#jdfhjkad pls this is a quick brainfart be gentle <333

[taegularities]

rid pls write it before i lose my sanity

alRIGHT :’D

Taehyung knows a way or two to fight your jealousy.

WHY DON’T WE wc: 1.7k genre: established relationship; fluff, smut warnings: jealousy and harmless smut (phat cawk, dom tae, 1 ass spank, 1 clit spank, he bends her over, ... etc) :’) a/n: i wrote this while waiting at the doctor’s :’) it’s not my best thing ever, but i needed to get it out of my system so LOL enjoy and be kind <3 (i also made this banner on my phone...)

–

“Okay. I came home two hours ago.” Taehyung squeezes your chin between his fingers, turning your head to make you look at him. “If you don’t tell me what’s up, I’ll tickle it out of you.”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“This is the most basic thing you could say to dodge my questions.”

He shifts closer, his hand on your thighs as he asks, “Is it because I came home so late? Or because I drank?”

“No,” you sigh, pulling your legs closer. As much as you love him, it’s way too hot in Vegas, so you push his hand off your flesh and continue, “You know your limits when it comes to booze. I’m not mad because of it.”

“So you are mad.” He shakes his head and chuckles, sweet crinkles around his eyes that you try not to stare at. “I knew I should’ve taken you with me.”

“You can’t. Your fans will cut me in half.”

“Aren’t you used to being broken in ha–”

You want to suppress the giggle, but it falls out of you without a warning, and you grab the spare pillow on your right to slam it against his chest.

“Shut up,” you exclaim, your pout returning in full glory when you remember the reason that made you this moody in the first place. “You were busy with plenty.”

“Like what? I was literally just sitting there all night.”

“Well. Performing. Meeting celebrities. Flirting with that Orelia.”

“Orelia...?”

For a moment, his eyebrows furrow, his fingers returning to your bare legs reassuringly; as though he’s trying to ease your worries, trying to ready himself to clear a misunderstanding.

And then, it hits – after all, he did see a post or two on social media that described exactly what might be floating through your mind. He can’t blame you – the amount of times he’s been jealous cannot be counted on two hands, and he still remembers the seething fire, the burn in his chest... it doesn’t feel nice.

But you’re so ridiculously cute, too; it’s impossible to not provoke you at least a little more.

“You mean Olivia?”

“Whatever.”

“You didn’t know her name? Olivia, nineteen-year-old Grammy winner, singer of Driver’s License and a really big sensation these days?”

Your lip juts out further, and your face heats up; with a clenched jaw, you say, “If she’s that great, you could’ve just stayed out with her. The news did say you were conversing with her lots... and your hand on her chair... and they also said you were staring at her li–”

“C’mon now.”

“She’s pretty. Can’t blame you.”

You could, because you’re his girlfriend – and you know you’re overreacting, because there’s no possibility in this or any other world that he’d leave you for anyone else. It was an act for this never-before-seen-performance they’d been practising for for ages.

You know it; it was hard labour – but you can’t help but feel the sting.

“She is pretty,” he teases, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly – but your guts turn and your body melts to weightless liquid.

You click your tongue and roll your eyes, shifting on the couch to stand and walk away before you feel a firm hand around your wrist. He pulls you back, and you topple onto him, landing on his lap with his arms wrapped around your chest.

Pissed and complaining, you free your torso from his hold, but Taehyung... Taehyung has different plans.

Because he pushes your tits up, a thumb grazing your mounds until it reaches your perked nipple. His favourite part of your evenings together is always that you discard your bra the moment you enter your apartment or a hotel room.

It doesn’t just toy with the patience of his stirring, twitching length hiding in his joggers, but signifies domesticity, too. You feel comfortable enough around him – or at least, you usually do.

Seems like he needs to win just this trust back again.

“No one’s as pretty as you are though, sweetheart,” he whispers against your neck, kissing his way from your shoulder up to your jaw.

You hum and sigh, envy still boiling hot and green behind your lungs, and mustering all your remaining strength, you plead, “Let me go.”

“Not until you understand that I won’t touch anyone,” his hand presses you into him further, “love anyone,” an open mouthed kiss wets the patch under your ear, “or wreck anyone but you. Ever.”

As you keep squirming over his crotch, you feel his cock harden, making itself at home between your ass cheeks. His fingers, slender and skilled, roam your body the way he knows drives you crazy, and when you throw your head back to feel his breath hot against your cheeks, his palm settles over your clavicles, on the verge of pressing into your neck.

“You feel this?” Taehyung asks, exhaling into your ear, teeth nibbling at your skin. “That’s real. Not an act. And Olivia?” He holds your squirming body in his grip, his arms squeezing your tits together; basks in your sounds when his free hand cups your drenched heat. “Couldn’t care less about her.”

“But–”

“Need more convincing? You know what I was thinking this whole time I was there?”

“Mmhhh...”

And then, he lets you go just to bend you forwards, and you catch your fall by planting your palms against the glass table. You curse under your breath, ready to scold him for almost breaking your nose this abruptly – but by that time, he’s pulled your panties down and plunged two fingers inside your cunt.

“This,” he continues, pushing you down until your face touches the cold surface of the glass, “awards are great, but... fuck, I missed you all night. Wondered what you’d think of our performance.” He pumps his digits into you, twisting and curling them. Squelching sounds fill the air as he adds, “Wondered what you might be thinking about me.”

“You’re fucking crazy is... what I think,” you dare to confess, closing your eyes when he pulls out, lets a glob of spit land on his fingers and pushes back in.

“Okay. Whatever you say, princess,” he whispers, landing a slap on your ass cheek. Once more, his fingers retract, and when you look over your shoulder, he’s pushing his shorts down, his cock standing tall and proud that he wets with his soaked hand as well. “Why don’t we find out just how crazy I am, hm?”

You don’t regain the ability of speech anytime soon, because before you can blink thrice, his length is disappearing between your walls inch by inch. He’s thick, your boyfriend, a phenomenon you need to adjust to every time.

A drop of sweat trails down your temple as your hands clutch the edges of the table, and Taehyung’s groans and grunts right above you do nothing to ease the desire boiling in your guts.

“Kinda glad,” he murmurs when he leans down, stilling balls deep inside you as his hands wipe the hair out of your face, “that I could make you jealous for once.” He pulls back and hammers into you twice, and your body jolts forwards with a yelp escaping your mouth. “My excuse to fuck you stupid.”

“You’ve never needed an excuse,” you argue, your cheeks burning, the skin of your stomach aching. As he thrusts into you, your sanity slips a bit more, but you still manage to whisper, “Asshole.”

And that’s what sets him off – perhaps not the profanity and it’s harshness itself, but rather your soft anger. The ingenuity behind your words; the fact that you’re helpless under him and would certainly whine and whimper if he pulled out.

You’re lost in his touches, and no matter the curses, you’ll keep begging for more.

And he finds every bit of your existence blazingly hot.

“You really wanna dare to say more?” he questions, shoving himself into you harder, deeper. His voice is strained and exhausted – you wonder how he’s, after an endless day, still able to muster enough energy to fuck you like this.

“Don’t you like me like th–”

“You’re a brat, baby,” he declares, leaning close to your ear, “wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“Tae... please–”

“What? Can’t hear you, babe.”

“Please,” you cry out, unable to think straight. Is it the crawling heat of early spring in Vegas or his touch that lights you up like this? You feel like you’re burning in purgatory, just a step away from flaming hell. “Wanna come.”

“Don’t worry. God, can’t fucking wait for the neighbours t-to complain... tomorrow,” Taehyung mumbles, one hand of his pressing between your shoulder blades and the other holding your waist.

He pushes into you incessantly, sounds of slaps filling the room and numbing your ears – you didn’t think you’d end tonight like this. Not after reading the news or overthinking the entire evening in the silence of the hotel room.

But now that you’re here, you try to take his words to heart – at least as much as your dizzy mind allows. Because while you feel his affection and loyalty in every touch, your brain strikes, and minutes begin to pass in a blur, accompanied by screams and incoherent confessions.

And when you’ve clenched around him and let loose, he spills inside you, too, calling your name, digging his nails into your thighs. Deliberately, he lets himself fall forwards, and his weight on your body is less a burden and more homely comfort.

He’s close, breathing in unison with you, leaving a trail of soft kisses along your shoulders with his cock still buried inside you; softening. His lips brush your cheekbones and his eyes watch your content form intently.

You’re the angel he kept praying to before he knew you – perhaps a sassy, fierce one, but an angel nevertheless. He might have lost a few awards in his time as a global superstar, but life still does always feel like a win with you.

“Was that proof enough?” Taehyung asks once his breathing steadies, an arm snaking under your body to wrap you in his embrace and pull you both back. “Believe me now that I love no one but you?”

His body falls into the softness of the couch with you in tow, and you remain on his lap, leaking and messy until you answer, “Hmm... not entirely. I... can you... give me another reminder?”

A cocky smirk plays around his lips, and you hiss when his finger slaps your clit and he remarks, “Only for you I’d stay awake this long after a damn award show.”

–

sooo... what do we think? 👀