his voice heard, speaking low and gruff to you in a way he never used to. You’re too anxious to care whether he sees the way you close your eyes to dull the fervent ache that flares in your chest.

He’s not allowed to say things like that to you. Not now.

“Listen.” He doesn’t wait for you to answer, pushing ahead.

In the throes of closeness, it’s easy to pick up the tremor in his voice. That kind of shake used to scare you. It’s the way he’s always spoken to you when he’s keeping his temper at bay in public.

He’s opening his mouth to say something else, something deeper and far more expository perhaps, but your champagne arrives with no moment to spare. You pluck it eagerly from the bartender’s fingers with an exceedingly gracious smile and turn quickly in the direction you swear Katsuki’s not blocking.

“Watch it.” He grabs your wrist to keep you from sloshing half your fresh champagne down your front. His touch sears hotter than you’d dreaded, and you can’t stop yourself from flinching at the rough brush of his calloused fingers over your tender inner wrist.

Fuck.

“Don’t run off,” he insists, squeezing your wrist just a little tighter. Your entire body is drawn tight like a bow, but you’re not actively searching for an escape route at this point. Sensing this, he slowly unwraps his fingers, dropping your hand and letting you down half your drink in a couple of parched gulps.

“You look…” you start to say, letting your eyes wander his immaculate form one more time. Whoever cut that suit for him knew his shape well. It fits perfectly. Contrasts his golden hair like the night behind a harvest moon.

Absence has not culled your feelings for him. Especially not when he comes back to you like this.

You take another long, slow sip, ignoring the way Katsuki’s brows shoot toward his hairline when you nearly empty the glass. His gaze darts to the narrow flute in your hand, the prints of peachy lipstick that mar it.

With your heart beating a touch slower, you try again.

“You look good.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes.

“I can’t—” he starts, shaking his head as his eyes swim the crowd. “I’m not doing this.”

“What?” Your stomach drops. When he looks at you again it’s dead straight, burgundy and blazing in that way that used to make you molten.

Now it makes you want to cut and run.

“I’m not gonna fuckin’ play nice, like this,” he pushes. He takes a step toward you, letting your name—your real name—fall from his lips as tender and soft as a prayer. “Explain to me why my agent had to tell me you were gonna be here tonight.”

“Katsuki,” you plead quietly, backing away from him a touch. “I don’t want to—I can’t. Here. Please.”

For a million other people he might press on. He might get angry and demand an answer, threaten anything it takes to solve the puzzles in his brain. For you, his strong jaw ticks and he shoves clenched fists back into his ironed pockets.

“Let’s just,” you begin, “make it through to midnight, okay?”

“Fine,” he bites, but he doesn’t like folding to you. He gets you back by clearing his throat and extending you a palm, drawing the attention of the people around you. They turn, charmed by the agency’s finest reappearing as the duo they’ve always adored.

There’s a glint of something in his eyes as he gives his chin a little jut toward the dance floor.

“Dance with me, then.”

You’ve been to hundreds of opulent agency spectacles together. Charity benefits, galas, holiday parties and the like have always been studded by your presence. But no matter how many times you’ve entered the party together, you never managed to get him onto the dance floor. Despite your whining and pleading and fussing, he’s never ever let you drag him out there.

So this feels like a particularly low blow. But the orchestra’s struck up a dreamy rendition of The Way You Look Tonight and there are too many people watching for you to turn him down.

Instead, you down the rest of your champagne, set it on the bar behind you, and slip your hand defiantly into his.

“Fine.”

His fingers close gently around your palm and he gives it a lingering squeeze that turns your blood to venom.

You’re already racing through a complex plan to survive this attention as he walks you onto the dance floor. Some of the other couples pause in their swaying to send a smattering of applause over the crowd. You can feel the winning smile tugging at your mouth, forcing you to swallow the panicked ache in your chest.

Katsuki pauses at the center of the dance floor and pulls you slowly closer. The low dip of your gown places his warm hand on bare skin when he settles it in the small of your back, and you’re sure he doesn’t miss the sharp little suck of breath that you’re not prepared to hide.

He does not try to speak, so you’re silent as you settle a shaky hand on the shoulder of his perfect suit. He’s as perfect a dancer as you’ve always known he’d be, and he leads you into a smooth little sway that’s easy enough to navigate in your precarious gold heels but sweeps you into the music like a scene from years gone by.

“Hey,” he grunts a few bars in, ducking a little closer as his fingers press into the bare skin of your spine. He pulls you against him, forcing your tense body against his. The gentle dip of his hairstyle brushes your temple as he leans forward to murmur in your ear. “You’re holding your breath.”

You deflate against him, letting your eyes fall shut. When you take your next careful inhale, your head is filled by the heady, smoky scent of him. Your heart pounds so forcefully it’s practically blinding you. But above all else you hate yourself for still feeling all of this, after so many months of promising to force it away.

Katsuki knows you well enough not to try and trap you in conversation in public. But he doesn’t pull back any further, continuing to hold you flush against him, letting your soft cheek brush his with every couple of steps.

Despite your best efforts, you’re drowning in him: the strength of his touch, the fluidity in his movements. His thumb strokes the base of your spine with an easy rhythm that you’re trying hard not to notice. It’s becoming too much. He’s holding you closer than a colleague should, tucking his nose too attentively against the side of your head for a courtesy dance. You’re overthinking too many of the signs. You’re letting yourself believe what should have been thoroughly dashed to pieces so many months ago.

It’s when tears well behind your glittery eyelids that you put a stop to it.

“Katsuki, I—” You can’t finish, pushing yourself sharply away from his chest. Whatever expression of dreamlike peace that had touched his eyes fades quickly as he sees the telltale wet sparkle in yours, and he reaches for you an instant too late.

He calls your name softly, fingertips brushing the edge of your upper arm. But your tears are spilling over and you’re backing away and you cannot be here anymore, not when people are starting to see.

“I can’t do this,” you plead. “I can’t pre—I’m sorry.”

With a final shake of your head, you turn and hurry clumsily from the dance floor, pulling up the beaded skirt of your heavy gown and sweeping, as quickly as possible, to the glass doors shut tightly against the imposing snow on the terrace.

It’s bitterly cold, nearly fifty storeys up, and the wind whips mercilessly past your bare arms with biting chill. You can’t stay out here long, but it still feels better than the alternative.

With shaking fingers, you dip into the tiny bag you’ve been wearing over one shoulder. You’ve stashed exactly one emergency cigarette in its silky depths. You haven’t smoked in weeks, but something told you that tonight would beg one.

You have to back away from the railing to even light it in the wind, but you’re barely two puffs in before the door behind you opens carefully.

It’s the last person in the world you hoped for. And the only one you can imagine finding you out here. He’s got a glass of something neat in each hand—amber in one, clear in the other. He spies the cigarette in your fingers and his soft, concerned expression melts into a scowl.

“You’re still smoking?”

You take a defiant drag, blowing the smoke in his direction. The wind catches it, carrying it in a sharp curve back over your head. Katsuki licks his lower lip, but you can tell by the way his nose twitches that he’s trying not to chuckle.

You nod toward the whiskey in his right hand. “How many of those have you had tonight?”

“Not enough,” he quips. He nods toward the cigarette. “Put it out.”

“You don’t get to order me around anymore.”

“I said put it out.”

Your livid soul wants to defy him. You’re craving the conflict that inevitably comes when you both dig in your heels. But you’ve got no energy left to fight, so you flick the smoke dejectedly onto the wet pavement and crush it under one delicate pump.

“Better?” The attitude cuts cruelly through your voice. Katsuki just pushes the other glass into your hand and you know that it’s gin before you even have to smell it. You roll your eyes.

“The healthier alternative,” you snarl, but he’s finished with your games.

“Come inside,” he prompts. “You’re gonna lose your nose out here.”

“I’m not sure that’s your problem any longer.”

“What the hell’s wrong with you? Why are you talking like that?”

“Like what? Katsuki, I wanna hear you say it.”

He’s throwing back an irritated slug of his drink, but he bristles, gesturing wildly with the cup.

“Like we’re not gonna be partners anymore.”

His voice is punctuated by a horrible, involuntary sob that breaks from your lips. He’s always been able to read you so well, picking up on things that you’re not even ready to acknowledge. But he’s right. That is how you’ve been speaking, because you can’t even imagine standing next to him in a photo right now, let alone letting him take your life into his hands.

Katsuki moves forward, shocked by your tears, but you hold your empty palm out straight and, like he would only for you, he relents.

“Because I don’t think we can be anymore.”

“Shut up. Look at you. You’re fine. You look…” his eyes cast briefly over your form, “fine.”

You clap a hand protectively to your abdomen, remembering the painful tug and knowing that he’s missing the point.

“That’s not why,” you snap through your tears. “That’s not even…close to why. Katsuki, don’t be dense.” Your voice is breaking because you’re about to say it, the thing you couldn’t even bring yourself to feel as you were zipped into your gown earlier tonight. And if you’re going to say it, there’s no point in doing it with gusto.

Might as well go out like the whimpering fool you are.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you whine, “because somehow, despite my best efforts, Katsuki, I fell fucking in love with you, so hard, and you knew I did, and so you…you don’t. You don’t, and I’ve ruined everything, and that’s fine, but I—”

He pulls your name from the very depths of his chest. If you were expecting fire and brimstone, you’re met with an even more harrowing sight—soft, somber, remorseful Katsuki, looking at you like he’d stop the world on its axis if it would make things better.

The memories are too easy to reconjure, and the sunshine of that sticky summer afternoon that changed everything lights up behind his gaze.

There was a crime syndicate you’d been uprooting for months. An underground hideout tucked well away from the prying eyes of hero society. A stray spray of bullets—bullets, of all things, finding the gaps in your shattered armour and nearly taking you from him.

You’d been sure. Both of you. There were too many shots. There was too much blood. The hideout was too well-hidden for anybody to find you in time. Your vision was bleeding out around the edges, and you saw Katsuki cry real tears for the first time.

In a slurred heap of breathless prose, you’d unloaded everything. The most important secret you’d ever kept from him came spilling from your blood-tinged lips.

You were glad to go, if it meant you never had to lose him. Glad to be the one to selfishly leave him behind. You were going to be okay if you never had to face a world without him in it. Because—and you’d choked this on a fresh wave of blood and ungraceful spittle—you’d loved him as long as you’d ever known him.

Six days later, you woke up alone in the ICU. And that was the last you’d seen or heard or known of the man who’d once promised to have your back, always.

Katsuki silently finishes his drink. His cheeks and nose have flushed deeply from the ruthless chill, and he turns to give the city one last glance before moving toward the door.

“Come inside,” he gruffs. Deep shivers have broken out along the column of your spine, but you wrap your frigid arms around yourself in protest.

“I’m not going back in there.” Not like this.

“Idiot,” he snaps softly. “Look at you. You’re gonna die for real if you stay out here.” He tightens his jaw and slams the empty glass down on the windowsill. Then he looks at you with all the lights of the night blazing in his crimson stare.

“Let me take you somewhere quiet. No one’s gonna see.” His chest rises and falls with a deep breath and he reaches carefully for your arm. “I promise.”

Even with a breaking heart, you’re a fucking sucker for him. Your voice is teary and pathetic but pinched by cold.

“Fine.”

He slips an arm around your shoulders—making your chest lurch—and you duck back inside. Immediately he takes you to the wall, putting himself between you and the rest of the party. With the breadth of his chest he shields you from prying eyes that grow drunker by the minute.

You skirt the edge of the party, making it to the stairwell door on the opposite wall. Somebody by the bar looks up just in time to see Bakugou tugging fiercely down on the handle, but you slip onto the fluorescent-lit landing and the silver door falls shut behind you without consequence.

You’re turning around to grab for the door that isn’t closing fast enough as he slips through it, colliding gently with his chest. Bakugou grabs your wrists to stop you, and for an instant you’re nose-to-nose, smelling him and the whiskey on his breath and the faint odour of paint that never quite faded from the concrete walls.

If not for the tears leaving streaks in your makeup, you might let yourself believe he’s lingering in front of you on purpose.

You pull from his grip and turn back toward the stairs before either of you have the chance to imagine more.

Your office is at the end of the hall on the next floor down. It’s a corner office studded with windows, far too lovely for someone who spends as much time in the field as you do. But you’d worked hard to make it a personable space, with plants and artwork and a couple of very comfortable guest chairs in emerald velvet.

Katsuki rolls his eyes every time he has to wave off the odour of your favourite scented candle, but you’ve caught him admiring what you’ve done with his office, too.

Now, the space is too tidy for either of your tastes, a little dusty from so many months of neglect. You’ve been out of commission for six months, and nursing a heartbreak far too immense to allow any casual visits to the agency.

He closes the door behind the both of you. Locks it, just in case. You’re already pacing across the rug and perching on the edge of the desk, gratefully taking some of the weight off your aching feet.

He keeps his back to you for a long moment, fingers lingering on the brass doorknob. His shoulders bob with a deep, harrowing sigh.

“You were dying.”

He turns around, and in the quiet dark of your office his eyes are lit up with a deeper fear than you’ve ever seen in him. He comes toward you and sits in one of your squishy little chairs, steepling his fingers and settling his elbows on his knees.

“You don’t–” he shakes his head and lowers it, pressing the heels of his hands to his forehead. “You don’t understand. You weren’t making any sense.”

“I was,” you bite back, gripping at the edge of your desk. “I meant everything I said to you, Katsuki; I remember every word.”

He flinches. He looks so sorry it’s starting to genuinely scare you.

“That’s not it,” he demands, straightening. “You didn’t. I did.” He slapped a hand against his chest, the dull thud reverberating through your own heart.

“You said those things and I didn’t believe you. They couldn’t have been true. Not when I’d spent so much fucking time wishing they could be. I couldn’t tell myself you felt that way about me. I couldn’t hope. Not when I’d come so fucking close to losing you so easily, I—”

His voice breaks and he looks away, and you might be crazy but his chin gives a telltale little shake like he’s holding back tears.

“So you thought it would be easier to what? Fucking ghost me like a bad Tinder date?”

That hurts more than it should. You’ve seen Bakugou at his very worst, bleeding and soot-streaked and showing you feelings he never means to. For a very brief period in your lives, you believed yourself to be special.

“Don’t play the innocent,” he snarls. “You never talked to me, either. I had to find out from my fucking manager that you were outta the hospital.”

“So you never thought to drop by? Bring some fucking… flowers?” You can feel the venom filling your mouth and you’re not altogether certain you’re strong enough to swallow it this time.

“And tell you what? That I was in love with you and, maybe I heard you wrong, but you said something while you were dying in my fuckin’ arms and I was hoping for some goddamned clarification?”

“Yes!” You sob, the word ripping itself from your chest and landing wet and heavy on the floor between you. “That! Anything would have been better than radio fucking silence. Katsuki, I was sure you hated me.”

“Well I fucking love you, okay?” He rises from his chair, taking one step forward. It lands him almost right between your thighs and you hate how close he is, but you have no power to pull away. He cups your jaw in strong, gentle fingers, forcing your eyes to his.

“I fucked up,” he presses. He leans down and presses his forehead to yours and this time his proximity is on purpose. You drink it down in eager gulps.

“I missed you,” he murmurs. Despite your tears and the ache in your heart, you give a wet little laugh and nuzzle your nose against his.

“I missed you, too.”

He takes your hands and pulls them both to his chest. And for a long moment you just sit there, curled over one another in the dark and growing accustomed to the idea of being okay again.

“Did you just…” you start after a long moment of silence. His eyelashes flutter against your cheek as he tucks his cheek against yours, but the grin that pulls your mouth is enough for him to stand back and look at you.

“Did you just admit to making a mistake?”

You’re laughing at your own joke before Katsuki can even roll his eyes. But he’s scowling good-naturedly and tugging himself against you by the hips.

“C’mere, you brat.”

He’s leaning in to close the distance between you when muffled chanting from upstairs makes you pause. You tilt an ear toward the window and light up, easily recognizing the five, four, three, two, one as the magnitude builds.

Bright flashes of gold and red light up the sky outside your window in a brilliant display. And all at once the lingering ache drains from your chest and you shoot Katsuki a fond little smile.

“I guess it’s midnight.”

“We missed the fireworks,” he notes, nodding toward the window as he edges back toward you.

“Not really,” you confess, and the first real big smile breaks through the pain when he steps up between your knees again, nice and tight and deliberate.

He cups your jaw in one hand again, settling the other palm on your knee, where it peeks through the golden slip of your dress.

“Happy New Year,” you whisper, eyes falling shut. You hear the way he smiles, that bare little chuckle that used to make your heart light up like stars.

He leans in and kisses you without another word. It’s soft but firm and so loving, so much better than any brush of the hand or lingering glance. Better, even, than the way he danced you into a stupor upstairs. This is yours and nobody else’s.

And you’re not letting him go anytime soon.

You let the kiss deepen as naturally as you can, dropping your jaw and letting the bare press of his tongue roll against your teeth. You reach up and grab his jacket by its lapels, hitching him even closer as the fireworks die out behind you.

He’s not backing down, either. Katsuki draws his hands from your body to unbutton his jacket, shrugging it away easily without breaking the kiss. He’s pressing his mouth to yours in long, lingering spells, tasting you eagerly while his hands have to stay busy. But as soon as he can he’s touching you again, teasing his fingers under the slit of your dress and brushing them over your bare thighs.

“Katsuki…” you whine into his mouth, turning your head to gasp and fill your empty lungs. He finds the next bare patch of skin, kissing down the side of your jaw. He finds your earring where it lays against your tender neck, sucking the crystal into his mouth and giving it a gentle tug.

“Fuck,” you gasp, and he grins into your skin.

“Don’t tell me you’ve had enough already.”

“Not a chance,” you growl. There are millions of questions flooding your subconscious. But years of tension and desire spiral more fiercely between you. It’s energy that demands release. And you don’t want to wait another second.

“God,” he groans hard, collapsing gently into you. As he presses forward against you, the twitching swell of his erection pushes into your bare thigh. You slide your palms down the meat of his chest and find his mouth again, kissing him with searing intent.

“Look at you,” he rasps into your mouth, gripping hard at the weighty skirt of your beaded gown. “You’re a goddamned vision in this, you know that?”

You pull back to look at him, raw sexual energy briefly dispersed by his tender confession. For a long moment you sit there, panting at each other, remembering how much this is about to mean.

Fuck it. If he’s in, so are you.

“Help me get it off.”

You slide to your feet, pushing him back a couple of steps to accommodate you. As soon as you turn around he’s sliding a palm up your side, thumbing at the fabric to find its zipper.

“God damn,” he growls, leaning in to kiss a path down the column of your spine. He drops to one knee as he works the zipper down the back of the dress—sitting low, thanks to its open back—letting his mouth trail all the way to the waistband of your underwear. All the while, you brace a palm on the edge of your desk, trying your best not to implode.

This is more attention than you ever could have prayed for.

He peels the thin straps down your arms and shoves the whole mess to your feet. You’re bending down to unbuckle the straps on your heels, but he stops you with a hand on the back of your thigh.

“Leave ‘em on.”

His voice sends a sharp pang of arousal through your entire body. When he stands, trailing his fingers all the way up the back of your naked thigh and over the swell of your ass, the arousal disperses into a dull ache that settles in the pit of your stomach and throbs incessantly.

He digs his fingers into the flesh of your hip and turns you to face him. Your nipples are already peaking in the chill of your office, and he sucks a deep breath through his teeth as he slides his palms up your tummy.

There’s puckered scar tissue and new ridges on your abdomen, but there’s no pain when he traces brushes over them.

He pauses, looking down with dull shock tugging his brow. You’re holding your breath again, watching him circle the roughest part of your new scars with one tender thumb.

“It’s okay,” you plead, cupping his cheeks and forcing his eyes back to yours. There’s pain littering his gaze that you’re determined to dissolve, and you lean in to kiss him until he’s groaning into your mouth and drawing his hands toward your chest.

“God,” you breathe, goosebumps betraying you as they race beneath his fingers. Katsuki watches your face as he dips his head, pushing your breasts together and laying kisses between them.

“Please,” you whimper, reaching forward and settling a hand over the front of his pants. You palm the shape of his cock through the pressed wool and he flinches, biting gently into your tender flesh.

“Katsuki,” you pant, squeezing and rubbing the hard swell in a gentle, heady rhythm as you set your ass on the edge of your desk again. “I need you.”

“Jesus,” he curses, dropping his hands and reaching desperately for his tie. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me before I even get my cock out, sweetness.”

It’s the dirtiest thing he’s ever said to you. And it shows. You’re a shivering, lustblown mess already, but the petname that falls from his lips is enough to make you whimper.

He shrugs out of his shirt and pushes you further onto the desk, dropping to his knees in front of you and pushing your thighs apart with strong fingers.

“Always kinda wanted to do this in here,” he confesses with that cocky smirk that’s always made a hummingbird out of your heart.

But Katsuki doesn’t give you too much time to swoon over his pretty words, kissing a path up the inside of one plush thigh and nipping at your sensitive flesh. He helps you brace your heels against the rug and lift your hips, peeling your underwear off and rucking it down your knees. There’s something very naughty about the way it feels to settle your bare ass on your polished desk.

But there’s something even naughtier about the way it feels to have Katsuki on his knees in front of you.

He pushes your thighs apart again, harsher this time, and settles your knees over his shoulders. You’d like to ride the wave of self-consciousness that threatens to crest when his breath ghosts over the folds of your heated sex.

He pushes higher for a moment, taking your sides in his hands and drawing lovely little kisses down the rough length of your scar. You push self-consciously at his head, making him pull pack and settle a hand over the flesh instead. He tilts his chin up, shooting you a look so filled with guilt and sorrow it nearly shatters the moment.

He wasn’t there for the pain. And as he kisses back down to your hips and thighs, you let yourself hope that this will be enough to make up for it on both sides.

But then he leans in and licks a long stripe up your cunt and the groan that echoes from his chest makes it hard to do anything but cum on the spot.

“Fuck,” you sigh wantonly, letting your head fall back as you brace your palms on the wood behind you. Your fingertips dig into the surface and he settles into an easy rhythm, slipping his arms under your thighs and tugging you tight to his face.

He’s not shy with his voice, either, grunting and sighing into your pussy with every stroke of his tongue. The noises double your pleasure almost immediately, coupled with the obscene slurps that vibrate all the way up your spine.

It doesn’t take long at all for him to find that tender little spot, the perfect direction from which to swirl his tongue against your clit. It’s obvious in the way your legs go tight around the sides of his head, the way you shiver and cry and clap a hand to the back of his head.

He grunts hard into your body when your fingers rake through his hair, harder still when your tense thighs press the narrow points of your heels into the flesh of his back.

“Katsu,” you whimper, already fucked out and tender like you’ve never been for him, “I’m gonna cum. Fucking shit, I-I’m gonna…”

He takes your warning like a hit, leaning more fiercely into you, keeping his rhythm with intense precision. Later, you’ll try not to think about why he’s so good at this. But right now, all you can think about is the way your pleasure rears up and crashes over you, sending loud gasps and breathy mewls of ecstasy from your chest as you squeeze his head and pull his hair and roll your hips shakily into his persistent mouth.

“Jesus Christ,” he snarls, sitting back on his haunches and swiping a palm over his flushed lips. He looks up at you, rubbing your thigh with one free hand as you come down panting from your ecstatic high. Between his legs, his cock juts obscenely down one thigh of his suit pants, and he palms himself shamelessly as he gets to his feet, taking in every inch of your pleasure-soaked self.

“You’re gonna make me cream my fuckin’ pants someday,” he chides, fumbling with his belt and impatiently shucking his pants. His undershorts follow closely, and you’re barely on your feet again before he takes you by the shoulders and turns your back to him.

“C’mere.” He slides a hand under one of your thighs, hitching it gently onto the edge of your desk and coming up tightly behind you. The brush of his knuckle against your ass proves that he’s stroking himself, and the tip of his stiff cock leaves a little print of wet precum on the back of your leg.

“Please,” you moan, still hazy and shaken from your first orgasm. Still endlessly needy, though, when Katsuki’s involved. “God, baby, just fuck me already.”

“Fuckin’ hell, you can’t say shit like that,” he groans, twitching behind you. “It’s like you don’t know how fuckin’ sexy you are.”

He braces a hand on your bare hip and then you feel it, the tip of his drooling cock pressing up between your slippery folds. It’s enough to make you whine and arch your back, wiggling your hips impatiently against his.

It’s enough to make Katsuki lose it.

“Shit,” he growls, gripping the fat of your hip and pushing forward, sliding home with one smooth thrust. He bottoms out inside you right away, buried perfectly in your belly and making you feel every inch.

“Baby—” you start to breathe, but he doesn’t waste time. Katsuki reaches around and lays his palm flat on your sternum, pulling you back against him. He keeps his other hand braced on your hip for leverage, dropping his mouth to the crook of your shoulder while he starts to thrust.

All you can do is keep your knee planted on the edge of your desk and try not to scream as he fucks you in steady, long thrusts, lapping and sucking all along the side of your neck while his hand roams over your chest and thumbs your nipple. Whatever hairstyle you’d left the house with has come long undone by now and you’re sure that if your makeup wasn’t smudged before, it’s certainly not going to survive the drool and sweat and heat that he’s forcing through you with every push of his hips.

The slap of his body against yours fills the space, punctuated only by your harsh pants and quiet whines of pleasure. Katsuki’s fingers dig harshly into your hip, gripping you tighter each time he anchors himself back into your fluttering cunt. Your walls are clamping ruthlessly around him, but he doesn’t miss a beat, slipping that free palm away from your nipples and down your belly to strum rhythmically at the swell of your stiff clit.

“I love you,” he grunts breathlessly behind you, and the raw truth behind it brings a rush of warmth to your chest you can’t ignore. You turn your head sharply towards him, pushing your forehead to his and feeling every beat as his breathing becomes laboured.

His body’s growing tight behind yours, his thrusts losing some of their impeccable rhythm as his brow knits against yours. He’s concentrating hard—holding back, you realize—and you reach down to cover his hand that braces your hip, giving it a relenting squeeze.

“Baby,” you plead. “Let go for me, baby, I can feel it.”

“God,” he mutters. “No—fuck, gonna make you—with me, sweetness.” Your body is clenching in preparation for your own climax already, and the fact that he can even pick up on it shouldn’t surprise you.

“I’m there,” you promise. “I’m there, Katsuki, fuck, just cum for me. Please.”

His arms tighten around you, seizing you hard against his heaving chest. You lean forward and seal your mouth against his, kissing him as he loses control and cums with a shout that echoes at the back of your throat.

He grabs your ass in one hand and fucks madly into you, spurting warm handfuls of cum into your belly and biting down hard on your lower lip. The erratic twitch of his fingers on your still-aching clit and the warm release inside you is enough to bring you to another tight, simpering little peak—not as powerful as the first one, but just as significant.

He stays behind you for a long moment, pinning you to the desk while he goes soft inside you. Finally he peppers kisses down the back of one shoulder and steps away from you, already smoothing his hair and taking in the image of you, in nothing but your heels, dripping with his cum.

The first of many, you let yourself hope, as you turn to carefully face him.

“I guess we missed the countdown,” you quip, reaching for your discarded panties. Navigating the strappy thing seems a great deal more complicated now that it’s not Katsuki tearing them off you.

He smirks at you in a way that does not make it easier to concentrate on the task at hand. Especially since he’s watching you struggle, easily buttoning himself into his now-creased shirt.

“I didn’t miss a thing.”

He’s already half-clothed by the time you get your underwear on again, stooping to collect your delicate dress from the floor and thumbing the sequins that pepper its surface. His smirk has dissolved into another pensive look as he examines the cloth.

“If I’d known,” he tells you, pressing the scratchy fabric into your hands, “I never would’ve—”

You lean up and push your mouth to his, soft and loving and just enough to silence him.

“I know.”

Once Katsuki’s got the rest of his clothes on, he helps you carefully into your dress and gets behind you one more time to help you zip it. He can’t stop kissing you even for a minute, peppering his lips over your back, neck, arms. He turns you around and takes your hands, kissing the backs of each palm with devotion that, if you stop and think about it, you’ve seen in his eyes a thousand times before.

“You’ll make it up to me,” you promise good naturedly, letting him slide his arms around your waist. He looks at you again, diligent and honest.

“I will.”

“Good.”

You slide your hands up his sleeves of heart-stealing midnight blue, smiling so big it ought to hurt. You tilt your head toward the door, giving your chin a little jerk as you squeeze his biceps through the pressed wool.

“For a start,” you say, daring to lean a little closer while he’s still feeling tender, “how about another dance?”

#bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha x reader #bakugo katsuki #bakugo #my hero academia #bakugou #bnha #bnha bakugou #bnha bakugo #it's new years eeeeeeve and i am not #spending it with him #sigh #;.;

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