#kth imagines

[luaspersona]

Snow Flower | kth (m)

pairing ↠ himbo!taehyung x reader (f. reader)

genre ↠ college!au; holiday!au; smut; humor; fluff; strangers to almost lovers to idiots to lovers; one-shot.

summary ↠ after making some terrible memories together, Taehyung wants nothing more than to never see you again; and he was pretty much succeeding — until he finds himself having to spend Christmas alone with you in the middle of nowhere.

rating ↠ +18

warnings ↠ taehyung is bi y’all; alcohol consumption; sexual tension; taehyung is a menace but he’s also stupid; some religious jokes are made; some kink shaming (tae is lowkey offended by furry kink?? idek); minor accident; very minor parent issues (this is really in the background, but i was going through stuff and writing it helped); a bunch of Christmas movies talk; taehyung is scared of grinch lol (i'm serious 💀); second hand embarrassment; pov switch; explicit smut (the warnings are long as fuck, so beware).

smut warnings 👀↠ mentions of anal; masturbation; orgasm denial; orgasm control; a whole lot of teasing; edging; dirty talk; pet names; soft dom!taehyung; switch!reader; fingering; light pussy slapping; nipple play; oral (f. and m. receiving); choking on cock; tae has a huge dick ‘cus it’s christmas and we deserve it; unprotected sex (pls don't do it. this is unhinged fiction); praise kink; marking; biting; light spanking; a splash of degradation (he calls reader a slut once); reader has sensitive thighs; tae has stamina for days; so much begging; a bit of overstimulation 'cus taehyung is a man on a mission; multiple orgasms; squirting; creampie; cum eating; it’s rough but it’s also super silly; they joke during sex, it's ridiculous; aftercare.

teaser ↠ (wc:0.8k) read it before to make sure this is for you ♡

word count ↠ 22k (7.5k are just smut y'all, i went off 🥴)

estimated reading time ↠ 60 minutes

note ↠ just wanna come out and say that i listened to mistletoe an unhealthy amount of times to get into the mood to write this and i think i’m damaged for life. also, i know it’s march lol, but i went through some shit™️ while writing this and it took some time to get back on track. to be honest, i almost gave up on this fic at least once a week, and it was hard as fuck to finish it. i struggled a lot with the plot until i was actually satisfied, but i'm pretty happy with how it turned out.

note² ↠ if this fic is finished, i have to thank @uarmymoonlight for lowkey bullying me into seeing this story through, always ready to motivate and help me brainstorm and fix plot points. you know i love you, and i hope you get a himbo to yourself one day. also wanna thank @vsualitae for being such a sweet listener, and for helping me through writer's block. you’re amazing, and i will cherish you forever, please don't give up on me because i'm terrible at replying.

note³ ↠ thank you again for @imakeamess for the amazing banner!

playlist ↠ this is what i think reader and tae’s playlist would look like

navigation | masterlist | permanent taglist | tell me your thoughts ♡

Jungkook suffering a car accident two days before Christmas was honestly so damn selfish of him.

It took five whole weeks of mature conversations (read: Jungkook calling Taehyung a pathetic little baby before resorting to messaging Taehyung’s mom) to convince Taehyung to go on this stupid Christmas trip to the middle of nowhere, only for Jungkook to think it’d be funny to drive his shit ass car straight against a light pole barely five minutes out of Soojin's dorm parking lot.

“You won’t be alone with her,” the asshole promised “Soojin and I will be there too”.

On top of that, Jungkook had the nerve to first go through a bunch of x-rays and cat scans before letting you and Taehyung — already settled in the shit chalet Soojin rented — know that him and Soojin would have to wait the 26th for the next bus to the hell hole that they mistook as a city, because no one in their right minds would willingly come here.

Well, of course Taehyung should’ve known that there was no way he could spend time in the same environment as you without wanting to kill himself: with or without Jungkook and Soojin, being reminded of your existence makes Taehyung feel nothing but nausea.

…

Ok, maybe he should rephrase that.

It’s not that he hates you, or anything. In fact, when Taehyung met you, hate was pretty much the opposite of what he was feeling. That night, in the frat’s living room, surrounded by dozens of other bodies as you danced to a song so loud he couldn’t even recognize, Taehyung swore you were the hottest, most sensual person he had ever seen.

It was one of the first times Taehyung went completely sober to a frat party, the only alcohol in his lips being the one he sucked straight out of your tongue. The choice of going teetotal had to do with the terrible lunch he made earlier that day that still rumbled in his stomach as he kissed down your chest (quick unrelated question: how much mayonnaise are you supposed to use in the pudding recipe to replace heavy whipping cream?).

Naturally, he couldn’t have thrown up before he went to the party — no, no, his stomach had to wait until you were straddling and grinding on him in one of the house’s empty bedrooms to push his excuse of a dessert out of his mouth.

Taehyung was pretty damn good at making up excuses to avoid people he slept with. But with you? He barely saw your tits and no fucking excuses were needed.

It took around two months for him to find his will to live again, and things started to go back to normal — until Jungkook started to date Soojin, that is. Don’t get him wrong, Taehyung loves Soojin and how she makes Jungkook happy and all that bullshit, he just hates the fact that she also happens to be your roommate.

[10:36] taehyung: jungkook how could u

[10:37] taehyung: i can’t believe u right now, istg

[10:37] taehyung: u could’ve come by bus with me, but nooooo

[10:37] taehyung: u absolutely HAD to suffer a fucking accident now, didn’t u??

[10:38] taehyung: i’ll never leave this room

[10:38] taehyung: if i don't die of shame before u are arrive, u are dead to me

[typing] taehyung: btw F for u and all, hope your leg’s fine, i lov

A loud thud startles Taehyung, making him drop his phone on the bed.

He waits a second to make sure his heart is still beating before slowly getting up and leaving his room. He steps around some bags placed on the floor near your chosen bedroom to reach the open front door.

Taehyung first notices your car parked near the house with the trunk open, before his eyes descend to your sprawled form on the icy ground, your head snapping up when he calls your name with a confused frown.

“Oh. Hi, Taehyung.”

“Wait, that sound was you slipping? Shit, you ok? Can you get up?”

“Yeah!” You assure, before he can cross the threshold. “Yes, don’t worry.”

You shift on the ground, but as soon as you place your hands behind you for leverage, your face turns into a grimace.

“Fuck”.

“What?”

You don’t answer, instead trying to find different ways to get up while avoiding moving your left arm, and failing adorably every time as the thickness of your clothes restrains your movements.

“Ok, maybe I can’t get up.” You slump back, sighing. 

He closes his coat and changes from his slippers quickly, sidestepping the frozen paths to make his way to you.

When Taehyung crouches by your side he is taken by a sudden urge to swallow his fist. As if the whole situation wasn’t already perfect, you simply had to become even prettier than the last time he saw you. Are you some kinda wine or something? Why the hell you gotta be so gorgeous for?

“Should I…” he starts “uhm, sorry, can I touch you?” Has his voice always been this high?

You nod, and Taehyung automatically starts to rub his hands together.

“What you doing?”

“My hands are cold.”

“I’m… laying on ice.” Your face softens with amusement.

He pauses.

“Right.”

He grabs your upper arms and helps you to your feet, stepping away as soon as you’re standing. 

“Thanks.”

You take your hand to your upper arm briefly, letting out a low hiss.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yeah, think I hit my shoulder.”

“That sucks for you… damn.” He eloquently says.

You glance back at your car, slowly walking back to it. Taehyung assumes you’re going to close the trunk, but when you lean to secure a bag he calls for you once again.

“What you doing?”

“There’s more stuff to take.”

“What? You’ll hurt your shoulder.”

“Did that already.”

“Stop that, let me do it.”

“No, it’s—” you look at the luggage in front of you when he comes to your side “it’s kinda heavy.”

Taehyung chuckles through his shattered ego.

“I can manhandle just fine.” He cringes as soon as he says it.

“... Right.” You clear your throat. “I got Soojin’s stuff too, and I’m pretty sure Jungkook put some of his shit in before I closed it.”

Your roommate’s name rings some bells in Taehyung’s head, and he realizes that this is the longest you two have talked since he… well, y’all know it by now, no need to keep remembering.

“Just tell me where you want them.” 

You reluctantly step away from the car, and Taehyung takes a deep breath: he can’t afford to further embarrass himself in front of you, and maybe it’ll be a good opportunity to make some new, healthier, memories with you.

There are only two things that could explain why Taehyung’s forehead vein is almost popping from carrying a few bags and boxes for less than ten minutes.

First: he should consider finding the fastest way out of here because you brought bodies for a Christmas trip.

But then, this isn't really fair because he sure never had problems handling some bodies before.

…

Shit, that came out terrible. Just to be clear: he means in sex.

Which brings him to the second possible explanation: Taehyung should probably start tagging along Jungkook to the gym, because holy fuck why are things foggy?

The worst, of course, is that you’re watching him, and there’s only so much panting someone can get away with without sounding on the verge of death, so Taehyung does his best to swallow his grunts as he crosses the living room to drop a bag near your bedroom door.

“Taehyung?” You ask, and wow. You look so pretty surrounded by little white spots. Who would’ve thought.

“Yeah.” He gasps.

“You ok?”

“Absolutely! Why you ask?” His laugh sounds more like asthmatic breathing than anything else.

He blinks a few times to try and see you with some definition, and he's like, 63% sure you just furrowed your brows.

“The last thing is Soojin’s gift to Jungkook, so you can leave it there and I’ll help you get it later.”

“What? I got everything else already, it’s fine.”

“Yeah, and thank you for it, but—”

“Really, no sweat. Where?” 

You consider him for a second, sighing when you point to the spot between the window and the fireplace.

“Can you place it there?”

Taehyung nods before he returns outside, carefully making his way to the car and sitting on the open trunk as soon as you’re out of view.

He can't pass out. He looked it up before and changing names is way too expensive.

So, instead, he turns to the last thing you brought: a large box, enveloped in a wrapping paper so ugly he immediately knows Jungkook chose it. He adjusts himself to grab it, but almost sobs as he realizes it’s the heaviest yet.

He takes a deep breath and secures it in his hold, sprinting back inside, blessed enough not to fall (because the universe couldn’t possibly be that cruel). He rushes to the spot you indicated and sets the box down, unable to prevent the most ridiculous little whimper to leave his lips.

“... Taehyung.”

“Again, I’m fine, it was pretty light actually.” He says, but inhales so loud that he’s sure he sucked all the room's air.

“That was a drum set you just carried.”

“... what.”

“Soojin bought Jungkook a drum set. I think it weighs about 55kg.” You explain, biting back a smile.

“Well. As I said, no biggie.” Please don’t faint. Please don’t faint. Please don’t faint. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Oh. Kinda sore, but I'm fine.”

“Great.” He slowly gets up, swinging to his room. “I’ll go uh, unpack.”

If you say anything after that, Taehyung doesn't hear it, closing the door to his room and crashing onto the bed. He spreads his arms wide and lets out a long, tortuous breath.

He allows his body to relax for a second, dazedly looking up. He’s not sure if his vision is now compromised, if he’s about to pass out or if there’s mold in the room’s ceiling.

Hum.

The price of this place starts to make more sense by the second.

A notification draws his attention to his phone beside him. 

[10:58] kookie: just try not to puke on her and you’ll be fine (;

Here’s something people don’t tell you about fuckboys: they are often really lonely and depressed.

…

Oh, no— not Taehyung, though, he’s just fine. 

He enjoys the simplicity of getting his dick wet and the minimal brain power it takes to flirt.

Besides, people say love makes you stupid and Taehyung promised Jungkook he’d try to be less of that. So yeah, he likes to cuddle and maybe do some of that stupid corny shit sometimes, but as soon as the knot in his stomach starts to feel a hell lot like butterflies he’s dipping out. 

The sound of your door closing across the hall snaps him out of his mind. Fucking finally!

Jumping out of his bed, Taehyung furtively exits his room, dragging his feet towards the kitchen. It takes around ten minutes of opening and digging into cabinets for him to remember Soojin was the one assigned with bringing the food.

He opens the fridge, hopeful that maybe the host left something before vacating the house, but he’s met with nothing but a half empty milk bottle (that looks a hell of a lot like yogurt when he shakes it, and even he knows that’s not a good sign) and an unopened beer can.

He rubs his chin, considering his options, but starving or walking on an empty stomach under negative temperatures feels like a whole new level of dumb and he sure doesn’t wanna die with dry ass lips. So, alternatively, after a quick second of quietly and tearlessly sobbing, Taehyung brings himself to knock on your bedroom door.

When you open it he— wait, were you going to sleep? The puffiness around your cheeks and the way you lazily look at him makes Taehyung think so. Also, there’s the fact you’re wearing a pajama set, cute little bears drawn all over your legs.

“Taehyung?” He snaps his eyes up.

“Uh, the nearest town is an hour away on foot.” He blurts, gulping at the way his name sounded laced in your raspy I’ve just woken up voice.

You frown.

“... right?”

He clears his throat; tries again.

“Soojin was supposed to bring the food, so there’s nothing for us to eat. I would grab something, but I think she booked a place near Earth’s butthole, ‘cus there’s nothing close.” You chuckle. Wait, you just… chuckled? Oh god, that must mean you think he's funny!, does that mean you think he's funny oh and your smile damn he feels like that's the first time he's seen your smile quick say something funnier oh wait, not— “But nothing like a good Christmas anal, right?”

Shit.

You open your mouth to say something, but he doesn’t wait for you to react before adding, “sorry. I don’t know why I said that, I mean,” he snickers nervously “only crazy people do anal.” You close your mouth immediately, and Taehyung fights the urge to cry — the fuck is he saying? “I mean, that’s not— I don’t, uhm— I do anal all the time!” He can't tell if he's laughing or crying at this point. “Oh my god, I—”

“Taehyung?” He promptly shuts up. “I think I got it.” Your tone is teasing, but he doesn’t dare meet your eyes as heat creeps up his neck.

“Sorry.”

“What were you saying before? About the food?”

“Right!” He lets out a relieved sigh, shaking his head to try and remember what he was saying before deeming it important for you to know he does anal. “We don’t have any food so… would you mind uhm, driving me to go grocery shopping?”

“It’s not like I have any choice, right?” You let out a little laugh and oh, my god, he hopes that was just a terrible attempt at a joke. “Let me just change real quick, then we can go.”

“Ok.”

He turns back to his room before you even have time to close your door.

It takes around two minutes of screaming into his pillow for the embarrassment to die down. When he starts to change into more presentable clothes, Taehyung tries to remember where the fuck he dropped his brains before this trip.

The shithole Soojin rented is around twenty minutes from town, and Taehyung spends each one of them in pure agony.

Despite the fact that you were very comfortable, idly checking out the landscapes as your fingers tapped against the steering wheel leather, Taehyung was sure that you were seconds away from jumping out of the car to free yourself from the torture of his company. He couldn't stop wondering if he was breathing too loud, but his attempts to hold his breath quickly backfired when you kept asking why he was turning purple beside you. 

Overall? Safe to say this weekend will be great!

Trying to get out of his head, he spots a convenience store a couple streets into town. 

When he sets foot out of the car, Taehyung is glad you parked right in front, because holy shit, is cold as fuck. He wraps the coat tighter around him, but his shivering only stops after he steps into the establishment’s heating.

The place has only three aisles, barely stocked. A few fluorescent lamps cast the room in faint, clinical lightning and Taehyung spots a little fake Christmas tree over the counter. If art is about eliciting a reaction, whoever was responsible for decorating the place is a hell of an artist, because Taehyung feels immediately depressed.

You, on the other hand, don't seem bothered. In fact, you quietly take in the environment, and Taehyung anxiety goes nuts, ‘cus if you are not talking, then he has no clue of what you’re thinking and what you’re thinking scares the shit outta him.

His eyes travel around the shelves in an attempt to find something he can comment on, quickly grabbing a mini reindeer ornament kit while you set your purse between your knees to remove your thicker clothing.

“Hey, check this. Don’t know why people buy shit like that, it's not like reindeers even exist.”

He turns to you after laughing in the most ridiculous, unnatural way, but his smile drops immediately when he catches you folding your coat in your hands as a large — and corny as fuck — reindeer head stares back at him from your sweater.

You know what? He’s gonna own his shit talking ability as a talent, because it takes effort to be this clueless.

You look at him, bottom lip jutting out slightly before your gaze drops to your sweater.

“Damn, I’m sorry. Actually, I think reindeers are really cute, and it’s not like Santa is real anyway either.”

You frown “Taehyung?”

“Huh?”

“Are you serious?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know reindeers are real, right?”

“No, they are not. What you saying?” His brows knit together in his forehead. Your lips curve up in a smile before you start chuckling. He lets out a relieved sigh. “I knew you were just messing with me. Almost got me there.”

You shake your head as you keep laughing, but… wait— holy shit, reindeers are fucking real?! But what about the whole flying thing?

…

Well, damn.

On second thought, Taehyung should definitely be more scared of opening his mouth than he is of silence.

Your laughter melts into a large smile, before you glance around. 

“Should we eat first?” You suggest, pointing to some tables near the large picture windows at front.

“Sure.” He agrees, still kinda thrown off.

You go to the cashier, asking for a menu. “What should we get?”

“Anything quick.”

“Ok. You good with ramen?” He nods and you order two bowls.

It takes no longer than five minutes for the server to bring the steaming instant food to your table.

Here’s another thing Taehyung’s just realized: keeping your mouth shut is a hell of a lot easier when your whole vision of life has just been challenged. What else is real?!

“God, this looks awful.” Your voice cuts through his existential crisis, eyes trained on the street outside the window.

“Huh?”

“There’s almost no one around and barely any decoration. Doesn’t even look like Christmas.”

“I mean, if I lived here I’d want to get the hell out for the holidays too, so.” Good! That was civilized. 

“Fair”, you grant.

You tilt the bowl back a bit to drink some of the broth, giggling to yourself when you set it on the table again. “Have you ever wondered what Whoville would look like if Grinch had actually stolen Christmas?” 

“What?”

“Like the Jim Carrey movie?” He nods, and you go on. “He wanted to ruin the town's Christmas spirit and shit. I think this town is what would happen if he succeeded.”

“I hate that movie.”

“Why?” You frown, but you still have a soft smile on your lips and Taehyung feels encouraged.

“A big green furry guy that uses onions as deodorant and commits arson? How the fuck is that a kid’s movie? I’m pretty sure anyone who likes Grinch is into furry or something” he snickers, “don’t know how that kinky shit can get people into their Christmas spirit.”

“You being hella judgy for someone who just found out reindeers are a thing.” You scoff.

Taehyung's smile drops.

“You… like Grinch?”

“It’s a classic, of course I like it!”

Taehyung groans, but the way your teeth nibble at your lip to hold back a smile makes him hesitate.

“Are you offended?”

“Fuck yeah, I am.” You’re so blatantly amused that even Taehyung could’t miss it — and he can’t help but open a large, boxy smile at your teasing.

“Damn, I’ve been saying all kinds of deranged shit the whole day, and Grinch is what gets to you?”

“It was all shits and giggles until you decided to come for my holiday movie.”

“Your holiday movie? Shit, all I’m hearing is you not denying your furry kink.”

You gape at him, “I do not have a furry kink! Grinch has a very important message and is a very nice, sweet Christmas story.”

“Except it’s terrifying and kinky as fuck,” your playfull pout earns a chuckle out of Taehyung “sorry to be the one to ruin your Christmas spirit, but it kinda feels like I did you a favour.” 

“You have no place to say it.”

“Oh?”

“Ain’t your Christmas about anal or some shit?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, what about it?”

“How’s that a better way to get into your Christmas spirit?”

“Well,” he smirks “maybe you should try and see for yourself.”

You dismiss him with a laugh, and Taehyung feels something melting inside. Jesus fuck, what an infatuating sound.

Shaking your head, you finish the rest of you ramen before breaking the now comfortable silence between you.

“No, but for real. How do you do it?”

Taehyung frowns — but who is he to deny such information?

“I mean… if you must know, most people think you should start with pegging, but I think—”

“No! Why would I ask you about anal?” Oh my god, Taehyung needs to keep saying weird shit so you keep laughing like that.

“Of course, sorry, you know your stuff.”

“Maybe we should stop talking about anal.”

“You brought it up, just outright shaming me.”

“Ok, fair. My bad.”

He smiles, “what you wanna know?”

“How do you get into your holiday spirit?”

Taehyung slurps on his ramen before replying “uhm. I dunno if there’s a ritual or anything.”

“Like, when do you start to feel like it’s Christmas?”

“Usually when I get home.” Taehyung shrugs, but when his eyes meet yours and find an expectant glimmer swimming in your gaze, he makes an effort to think about it. “But it fully hits when me and my sister decorate the tree or when my mum bakes cookies.”

“That seems nice.”

“My birthday is on the 30th though, so I guess it’s kinda natural to me in a way.”

“Huh. So you’re almost Jesus.”

“Now, that’s something I’ve never heard before.” He chuckles.

“Too sinful?” You taunt, and he bites.

“Something like that. Wouldn’t pass being nailed in a cross, though.”

“Holy shit.” Your laugh sends a smile to his face. “Don’t even know what to say to that.”

“Didn’t he die so we could sin? Just doing my part.”

“Pretty sure that wasn’t it.” You shake your head, groaning dramatically. “You gonna ruin Christmas for me if you keep this up.”

“Let’s be real here, Soojin’s to blame too for renting the serial killer shack. You can’t get into the holiday spirit when your place is full of very suspicious wine stains.”

“That's fair,” you allow. “When she told me she rented a secluded little place for us to spend the winter break, I fully expected some fancy cottage like the one from The Holiday.”

“The Kate Winslet’s one?” 

“Yes!”

“Yeah, we definitely don’t have that kinda budget. Jungkook spends too much on mattresses anyway,”

“What—”

“— besides, if this is a movie, it looks more like one of those big morality ones.”

“How so?”

“One of us is super greedy and presumptuous, so this is the universe’s attempt at humbling us.”

“Sending us to spend Christmas without our friends in a shitty place in a shitty town?”

“Clearly.” 

“I mean, I’m a Literature major, it's not like I'll make any money.”

“Yeah, I’m in History, so.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I went to a regency themed party once and everyone looked so fine.” 

“You chose your major for aesthetics?”

“What else is there to consider?”

You smile.

“And how's that going for you?”

“Three years in, not one costume party yet and my Duke attire is just gathering dust, so not great.”

“Maybe you should consider Fashion. I thought that was your major.”

“Yeah?” He pauses, considering it. “That's nice to know.” You smile and he taps his bottom lip. “But if it ain’t that kinda Christmas movie, what kind is it?”

You both ponder for a moment, before your attention returns to him, a mischievous edge to your eyes.

“Maybe it’s one of those we’re supposed to face our shit. Like the weird stuff we did in the past.”

Now, he knows you’re trying to imply something — but what? That he shouldn’t have run from you when he puked on you? ‘Cus that ain’t reasonable.

Ugh. Taehyung hates when people talk in riddles, he’s way too pretty for that.

“Maybe” he concedes, grabbing both of your bowls and getting up to throw them in the nearby trash.

He hears the small chuckle you let out, before you make your way to the door to grab a basket from a pile beside it.

Taehyung and you fall into peaceful conversation while roaming the few aisles in the store, and as the basket grows fuller, he wonders what he was shitting his pants for. Like what, he actually thought you’d just outright mention that day? You’re not cruel. 

“It’s been a while since I went grocery shopping. Soojin usually buys for the two of us.” You say, grabbing some cookies from a shelf.

“I do it every week because Jungkook hates sharing food. He lost his shit once because I used all of his mayo.”

“All of his mayo? The hell kinda recipe you were making?”

…

You actually got pretty familiar with it.

“The food poisoning type.” When you laugh, he pretends that he's joking. 

You finally reach the frozen section, eyes inspecting the different meat cuts available.

“What do you usually have for Christmas dinner?”

“My mom likes to make bulgogi and kimchi. Nothing special.” He shrugs. “What about you?”

You hesitate.

“Have you seen Home Alone?” 

Taehyung scoffs.

“What you take me for?” 

“Do you remember the mac n’ cheese scene?”

“Mhmm.”

“I’ve always wanted to have that for Christmas.” You purse your lips. “How do you fancy some bulgogi with mac n’ cheese?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

You smile. “Budget Christmas supper.”

“Just how Jesus would like it.”

“Stop saying shit like that, Taehyung. It's the man's birthday, have some respect.”

“It’s about humility.” He rolls his eyes playfully. “Having a dirty mind is also a sin, you know.”

“Yeah, you’d know that.”

“Just spreading the word. You’re the sinner here.”

You level his gaze, a challenging smile tracing your face.

“Does that mean I won’t get presents this year? Have I not been a good girl?”

Ha.

No, you didn't just say that — his last brain cell just imagined it. 

God, please don't say anything about being naughty. 

He exhales quietly, opting for an easy out. 

“If Soojin bought Jungkook a whole ass drum kit but got you nothing, then you should reconsider your friendship. Chicks before dicks or whatever.”

“I already accepted that Jungkook won. At this point I’m just the girl she shares rent with.”

“Well, I haven’t accepted shit. You please tell your rent sharer that Jungkook is mine.”

“You should tell him that, too. I’m afraid he might’ve forgotten.”

Taehyung whines. 

“You don't have to say it.”

“Sorry, I’ll let you live in denial.” Your attention returns to the refrigerator, choosing a package of beef and placing it in the basket. “What about you get us something for breakfast and I figure out our dinner today?”

Taehyung nods, walking down the next aisle. He picks up what he deems necessary not to starve the next few days and secures a mediocre wine bottle on the way before he follows you to pay for everything.

Once outside, Taehyung opens the backseat door and starts to place the groceries there, but you don’t make a move to enter the car when he’s done.

He calls you, and when you turn to him, he finds a large, beaming smile plastered on your face. You point down the street where a decaying sign announces a Christmas tree lot sale.

Taehyung shakes his head, shivering as he rubs his hands together.

“No, c’mon. They probably just have those really ugly scrawny ones.” The way your smile immediately falters makes Taehyung feel like complete shit, so he strides to your side and adds, as convincing as possible: “but! We might be lucky! It’s a small town, so they probably didn’t sell that much to begin with.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek.

“You think so?”

“We can at least try.”

When you reach the sale, however, Taehyung cringes. There aren’t many trees left, and most of them already look terrible. He’s already trying to come up with something to comfort you, but when he looks at you? Shit, he might have thought it was Christmas morning already.

And the sight melts something inside of him. The warmth of your gaze when looking at utterly fucked up Christmas trees, as if they're brand new, makes him wanna be on the receiving end of that look.

You start to roam through the rows, inspecting the trees around you.

Now that he's not actively walking anymore, Taehyung feels his body stiffening from the cold, and he starts to tremble beside you.

“I don’t know why you're wearing that thin ass coat in this weather.” You taunt.

“My goal was to look hot, not to be warm.”

“Haven’t you regretted it yet?”

“It depends.” He smiles. “Do I look hot?”

“You look cold. Actually you look kinda purple now.”

“Not even pretty?” He pouts.

“You are pretty. There’s no changing that.” You grin, narrowing your eyes at him. “But now you just look so cold that I almost wanna warm you up. Make you hot.”

What. The. Fuck.

Your tone immediately takes him back to that day at the party. To the way you flirted with him with your back pressed against his front before he took you upstairs.

The way you never once darted your eyes away from him and he felt delirious, hot, under your attention — and it’s that same intensity he finds flashing across your gaze now.

No fucking way.

Forgetting what came next, Taehyung’s mind traps him in the memory of your hand reaching between your bodies to palm him through his pants, the recollection not as sexy due to the weird rumbling of his stomach. 

Coming back to his senses, to your very present eyes staring at him, he curves his lips up.

“Sorry, but this Christmas I'm good girls exclusive.”

“You saying I’m a bad girl?” You pout.

Taehyung blinks a few times.

“Shit.” He huffs out a chuckle. “Don’t do that.” 

“Do what?” Fuck, you gotta stop pouting like that.

“You just messing with me.” He shakes his head, pointing at you. “I’mma go look on the other side of the lot now.”

You laugh as he turns, walking away from you.

He does not have the necessary control to deal with you flirting with him. Not when it makes no fucking sense. And the thing is that he isn’t often the smart one in his life (that’s Jungkook’s job when he isn’t struck dumb by his love for Soojin or his occasional hatred for Taehyung), so he isn't exactly the best at understanding people.

However — although he knows he’s unfairly hot — it makes no sense for you to want him. Not after what happened. And he’s not gonna risk another embarrassing situation after things are starting to resemble normalcy with you. As a matter of fact, Taehyung is too dumb to risk anything when there isn’t clear and explicit interest.

He shakes those thoughts off his head, focusing on finding a decent enough tree, but it takes around fifteen minutes of touching crumbling twigs for him to hear you calling his name from the other side of the lot.

You’re staring quizzically at a medium sized yellowish-green tree when he reaches you. To its credit, most of its branches — although looking like they could break just from being started at for too long — are still pretty full. Hopefully it can hold some ornaments to keep that smile on your face.

“What you think?”

“It does look better than the other ones.” He points. “You want this one?”

“Yep.”

“I’m so fucking happy” you declare, staring at the wack ass tree on your car’s roof.

Taehyung chuckles.

“I’m glad.”

You step to the driver’s side, moving to get in when you notice that Taehyung isn’t following.

“Ain’t you coming?”

“You bought a Christmas tree but won’t buy ornaments?” He teases, and a large grin spreads across your face. “C’mon, I saw some in the convenience store.”

You return to Taehyung’s side and you retrace your steps down the street.

“I feel like I must warn you that the last time I decorated a tree was when I was a kid.” You confess. “So it’ll probably look like shit.”

“That’s dumb. Every tree looks good if you decorate it with love.”

“Now you’re just being corny.” You nudge his side.

“I’m just trying to anticipate you to the fact that I also can’t decorate for shit.”

“So much for being experienced.”

“Experience means shit. For example, Jungkook is like, five years old and is so wiser than me already.”

“He did drive straight against a light pole in a parking lot. So maybe you’re setting the bar too low.”

“You know, you can insult me all you want, but I won’t let you come for my Kookie.”

“Your cookie?” You tease.

“What you smirking for? God, you have such a filthy mind.”

“Do not!”

“No way you watch Grinch with that dirty mind and do not have a furry kink.”

“Shut up.” You give his arm a light smack, but you’re giggling when you push open the store’s door for the second time that afternoon.

Taehyung guides you to a shelf with a bunch of Christmas themed products, and you both start to choose from little foam and plastic ornaments.

“Fuck, that’s so cute.” He says, holding a mini foam sock you picked in his large hands.

“I know, right? Loved those little stars you got, too.” You say, placing it all over the register.

“Nice to see you two again.” The cashier grins.

“We bought a tree, so we needed some ornaments.” Taehyung reasons.

“Sure.” He looks at the two of you for a second. “Sorry, I don’t mean to pry, but you guys are such a cute couple.”

Taehyung’s face falls.

He kinda hates hearing stuff like this.

He’s heard people saying that about him and Soojin when they were fighting at a toy store trying to settle on something to buy Kook for Children’s day, and he’s heard it when he was having breakfast with a girl he had hooked up with — whose name he spent the whole meal trying to remember.

However, he never really heard it with Jungkook, even when the boy spent a whole dinner fucking sniffling his neck due to a new loation Taehyung had bought. Neither had he heard it when he was all smiles and giggles with a guy he saw for a while some months ago.

So he doesn’t really give those comments any credit. Especially because he knows he looks cute with anyone. 

You, on the other hand, seem to think it’s outright hilarious.

“Thank you!” You laugh. “We aren’t together, though.”

Ha.

No way you were seriously flirting with him.

“Oh. Sorry if I…”

“No, it’s okay.” You reassure. “We sure are cute.”

Your prideful smile has Taehyung smiling too, despite himself. He likes how confidence looks on you.

The cashier rings you up, and Taehyung grabs the bags, following you outside.

When he finally stops struggling to place the tree near the house’s fireplace, it’s already dark outside.

You tried to help him a couple times, but Taehyung was intransigent, especially because of the branches — he was full of little cuts and scratches when he was done. Which is fine, makes him look kinda edgy, but he didn’t want to see them on your soft skin. 

You drop the bags with the ornaments on the floor by his side, hands coming to rest on your hips. “You know, oddly enough I don’t know of any movie that has a Christmas tree decoration scene.”

“There’s that Friends scene where they decorate Monica’s tree.”

“Really? Never watched Friends.”

Taehyung gasps dramatically.

“And you like Grinch? Can’t believe I’m gonna spend Christmas with a psychopath.” He pauses. “Oh god, did Soojin rent this house for you to kill me?”

“Still with the Grinch judgment?”

“If anything I think I’m not judging enough.” You roll your eyes. “You seriously never seen Friends?”

“I don’t really like series. Too much commitment.”

“Ohhh, didn’t know you were a player.” He teases, and you laugh.

“What can I say. I'm as heartless as they come.”

“You do look very cold holding that little plush candy cane.”

“Isn't it part of the fuckboy agenda to pretend to be sweet and caring?”

“So you're manipulative kind too? Damn, you should come with a warning.”

“Who cares about affective responsibility anyway?”

He sighs, “I have so much to learn.”

You giggle, shaking your head, and Taehyung grabs another ornament bag.

“Wait, let me set the mood.” You turn around, grabbing your phone from the couche’s armrest and putting on a Christmas playlist.

As Justin Bieber’s fetus voice starts filling up the room, Taehyung lets out a loud chuckle.

“Mistletoe?”

“You seriously coming for every Christmas thing I like?” You groan at his mocking tone. “Let me live, Taehyung.”

“I’d let you, but you not doing it right.” He says, approaching you to grab the phone from your hands, but you quickly step away.

“Hell, no. This song is hella cute, you’re not changing it. Just enjoy.”

“Uh, fine. Can I choose the next one?”

“... ok. But it needs to be Christmas related.”

“I have my own Christmas playlist, you know.”

“If it doesn’t have Mistletoe on it, then I already know it’s shit.”

He gapes, feigning offense.

“Damn, the disrespect. May George Michael never hear you.”

And then you two start to assemble the little ornaments around your shitty tree, mocking each other’s music taste but enjoying and absentmindedly swinging to every song. 

It’s only when Mariah Carrey’s voice sounds through your phone that you stop for a second. Your eyes find Taehyung’s with ease, when he too halts his actions after carefully hanging a little star in one of the branches. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Need more Christmas wisdom?”

“Kinda.”

“Shoot.”

“Can you tell me more about holidays with your family?”

“Sure. What do you wanna know?”

“Anything.”

“Please, be more vague.” 

You think, before grabbing a little Santa hat from the bag.

“How is decorating the tree with your sister like?”

“Uhm, she’s always very organized. She likes to plan it and she used to come up with different themes every year.” He smiles to himself. “One year she convinced us to buy a fake white tree because she thought it was fancy or something. It looked like shit when we finished decorating it, so my mum took us to a last minute tree hunt and we all started a whole different decoration before the rest of the family arrived for dinner.”

“Cute.”

“Yeah, now she loves little elf ornaments. My dad bought some once and she lost her shit because of how cute they are, so she plans her decoration around them every year.”

“Oh. We should’ve bought little elfs, then.”

“Nah, I’m tired of them. This way is nice.” Taehyung opens a bag with little plastic sleigh decorations and you two start to distribute them.

“So she’s a planner. How do you decorate?”

“I usually just do as she says. You know. Shoving the little things and hoping they don’t fall.” You chuckle and Taehyung looks at you. “What about you? How’s tree decorating with your family?”

You pause, letting out a long breath before you answer, “Don’t have that many memories to choose from, honestly.”

Taehyung frowns, before a little confused laugh leaves his lips.

“What, are you traumatized or something?”

Your eyes widen when you meet his gaze, smile completely wiped from your face as your hands halt mid-air.

Taehyung immediately panics, synapses synapsing before—

Well. Shit.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t ha—”

His apologies are interrupted by the loud sound of your laughter. He almost thinks he’s imagining it before he turns to you, the little sleigh ornament falling from your hands as you lean on your knees.

“Are you… uh, okay?”

“Can’t believe you just asked that.” You try to catch your breath, laughter breaking into little giggles.

“I’m really sorry, though, I don’t kno—”

“Taehyung,” you interrupt again, biting your lip in an attempt to contain your amusement, “it’s fine, honestly. I’m okay with it, just didn’t expect you to straight up say it.” You giggle a bit more as he processes your words.

“Oh… so you’re okay?”

“Yeah. I don’t have a good relationship with my parents, and this is my first Christmas without them. Don’t wanna talk about it… sorry if it’s weird or it makes you uncomfortable.”

“No, you didn’t.” Taehyung fights the urge to apologize again, but he can help repeating himself. “You really ok, though?”

“Yeah. Really. Don’t worry about it.” 

He nods, thinking before clearing his throat, “so. Want me to tell you more holiday with the Kims stories?”

Taehyung makes an effort not to let things become awkward, but it hits him then that this must be a pretty important Christmas for you — if the eager way you nod is anything to go by — and he kinda feels bad that you have to spend it with him. 

Despite his concern, you fall into your now familiar laughing and teasing as he goes on to tell a bunch of family memories while you two finish up the tree.

Taehyung never had problems falling asleep. Actually, if anything, he had problems staying awake — being so hot can be exhausting sometimes. Ugh, who is he kidding? If anyone knows this, it is you. You, with your pretty smile and your pretty eyes and your pretty hands and your pretty face and your pretty voice and your fucking gorgeous body and your sense of—

Uhm. You got the point.

Anyway.

Ahem.

Where was he?

Oh, yeah.

Taehyung never really had problems sleeping, but that night, after bidding you goodnight and returning to the warmth of his covers after a good steamy shower, he felt restless.

A weird sense of responsibility weighted on him, and he promised himself that he’d try to make this holiday remarkable for you — and that he’d keep that fucking smile on your face. But even after his resolution, his body felt foreign. Taehyung kept shifting inside the covers, gut turning and twisting almost as if he had eaten something he shouldn’t and the thought kept him awake for hours on end until he realized that it resembled butterflies.

He pretended like he didn’t know why he was feeling that, but, after he finally drifted off, your face starred his every dream.

“Merry Christmas Eve!”

“So you finally remembered I exist, hum?” Taehyung secures his phone between his ear and his shoulder as he places the dishes in the sink.

You were twenty minutes deep into a Love Actually rant when his ringtone pierced through your argument. You shut up immediately, only then realizing how caught up you’ve gotten, but Taehyung was almost disappointed when you put away your lunch plate and left the kitchen to provide some privacy.

“What? I don’t remember you calling me when I was in the hospital yesterday.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, grabbing his phone properly as he makes his way to his bedroom.

“People grieve in different ways, Jungkook. You must learn to respect that.”

“What are you grieving, asshole, I didn’t die.”

“Your dignity did. Driving straight against a light pole then whining over a twisted ankle.”

“The light pole was in my blind spot.”

“So you did whine?”

“Like a proper man.” Taehyung chuckles.

“I know you’re fine, Soojin kept me updated. I figured you were tired, so I didn’t call or anything.”

“Pretty sure you sent a text blaming me for getting into an accident.”

“It kinda was your fault, though, wasn’t it, Kook?”

Jungkook gets silent on the line for a second, before letting out a loud exhale. 

“Are you mad with me?”

Taehyung frowns. 

“What you talking about?”

“Fuck, you are, aren’t you? I just… I’m sorry, man. I know you didn’t wanna go in the first place but I kept asking you to go, and now you’re there alone.”

“Hum. I don’t accept your apology, tho—”

“Wow. Okay, then. I mean, it wasn’t my fault you puked on her and went all incognito, so it seems a bit harsh, but go off, I guess.”

“The hell? I was gonna say I don’t accept it ‘cus there’s nothing to apologize for, jackass.”

“Oh.” He lets out a nervous laugh. “Right. Appreciate it, man. But for real, I’m sorry. Hope things aren’t too awkward there.”

Taehyung chews the inside of his cheek.

“Actually? Things are ok. Went to town to buy some stuff with her yesterday and she’s so cool, man. We’re cool.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I was a bit in my head at first, but it’s fine now.”

“Sweet! In that case, you’re welcome.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, but huffs out a chuckle.

“Yeah, thank you for crashing your car, it made me happy.”

“Everything for you, Tae.”

“Shit. I kinda miss you, tough.”

“Yeah, same. But we’ll be there soon enough.”

“Great. Now, have you ever realized how amazing Emma Thompson is on Love Actually? I feel like we don’t give her enough love, and I was just reflecting on some shit.”

“Oh my god, I kinda thought the same thing the last time we watched it. I mean, let's think about it for a sec here.”

Taehyung could distinctly hear the corny Christmas soundtrack when he set foot outside his room after hours trying to soothe his Jungkook deficiency. He smiled to himself, approaching the living room.

He finds you clutching the blanket to your chest, eyes focused on the action on the TV screen.

“You ok?” His question makes you jump on the couch, hand immediately flying to your chest.

“Jesus, Taehyung! Announce yourself, goddammit!” You try to catch your erratic breath as he chuckles.

“My bad.” You grab the remote to jump back a few scenes. “What are you watching?”

“Nightmare before Christmas.”

“Nice choice.”

“Wanna join?”

“Nah. Think it's time to start making dinner.”

“Oh! Yeah, sure, let's go.”

You start to peel the covers off you, but Taehyung shakes his hand quickly. 

“Let me take care of it! You can chill.”

You frown, “you don't need help?”

“No, I can figure it out by myself, enjoy your marathon.”

Okay, he knows what you're thinking, and it does seem like a pretty terrible idea given… well, the way you two met. But! Taehyung is nothing but a dedicated man, and that night with you he was humbled. So, he spent the months following the incident learning and researching and — after getting fairly acquainted with food poisoning and stressing the fuck outta Jungkook — he finally mastered the art of cooking.

…

That was misleading, sorry.

He can confidently make popcorn, and hesitantly make ramen and mac and cheese — everything an adult needs to survive, honestly —, and tonight's menu just so happens to contain one of his specialties. He just has to figure out the bulgogi part, and then he's gonna blow your fucking mind.

“Oh, by the way,” you call from the couch as he makes his way to the kitchen area “I didn't find any good brands of mac and cheese yesterday, so I bought the ingredients to make it from scratch. Hope it's okay?”

Well, shit.

Taehyung reassures you weakly, not wanting to take that smile off your face, and takes a deep breath before starting to gather the ingredients. 

How hard can it be, really?

Surprising absolutely no one, Taehyung didn't figure shit out.

What he did, though, in the twenty minutes it took for him to come to his senses, was learn a few big words. Like marinated. What does it even mean? And why does every recipe site assume he knows it? He knows shit.

Also, why is mac and cheese sauce not just melted cheese? Makes absolutely no fucking sense. Honestly? Straight up cynical.

But you see kids, Taehyung didn’t just learn to make popcorn and instant food during the previous months. In fact, he also did a little of what you could call a character development (who would’ve thought that throwing up over the hottest girl he’s even met could teach you so much about life? Amazing, honestly), and that’s why now, instead of getting creative, he decides to just call for you.

“Yeah?” You answer dismissively, attention still in the skeleton singing on the screen.

“I, uh… need your help.”

You pause the movie, turning your body to face him over the couch.

“Sure, what is it?”

“Honestly?” His smile is shy as he looks away from you. “I can't cook for shit. Hate to ask after telling you I would do it, but I also feel like food poisoning isn't on your Christmas bucket list, so… can you help me with dinner?”

Your smile, on the other hand, is blissful.

“How do you survive?”

“Barely. But Jungkook is a good cook.”

“Oh, yeah.” You consider. “Soojin has started to eat more at home after he started cooking for us too.”

“So… will you help me?”

“Of course.” You're already on your feet by the time the words leave your mouth, and Taehyung can see you're wearing that cute ass bear pajamas from yesterday. You look so fucking soft and comfortable.

When you join him in the kitchen he can’t help but smile at the way your outfit matches his own — although his pattern is of little tigers. You search briefly around the cabinets and reach for the wine he got the day before, and you two let the sweet alcohol tint your lips as you look through all the ingredients he displayed on the counter.

“Soojin made mac and cheese the other day, so I’ll do her way. Also, bulgogi ain’t really that hard, anyway. Just… do as I say.”

“Sure.” 

Taehyung pays close attention to your instructions, and you task him with a basic chopping job that — although really fucking dangerous considering the size of the knife — seems easy enough that he won’t fuck it up. You charge yourself with the pasta, filling a pan with water and turning up the heat.

“What does one usually do after supper?”

“Well, it varies. My brother likes to watch Christmas movies. My parents would just sleep. Jungkook likes to get shitfaced and dance.”

“And you?”

“I’m the one he dances with.” You smile.

“Cute.”

“What you wanna do?”

“Uhm… watch movies? There’s a few remaining on my list.”

“We could do that.”

“Oh, sorry. Did I give you the impression that I wanted to do it with you?” 

“As if. I’m your Christmas mentor, you need me.”

“Need no such thing anymore. Besides, I feel like I mentored you a bit too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Care to tell me how?”

“For one, if it wasn’t for me, you’d still think reindeers aren’t real.”

“Hey, that’s not—”

“And you’d be left to eat basic ass ramen for Christmas dinner.”

“What I’m hearing is that you took the fun outta my holidays.”

“Oh, yeah? I bought some ramen yesterday, suit yourself.”

“God, you’re so mean, so cold. But that's okay. I happen to have a very big heart, so I forgive your lack of gratitude. We can still watch something together.”

“But I’m not apologizing.”

“You’ll watch your movies alone then?”

“Don’t exactly feel like holding your hand when you get scared.”

“What kinda Christmas movies are you watching?”

“Old scary Grinch.” Your smile only widens when Taehyung groans.

“Stop it.” He nudges you. “Your water is boiling already.”

“C’mon, Tae, let’s face some childhood fears, maybe that’s what our movie is about.”

He rolls his eyes, but your laugh pulls a smile outta him.

At some point, after around two hours of teasing and working through the wine bottle — now long forgotten and replaced by the cheap beer you got at the store —, you two manage to finish dinner. Now, Taehyung ain't no chef. But if the smell is anything to go by, this might just be his best meal, and he's happy he was able to contribute.

He sets the table while you give the food the final touches, and in no time you two are sitting across from each other, bulgogi mac and cheese bowls waiting in front of you, while Michael Bublé's voice envelops the house.

Taehyung fills his spoon and takes the first bite.

Holy shit.

For a second, he just lets the food sit on his tongue. The flavor coating his every sense as you stare expectantly at him. Closing his eyes, he lets out a low sigh; he could never have enough creativity to describe such a taste.

What he knows of, though, is that it tastes like shit.

Thoroughly and unmistakably garbage and he's left surprised at how you two were able to mess up this bad… Okay, maybe not that surprised: he was there after all — but oh my god, you can't cook for your life!

But, when he opens his eyes, meeting your glimmering ones, he doesn't have it in his heart to tell you. Maybe you just have a different taste or something, maybe your food is too refined for his traumatized palate.

So, he gathers his strength and chews the fucking pasta.

“So?” You ask, after he swallows. 

“Mhmmm” he hums “it's definitely something.”

Your face drops on cue, and Taehyung offers a weak smile when you reach for your own spoon, shoving pasta in your mouth and groaning when it touches your tongue.

“Oh my god”, you quickly get a napkin to spit the food. “But… it smells so good. How did I fucked this up?” You drop your head on your palms over the table.

“It does smell delicious.” He inhales deeply, letting the deceiving dish smell soothe his senses after the atrocious taste.

“I’m so sorry.” You groan.

“For what?”

“Ruining our Christmas dinner.”

“What you talking about? Pretty sure I can get full just by sniffling the shit out of this.” You lift your face from your hands, meeting his attempt to lighten the mood. 

“I’m serious.”

“So what? You think I could’ve done better?” He chuckles. “Honestly, you’re miles ahead of my cooking skills just for making it smell like food.” He continues when a small smile tugs at your lips. “Definitely understand why Soojin wasn’t eating at home before Jungkook, but it looks great nonetheless.”

You giggle faintly.

“But for real… what are we gonna do?”

He looks around the kitchen, before smiling at you.

“Think I'm gonna suit myself with some basic ass ramen for Christmas dinner.”

After cleaning the table and making sure to strictly follow the basic three step ramen instructions, you two move your Christmas supper to the couch — or rather, you return to your cozy place under the blankets and he gets acquainted with the nearby armchair.

It feels ridiculously comfortable. And as you two keep making your way through Bridget Jones' Diary, Taehyung realizes a few weird things.

The first, is that he doesn’t know how you ever manage to finish movies, because you constantly feel the need to pause and over analyze a scene for at least five minutes before you deem him informed enough to move onto the next one. He doesn’t mind. In fact, he finds it adorable, especially when you rolled up your sleeves, tossed the empty ramen bowl on the coffee table and explained to him almost angrily why Bridget’s resignation scene is real cinema or something.

The second, and perhaps most alarming one, is that he hasn’t paid attention to a single scene after the first time you paused. His eyes apparently forget how to strain away from you. From your arms, from your hair, from your smiles and chuckles. You seem to be aware that he’s staring, but pretend that it's just the spiciness of the ramen that got you fanning yourself, while making no effort whatsoever to push the blankets away from you.

You’re just… entracing. So beautiful, so excited, so worked up, so cute and just such a fucking menace that he feels like he’s spinning — cheap bear aside, he doesn’t think it’s on alcohol he’s drunk on.

Although, from the amount of cans accumulated by his and yours feet, you two aren’t exactly sober either.

…

Yeah, sure, it’s the beer. The alcohol. He’s drunk. That’s it.

“Taehyung, can I ask you something?” Your voice breaks through his mind, snapping him out of his inner ramblings.

“Sure.”

“I know you hate it. But can you maybe watch Grinch with me too?” And you quickly add, before he can even open his mouth to contest: “I really like it, and it’s the last one on my list, and” you hiccup “maybe you can grow to like it now as an adult!”

He groans. 

“Why do you like that shit?”

“Please! I don’t wanna watch it alone.”

“I don’t know…”

You look around the room, as if trying to find something that will convince him, but it’s when Taehyung sips on his beer that your eyes lit up with an idea.

“Didn’t you say you liked to get shitfaced and then dance with Jungkook during Christmas?”

“... yeah?”

“Then let’s do that! Let’s get really drunk,” you hiccup again, letting out a little giggle. “Ok, maybe that part is covered. So, let's dance, then watch Grinch!”

“You wanna dance?”

“Then watch Grinch!” You repeat, words slurred in the cutest little way. “I’ll do it for you, you do it for me.”

You don’t wait for him to agree before you’re on your feet, crossing the space between you and grabbing his hands to help him rise from the couch — but Taehyung doesn’t fight any of it. Because the pout on your lips and the way your eyes are glimmering with fondness (and intoxication too, he’s sure), makes him wanna do just everything you tell him too.

You set your phone on the coffee table and face him again.

“Oh” you giggle, clumsily stepping back when you realize just how close you two are. You clear your throat. “So how do you two do it?”

“We just dance. There’s no plan or a right way to do it, just… dance.” He blinks.

Fuck, he’s really drunk.

“Okay.”

He giggles at your uneasiness, reaching for your phone and starting one of his Christmas playlists. He doesn’t need much to start swaying when a sweet jazz rhythm sounds through your speakers. He shakes his shoulders playfully, earning a laugh from you.

“Damn, you’re so old.”

He chuckles.

“What you waiting for? Just dance with me.”

He grabs your wrists and guides you to swing with him, lifting your arms and twisting you before letting you to set your own pace with a large smile on your face.

Taehyung feels so at peace. The alcohol easing his thoughts, the jazz moving his body, your cute giggles gracing his ears.

“I'll give it to you, your music taste isn't bad.”

He clicks his tongue.

“You wouldn't be swaying like that to Mistletoe, I guarantee you.”

“Wanna bet?” You challenge, already grabbing your phone to change the song.

Taehyung laughs when you switch up your dancing style to something far more agitated than the song demands, clumsily circling the coffee table. He's clearly more skilled than you, so he tries to exaggerate and act up his movements to match yours.

“Okay, now sing with me” you clap your hands “— but Imma be under the mistletoe. With youuu” you point at him “shawty with you.”

You can't finish the chorus as you burst into little giggles, and Taehyung follows suit.

“Shut up.”

“That's the only tradition left, I think.”

“Huh?”

“The mistletoe.”

He stumbles on the couch.

“What?”

You look at him for a second, and your grin falters just a little before you shake your head.

“Why so violent with the couch? No need to be scared.” You laugh. “Damn, you're such a bad dancer.”

Taehyung can't understand mixed signals when he's sober — so it's not like he's gonna try when he’s this drunk.

“How dare you! If the music was better it'd definitely be easier. Put on some nice Stray Kids if you really wanna know what I'm made of.”

It’s a ridiculous scene, really. One that he wouldn’t believe could’ve happened a day before, but here you are, dancing around the living room, bumping into the furniture and laughing like two children as a way to force him to watch a stupid Christmas movie with you.

And fuck, he likes it.

He likes the way your shirt lifts whenever you raise your arms, exposing a line of your lower stomach. He likes the way your ass shakes when you try to make a funny move. He likes the way a thin layer of sweat coats your exposed skin, and how desperate he is to lick it clean. He likes the way you look at him, like he is the one making you this fucking happy.

And then you finally pause the music.

“I'll admit. If History doesn’t work, you can definitely make a career out of dancing.”

“Thanks.” He smiles. “You should stick to Literature, though.”

“Hey!”

You laugh, shoving him playfully as you let your body fall on the couch, pushing the blanket to the armrest and away from you. He doesn’t bat an eye when he sits beside you this time.

“Can we watch it now?”

He sighs. “Yeah, whatever.”

You reach for the remote and before Taehyung can ever prepare himself, the stupid narrator is already introducing you two to Whoville.

It doesn’t take long for him to realize he’s not ready to face any childhood fears today, because as Jim Carey’s furry face is slowly but surely shown, he’s already shivering and looking away.

This time, though, you don’t ignore his lack of attention to the movie. 

“Oh my god” you laugh, pausing the movie six minutes in, Grinch’s ugly ass face occupying the whole screen. “You’re scared scared of it. Actually scared.”

He scoffs. 

“No, I’m not?”

“Why are you looking away, then?”

“Nothing, you can keep going.”

You smirk, “okay.”

Taehyung is able to stomach the next few scenes, complaining at the stupid hairstyles and outfits the characters use while you just eye him amused. When Grinch’s face shows up again, Taehyung starts to restlessly shift on the couch to have an excuse to look away, and the constant cracking of the backrest is what prompts you to pause the movie again.

“Stop moving so much. You gonna break the couch.”

“It’s just uncomfortable. Can’t find a good position.”

“Taehyung, we can choose a different movie if you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared though, this movie is fine.”

“The movie is, you aren’t.”

He crosses his arms, but doesn’t say anything.

“You know, you don’t look like someone who scares easily.”

“Because I’m not.”

“You've been cringing since the movie began.”

“Because it's bad.” Damn, he sounds like a five year old.

You shift on the couch to face him, before tugging on his elbow lightly, compelling him to meet your eyes.

“If you admit you’re scared, I’ll change it.”

Your stare is intense as you wait for him to give in and he suddenly feels warm. Your hand is still resting on his arm, and a weird stir on his stomach makes Taehyung feel like that isn’t contact enough — but he blames it on the beer for the time it takes for him to remember how to form syllables.

Shaking his head, he scoffs.

“No wonder you like Grinch so much, you’re just like him.”

“Damn, just like him? Now who’s the mean one?”

“Still you.”

“Well, you just compared me to Jim Carrey in a hairy green costume, so.”

“I mean, you’re not as bad on the eyes.”

“Wow, thanks. That’s some competition.”

He doesn’t think. He says.

“You don’t have competition. You're like, in a league of your own.”

The chalet Soojin found was the only one with three bedrooms y’all could afford, but as you two have quickly learned these last days, that doesn’t mean that it was a good place. Actually, Taehyung only stopped calling it a shack because Jungkook told him it made Soojin sad — but even with every door and window closed, he’s still able to catch you shivering under the cold breeze breaching through the shit heating system. Fuck this place and how it makes you cold.

“Oh.” It's all you manage to reply.

“And that’s even worse.”

“How?” You offer him a little, unconvincing laugh.

“You deceive. Grinch would’ve succeeded on his stupid plan if he seduced people.”

“So what, am I seducing you or something?”

He doesn’t answer.

No, he can't answer that. Not with words, at least. Not with the way the alcohol is steadily dissolving his filters, and not with the way you're looking at him. So he just stares at you.

He just stares at you as if your eyes hold the answers to all of his questions — and that’s saying something because he has a lot of them — and then you wet your lips, dragging his eyes down your face. The sensitive flesh is tinted red, a memory of the spicy sauce and wine you just had, now glistening with your saliva too. And Taehyungs feels the urge to taste it.

It’s you, however, that finally leans in, erasing the space between you to smash your lips against his in a kiss that Taehyung feels like he waited his whole life for.

And the desperation is evident, the need to make up for a missed time neither of you were aware of, so his hand reaches for the nape of your neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss and slide his tongue against yours. It's messy and mostly sloppy, but it lights a fire inside both of you.

You further press your mouths together, Taehyung’s breath tangling with yours in what looks like an attempt to eat each other’s faces off — and fuck, he wants nothing less.

It takes only a light touch on your thigh for you to promptly sway your leg over his hips, straddling his thighs without breaking contact for a second.

The new angle allows for him to feel all of you. The weight of your body and the taste of your tongue makes his mind spin, and shit he can’t focus on technique for his life, he just wants to keep his mouth on yours forever.

Taehyung’s large palms skim up your thighs, and he grabs a handful of your ass, pushing a low breathy moan out of your throat. Shit. If he was eager before, Taehyung’s actions now turn straight up feral, hungrily seeking your lips while pressing you down on his body, feeling a shiver run down his spine at the way you seem to effortlessly fit above him.

The new found intensity makes your knee jolt on the remote beside your leg. You pause the kiss for a moment to giggle drunkenly when Grinch’s voice sounds through the room, and that’s when Taehyung’s inebriated thoughts finally seem to catch up to him. 

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

You’re drunk. Shit, you’re drunk as fuck. He can taste it. He can feel it in the way your hands clumsily tug on his hair, and in the way your hips uncoordinatedly roll over his.

Shit.

He squeezes his eyes further shut, trying to get some sense into his head, and finally gathers enough control to pull away.

You immediately frown, chasing after his lips, but he turns his face. 

“Tae?”

He swallows at the breathless way your voice comes out, the nickname rolling off your tongue just makes him wanna grab your face again and resume the messy make out session. So, with his mind still spinning, he struggles to find the right words when he opens his mouth.

“I think we shouldn’t do this.” His voice is slurred.

You freeze, backing away just a bit to inspect his elusive face, and whatever you find there makes your whole expression drop. You clear your throat awkwardly and lift your leg to move away from his thighs. Taehyung’s hands feel hella empty without your hips to hold on to, but he pushes through the feeling, rising from the couch as soon as you’re securely away, and bolts away to his room down the corridor, pants awfully tight.

Taehyung feels like shit the next morning, in more ways than one.

He’s not sure how he was even able to fall asleep — although the excessive amount of alcohol in his blood might have helped.

He knows he did the right thing stopping it: you were both way past clarity for clear consent, but in all his years as a certified fuckboy he never communicated that so poorly, and never ever made someone feel undesirable — and he fears that's exactly what he did last night. Which couldn’t be farther from the truth, because holy fuck he doesn’t think he’s ever desired someone so desperately.

However, as much as he would love to do it all again, much much more sober, he can’t assume the same for you. Especially not after the ridiculous way he handled the situation. But he shouldn’t leave it like that. No, he has to talk to you, to explain and then apologize. It’s still Christmas after all, and the last thing he wants is to give you another bad holiday memory.

That thought is enough to prompt him out of bed, and Taehyung crosses the corridor with surprising confidence before stopping at your door.

Taking a deep breath, he lightly knocks before closing his hand around the handle, turning it and pushing it open.

He expects to find you sleeping. He kinda expected you to be awake too, deep in thought just as he was — but fuck, he definitely wasn't expecting that.

You coat your fingers in your arousal before pushing them up to circle your clit. The relief is immediate, and you have to cover your mouth with your free hand to prevent your pleasure from spilling from your lips.

Your eyes flutter shut when you imagine what Taehyung's long fingers would feel like replacing yours. How he would drag them up and down your folds, spreading your juices and making your pussy all nice and slick for him, before plunging them inside, scissoring you open and curving just the right way.

Fuck, you’re so fucking horny.

You should've found a way to blow some steam, to relieve that pressure before you came on this trip. Granted, you didn’t really know you and Taehyung would be by yourselves, so the only thing you expected from him were avoidant eyes and quick, uncomfortable escapes — which you got last night, after your stupid drunk ass thought it was a good idea to kiss him. Shit, what did you have in mind?

Oh, right. Kim Taehyung.

The first time you ever saw him, in that cursed party, you were immediately sure of one thing: Kim Taehyung is tailor-made by hell. There’s no other way to explain his alluring eyes, that burn with such intensity that the mere glance your way makes you feel like the hottest fucking person alive; or his lips, soft and plumpy lips, that spread in the utmost tempting smirk you’ve ever seen. And his body? Fuck, he’s so hot that you honestly wanna eat your fist whenever you look at him.

So, it’s fair to say, you were pretty fucking happy that he made a move on you on that party. To this day, remembering the way his back was pressed against yours and the words he whispered in your ear? The promises he made? You just knew you would do everything to see them through.

But you feel like you’ve been trapped in your own fucked up version of groundhog day. One in which every time a hot person sees something in you that deems you fuckable, you’re always fucking interrupted. You feel like you’ve been edged for months now, starting with Taehyung puking on you, followed by you and Jimin being interrupted when you were searching for something to use as bondage and last month, when you had your fingers deep inside one of your classmates pussy and her sister decided to visit her the very same moment.

You’re a simple girl, with simple needs. You just want to cum.

And despite all the months without basic, mature communication, you still fucking wanted Taehyung to blow your back. God, the things you heard of him, the rumors, the giggling feedback… all ruined because as soon as he made sure you were clean and held no evidence of his lunch, he disappeared as if you had imagined him. But how could you ever blame him for getting sick? You’ve worked six months in a nursery last year, you’re pretty much immune to vomit at this point.

Nonetheless, his lack of opening after it all made you shut down that window, and you didn’t really gave it much thought until Jungkook decided to fucking destroy his car (honestly, how could he drive straight against a fucking pole, so damn inconvenient!) and you and Taehyung were left to your own devices in a shitshow of a town. And then, you got everything but what you expected.

You found out that his sweet smile can be just as alluring as his smirk. And that his eyes can hold a kindness and an innocence so genuine that’s almost infuriating. That he’s the silliest fucking man alive and you couldn’t have asked for a better person to make you company during Christmas — he is basically Jesus after all. The GOAT of Christmas and shit.

But after last night? After remembering what his lips taste like? After remembering the weight of his hands as they trace your legs and set every inch of your skin on fire? Shit, you’re not sure how you went a single day without it.

Consequently, after an hour tossing and turning on bed, you came up with a clear plan of action: you would apologize. Would face him, and apologize for kissing his last night and for making him uncomfortable. But fuck, you have to deal with that knot in the pit of your stomach before setting foot out of bed.

With that in mind, you push your fingers deep inside your pussy, stroking your walls the way you can just imagine that he would, reaching spots that yours never could. You bite the palm over your mouth, trying to keep a loud moan from slipping out when you start to pump your fingers with purpose, seeking release as if your life depended on it.

You’re so pent up that it doesn’t take long before you start to feel your pussy constricting around your digits, and you can sense your sanity drifting away the closer you get — making you thoughtlessly drop your hand from your mouth.

“Fuck” you moan, curving your digits to seek your g-spot “Taehyung!”

“I’m here!” 

It takes longer than it probably should for you to understand that no, you didn’t just imagine his voice replying to you — but realization does hit you eventually, and you snap your eyes wide open.

You take your soaked fingers away from your center, opening your legs as your head lifts from the pillow to find Taehyung, not imagined — although dreamy — with his back turned to you on the threshold.

“Oh my god” you whisper, desperation lacing your tone as you rush to cover yourself, even if he can’t see you “oh my god, shit, I’m…”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupts, voice strained. “I just… I came to— I’ll go now.” He stutters, and the next second he is out of your room, closing the door behind him.

Your body doesn’t move for the next ten minutes at least, and you have to gather all of your self respect to cast away the tears threatening to spill from the overwhelming shame consuming you. 

Taehyung just saw you knuckles deep inside your pussy.

Taehyung just saw you knuckles deep inside your pussy, moaning his fucking name.

And you didn’t even get to cum.

Is it too dramatic to pack your things and drive back?

People change universities all the time, right? Maybe you can find a nice Literature program in another city, move the fuck away from Taehyung to never have to see his face again.

Deep breaths.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Get your shit together, you’re not a spoiled white young man. You have to face your shit. You have to apologize.

In.

Out.

You slip out of bed, putting on sweatpants and a shirt over your sweaty skin, feeling warm all over. You walk to the door, testing different sentences as you let your head thump against the thick wood. How could you forget to lock this shit? You’re never ever getting drunk again.

Your steps are hesitant as you make your way across the hall, rehearsing a weird apology in your head as you try to build momentum — all in vain, because as soon as you see him, sitting on the floor and looking at the gift in his hands as if it has just spoken to him, your body tenses up and every possibility of courage evades you.

The experience is almost humbling, because you finally understand why he ran away all those months ago instead of facing you. Fuck being the bigger man, you’re gonna pretend as if nothing happened.

Taehyung acknowledges you when you step closer, coming to a stop near him with your hands shaking behind your back. You regret not washing your face before leaving your room, because you can only imagine how disheveled you look right now: embarrassed and sexually frustrated. You’re feeling so hot that for a second you wonder if you can actually melt.

His face doesn’t betray any emotion. If you squint, you can find what looks like confusion in his gaze, but you don’t level his eyes for enough time to assess it.

“I figured we could open up the presents we got.” He states, simply, as if he didn’t just catch you masturbating. You blink, setting your lips in a thin line. You know what? Fuck it. You drop to his side, crossing your legs and keeping your eyes on the gift Soojin bought you and feeling your face burning with his attention. “Let’s open them together. That’s… uhm, that’s how me and my siblings do it.” He instructs, and you nod, but as you both busy yourselves with the wrappings it’s clear from the clumsiness of your actions that your minds are clearly somewhere else.

You peel off the covers of a black paper box, and absentmindedly open the lid, baring its content to both of you.

“Fuck” you hear Taehyung choke under his breath when his gaze falls on your gift, completely forgetting the Céline pants Jungkook got him.

You see, Soojin is a strong advocate for self love and all of her presents always involve some kind of weird liberal feminist agenda to help you girlboss your way through life. So, when she started to randomly ask for your clothing size, you were sure she was gonna buy you some of those weird shirts with a corny quote like Happy, Unbothered, Disciplined and Growing (all things you couldn’t relate too, but would undoubtedly sport in the name of friendship).

You should have suspected, though, when she went through your underwear drawer, but she did seem genuine when she said she just wanted to do your laundry for you.

Well, people surprise you, apparently.

And it’s fair to say you are pretty fucking surprise as you look at the black lace lingerie set in front of you, with a little hope this helps you break your dryspell 😘 note on top of it — the icing on the fucking cake.

You almost want to laugh, the heat in your face becoming unbearable as you quickly reach for the lid to cover the gift up, trembling hands making a poor work to hide your embarrassment.

Forget changing universities. What about a different fucking country?

All moving plans are cleared from your mind when you hear your name. Said in a voice so deep you actually take a while to process it came from Taehyung, and a shiver runs down your spine when you halt your hands, leaving the box half open.

“I’m gonna ask you a question.” He starts, and he sounds so serious you’re suddenly scared of looking up. “I’m gonna ask you a question, and I need you to be as clear as possible, because that’s the only way I’ll understand.”

You gulp, bracing yourself for what’s to come when you nod.

“Why did you say my name?”

Your breath hitches on your throat, and you assume it’s because you expected anything but that question that you raise your head — regretting it immediately, because you don’t meet the familiar soft and kind eyes that you’ve grown accustomed to these past two days. Rather, in its place, you find a dark shade of desire burning through you, enhancing your every sense when he darts his tongue along the seam of his mouth.

“You do that a lot, you know.” You huff out a laugh. “Lick your lips. You have no idea how fucking hot it is.”

When he repeats your name this time, he sounds almost angry, and that prompts you to admit. 

“I said your name because I want you to fuck me, Taehyung.”

He immediately shuts his eyes, and a deep exhale passes his lips before he opens them again. Every inquiry, every doubt has left his eyes when he unabashedly smirks.

“Then what about you try this on, princess. Let’s see if it fits.”

When you step back into the living room you can already feel the anticipation pooling at your brand new panties. You can't help feeling kinda uneasy, so exposed while he's still fully clothed, but when his eyes find your lace clad form, basically eating you whole, something about his shameless attention sends a boost of confidence through you, and you’re sure you’ve never felt sexier in your life.

“Holy shit.” It comes out so quietly that you can barely hear it.

His eyes explore every inch of your skin, and you honestly thought his eyes couldn’t get any darker, but a thick layer of lust makes them so deep you might just get lost on them.

“Come here.” He commands, and you immediately comply, cutting through the space between you and relishing in the soft touch of his hands as his arms snake around your waist, pressing your chest on his.

The fabric of his hoodie is smooth against your skin, his body exuding an intoxicating warmth, leaving you dizzy, sick to be touched as you drive your own hands up his torso and around his neck.

Taehyung, on the other hand, seems to be in no rush whatsoever. His palm is hot against your lower back, pressing you against him, molding you to his figure. With his left hand, he starts to trace your body, trying to commit every inch, every mole, every scar, every expense of skin to memory, starting at your hips, darting inwards to your stomach, grazing up your chest to barely touch the valley between your breasts before his fingertip trace up the column of your neck, finding a resting place around your jaw. 

“Never want to forget this body.” His breath fans across your face, and your eyes flutter shut when he starts to lean in.

The way he kisses you now is vastly different from the kiss you shared last night.

Then, you two were messily trying to suffocate one another, tongues clashing together with little coordination as alcohol fueled your actions and clouded your judgment. 

Now, the soft press of his mouth over yours is calculated. Sweet and deliberate, tasting you like your lips are sacred and taking his time to cherish the way your sensitive flesh feels on his. You have to gather all your self control not to bite him, not to take over, not to just groan out your frustration, and in no time you’re melting under his lead.

He gradually starts to speed up his movements, tilting your face to open your lips with his and slip his tongue inside to lick inside your mouth. Your breathing soon turns into panting as Taehyung acts become more intentional, kissing you as if his life depends on it. 

You entangle your arms around his neck, pushing him closer to further deepen the kiss — and he matches your enthusiasm, lips moving relentlessly against yours, sucking on your tongue and pulling your bottom lip between his teeth, bruising the skin and making sure to swallow your every sound. His hand leaves your face to find your hips, grabbing and squeezing the flesh eagerly. 

Fuck, he’s such a good kisser and you’re already so turned on, you wonder if you could cum just from making out with him.

God, that'd be embarrassing.

After what feels like hours — although you think you could keep kissing him for days — Taehyung pulls away. He rests his forehead against yours, recollecting his breath. 

Can he feel your nipples hardening over the thin fabric of your bra? Because you can sure as fuck feel the agonizing press of his growing erection against your thigh.

He smirks.

“Can I mark you?”

“Yes, please.”

Your pleading voice seems to ignite something feral in him, because when he latches on to your jaw his kisses are nothing short of hungry. He drags his tongue along your cheek, before making sure his mouth acknowledges every spot of your throat, licking, sucking and biting all over your skin.

You can feel him smiling against your neck when your soft, quiet gasps turn into full on whimpers. 

“Shit” you exhale, grabbing a handful of his hair and tugging on it.

The moan that he graces you with makes your eyes roll back in delight. A shiver runs down your spine at the way he shamelessly grinds your hips on his crotch.

He pulls away, hair completely tousled, golden skin darker as he admires the blossoming colors on your neck, painted by his skilled lips. His eyes fall to your panting chest next, and he takes his hand there, enveloping one of your tits and squeezing it not nearly hard enough.

“Fuck, this shit looks amazing on you, but I kinda wanna rip it with my teeth.”

“Don't you dare ruin it, I literally just got it.”

He quirks his eyebrow, and his hand leaves your tits, tracing down your belly and reaching to cup you over your panties. Your hips jolt with the contact and Taehyung chuckles, the cockiest smirk settling on his face.

“Think you’ve already ruined it.” He groans. “God, you're really fucking wet and I've barely done anything.”

“You're hard too. I've done even less.” Your teasing is that much less effective when his fingers are ghosting up and down your pussy.

Taehyung chuckles. His hand rises to the hem of your underwear, grazing the skin below it with tortuous patience, making you clutch his hair even harder. He's sure going bald by the end of this.

“You must be so fucking messy after this morning.” He hums to himself, and you nod. “Did you get to cum?”

“No.”

“Oh, you poor thing.” His hand thread down again, tracing your folds over the lace. “Do you want to cum, baby?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Do you want me to make you cum?”

“Yes, Tae. Please.”

He clicks his tongue.

“Now, that’s just a shame.” He slightly slaps your pussy, making you jolt in his hold and then completely takes his hand away. “Because only good girls get to cum, princess, and you’ve been such a bad girl to me these past days, so damn mean. What makes you think you deserve a present?”

Jesus Christ, if this man doesn't let you cum you're gonna seriously kill him.

“No, I promise I can be a good girl for you, baby, please” he's about to say something else when you drop to your knees, effectively shutting him up. “Let me make it up for you. Show you how good I can be.”

You try to get closer to his legs, but the movements make you wince when your knees scratch against the hard floor. You look around for something to place below your legs, but Taehyung quickly catches on.

“Here” you lift your head just in time to see him pulling his hoodie above his head, revealing his long, toned torso, golden skin shining with a thin layer of sweat and just begging for you to lick and suck some marks up his stomach. 

You're so entranced by his chest, that you take a second to understand he's giving you his clothing, and you don't give it much thought before placing it under your legs. The relief is immediate. 

“Thanks.”

He doesn't answer when your hands spread over his strong thighs, creeping up his leg to his crotch. The hardness of his cock under your palm makes you lick your lips, and you squeeze him, eliciting a sigh out of him. You hook your hands on his waistband, not wasting another second before pulling both his sweatpants and underwear down his legs.

The sight of him almost makes you choke. He's big. So fucking big and thick, but also the prettiest fucking dick you've ever seen and the realization makes you just as frustrated as it makes you wetter. His tip is engorged, flushing dark as a bead of precum accumulates at the crown. God, what a fucking sight to behold. You admire it for a second, mouth watering as you anticipate its weight on your tongue.

“Look so damn beautiful like that, baby.” He praises, hand coming down to wrap around the base of his length. “Wanna suck me?”

“Yes.”

“Go on then.” He pumps himself. “Suck my cock like a good girl.”

You promptly open your mouth, sticking your tongue out and welcoming the weight of his member with a loud moan. You suck his slit, tasting the salty precum with a satisfied hum before licking up his length. You glisten him with your saliva before flicking your thumb over his tip, teasing him and making Taehyung gulp above you.

“You’re so big,” you whine, and he twitches “so fucking sensitive too.”

You alternate between long and short licks, soaking him and coaxing sweet hisses out of his mouth. Your fingers rub his crown, and you wrap your lips around it to give it a dainty suck.

“Look at me” you command, smiling when he does — a large, loving smile before you take his tip closer to your lips and let your spit fall on his cock, spreading it all over his length.

“Holy fuck” he shudders, a long elongated groan passing his parted lips “so fucking hot.”

Pride fills your face as you dive to kiss at his base, palm diligently working on his tip. After some minutes of thorough, but tame motions, Taehyung finally caves in, tone laced in exasperation. “Stop teasing, princess” you can feel your panties sticking to your pussy “do something already.”

“But I’m giving you so much already.” You pout.

“No, no—” his groan is nothing but frustrated “c’mon, don’t you wanna be good for me?”

“Ain’t this good?” You smirk, hand still leisurely stroking his now painfully hard cock.

“You’re so mean.”

“Really? Then I should just stop.” You pause your hand, and Taehyung’s hips jolt.

“Baby” his tone is a warning, and you know you’re playing a dangerous game here, one that’ll definitely bite you in the ass later, but fuck it. It's already so worth it just to see the way his thighs clench and his gaze burns through you.

“You want me to suck you?” You lick your lips slowly, directing his impatient eyes to your tongue.

“Yes, princess.”

“Then why don’t you beg for me, Tae? Ask me real nice and I’ll think about it.”

He chuckles.

Actually chuckles in a weird, choked way, but the ferocity that clouds his eyes only makes you that much more horny. And maybe it’s because he doesn’t fucking care, or — if the throabbing of his dick is anything to go by — maybe he’s just too hard to think properly, but when he opens his mouth again is to grant you the sweetest fucking words you’ve ever heard.

“Please, princess. Be a good girl for me and suck my cock. Make me proud.” You grin.

“With pleasure.”

And you do it, because god knows how much you want it too.

If your pace was teasing, insufficient before, now Taehyung feels on the verge of passing out with the way you sink his length inside the heat of your mouth. The second you take to adjust to the stretch is not nearly enough for him to adjust to the devastating pleasure that you elicit on him, and Taehyung just instantly knows he'll lose his mind when your head starts moving up and down his dick with finality.

“That’s it baby, so fucking good.” He growls, bewitched by the way his cock disappears inside your mouth, mind blanking when you start to hollow your cheeks.

Every little sigh, every breathy moan and especially his strained praises just spur you on, encouraging you to take more and more of him with each passing, relaxing your jaw to the best of your abilities. The noises filling the living room are anything but decent, but the vulgarity of it just makes it even more delicious. 

“Sucking me so well” when you glance up, you can’t help but moan at how fucked out Taehyung looks. Mouth hanging open, eyes glazed with bliss while sweat collects on his forehead, dark hair sticking to his glowing skin as he swallows. You release him with a pop, a string of saliva still connecting you to his tip as you try to catch your breath — hands not stopping. Taehyung’s thumb finds your chin, and you lick your mouth clean “You’re sexy as fuck.”

You take two seconds to make a decision.

“Want you to cum in my throat.”

He looks at you as if you just punched him.

“You want my cum?”

“Want all you’re willing to give me.” And it's true. “Can you do that for me?”

“Fuck yes, baby. Wanna paint that sweet fucking throat of yours.”

You smile up to him, and when your attention returns to his cock you make sure to trace every inch, every vein with your tongue, making it as slippery as possible.

Taking a deep breath, you bring him to your lips again, letting your tongue lay flat under his length as you begin to push it further down your mouth. When he hits the back of your throat, you try to control your gagging and relax your jaw to better accommodate him — and also to not suffocate or something.

“You have no idea how hot you look right now.” But you kinda do, though, if the way he throbs inside you and his knees slightly tremble is any indication.

You start to slowly stretch your throat with him, and Taehyung’s overwhelmed expression is enough to make you deeply moan. His hips jolt at the vibration, making you choke.

“Shit, sorry” he backtracks, helping you recover before you’re guiding him inside again.

When your nose brushes the skin of his stomach, you know you’re not gonna be able to hold in for much longer, and you need him to cum soon, so you push through the discomfort, the tears and the way you just know your throat is gonna be sore as fuck after this, and swallow.

“Ju–just like that, that’s it” he stutters, “I'm close.”

You resume your bobbing movements, head relentless bouncing up and down his cock before you take your hands to his balls. He shudders when your light massage turns into a more thorough fondling and squeezing while you suck around him.

When you glance up at him — tear-filled eyes with nothing but lust looking up at his mesmerized ones with your mouth full of him — Taehyung’s body shudders. Shockwave after shockwave of pleasure erupts on his body, and you can feel the thick stripes of cum shooting down your throat while your lips suck on his tip, milking his high as much as you can — and he cums so much that you struggle to swallow it all. When he removes his cock from your mouth, sucked dry, he’s still jolting with sensitivity. 

“Jesus fuck” he closes his eyes tightly, trying to ground himself. You clear your throat, licking around your mouth to collect any left juices. “You’re unreal.”

He grabs your chin.

“Let me see.” You open your mouth, tongue sticking out to show him no traces of his orgasm. “Such a good girl.”

He then grabs your forearms, pulling you to your feet.

Taehyung gives you no time to stabilize yourself before his lips are on yours, but it’s only after he secures your wobbling form in a tight, strong embrace that you’re able to kiss him back. Your fingers trace up and down his biceps with as much languidness as he makes out with you with. And it surprises you, because you can’t possibly taste good right now, but his lips are so soft that you don’t even protest, thankful for the unhurried touch.

When he breaks the kiss, it’s to pull you into a hug — full on giggling into your ear.

“Fucking thank you.”

You laugh.

“You thanking me for a blowjob?”

Neither of you care about how hoarse your voice sounds, but you clear your throat to try and soothe some of the roughness nevertheless. 

“Hell yeah, your mouth is amazing. Feel like you just sucked me stupid.”

You laugh even harder.

“Nah, I feel like you were already pretty stupid before that.”

His chuckle tickles your ear, leaning his head so his lips touch your shoulder.

“Oh. You completely ruined my hoodie, by the way.”

“What?” You pull away from him in an instant. Gaze falling to his clothes on your feet — and the new wet patch that tinges the gray fabric darker. Your eyes widen in mild panic. “Shit, I'm so sorry, oh my god, I'll—”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, you should be sorry. How dare you get horny from sucking my dick, that's just unacceptable.” You pause, face still hot when Taehyung pulls you back to him, guiding his hands between your legs. The pad of his fingers ghost over your pussy, feeling all your arousal through the damp lace. “God, look at that.” He taunts, and his fingers rise to hook under the sides of your panties, pulling them up and pressing the fabric up your skin. He clicks his tongue. “This must be so uncomfortable.”

“Mhmm” you nod, tightening your grip on his arms.

“What do you say, baby? Think you deserve a present now?”

“Yes.” You sigh when he pulls your underwear even higher.

“No, no, baby. How do we say?”

“Pretty please?” You pout and he grins.

“Uhm, now that's better.”

And then he's kissing you again — but gone is the softness of his lips, now hungrily moving against yours. His hands find your ass, gripping and kneading you to his liking.

The way he shifts from shy-smiling-face-surrounded-by-hearts emoji to smirking-devil emoji is sure to make you lose your mind — and you can't fucking wait.

As you two stumble to your room, you make sure to not leave any inch of his golden skin unattended: bruising up his neck like he did yours, tugging on his hair and running your palms all over his body. Taehyung guides you past your threshold, handling you with care until the back of your knees hits the bed. He hurries you on top of it, promptly falling above you.

“You're so hot” he breathes, lips following the path between your breasts, “the hottest girl I’ve even fucking seen.” He sounds almost angry.

You’re panting as he kisses down your stomach, body squirming in anticipation — gasping when he hoists you closer to the headboard.

“Damn, princess, you’re so desperate.” He chuckles, sucking a hickey onto your hips. “Pussy must be begging for some good fucking.”

“Yes,” you sigh “want you so fucking bad.”

His smirk is devilish, lips hovering down your skin until they're just above your aching core. You raise your hips, trying to get closer to his face, but he easily avoids you.

“Tae,” you whine. “Please.”

“You wanna cum, baby?” You nod eagerly, and he shakes his head, slapping the side of your thigh. “Words.”

“Yes! Fuck, I wan— I need to cum.”

“Good.” And just like that, he is gone, sitting back on his heels.

You grunt.

“Taehyung, I'm not above murder, you should know.”

He laughs, hands coming down to your ankles and pushing them apart. His eyes are immediately drawn to your pussy — or, rather, to your arousal soaking through your panties. 

“You're so wet, baby. Feel like you can cum just if I look at you nice enough.”

“Taehyung” you glare, but your voice is too shaky to hold any power against him.

“I want you to show me.” He says, and the instant confusion on your face prompts a sheepish smile on his own. “How.” He clarifies, massaging your calves. “Want you to finish what you started this morning.”

The prospect of teaching him how to please you makes you warm all over, and if you weren't so distressed you might deny it, ask for his tongue or his fingers — but you are desperate, and no one can make you cum faster than yourself. So your hands jump to the sides of your panties, already pushing them down when Taehyung’s hands stop you.

“Want them on.”

“Kinky” you tease, earning a dramatic eye roll.

You hook a finger around the center of the fabric and push it aside.

Taehyung’s gaze grows darker when you expose your bare pussy, and he slowly licks his lips. His feasting eyes are entranced by the way your arousal drips down your folds, slicking you all the way down to your ass. He swallows thickly, hands pushing your legs further apart.

You don’t give him enough time to bask at the sight, though, because your fingers find your entrance immediately after, spreading your juices around before coming up to circle your clit.

The well-deserved, but so fucking delayed attention making your his jolt. Not wasting any second, you hurriedly roll your fingers, closing your eyes to focus on your precise, familiar movements.

After feeling lubricated enough, you sink two fingers inside your cunt and curl them to stroke your g-spot. Loud, wet squelching sounds fill the room, but you can still hear Taehyung’s ragged breathing above you; his soft grunts encouraging you as you keep fingering yourself, whispering sweet nothings to you. He tells you how pretty you look, how good you are for him, how hot you look when you’re knuckles deep inside your dripping pussy. You take your free hand to your tits, pushing them out of their confinements to twist and pinch your nipples. 

“Fuck, that’s it, baby, look at that” his voice is thick with lust, “such a filthy girl.”

His words tighten the knot in your stomach.

“I–I bet I’ll take your cock so well.”

“Yeah? Fuck, I can’t wait to stretch you, princess.” When you open his eyes, you almost cum just from Taehyung’s all-consuming gaze alone, completely hypnotized by the way your fingers disappear inside your cunt. 

“My thighs,” it comes out so quietly that you force yourself to speak again, “grab my thighs.” 

Taehyung takes a second to process your words, but then his hands are on you. Massaging, gripping, pinching and squeezing the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs with such enthusiasm that will surely leave bruises there too. The added stimulation makes you arch your spine off the bed, eyes rolling back as you can feel more arousal soaking through your fingers.

“Shit, you’re so fucking sexy. Gonna make me all hard again.” He moans, and his movements pause for a split second before he asks: “are you close, baby?”

Your legs start to tremble, and every hit to your g-spot makes you whimper.

“Yeah” you breathe, barely registering his words at this point.

“Look at me.” He commands, and you do. “You wanna be a good girl for me?”

“Yes.” 

“Wanna make me proud?”

“Yes!” You scream, tears blurring your vision — but his next words make your whole body stiffen.

“Then stop.”

You don’t. You can’t. But your fingers do lose momentum.

“What?”

“Stop.” And a slow smirk creeps up his face as yours scrunches up in hazed confusion. “You’re not cumming until I want you to.”

When you fully realize what he’s asking you, your orgasm has already been washed far out of reach. You shudder as your fingers leave your pussy, the tears collected from the pleasure roll down as frustration, but when you open your mouth to complain, Taehyung slots himself between your parted legs. His hair tickles your thighs as he pushes your underwear aside and suddenly licks up your cunt, tongue gathering all the arousal from your folds before his lips close around your clit, sucking hard.

The unexpected stimulation makes your hips jut, shuddering so violently that Taehyung pulls away, chuckling lightly as confusion coats his expression.

“Did you just cum?”

“No!” You whine. “I just… I want to cum so bad, I was so, so goddamn close and now I’m just sensitive as fuck.”

He gives your clit an experimental kiss and you grunt, hands fisting the sheets.

“Shit” he smiles, “that’s just too bad.”

Your head snaps up.

“What… what you mean?”

“You teased the shit out of me before, sweetheart. I’m still deciding if I’ll let you cum.”

“Taehyung,” you sob, “if I don’t cum soon I think I’ll legitimately die.”

“Poor thing.” He mocks.

“I’m so serious right now, please don’t do that.”

Another kiss to your swollen pussy.

“Then fucking beg, princess.” 

Well, that you can do.

“Baby, please” you sigh “please, I’m so sorry for teasing you, just–just please make me cum. Let me cum, please.”

He chuckles.

“As you wish.”

He swiftly pulls your damp panties down your legs, tossing it on the floor behind him, and then his warm tongue meets your pussy again. This time, though, you swear Taehyung is trying to fucking suffocate himself on you. He flicks your clit the same way your fingers did, skillfully twisting it and eating you out with devotion — and you sure feel worshiped. Worshiped by the way he moans, enjoying it as much as you; by the way he swirls his tongue around your clit and licks your dripping juices; but also by the way he grabs your thighs, long fingers massaging and digging on the flesh.

The stimulation is so hard and you’re so pent up, that it doesn’t take longer than five minutes of him thoroughly eating your pussy for you to start to feel your orgasm slowly building up on your body again.

“That’s it, Tae, fu–fuck” you cry out “eating me out so good, just like that.”

You’re basically grinding on his face now, and he flattens his tongue to encourage you to ride him as you please.

“Taste so fucking sweet” he hums. “Should’ve had this for Christmas dinner.”

Your chuckle is shaken when Taehyung plunges one of his fingers inside your walls, stroking you gradually to stretch you up.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He mutters. “Do you want my cock?” You nod, biting down on your lip. He doesn’t appreciate it, humming against you. “Tell me.”

“I–I want… want your cock.”

“Wanna give it to you, baby, but I’ll need you to relax for me. Let me stretch you.”

And you certainly try, but you feel so tense, so desperate to cum that you can’t seem to find your breath.

“That’s–that’s your fucking fault!” You hiss when he finally starts to thrust his fingers faster. “Edging the— nghh, fuck outta me.”

He smiles against your pussy, but says nothing when he slowly introduces a second finger. His movements are precise, careful not to hurt you but determined as he scissors you open, slowing down for you to adjust every time you flinch or so much as goes silent above him. He also changes the pace of his mouth to try and help loosen you up, and holy fuck, you don’t think you have the capacity of imagining such sweet, toe-curling oral, not even in your filthiest, most unrealistic dreams.

When he works you up to three fingers, Taehyung has to pin you down with his free hand to stop you from lifting your hips.

“Shit! Feels so–so fucking good” you whimper.

“Grab my hair.” And you do, hand releasing the sheets to push his sweaty locks away from his view, and the intensity of his eyes on yours almost makes you feel more naked somehow. 

“Jesus fu— nghh”.

Taehyung now fingers you at a relentless pace, and the skill with which he does it — angling his fingers to hit your g-spot, reaching for different sensitive areas and making your walls clench around him — is almost overwhelming.

Your legs quiver, threatening to close around his face.

“Close?”

You’re kinda scared to answer, but it’s not like you can hide it anyway.

“I’m so close! Please, Tae, let me–let me cum!”

The pleasure running through your body is so intense you feel like you could actually pass out if he denies yet another orgasm, and he can surely feel your anguish as you start to chase his face, chuckling lightly before finally saying the sweet words, “Then cum for me, princess. Cum all over my face.”

The orgasm that he coaxes out of you is maddening. Your mind blanks as your pussy clamps down hard on his fingers — which continue to thrust into, prolonging your pleasure. Your whole body shudders, toes curling with everlasting bliss, but you are surprisingly able to keep your eyes open. The sight of him, between your legs, eating you out through your high and making sure to collect every bit of your sweet release on his warm tongue is almost enough to make you cum again.

When you finally come down, refamiliarizing yourself with the whole concept of breathing, Taehyung is looking at you as if you’re sin incarnated, a loose smile on his lips. You feel so spent, but suddenly so impatient too.

“Want you to fuck me.” It’s the first thing you say after your head stops spinning.

He laughs.

“Barely took my fingers out and you’re already asking for more, damn.” He peppers your thighs with soft, soothing kisses. “Pussy so fucking greedy.”

“I want you so bad.” Your voice is so small, so quiet. You swallow dry.

“I want you to, baby.” He comes up to kiss you, sliding his tongue against yours in such a sloppy, lazy way that you can’t help but smile, ignoring the taste of your cum lingering on his mouth. “You made me so hard again, fuck.”

Taehyung grabs your thighs and hooks them around his waist. He takes his fingers to your pussy again, smearing some of your release around to better slicken you up. After deeming you lubricated enough, he guides his dick to your cunt. He drags his tip along your dripping folds, and your breath hitches.

“Fuck, you’re soaking my cock.” He grins. “Who got you this wet, baby?”

“Taehyung,” you sigh, heels pressing down on his lower back, “don’t you dare tease me again.”

“Then answer the question.” He rolls his hips harder over yours, rubbing your clit. “‘Cus I can be pretty fucking patient.”

“Fuck you.”

“I let you cum one time and you’re already talking back again.” He clicks his tongue. “One more chance, baby. Who got this pussy so… fucking… wet?” He punctuates every word with a slap of his cock against your cunt, and you gasp each time, digging your fingers on his back.

“Ungh, fuck, yo–you! Shit, you did, Tae.”

“I made you cum so fucking hard, didn’t I?” He smirks, and your hips jump slightly.

“The hardest” you whimper.

Taehyung’s so fucking glad you gave in this fast — because there’s only so much time he could endure teasing you while being desperate as fuck to feel the warmth of your cunt, to feel you wrapping around his cock the way you did around his fingers. With a deep exhale, he shifts to position his dick at your entrance.

“How do you want it?”

“Rough.” You don’t hesitate.

“Rough? Want me to be rough with you, princess?” Taehyung feels dizzy.

“Yes, please.”

“Yeah? Wanna be fucked like a slut?”

The shiver that runs through your body could’ve been enough of an answer, but you still grant him a breathy confirmation: “Yes, Tae. Want you to fuck me dumb.”

His eyes flutter shut, and, with his last thread of sanity, Taehyung starts to slowly press his dick inside of you.

He is right. You are soaked. But he’s still the biggest cock you’ve ever had. So, despite his attentive fingering and the insane orgasm he just gave you, your face still translates your discomfort as he stretches you up. Taehyung follows your cues, stopping whenever you wince and shallowly thrusting to ease you to his size, letting you adjust before moving deeper.

When his hips finally — finally — are flush against yours, you both exhale shakily.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He digs his fingers in the flesh of your thigh. “You good? Does it hurt?”

“No… just,” you exhale deeply, “gimme a second.”

While you focus on accommodating his size, Taehyung clears his throat.

“I uh, wanted to ask you something.” You notice the subtle distress in his voice, and the gaze you find when you open your eyes is filled with concern. “And be real with me.” You frown, expression slowly matching his.

“... yeah?”

He hesitates, eyes darting away from you.

“Are you… like, actually into furry?”

You burst into laughter, shoulders shaking when you bring your hands to cover your face. Taehyung’s chuckles are unsure when he joins you, flinching when your body trembles slightly. 

“Be honest!”

“Fuck you, Tae, honestly. You’re balls deep inside of me seriously asking me this shit.”

“I mean, I can’t grow a beard for my life, but we can figure something out if—” 

“Oh god, stop! I do not have a furry kink, Jesus.”

“Thank god!” He sighs. “Was really worried for a second.” Your laughter prompts a smile on his face, and he lowers his face to give you a quick peck on your lips.

“You can move now, by the way.”

“You sure?” You nod, pulling him closer.

“Let’s get on to fucking.”

He frowns.

“Damn, you gotta work on your dirty talk.”

“What? You were just talking about furry.”

“It’s different.” He huffs. “I’ll give you one more chance.”

You roll your eyes.

“Go on, baby, rock my world.” 

He chuckles.

“C’mon, that’s not doing anything for me here.”

At that comment, you shift and clench around his cock. His hips buck, reaching even deeper. You pout.

“You seem pretty hard for me.” You hiss when he smacks the side of your thigh.

“You’re such a brat.”

“Just fuck me already.” You brows knit together, and you flicker your eyes down to where your bodies meet, licking your lips. “Please, Tae.”

“You see? That’s way better.”

And fuck you he does.

When Taehyung pushes himself out of you, leaving just the tip, you barely have time to breathe before he’s slamming back inside.

The feeling of his skin dragging against your velvet walls has your mind immediately blanking, head falling back on the pillow.

The ease with which he finds a pace makes you melt under him. You’re already so sensitive from your previous orgasm and all his stupid teasing that you just know this will set a pathetic low time record, but you don’t fucking care. You deserve to feel this fucking good, and Taehyung seems to know that too, because despite the struggle it is to keep his eyes open — the desire to shut them and focus on the delicious feeling of your warm pussy squeezing his cock almost unbearable — his gaze is still trained in your face. In the way you bite your lip, or release it in a silent moan when he gets the angle just right; the way your brows knit together in bliss, or arch to your hairline with a particular hard thrust; or, yet, in the way your hold on him turns almost painful, sure to leave him bruised in the sweetest possible way, whenever he leans over you and brushes your clit.

Taehyung is a slow learner — but he learns, and he won’t close his fucking eyes until he identifies how to unwind you, how to fuck you so good he’ll ruin every other dick for you. And he seems to find it when, after a swift change in his angle, you let out a loud, tortuous scream under him, sending a large, proud smirk to his face.

“That’s it–that’s— nghh, fuck, baby, there!” You cry out, lifting your hips off the bed to try and create even more contact as his cock hits your g-spot.

“You feel so good” feral grunts spill from his mouth as he lets his eyes fall shut, “squeezing my cock so fucking tight” he groans.

Taehyung has never felt more grounded, more present. The slapping sounds, your cries, his grunts, everything is so fucking vulgar. The way the soft flesh of your thighs mold under his palm, the way he fills you to the brim every fucking time is good enough proof that this is real, that this breathtaking pleasure is real, and that Taehyung is really fucking you.

“Been… wanting to–to fuck you for so long.” He pants. 

You arch your spine off the bed, chest pressing on his.

“Holy fuck.”

“God, can’t believe this is happening.” He growls.

Your senses, on the other hand, are clouded by the feeling of his cock splitting you, fucking your body senseless and pounding into you like a man on a mission. His size, his girth, the way he twitches inside of you, making your walls even sloppier… he’ll be the end of you. You never wanted to please someone more, especially after having his mouth on you, and you can feel your control gradually slipping away every time he fills you up, reality a distant idea as he fucks you closer to euphoria. And god, you’re so fucking close.

“Yes! Yes, baby, that–that’s it” you sob, hands fisting the sheets so tightly that — if you were thinking properly — you'd be afraid of ripping it.

“God, you're… nghhn— fuck, you feel so good.” He gasps. “Are you close?”

“So fucking close.” You barely acknowledge the words leaving you, the knot in your stomach about to snap.

At your words, Taehyung’s hand leaves your thighs to reach behind your back, unclasping your bra and letting it fall somewhere in the room. He leans over you, mouth immediately closing around your left nipple, while his large fingers twist and roll the right one. You arch into his touch, sighing when his tongue swirls around your nipple.

“The most perfect tits…” he hums, glazing your chest in his spit as he seeks the other with wet kisses.

“Tae” you moan, hands entangling in his hair and pulling hard, prompting him to give your nipple a light, barely there bite, but it’s enough to make your hips shake under him. “Fuck, I’m… I’m gonna cum.”

“Yes, baby, cum for me. Cream my cock like a good girl.” He moans, words slurred as he lifts his gaze to you.

Your body starts to shudder violently as he pushes another orgasm out of you. Your legs quiver around his waist and your pussy clenches tightly, shoving a deep, guttural groan from Taehyung’s throat while your mind spirals, washing away any thoughts as his name falls lazily from your lips.

It takes a solid minute before you start to think again, body still rocking with his thrusts as he keeps chasing his own release high. You wince at the overstimulation.

“Tae” you whine, fingers digging into his back.

“C’mon, baby, ain’t this what you wanted?” He slows his pace before grabbing your legs and placing them on his shoulder, thighs firmly pressing on his chest. He sinks his cock deep inside of you with each snap of his hips, and you’re immediately gasping for air. “Didn’t you wanna be fucked like a slut?”

“Nghh” god, how is he so fucking good at this.

“You wanted to be fucked dumb. Wasn't it?” You eagerly nod, words evading you. “Then give me one more.” He breathes. “Let me see that pretty face again.”

Taehyung’s not slow, nor gentle this time. Your previous orgasms make his strokes that much easier, more delicious. Loud wet, squelching sounds fall from where your bodies meet.

“Fuuuck— pussy so fucking good.” His praise shoots straight to your core.

As naturally as before, he falls into a rhythm, slamming inside of you. Your head falls back on the pillow, dazed as the position makes him feel even girthier, bigger inside your sensitive walls, rendering you completely unable to form a single thought that isn’t his dick pistoning inside. The new angle allows him to reach even deeper, and you can feel every inch of him throbbing inside of you, grazing your g-spot in a way that has you gasping for air.

The slapping sounds of his skin on yours are sinful, and you take your hands to your tits, slicked with his spit, fondling with them to add to the ever growing bliss. 

He wants to keep saying shit, spill the filthiest fucking stuff just the way he notices that makes you wetter around his cock — but the closer he gets, less can he think properly, his filter completely dissolving.

“Wanna fuck you forever. Watch you cum for days.”

And fuck if that isn’t enticing as fuck for you too.

Your legs get a bit sore from their bent position, but you wouldn’t mind having him fold you half if it meant getting to see Taehyung’s brows knitting together, lips falling apart in silent delight.

“So-so… good… fucking me so good.” Your voice is muffled by the hard banging of the headboard against the wall.

“Shit. I’m close.” You nod. “Where do you want me to—”

“Inside” you interrupt, answer spilling from your lips.

He brokenly moans, mind blanking as his resolve quickly slips away. Thrusting impossibly harder, pouding impossibly faster, Taehyung fucks you eager to fullfil your request. 

You already feel ready to cum again, an odd pressure weighing down on your lower belly. Your mouth falls open, whispering, or rather, mumbling sweet nothings or muddled filth to him — unsure if he's even listening — as pleasure clouds your mind to the point of incoherence.

“Taking me so fucking well, pussy made for my cock.”

Taehyung takes his hand down between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit with ease as he starts to rub it, pressing and circling it with the pad of his fingers as a hard, unannounced orgasm crashes over you. You’re unable to keep still when every nerve of your body jolts with electricity, overstimulation making you lift your back from the bed as a loud scream rips through your throat.

The pleasure that overtakes you blanks your mind, and for a second you feel like you can't stop cumming. Taehyung sounds so distant, and you feel so high, so heavenly, that you almost think you're dreaming the whole thing.

“— all over me.” Is the first thing you hear when your mind starts to clear and your body slowly calms down. 

“Huh?”

You wince as Taehyung keeps fucking into you, pace now careless as he gets close to release, and you tighten your gasp on his arms, fighting through the oversensitivity.

“You just fucking squirted all over me.” You blink at his words, taking a full minute to process them before your head is snapping up in alarm.

Everything is so wet, so sloppy and messy, but before you can say anything — before embarrassment can even reach your skin — Taehyung's body is shaking above you.

“Shit, shit, shit—” He shudders. “I’m cumming.”

His groans are deep as you feel his hot release painting your walls. He digs his fingers into the flesh of your waist, hips jolting with the waves of his pleasure as he squeezes his eyes shut to focus on the overwhelming thrill running through his body. He feels so alight, as if he's just been set on fire, and every inch of him burns with bliss.

“Jesus fuck.” 

A lazy smile spreads on your face when he kisses your calves, gently pushing them to rest on the bed. He crashes on top of you, frantic breathing cooling the sweaty skin of your chest.

“I've also…” you gulp, closing your eyes, “also been wanting this for so long, by the way.”

You feel him smiling against your skin.

“Damn. I’m so happy I might just puke.” 

Your body shakes in laughter.

“God, you’re so annoying.” You pinch his side and he squirms, chuckling before tilting his head to face you.

“I kinda get the Jungkook now, though.” You frown, and he opens a large, boxy smile. “I fucking love Soojin. Best gift ever.” 

You giggle, heat creeping up your neck.

“Ugh, get off me.” You push him away, and Taehyung shifts on the bed, hovering over you.

He pulls his softening cock out of your swollen pussy, and you can see his eyes glimmering before his fingers are spreading your folds apart.

“Shit” he hisses, and you can feel the wet mix of his cum and your own release dripping down your folds. Taehyung doesn’t give you any warning before he’s diving down, licking you clean with a swipe of his tongue and making you shudder. He closes his eyes, humming as he swallows everything. After that, he moves to step out of bed, uttering a quick “hold up” before he’s out of the room.

You can hear some cabinets and drawers opening before he’s back, a towel in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He proceeds to clean you up with the softest, more tender touches possible, mindful of your sensitivity and halting his movements whenever you flinch, while you soothe your raspy throat. 

“You might need to sleep with me tonight.” You frown. “You made such a fucking mess. Sheets are ruined.”

You scoff.

“And who’s fault is that?”

He smirks.

“Sorry I fucked you so good.” You giggle, covering your face when you feel your cheeks warming up.

“So annoying.”

Jungkook loves Taehyung. They’ve been friends for ten years now and — although there have been days — Jungkook would never change anything about his friend.

…

Maybe make him a bit less murderous in the kitchen. But besides? Taehyung is perfect.

…

Okay, maybe not perfect. No one is perfect, and Taehyung did tell a younger, inexperienced and quite stupid Jungkook that girls get hot when you touch the back of their knees. Not to mention that time when Taehyung dragged Jungkook to a regency costume party — a ridiculous one at that: how is a vampire not a historical costume? He was fucking hot with those red lenses, putting Robert Pattinson to shame with that glitter body spray. 

Anyway, the point is: he loves and cherishes Taehyung, especially the sweet fucking body lotions this guy uses (fuck, he smells good). And he knows Taehyung too. He knows Taehyung better than anyone in the world, probably better than Taehyung himself. And that’s why he knows, the second Soojin confesses what she got you for Christmas, that Taehyung isn’t gonna deal well with it.

“For the last time, babe,” Soojin explains, “a woman should never be ashamed of wanting to feel sexy. You men keep making us feel vulgar about our sexual lives, and create all this taboo about our bodies. No wonder why we hate ourselves. In fact, did you know that—”

“Soojin,” Jungkook sighs, pulling their bags out of the uber’s trunk, “I’m just saying that maybe, maybe, you could’ve given her a heads up not to open the gift with Taehyung… they’re probably super awkward already and a fucking lingerie set won’t help.”

Soojin huffs.

“You have no faith in Taehyung.” Jungkook stops in the pathway to the chalet door, giving his girlfriend a pointed look.

“I know Taehyung, it’s different. This will either make him super self conscious about how he fucking vomited on her, or make him wanna swallow his fist because of how horny he’ll get. Either way he’ll malfunction.” Jungkook pauses. “Fucking is also an option.”

She pouts.

“But didn’t he say that they were cool?”

“Fucking is cool, but he could’ve also meant that he’s been locked in his room for three days.” Jungkook’s face twists in concern. “We’re lucky if he even got out to eat.”

“We’re lucky if they didn’t cook anything. The last thing we need is them food poisoning one another.”

“Not to worry. Taehyung knows the treatment by heart now.”

They reach the door, and Soojin grabs the keys in her purse. They’re careful as they step inside, mindful of it barely being past six in the morning, but any attempt at silence is futile when Soojin’s attention is drawn to the living room couch. 

“The fuck?!” She screams, scaring Jungkook to drop down the bags.

The sharp sound makes you jump away from Taehyung’s lap, losing your balance and falling ass first on the hard floor.

The four of you freeze for a moment, sharing weird, confused looks before Taehyung’s heart finally resumes to a normal pace and he understands that no, the house isn’t being invaded and you two won’t get robbed in nothing but underwear, he can’t help but glare at his best friend.

“Jungkook why the fuck are you here?” He says, extending a hand to help you on the couch after you find your discarded shirt on the floor.

“Wow, nice to see you too, asshole.” Jungkook’s eyes flicker to the TV when music starts to play through its speakers, a deep frown settleting on his features. “You watching Grinch? The hell?”

Soojin turns to her boyfriend.

“Is Grinch really the most unexpected thing here?”

“Tae, did she force you to watch Grinch?” He narrows his eyes. “You know this ain’t good for you. You won’t be able to sleep.”

Taehyung groans.

“Jungkook, shut up.”

You quickly put on your pajama top, tugging it as further down as you can.

You open an awkward smile.

“Thanks for the gift, Soojin! We— uhm, I really loved it.”

note ↠ sooo, what do we think? 🥹 i hope y’all liked it! it took sO LONG to upload this omg, tumblr just wasn’t vibbing with our himbo!tae 😔 but it's here! i actually had to learn some quick html codes to edit this lol, i'm so stressed

note² ↠ all form of feedback is deeply appreciated!

note³ ↠ thank you so so very much for reading it 🥹

note⁴ ↠ you can go back to navigation here

[kingofbodyrolls]

Taehyung fic recs 2023

In honor of Taehyung’s birthday, I want to share my ultimate favorite Taehyung fanfictions, that I’ve read this year 💜I haven’t read that much of Taehyung, just recently gotten into it, so the list might be short, so I’ll leave some of the fics I’m really excited to read from my ‘to read’ list 💎 I want to thank each and every writer on this list for creating such wonderful stories and art - you are truly amazing ✨ All the fics on this list hold a dear place in my heart 🥹

❗Most of these fics are smutty as hell or contains dark themes, so minors dni.❗ 

If you read anything on this list and you like it, please leave a comment to the writer or reblog the original fic’s post 💜And if you want more fic recs you can follow me to stay updated 🙂

BTS fic rec index → May | Jun | Jul | Aug | Sep (jjk)(knj) | Oct (pjm) | Nov (*) | Dec (ksj)(💜) |

Emoji meaning → angst = 🌩️, smut = 🥵, fluff = 🥰, comedy = 😂, yandere = 😈, thriller/dark = 👻. 

⭐One of the Boys by @littlemisskookie // kth x f.reader // childhoodfriends!au, slice of life, bestfriends!au, neighbors!au, high school!au // 🌩️🥵🥰

📝 All your life you wanted only one thing- for Kim Taehyung to like you. You did everything you could to make this happen, from picking up his hobbies and rejecting anything feminine. But who do you start to become when you stop trying to impress him?

🗨️ Woaw! This was so incredibly good, it’s almost hard to describe, but I’ll try: it does a brilliant job at setting the story up, following oc and Taehyung since childhood, and how their friendship develops over time (and their feelings). It’s really cute and funny and with great smut at the end. Overall a brilliantly good read 💯

⭐Baby, Oh Baby by @jungkookiebus // kth x f.reader // established relationship, noneidol!au // 🥵🥰

📝 Taehyung and you have been trying for months to get pregnant; you’ve tried crazy diets, stuck to your calendar, got him to diet, but it’s all been for nothing. No matter how healthy your doctor says you are, you can’t conceive. Taehyung tries everything within his power to show you that everything is going to be okay and for one night he makes you forget all about the calendars, schedules, and all the crazy things that came with you trying to have a baby. 

🗨️ This was just really cute and loving 🥹The smut was also just ❤️‍🔥💯

⭐Baby Maker by @kookslastbutton // kth x f.reader // marriage!au // 🥵🥰

📝 You're pissed at your husband for being late to your weekly baby-making sessions.

🗨️ Aish, the smut in this 🔥Also all the dirty talk really had me going 🥵

⭐Under wraps by @jungkxook // kth x f.reader // e2l, fake dating // 🥵🥰

📝 There’s nothing you and taehyung seem to hate more than each other - except for christmas. having recently been dumped by your (now ex) boyfriend only seems to make this holiday even worse. but when taehyung suggests that you should pretend to be dating each other to save you both the embarrassment, pity, and bothersome questions from family and friends alike for a fun carefree month of celebrations, you can’t possibly say no.

🗨️ I just love me some good enemies to lovers AU 🥵 the relationship between OC and tae is really good, I think the tension between them was well built 👏🏾 I loved how their relationship unfolded and grew through their fake dating 🥹 the way OC realized she had feelings for him, but he had showed her before in his subtle moves, how much more he relaxed in her presence. I loved the interaction between oc and tae’s parents too, the way that they could obviously tell that OC was head over heels 😂 ah just, It was really really good! It was funny, it was comforting, and such a lovely read around Christmas! And the smut was sweet and tender (also hot!) 😍 a really great fic that I’ll add to my Christmas re-reads for years to come ✨ I loved it! Please go read it if you haven’t already 🥹

⭐Farmer boy, I Love You by @strawberrynamjoon // kth x f.reader // farming!au, lowkey e2l // 🥵😂

📝 Needing change in your life you decided it would be a brilliant idea to move to your uncle’s small farm, helping him and your cousin Jimin with the daily work. What you didn’t plan was to fall in love with your beautiful yet very annoying neighbour Taehyung, who seemed to make it his personal mission to tease you every chance he got. And what you expected even less was that he seemed to like you too.

🗨️ This was just utterly sweet, so fluffy 🥺 I really liked this: the way that reader and Taehyung’s friendship deepens, their friends and their banter 🥺 everything was so good, soft, sad sometimes, and just really great and funny too 🤭

⭐The Wannabe-Photographer Chronicles [series] by @gimmethatagustd // kth x f.reader // frenemies to lovers // 🥵

📝 You’re so tired of Kim Taehyung’s hipster, wannabe-photographer ass. You’re so tired of Kim Taehyung’s stupid smile and stupid jokes and stupid way of getting under your skin and sticking in your brain.

🗨️ At first I did not realize that this was a series, therefore I’ve linked to the masterlist, lol. Anyway, this series is just so fucking hot, like WHAT 🥵 There’s a lot of banter and their mutual ‘hatred’ for each other just makes this hit incredible hard. Really amazing ✨

⭐Loverboy by @kookslastbutton // kth x f.reader // established relationship // 🥵🥰🌩️

📝 After a startling conversation with your coworkers, you start feeling insecure about your sexual prowess. You don't initiate as much, you haven't worn lingerie yet, and you're still timid about doing much seducing with your body–are you giving your boyfriend boring sex? Taehyung reassures you that you are perfect and have nothing to worry about.

🗨️ These coworkers gotta go, okay?! 😠🤣 Planting seeds of doubt in OC’s head, no, no. Tae to the rescue!! He is so sweet in this too, yes a real ‘loverboy’ 😍 Gosh and then best friend Jimin - that was just pure gold, their relationship and how he helps OC 🥹 That is friendship goals!! A sweet, loving and comforting Taehyung fic - I loved it ✨

⭐Hush, yeah? [series; ongoing/hiatus] by @kithtaehyung // kth x f.reader // brother’s best friend!au, music festival!au // 🥵

📝 Who knew an innocent accident could turn things so dirty..

🗨️ Pure gold ✨ — I don’t really have much to say, except GO READ IT.

For all of the other lovely fics that I haven’t gotten around to read, but I’m very excited about, I’ve compiled my ‘to read’ list 🙂

‘To read’ list ⬇️

Maybe I do [series; completed] by @chateautae

Gold Rush by @ditttiii

Fanservice by @bangtanintotheroom

Trip by @daechwitatamic

The Art of Obsession by @kooktrash

Dick on the Go by @jeonggukingdom

Love me or we both go down by @gukyi

Gank Mid Lane by @kth1

Good for Me by @icedmatchatae

Something about him by @kooktrash

Love, secret Santa by @jamaisjoons

All I Want for Christmas is You by @ladyartemesia

Buzzed [series; completed] by @junqkook

I’m so sorry that I didn’t get to read more! 😭 Life happened, and yeah. But all of these wonderful fics on my list sound so incredibly good and I really look forward to reading them and give them a lovely review 💜

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TAEHYUNG!!! 💜 🥳 🎂

[kingminie]

until forever falls apart | 01.

pairing: kim taehyung, reader 

genre: angst, exes au. 

warnings: emotional cheating, infidelity, swearing, detailed smut, chain smoking as a coping mechanism.

word count: 11.8k

description: you’ve never been much of a believer in the phrase ‘first love never dies’ but it seems as if the universe badly wants to prove it to you — and you’re absolutely and royally damned the moment you find out that the phrase holds truth. 

or alternatively, you come as a stand-in photographer for your cousin’s prenup shoot and you find out that it’s your secret ex who’s about to get married, and kim taehyung really doesn’t make it any less easy for you. 

01 | ongoing.

Love has always been easy for you — both falling into or getting out of it, but more of the latter, really. 

However, there are things about this so-called ‘love’ that you don’t quite get — will probably never get — and it leaves you in a sticky position when friends come to ask advice that roots from such a concept.

It always ends in a snotty mess and a sigh of I don’t know why I came to you for this at the end anyway. It makes you feel like shit; a clueless, ignorant, wondering piece of shit because how is it that everyone seems to have been looking at love and defining it from a single different lens with a unified perspective, and you’re stuck at seeing it from the other endpoint.

It isn’t your fault you don’t assimilate hurt with loving, is it? It isn’t your fault that you don’t expect to clean up a colossal mess every time love comes to its end. And it most certainly isn’t your fault that when love ends, you let it go. It ended, and that’s that. For you, anyway. So, why exactly, do people fault you for having such a reaction at the conclusion of a relationship?

Why does it seem to be a taboo and something that’s unheard of when a month after a relationship ends, you find yourself not grieving over a love that’s lost? When and why does it seem to have become the standard to mope and pine and cry as if acceptance and moving on is an outlawed concept right after a relationship ends?

That’s because you’re a heartless, unfeeling bastard, that’s why, as your best friend, Jungkook, so likes to put it every single time. And maybe, it is the defeat and the eventual acceptance that people will never see things in your perspective that you just roll your eyes and move on with your day. 

Love, for you, is something that ends when it ends. A wound that closes, heals. It leaves a scar, sure. You remember the hurt, yes. But the initial peak of pain wouldn’t be there again if it healed, would it.

With all that, you’ve become unsure — of what to do, of what to say, of how to act — when people lament over a lost love. Which, at this very moment, is what exactly your sister is doing. 

All tears, snot, and hiccups under your blankets. 

Sobs wrack her body in an uncontrollable shake, a vibrating mess under the sheets as you’re left to wonder what the fuck to do with your hands. But you never get the answer because she wails, head lifting from the blankets, “How could he do that to me? Six years, six years! Six years he threw away for what, a year of meaningless sex with his assistant?” 

You don’t really think it’s meaningless when dear, dear respectable Hyunwoo decides to break off the engagement, but you keep your mouth shut and continue to awkwardly pat your sister’s back. 

Your hand stills just an inch away from her back when she looks at you, wet eyes and mouth set in a downward curve, and whispers, “What should I do now?” She sniffles and you flinch. Because her goddamn snot is staining your bed but fuck, okay, you can’t think about that now, “I love him.”

You hesitate, weighing the words you’re about to speak in your head and thinking about the consequences before settling for a question, “You–you’re not thinking about giving him another shot if he asks for it, are you?” 

At this, your sister remains silent and you sigh because yes, yes she will give him a chance in one heartbeat if the bastard do so much as give her a fucking petal and a printed ‘I’m sorry’ hallmark note.

“You don’t get it.” 

Ah, there it is. 

Of course, it’s always going to come down to you not getting it. 

Maybe your sister sees it, the anger bubbling in your gaze as you glare at her, because she scrambles to sit down with her legs underneath her, knees parallel each other as she kneels on the bed facing you.

And it would have been funny, seeing your older sister like this, but the searing exasperation breaks through and you let it, mouth opening, “No, you don’t get it. See, this is not just a matter of moving the fuck on. He fucked you over, Hana, so much that there’s no amount of apology or groveling he can do to fix that. He fucked his assistant when he’s due to walk down the aisle in a year with you and if that doesn’t spell out how much respect he has for you, for our family, and you still choose to remain blind despite that, then you came to the wrong person because I won’t coddle you.” 

“I care about you,” your voice softens and you see her shoulders slump, “This is not just about my once-it-ends-then-it-ends view on relationships. Hyunwoo did an unthinkable, unforgivable thing and there’s no going back from that. I’m not letting you walk back to the person who lacks respect for a relationship, much less for you. Do you get where I’m coming from?” 

Hana nods meekly, head hanging low before you hear her sniffle once more. It hurts to see her like this and you want nothing more but to pummel the son of a bitch who did this to her, “I’m sorry.” 

You shake your head and you let out a breath, all air knocked out from your lungs when she slumps forward, arms snaking around your shoulders as she pulls you in for a tight hug, the phrase of ‘thank you’ and ‘sorry’ a litany on her tongue.  You squeak as her legs slither their way around you in a tight grip and she lets out a weak laugh that sounded much more like a wheeze before you push her off, feeling a wet blot on your shoulder. 

“I want to be you for a day. Not like you,” she mutters as she gets comfortable on the pillows, your pillows, “But be you entirely. I want this pain to vanish in a week and just forget about him.” 

She pauses, “Maybe after I key his car.” 

The pain doesn’t vanish, you think and tell her. “I just learned how to deal with it, Hana. And it isn’t overnight that I do it. And you will get over it too. Heal from it. Someday, one day.” 

The silence that follows is comforting, and you think she must’ve fallen asleep, just as most do after a good cry. But she hasn’t, you realize, when she rolls over once more and speaks in a quiet voice, “The way you are right now,” she pauses, only continuing when you give her a nod, “is it because of him?”

There are only a handful of people that could fit about who she means, you know that, but you refuse to speak of any of them and opt to ask her a question instead, “Which way that I am exactly are you referring to?” 

“The closed-off you,” Hana replies, a soft tilt to her words, “I had a theory, you know, that you moved on so fast from the relationships you had after because you were never really invested in the people after him. That he broke you, enough for you to place that, whatever you have around your heart that doesn’t allow people to hurt you. You love other people, but you never really allow them to love you as much because of it which makes detachment and parting easier when it ends.” 

You don’t really mean to, but the words Hana speaks are like a vacuum, drawing you into a place you’ve managed to tuck away in the very back of your mind. Memories rush in and you drown in it — of honey blond hair, rectangle smiles, and skin that smelled of oakmoss and jasmine. 

“Am I right?” 

You let out a laugh as you nudge a pillow towards your sister, “You and your unending theories. No, Hana. It’s not because of anyone in particular. This is just how I am, how I think. It’s just unfortunate that it's only the minority that shares the same sentiments as I do.” 

Hana looks as if she’d try to refute before deciding against it, groaning when her phone rings and you raise an eyebrow because who in hell would be calling her at midnight. She shakes her head, twisting the phone around so you can see who’s calling and you see the word Studio and you shrug before she takes the call, only hearing snippets of the conversation and it seems as if it's about work. 

Hana owns a photography studio — a hobby turned business venture with her friends. Your parents were against it initially, deeming it a ‘not suitable’ business for Hana, but your older sister is a head-strong bull and proceeded with her plans without a single support from your parents and of course, because she’s Hana Park, she can make anything succeed if she puts her mind to it. 

“—yeah, you goof, I’ll be right there, don’t worry. Why are you so stressed about this anyway, is this your secret wedding or something?” You lie closer to your sister and she mouths ‘Jimin’ before returning to picking her nails, “I get it, okay. Stop freaking out, I promise to be there tomorrow. M’kay, bye.” 

She heaves a dragged-out, exaggerated sigh just as she tosses her phone on the bed where it bounced, “You know, I’d assume it’s our dear brother’s prenuptial photoshoot tomorrow with the way he’s freaking out over the details. I’d actually think that if I didn’t know of him and his single ass and his emotional attachment to his bachelor title.” 

“It’s Sunday tomorrow, and you’re booked because of that phone call,” You list, “So I can only assume Jimin knows one of them and used his connections to book your exclusive ass into working on a Sunday.” 

Hana laughs, “You’re not wrong. Soyeon made the reservation for November, which is like, a month from now. Jimin moved it for tomorrow in such a rush last week for reasons I don’t know why.” 

“Soyeon?” You gasp, eyes going wide, “You’re not talking about Yang Soyeon, are you? Oh my god, how did I not know about this?”

Your sister snorts, ungraceful and loud, “Who would have expected for the youngest cousin in the family to be the first one to be wed, huh? Date’s set for April next year and I don’t even know who she’s marrying,” But she pauses and a frown mars her features, “I would’ve been the first one to walk the aisle and yet, here I am.” 

Wait. 

“Hana,” you start, “aren’t you meeting Hyunwoo’s parents tomorrow for brunch? To formally call off the wedding? Isn’t that what you came here for tonight, because you were having second thoughts of actually calling it off tomorrow?”

You see the realization dawn upon her, her eyes widening in recognition of the planned confrontation, her mouth dropping to a comical shape of the letter ‘o’ before she sits up so fast you actually ask if her back’s okay and you hear the frantic hits of her nails against the glass of her phone, the worry leaking thickly in her voice as she speaks to multiple people, all of which ending in a frustrated sigh and groan from your older sister. 

“Fuck!” she screams as she disconnects from a call once more, “I can’t find anyone to replace me, everyone’s either booked already or have plans for tomorrow. Fuck, shit, I’m screwed. Jimin’s going to kill me. No photographer’s available tomorrow, what am I going to do now, I—you.”

You still, nailed in place by her stare, “Fuck are you looking at me for?” 

It’s in this moment you feel the doom coming down on you from all the corners of the universe when Hana smiles, actually feeling it that you shiver. She picks up the phone, calls Jimin, asks if 10 o’clock is okay for everyone to gather tomorrow, kisses your cheek good night. 

Kiss of fucking death, you feel like. 

You’re never a morning person — nor do you have plans to become one — and you aren’t used to being awakened by a goddamn wet, slimy tongue licking your face all over. 

Hana’s laugh echoes around your room, followed by hushed good job from her and a shrill bark from her dog (you really did not know how Orion arrived here when the dog wasn’t even here last night), and you are never one to have thoughts of murder so early in the morning but your family has really been testing your limits. But then you remember that you willingly handed over to Hana the passcode to your apartment, something for emergencies and shit like that, but of course, she took it as an invitation to come and go as she pleases. 

Fortunately, she cleans up after Orion’s mess, thank god. 

Rolling over, you prepare to squint as protection against the glare of the sun since Hana had already pulled back the curtains, but you sit up at the lack of the sun’s intrusion into your eyes and see that the sun hasn’t even risen yet. The city that you can see through the glass window is quiet, still in deep sleep. As you should be just before Hana woke you up. 

“Dad’s going to have a fit when I tell him what you’re blackmailing me to do,” you groan, falling back on your pillow, “I’m running his business and here you are making me take photos of people Dad hates, well, by extension.”

Hana does nothing but flash you a grin, “You’re the only one I can trust to be on par with my skills, honey. Besides, I already have Dad booked in the freaking out area ‘cause you know, I’m a bachelorette now.”

You roll your eyes and you move off your bed, making it neat and tidy to which Hana scoffs before grabbing the mug of cold coffee right from her hands and chugging it all down. Looks like you’ll need more than a cup with what you’re going to be faced with today. 

“Is Jimin coming? My car’s in the mechanic, I’m getting it tomorrow.”

Hana nods before telling you just how far Jimin is from your apartment, “About Jimin, actually.” Your sister trails off and you feel an oncoming headache because of course, there’s more. 

“I didn't exactly tell him I can’t make it today so I’m trusting you to, um, calm him down when he freaks? He’s only weak to your charms and absolutely immune to mine.” 

Turns out a little while after that, Jimin’s absolutely immune to the both of you. Especially you.

“No, what the fuck. What—no.” 

Jimin stands frozen, fingers gripping the edges of the kitchen island. His eyes are wide, mouth open in disbelief as he listens to Hana’s explanations of why she can’t go today, her eyes flashing as if to call you for help but you only shrug because there’s really nothing you can do to help her out of this. She made her own bed, might as well let her lie in it. 

It irks you quite a bit though when Jimin starts to become unreasonable despite Hana’s crystal clear explanation as to why she’s unavailable today, and on a typical day, you know Jimin would understand, and would easily let it go because obviously, Hana’s life matters take precedence over a photoshoot that can be scheduled on a different day. Jimin today, however, is extra adamant on not having you take over the shoot and it might have very, just very slightly struck the wrong nerve in you.

“You know, Jimin, if this is a matter of your trust in my abilities, I’d gladly back out of this. I’m doing this as a favor to Hana, I’m not here to help you,” you quip, tight and low as you regard the both of them, “So, if you refuse to accept my help, then call your friend to find another photographer, better yet schedule another one with Hana.”

Hana starts to protest but Jimin shakes his head, turns to you with soft eyes and a pouting set of lips, “I’m sorry, that came off wrong. Really wrong. I swear I wasn’t trying to undermine your abilities, nor am I saying that there is anything to undermine because you’re good as shit at this, maybe even better than Hana, it’s just that—”

He cuts off his ramble mid-sentence as if to catch himself — to keep from spilling whatever his reservation about you being the stand-in for Hana, which you don’t really know what. 

Three things about Jimin are these: he rambles when he’s extremely nervous, fidgets with his thumbs when he’s scared, and refuses to make any eye contact if he believes he’s done something wrong. It’s always one of the three when it comes to him and never altogether. And yet, he stands in front of you, doing all three simultaneously and your heart plummets to the marble flooring beneath you because what is he so scared of, really, to be like this in front of you. 

“Look, if you don’t want me to do this, that’s okay,” You start to speak and Jimin turns to you and opens his mouth to speak when you shake your head. You aren’t finished speaking, “That is, if you have an alternative, if Soyeon agrees to reschedule, I’m sure Hana can fit them right in some other time—” You give a pointed look at your sister who rolls her eyes but nods, “—but if they don’t, you have no choice, Jimin. Unless you want to take the photos yourself.”

Jimin lets out a breath, agrees, and proceeds to call whoever he needs to and converses in a low tone that isn’t discernible to you, but Hana can hear and your eyebrows furrow in concern when her head turns so fast towards Jimin’s direction, panic clear-cut in her eyes as she picks up on whatever it is that Jimin is saying. She curses under her breath, turns ghostly pale before she pulls Jimin into one of the guest rooms, leaving you to your thoughts and your second cup of coffee. 

“You kept this?”

It’s a good three minutes after that Jimin’s voice pulls you out of your trance — your attention previously held by the large black ant that is now on top of an apple. You turn and your breath hitches at the rough sketch of the overly-familiar Pomeranian in his right hand. You shrug, “Jungkook must have left it there when he came over.” 

At this, Jimin raises his eyebrows. Stares at the picture a little bit too long before putting it back in place, under Jungkook’s purple-pink painting of a sunset, to the right of Jimin’s present two years before. He then looks at you, really looks at you, that you become unnerved enough to look away and pretend to busy yourself with some imaginary dust on the counter. 

You know. You know how the framed sketch is too clean, too in place, and too taken care of to be something that your best friend accidentally left behind. And you know Jimin knows this too with the way his eyes turn to you and you fear. Fear that pity would be reflected in them and so you stand abruptly, deaf to the frantic calls of Hana and you head straight to the building basement and settle comfortably on the passenger seat of Jimin’s car. 

You ran because you’re a coward — afraid to face questions you know you have no answers to.

Jimin enters not a minute later, silent and mum, but the silent looks your sibling keeps giving you is not something you miss no matter how discreet he tries to be about it. You brush it off though, citing the tense atmosphere to be the reason he’s doing so. 

But little do you know that this is the first of the many mistakes you will be making — the tiniest among all others.

The theme is simple. Glamour, editorial-esque Vogue-spread motif. Fit for the rich. Something that exudes elegance and opulence. Classy, simple, and elegant. You nod as you skim through the print-out Hana rushes to get to you through one of her employees, one hand busy writing ideas and suggestions. 

It warms your heart that despite all the things Hana has to face today, she hasn’t failed to make everything easier for you, as she always does. And everything’s in accordance, just as they should be. That is, except for one, someone. Jimin really cannot stop himself from shaking and you actually fear the poor boy is turning into a leaf, dancing in the wind, with how he physically cannot stop himself from moving. 

You’ve had enough of it — his nervous fidgeting, the frantic scan of his eyes among the crowd, the unending bounce of his knees — so you move to approach him, just in time to pluck out the cigarette he’s about to light in his hand and he jumps, “Minie, you’re making me nervous here. I’ve seen you nervous but it’s never been this bad.” 

Jimin looks at you and your chest constricts at the face he’s making. A beat, two beats before he lets out a shaky breath, “I’m sorry.”

You think of the exchange back at your apartment, the one where it came off as if he had no faith in you as Hana’s substitute and you let out a small laugh. You know Jimin would never think that. Flicking his chin, you shake your head, “It was me who took your words the wrong way, Min. You don’t need to apologize.”

He looks as if he wants to say more but a car pulls up, red and ostentatious with the way the roof is folded down, and you grin as you see your cousin, a matching upward curve to her lips. 

It isn’t new, really, when you catch sight of her hair — beautiful shades of cotton candy pink and pastel blue glinting under the sun. 

Beautiful, daring Soyeon, the darling of the Yangs. 

You nearly meet your end, though, that day if it isn’t for Jimin cursing and pulling you back when Soyeon isn’t able to stop her car at the designated yellow parking line and she too squeaks a wheeze when she steps on the brakes. The car comes to a stop, and you see her breath does too, before she throws her head back and laughs. 

“You’re fucking crazy.”

She sticks out her tongue before she jumps over the door, her flimsy taupe pants billowing after her. You only manage to let out a yelp of protest before she has you and Jimin in a bone-crushing hug and you feel your chest rasp to get some air in when she squeezes once more before finally letting go. 

“This is a two-people marriage we’re having today, right? You’re not marrying yourself here?” You ask and laugh as she rolls her eyes. It’s definitely her thing and it wouldn’t be a surprise if she did. “I didn’t even know you were in a relationship and now you’re getting married?”

She shrugs, a wide smile still on her lips, “It just happened,” Her eyebrows furrow when she looks over at Jimin who’s uncharacteristically silent and nudges him, “I still won’t forgive you. I know my groom’s your best friend but it doesn’t really give you a free-pass to have him here at six in the morning to get you coffee. Who does that?”

You don’t really hear what Jimin has to say to her because you’re bidding your goodbye to them both when one of Hana’s assistants — the one she had assigned to brief you over all the details of today’s shoot — pulls you from the conversation, apology written all over her face at the thought of interrupting you but as soon as she open her mouth to speak, you dismiss it with an its okay and you signal for her to go ahead. 

“This is the final list of the concepts Hana had brainstormed which one of the client is yet to choose from,” she hands you a thin stack of paper, a portfolio sandwiched between two clear binding covers, “The bride has already chosen the concepts she wants that are to be included for today’s shoot, so, all that's left is to hand the checklist to the groom for the shoot next week.”

Nodding, you skim through the portfolio and shit, it’s definitely good. 

You’re whisked away towards the building, directed towards the seventh floor of the rented building in which you’re told Soyeon’s groom is, handpicking his outfits for the day. 

You give the door a knock, hearing a bustle of people talking on the other side of the door, and when no one answers, you push the door open. You’re immediately greeted by a flurry of people walking back and forth, all of them either with stacks of paper in their arms or Brioni and Gucci suits in tow. 

It’s a mess, a downright mess you want to run from because you haven’t ingested enough coffee to face this. 

Which is exactly why you nearly cry when someone steps in front of you, a neat smile in place and a large cup of iced coffee in one hand, a hand extending towards you, “You look like you need this.” 

He tilts his head once, gesturing inside the room, “I’m Yoongi, Min Yoongi. Jimin texted me earlier that his other sister is standing in for Hana and I assume that’s you.” 

Something feels vaguely familiar about Min Yoongi and you list it off as a passing name Jimin had mentioned in the stories he had told you. 

“There’s a meeting room on the very far left, grumpy groom’s there,” Yoongi smiles, “Nice meeting you, um—”

“(Y/N). My name’s (Y/N), nice to meet you too, Yoongi.”

You think as you walk that there’s no point in going over next week’s concept today since Hana can already make it by the next photoshoot and she would’ve understand better the dynamics of it all if they talk then, but okay, since you’re already here, might as well help all the way. 

Through the frosted glass of the meeting room, you see a silhouette, tall and broad. You have never been a people-person and meeting new ones really isn’t your strong point so you take three deep breaths, hand tightening on the cup of coffee Yoongi handed you, before pushing the glass door open. 

“Hi, I’m sorry I ran a bit late. It’s—” 

And you stop. 

You stop because you suddenly can’t feel the cold cup slipping from your grip. You stop because you feel the liquid pool at the very bottom of your shoes, sticky and wet and messy. You stop because you can’t breathe. You stop because your heart fucking stops too at the sight of Kim Taehyung. 

Beautiful, dazzling Kim Taehyung. 

First boyfriend, first love, now ex-lover, Kim Taehyung. 

Soyeon’s groom and soon-to-be husband, Kim Taehyung.

“Everything okay here?” Yoongi. You hear his footsteps behind you before you see him and you can’t be thankful enough at the interference that’s very much needed. 

But you allow yourself to be pathetic, just as you always are around Kim Taehyung. And because you can’t help it, frankly, when your eyes meet his and all sense that is good and common jumps out the window behind him. Because he looks fucking beautiful — him and his honey hair that’s now framing his face, a little bit longer, lighter. Because the room reeks of him, jasmine, vanilla, and oakmoss and it consumes you. The part of you that, despite it all, still longs for the Kim Taehyung from four years past.

On a good day and you meet him once more, you think you would have laughed. A fake smile and a head held high would’ve done it in front of him. But all it takes is one look now. One look, at the time when all your defenses are down, for the self-imposed chain that blocks it all to break and give, a domino effect in your mind as it all comes back; the whirlwind of feelings and emotions that the calamity of him brings forth. 

You nod, feeling the light touch of Yoongi’s fingers around your arm, and you anchor yourself with it. Pull yourself from drowning in him once more. “Yeah, sorry,” You breathe, “It slipped. I’m really sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay. I’ll have someone take care of it, don’t worry,” Yoongi waves you off when you bend down to start cleaning up your mess, nods toward Taehyung, “Go on, he gets grumpy if he’s left to wait.” 

Oh, you know. 

So, you do. 

You drag your legs to where Taehyung stands, feeling like you’re hauling wet logs for limbs. It’s silent, save for the sound of Yoongi’s shoes against the floor as he kicks at the fallen blocks of ice, and maybe, he takes the silence for Taehyung’s bout of pettiness because he hisses a quiet behave before he walks out. The silence becomes even more suffocating when now it’s just you and Taehyung. 

“So—”

“I—”

You shut your mouth when he speaks at the same time as you. 

You decide, though, to continue because you’re here for one thing and that one thing entails that you have something to say to him. But he doesn’t, he shouldn’t. 

“So, let’s talk about concepts. I’ve been told that Soyeon has already chosen the ones for today — for both your individual and couple shots, and you get to choose the ones for the shoot with Hana next week. Here,” you slide the portfolio across the table, taking a seat across his own without waiting for him, “Hana already made an outline for everything so, this, is basically a checklist you just have to choose from and—”

“How are you?” 

“—I’m just going to wait until you’re done filling them out so I can bring them back and start with—”

“(Y/N).” You finally look at him then and you look away the second you do because you’re trying so hard to keep yourself whole and you feel like one second more in his gaze and you’ll fall apart, “I’m sorry.” 

And you try. God, you try so hard to repress the tiny, evil voice that pushes you to throw reason out the window. But it comes out anyway, and there’s no stopping what flows out of your mouth after, “Why,” you laugh, “Sorry because you wouldn't have chosen Hana's studio if you knew I was the one to take your photos? Or sorry because you had my brother acting like a train wreck just to keep this from me? Don’t worry I won’t be here next week.” 

His face pinches, tongue rolling out to wet his lips, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then don’t apologize to me—” you grit, fists clenched and heart thundering, “—as if you assumed that seeing you has put me in a position that hurt me. Because it really doesn’t. Not anymore, Taehyung. So if you have anything to apologize for—” 

You cut yourself off because no, no he has nothing to apologize for. He doesn’t have to say sorry. One person deciding to walk out of a relationship doesn’t warrant an apology from them. An explanation, sure, but you don’t really need it from him. He made it clear enough all those years ago just before he slammed the door of your apartment shut that he just didn’t love you enough — not anymore then. 

It’s been four years. It’s been four long years and you should be over him — and you are, you’re certain that you are. But it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt because it does, fuck, it still hurts so much and you don’t know why. 

“—apologize to Jimin because I just know he feels like shit for lying to me because of you.” 

You commit your second mistake that same day in the middle of shooting Taehyung’s individual photos. Soyeon had gone for a nature theme this time and so you find yourself in the middle of the forest with a near-naked Taehyung in tow and thank heavens it rains because one more glimpse through the viewfinder at his well-oiled torso and you might have combust and run away from the photoshoot, Hana’s reputation be damned. 

Jimin seems to be attached to you now, becoming a human magnet not long after he had apologized so much he knelt, snuggling to your side every chance he gets that it’s suffocating you because he’s overcompensating but you don’t really have the heart to call him out. Not when he looks like a puppy whose tail got accidentally stepped on when you get around to even do so much as try. 

So, you let him become your shadow for the time being, finally letting out a huge breath of relief when lunch time comes around and everybody takes a break and you slip past him to the very back of the dilapidated cabin you stumbled upon just before the last shoot ended, not too deep into the forest that faces the river. 

Finally, you think, as you savor the peace, even though momentary. You’re glad to be away from the commotion and it makes you realize once more why you choose to be cooped up in an office. It’s because you really can’t handle this many people and it physically and emotionally drains you that you can’t think.

You pause when you reach into your pockets, the gritty warning from Hana and Jimin an alarm ricocheting in your mind how it’s an unhealthy habit and it’s going to fucking ruin you someday. But the short-lived guilt is replaced by justifications of how it’ll be a free-pass and your siblings can fuck off because they’re the reason you’re here in the first place. 

Besides, burning through one stick won’t hurt them if they don't know. 

So you let your fingers feel for the familiar leather case, pull the only stick inside and you’re so, so close to reaching your sweet release from this damned mental pressure when you realize you left your lighter at home. Letting out a curse, you clamp your mouth around the unlit cigarette, letting it hang and opting to indulge in its semi-sweet smell that goes so well with the rain. 

“Want a light?”

You still, the cigarette falling from your lips at the sudden fright. Down, down, and down until it’s washed away by the rain. What a waste, you lament. Sighing, you turn and see Taehyung who’s sporting a sheepish smile, the same familiar white in between his own mouth, lit unlike yours, “I’d accept, but there’s really nothing that needs lighting anymore.”

He has a shirt on now, you notice, flimsy and buttoned up halfway. His hair is tousled messily, now free from the rigid form it previously had, and you give him your back when you feel the urge to fix the fraction of hair that has fallen forward. You hear him take a drag and you smell before you see the tendrils of gray smoke when he releases and god, the small whiff, even in the tiniest fume, has your shoulder relaxing. 

“I’d offer one but I don’t have any spare with me,” you hear him say before you feel him move, “I’ll get the fallen one for you, if you want.”

You roll your eyes and wave him off before you see him lean against the other column, the change in position means that he’s now closer, closer than he’s ever been since the day you last saw him, years ago. And he’s close enough that the thin material of his shirt brushes against your hoodie when the wind moves. And you want to move too, only if it isn’t for the fact that one move and you’ll either fall into the river or be skewered by the worn down wood and you don’t really feel like dying today. 

Ironic, how you went for a smoke break to relieve the stress of the day, only to have it doubled. 

Now, this is where you make the second mistake. 

Because you really don’t mean to stare at Taehyung. You don’t mean to let your stare at his mouth linger a second too long that he sees.  It’s just unfortunate that the cigarette is in his mouth, and you stay fixated on the damn cigarette that you fail to see him catch your gaze and hold it. 

It’s unfortunate that you don’t take a step back when he takes one step forward. 

It’s unfortunate that you become pliant when his cold fingers softly grip your chin, coaxing your mouth to open and welcome the smoke that he blows from his own mouth, hot and intoxicating and tinged with the memories of all the nights past that he’s done this. 

It’s unfortunate that you take a long drag when he places the soft end of the cigarette from his mouth to yours, unhesitating and eager. 

“Feeling better?” He asks, gentle as he pulls the stick, planting it back to the hold of his mouth. You see a slight upward curve at the corners of it. 

This is bad. Wrong and unacceptable and absolutely inappropriate, you know. But you can’t help but accept when he offers one more drag, an offer of release. This time you pluck it out from his fingers, feel the warmth of him around the smoke, and inhale. 

It’s only when the embers die out that you feel it, the heavy feeling coming back tenfold as you realize the gravity of what you just did. Not for anyone else, but for you. The toll this will have on you when you go home and have all the time in the world to think about your stupidity. So before you get sucked into the void of self-destruction, you excuse yourself, not caring about the delicate drops of rain that fall but not before you turn back and shout your thanks. 

“Okay, you shared a smoke, so what,” you mutter to yourself as you dry yourself off. You’re two people who share a history, a history that’s now dead and gone. A flame that was once bright but has now burned out, never to be rekindled again. 

You enter the building with thoughts of rationalization that tries to justify what you’ve done as something harmless, clouding your mind enough that you don’t see Jimin barrel towards you with a smile on his face, only to be replaced with disgust when he breathes and chokes at the ghost of smoke that clings to your clothes. 

He rummages through a nearby luggage and returns with a bottle of perfume, “If you want your head still attached to your shoulders by tonight, you’d know better and douse yourself in that shit because Hana’s here to take over and you only have two minutes to shove Listerine down your throat before she finds you.” 

In the haste of trying to avert your sister’s wrath, you damn near shower the entire contents of the bottle, only to realize that night when you come home that despite the endless showers you take, you still smell like him. Because of all people, Jimin just had to take from Taehyung’s things and now you’re doused with him all over again. 

It’s later that night that you’ll fall asleep to the smell of jasmine and vanilla despite years of trying so hard to rid your apartment of any scents. 

Of any trace of Kim Taehyung.

The third and fourth mistake, you make five days later. A Friday that you’re miraculously off work early. Well, technically, you can get off whenever you want but as the faithful, loving, and overworking youngest child that you are, you’ve assimilated longer hours at your father’s company to productivity and so you’ve never really found reason to clock off early when you can do so much more if you stay a bit later than most.

Besides, the company won’t run by itself, so there’s that. 

Now, though, you wonder why you thought like that because as you walk down the street, everything looks divine. The setting sun settles on the horizon, sandwiched between two skyscrapers, bleeding purple and orange and pink and it’s breathtaking. Painfully so. For the first time, you indulge yourself in the sounds of the busy city and for a change, it’s peaceful despite the loudness. You can’t remember the last time you took a stroll like this, having been so immersed in work. The last time you walked down the street the like had been years ago, with—

The breath you take is sharp and sudden that it has you bent over on the sidewalk, coughing and wheezing your lungs out that people start to look. You flash a smile, sending a quick thanks to your sister’s ex-lover for choosing to establish the studio within a five-minute walk from the company building, and nearly combusting on the spot when you pull their glass door that clearly says push right after you nearly heave your lungs out from climbing 10 sets of stairs because the elevator isn’t working, coincidentally.  

“Hey,” you greet the people on the lounge before specifically turning to Younha — the one who had walked you through everything on the previous shoot, “Is Hana here? I have the initial photos ready if she wants to see. Played around and edited most of them.”

Younha looks sheepish as she raises her hand to her nape where she nervously scratches, “About that,” she grimaces, “Hana phoned earlier that she’s running a bit late tonight so she told me to look over the photos and pick the final ones with the client, but I don’t trust myself enough to do that just yet, so would it be okay if we go through it together?” 

You assure her it’s okay. And really, it is, because you’ve finished work anyway and it’s a Saturday tomorrow. You can afford to be late an hour or so. You watch her plug the USB on one of the computers lined up against the wall, see her gasp when she pulls up the photos. 

“Oh my god, these are beautiful. You’re telling me you shot each of these by yourself, edited them all on your own, all in less than a week,” Younha turns to you, eyes wide, “Can’t you come and work with us?”

You laugh, genuine and loud, “The raw files were already beautiful untouched. Just touched up some lighting here and there.”

“Yeah, and who took those raw shots, hm? Who coordinated every single thing that resulted in those shots looking like that? You, that’s who,” Younha seems to realize who she’s talking to and she blushes before muttering something else you can’t hear, “Also, about Hana—” 

Uh-oh. This can’t be good.

“—so she told me earlier if I can pick out the final photos with the client, right? And since you’re here,” Younha trails off and you still there is no way, no way that you’re going to sit hours dissecting each photo with Soyeon, worse if it’s Taehyung. You have your pride and you’ll cling to that even if it’s the last thing you do in this world.

No way in hell. “Hana’s on her way here, right? I think she can make it.”

Younha nods, a low hum before she answers, “She can. In two hours. Maybe. Not sure. Our client, however—” She tilts her head to the right. Towards the direction of Hana’s office. “—is here.”

It’s a sigh of defeat you let out. Walking away from here means you admit you’re a coward, walking in Hana’s office will mean you’re weak. See, it’s always a lose-lose thing for you everytime a certain Kim is involved. The very, and only, Kim who seems to be haunting every part of your daily life the past five days. Or in this current case, a future Kim but a Kim nonetheless. 

Younha smiles, the sly fox, when you place your bag back down on the table, “If I’m going to stay here for the night, might as well ask for coffee. Lots and lots of it.”

You only barely get the full sentence out but Younha is already on her heels with a mock salute.

You push the door to Hana’s office, making sure (twice) not to pull this time, and your eyes land on Kim Taehyung whose eyebrows rise in surprise upon seeing you. If he thinks you’re meaning to keep on meeting him like this, well, he’s wrong. The universe likes to spring surprises down your path of life and it just so happens that for now, Kim Taehyung might be its play thing — to torment you with, most probably. 

He sits on the couch that rests against the white wall, beside the windows that occupy the whole one side of the room that overlooks the city. Hana’s office is more like her office and a miniature studio, exclusive for her and whoever she decides to let in here, separate from the lounge and the main studio. It’s an industrial loft, made modern and more suited to her taste and it’s just so goddamn bright in here, you realize.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” you mutter as the door clicks shut behind you. 

You head straight to Hana’s computer, turning it on and plugging the USB before you plop down on the office chair. “I had the photos with me and I dropped by to leave it for Hana but she apparently has things to attend to for the next two hours and you’re here already so, yeah.”

Taehyung only nods, silent and awkward when he stands. 

You sigh, “Grab a chair and come here, I guess. We have, like, a thousand photos to sift through. See if you’d like any changes done to them. The earlier we finish, the better.”

Three hours pass after that and you’re left with no Hana in sight, 325 file numbers listed down, a faint headache and tired eyes, a hungry stomach, and three accidental brushes of Taehyung’s hair on your cheek because what before is a ruler-long distance between the two of you has been reduced to mere centimeters, and Jesus Christ, you don’t know who moved between the two of you that it has come to such. You’re firm to say it isn’t you because your ass remains frozen, stiff as a board everytime Taehyung does so much as inhale. 

“Can you—” Taehyung clears his throat, pointing to the keyboard, “—move to the next one, please.”

You mutter an apology, pressing the right arrow and you see the photo move. Frankly, you aren’t paying attention. Not to anything, least of all the photos. It’ll be like knocking consciously on Hell’s door if you do pay attention. 

Because you can take being around Taehyung, you can easily detach yourself from reality when you are — and not feel anything, to look at him alone and think of him as an ex-friend, an ex-lover without the rest of the titles attached. But to look at the photos, the pictures you took, there’s no detaching from that reality. The reality that the man you had feelings for — might still have feelings for, but you push that thought back — is getting married, of all things. 

And you list this off as feeling weird, an ex marrying a cousin. You aren’t jealous, god, no. It’s just that — weird. Well, you think. 

“Okay, I can’t take this anymore,” Taehyung breathes and you still, unmoving as the statue on the corner of the room, “I’m going to order Chinese. I’m not going to last the rest of these photos if I don’t eat. Anything you want?” 

He might as well have slammed the mouse he’s holding with the way he casually lets it fall off from his hand to the table, leaning back on his chair and oh god, his head is leaning on the back of your chair. One move of your shoulder and the back of it will touch the side of his head. He has his phone over his head, elbows hanging in the air as he opens his phone with a click. He hums as he scrolls and this is so, so painfully domestic that you struggle to breathe. 

It’s been push and pull the whole night. He asks, you answer, and never the other way. 

Fifteen minutes that you’re plunged in deafening silence and you punch the air in your mind when Younha knocks, take-away bags at hand and a smile on her face. 

Taehyung hands you your food, places the utensils in neat order, pokes the straw through your bubble tea and gently places it in front of you and you stare. You stare because never in your life did you ever think you and Taehyung would ever be in this situation. Toeing around each other, walking on eggshells. 

There had been a time that silence wasn’t an option — it’s either you filled the quiet or he did; mouths off about Pokemon and stickers and dogs he met on a certain day, or silence filled with wordless communication through flesh and skin and heavy breaths. 

Never this — a fragile silence that no words could ever fill. But of course, Taehyung knows how to break that. Break you when he speaks, “I think we’ll have this one framed for the reception.”

You blink at the photo on the monitor, big and taunting. In it, Taehyung smiles, a wide rectangle stretch of his mouth as his chin rests on top of Soyeon’s head, the latter leaning her weight on Taehyung. It’s evident, palpable even, the happiness that’s shared between them. A running joke between the two of them captured on a permanent photograph only they can understand. 

“Yeah,” you nod, a smile, or an attempt at it, stretching your lips, “it’s beautiful. Definitely worthy for the reception. You can hang it in your home after.”

It’s an instinct – you’d like to believe so – when you feel Taehyung move beside you and you mindlessly mirror him, freezing the moment you take in the miniscule space that’s left as you both huddle to look at the monitor. A good couple inches you can count on one hand. And you refuse to move away because no, this is not at all affecting you. And it’s Taehyung, you justify, who’s currently invading your space. 

The third mistake is when you try to steal a glance at the corner of your eye because you think he’s engrossed with the picture. 

But then you see that he isn’t. Not when his stare locks with yours the moment your eyes move.  Had been on you all this time. 

The fourth is when he moves and you don’t. 

Not when his thumb brushes the corner of your mouth to wipe whatever it is he sees there. 

Not when he flashes you a smile – something so fond and warm and tender that renders you mute. 

Not when he succumbs to sleep an hour later, head lolling on your shoulder.

But the entire world moves when he stirs and the overhead lights hit something golden. It crumbles and caves beneath your feet when a locket falls out of the top of his loosely buttoned shirt. An identical locket to the one that now sits heavy on your chest – once heavy with the broken promises, but now empty of the love that first came with it.

You see his forehead wrinkle as he slowly wakes and you feel the start of the burn that first settles on your chest before it moves and starts from the corners of your eyes. You train your eyes on the monitor, fingers clicking away on the mouse and the keyboard faster than ever.

“I’m sorry,” you hear him say. His head stays on your shoulder as he speaks. “What time is it?” 

“Quarter before ten—”

“I missed you,” he breathes and you hear him let out a soft laugh before he whispers, “I always miss you.”

It feels as if all the air in your lungs has been knocked out and you turn to speak when you see that he’s fallen back asleep. And god, you wanted to shout at him, let out the years of pent up frustration and grudge you’ve had all these past years and ask all the unanswered whys and hows. But looking at him now, after so, so long, you realize you do too. 

A tear drops and a multitude of realizations follow. 

You missed him. You missed him. You miss him. 

And fuck, you’re still in love with him, you realize. So much and enough to make you not think of the consequences of the realization that you do.

Not when his fiancée finally comes and places a chaste kiss on his lips.

Not when a wedding invitation lands itself on the desk towards you.

And especially not when the ghost of him lingers when they’re gone and you find yourself praying for it to stay just a little bit longer.

You did not plan for your Friday night to be like this at all. 

The initial – and final – plan was this: show up to the club your sister wanted you to show up to, make it look like you’re genuinely happy to be there, flee the moment midnight hits when your sister and her friends are too drunk to realize you aren’t there anymore, and sleep away in the solace your tranquil and quiet apartment offers. 

The night and plan had been going well, much to your delight. 

Just until the fleeing part, that is. Because the moment you press the unlock button to your car half past one in the morning, you see a very drunk Kim Taehyung eagle spread on the hood of your car, with only a rumpled halfway-buttoned shirt that’s tucked into his pants, one of his shoes already on the roof of the Mercedes. 

And so instead of proceeding to the sleeping part of your plan, here you are now, struggling under the weight of Taehyung as you try to push in all his limbs in the passenger seat because he refuses to go away. Why, of all people, must you be the one to find him like this? Other people would’ve paid no mind leaving him on the pavement but of course, the universe had to make sure it just had to be you because old, cruel fate had it out for you and your demise.

Two weeks spent in isolation from the rest of the world in an attempt to justify and get over the realization you had of still being in love with an ex and the world just dumps him in the hood of your car of all cars. 

“Kim Taehyung, I am not above violence, I will fucking knock you out if I have to if you step your foot out and kick me once more, for the love of god,” you heave, “Are you with Jimin?”

At this, he grins and nods, eyes half-closed, “Jimin went home. I think. Or wait, maybe he’s passed out in Yoongi’s tub. I think. I don’t know, do you think he’s still here? Wait, do you know Jimin? How do you know Jimin?” 

You sigh, “Give me your phone. I’ll get Soyeon to pick your ass up.”

Taehyung lets out a loud gasp, proceeds to choke on air before he looks up at you, “How do you know my girlfriend?” 

You pause for a second before rolling your eyes, “Phone.”

“It’s in my left pocket, can you get it for me? I’m so tired,” he whines, wincing as his head lands on the head rest. You reach over to pull his phone out, only to retrieve a pack of cigarettes but no phone. You freeze when his hand grips your wrist that’s still in his pocket, feeling your heartbeat in your ears when he leans forward, so close that you feel his breath on your cheek, “Butt pocket, sorry.” 

You take a deep breath as he continues to look at you with a grin. You move closer, angling your head away because you would be fucking cheek-to-cheek if you don’t and you pause just before you touch his back pocket, “No, you know what, you can get it yourself. Either that or I leave you out here on the streets.” 

Taehyung pouts but he moves his arm behind him nonetheless, proceeds to feel his other pocket when he finds the first one empty.

“My phone’s gone,” he huffs, “Oh! It’s in Minnie’s car!”

You let out a loud groan, rounding the car to open the driver’s side to look for your bag so you could use your phone and you let out another sound of frustration, louder this time, when you remember the picture of a beige bag being left underneath your couch’s pillow. You look over at Taehyung, a war in your head as to what to do with him, before you finally settle on the choice that you never, ever think you would’ve made. 

“Fine,” you grit as you turn the engine on, “I’m going to drop you off your house but I’m not gonna be held accountable for the reasons you’re going to have to explain to your girlfriend if she greets your drunk ass as to why the fuck her cousin’s dropping her fiance off, alright? Now, are you still staying in the same apartment ‘cause I’m going to drop you–”

Taehyung snores, body folding in on himself as he slightly shivers. You sigh, dropping your forehead on the steering wheel, enough to hurt and make the horn whine, “This is fucking unbelievable. I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“Hey, Taehyung,” you shake him, poking his shoulders the way you know he hates, “Wake up and tell me your address, asshole. I’m not driving to the other side of the city only to find out you changed address. Hey.” 

He makes the tiniest wave of his arm before he goes back to sleep. 

You glance at the clock that says it’s now nearing three in the morning and you run your hands over your face because fuck this. 

Now, you head to your apartment with the plan of just dumping Taehyung in the foyer and letting him sleep there until he has his mind back in the morning – you figure he’d probably run off the minute he wakes up. 

“Hey, wake up.” You nudge him when you arrive and you sigh once more as he merely stirs, opening his side of the door before attempting to move out of the car only to heave when the seatbelt he still has on pulls him back.

With a grimace, you round to his side and lug one of his arms around your shoulders and basically carry all of his weight towards the elevator. You give a tight smile to the staff at the reception as you pass by, dismissing the offer of help. You nearly drop to your knees as soon as the elevator doors close, exhaustion flooding you all of a sudden. 

As soon as the door opens to the penthouse, you remove your hold on Taehyung and he slumps against the wall. You let out a breath before pushing him to one of the guest rooms where he immediately plops down on the bed after knocking his shoes off.  A small smile plants itself on your face and you reach over to pull the covers over him. 

Kneeling down on the floor beside the bed, you brush off the loose hairs that cover his face and you whisper, “You’re making it so hard for me.”

Deciding that you’ve helped him enough, you head to your room to change and shower – a long bout of internal battle against yourself as you try to wash off all that happened. 

It is an hour later when you’re already in your bed, tossing and turning that you find yourself a long way from sleep, and so you push the covers off of you to head towards the kitchen to find something to drink. The sun is starting to rise, you see, as you stare at the large windows, uneasy at the thought that Taehyung is there. Here. 

And you know you shouldn’t care anymore. You’ve done enough and beyond to help him, you remind yourself. But that doesn’t matter, really, because here you are, pushing the guest room open to check on him, a bottle of water in hand. He remains as he was the second he got here and you sigh as you pull one of Jungkook’s shirt and sweatpants from the cabinet, a spare he leaves in the case he unintentionally sleeps over, and you walk towards Taehyung before slowly shaking him awake. 

“Hey,” you speak softly as his eyes crack open, mind still swimming in alcohol, “you should change into this. Your clothes must be uncomfortable to sleep in. Here’s some water too.” 

His eyes open a little bit wider, voice hoarse when he speaks, “(Y/N)?” 

You swallow, “Yeah, it’s me.” 

“I can’t remember most of tonight, how did I—”

You smile, “And you probably won’t remember all of this when you sleep once more. Just change and drink this, Taehyung.”

A part of why you’re doing all the things you’re doing is the fact that you know he will forget this. 

He sits up, swaying as he does so, twisting the water open. You greet him good night, and just as you turn to head back to sleep, his hand dart out to grip your wrist – as tight as the grip that has your heart beating so loud in your chest as he does, “I’m sorry.” 

Without turning around, you answer, “You don’t have to be. I would’ve done the same for anyone else.” 

“No, you wouldn’t have.” 

Pressing your tongue against your cheek, you rip your arm away from his hold, now turning around to face him. He slowly stands, eyes trained on you. You open your mouth to speak but he beats you to it, “I’m not saying sorry just because of tonight,” he speaks quietly, “This is an apology that’s long overdue. An apology I never had the courage to give you. An apology that I owe you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being the coward that walked away without an explanation. For not being the person I promised you I would be.”

“I told you,” you say through gritted teeth, “You don’t owe me an apology, Taehyung. It’s over and done with. Apologizing to me would mean that there’s still loose ends between us, and I’m telling you that there’s none. You may have burnt those ends the moment you walked away and I have burned mine in the years that followed. You don’t owe me anything.”

He’s closer now, so close that you feel yourself getting overwhelmed by the smell of alcohol and his perfume. “Then why are you still wearing this?” 

You feel all the walls come down, then, when his fingers trace the golden chain of the locket. The once emblem of young and promised love, of an oath, of Kim Taehyung. The necklace that never was once removed from you since then. 

You chuckle, bitter and harsh, “You’re still wearing it too, Kim.”

You flinch as you feel the pad of his thumb wipe away at the trail of tears that has somehow escaped, “Leaving you was the only choice I had then. It killed me to walk right out of that fucking door but it was the only choice. For you, for me, for us. Even if it meant me becoming the asshole, it was the only choice.” 

“Don’t feed me that bullshit, you left me. And in my vocabulary and everyone else’s, leaving the person you claim to love without a single explanation is a shit move,” you nearly damn snarled, “I could’ve accepted you telling me you didn’t love me anymore but you fucking walked out without a single word. Well, I guess it worked out great for you, huh? You’re getting married now.” 

“I did l—”

“Don’t fucking dare say it,” you sob, feeling all the energy draining out of you in a second, “You’re four years too late, Taehyung.”

The chains that hold all the hurt and grievance of the past four years had been unlocked and with the thought of Taehyung not being able to remember this tomorrow, you let it all out. 

“I lied,” you whisper, lips and chest shaking as you breathe, “It hurts me seeing you now. So fucking much. Because you never wanted to get married. I remember when we were together you said that we could live without the titles, the labels, and the technicalities of it all, because you’d love me the same. So yes, it hurts. I can’t deny that it does when the things you didn’t want with me, things I wanted to have with you, you learned to want with someone else. Shit like this hurts because even if I was okay without all the titles, I thought then that spending a lifetime with you wouldn’t be so bad. But you made it seem like you never wanted marriage, not with anyone ever and so I accepted it, content even with just being with you.”

“But then you show up like this,” you say so quietly you don’t know if he can hear it, “You can’t expect it not to hurt, Tae, because it does. So, so much.”

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung lightly rests his forehead on yours, “I’m so sorry.”

“Answer me this one question,” you look up at him, “Please.” 

You feel him nod, “Anything.”

You feel it again, the suffocating claws that grips around your chest, the pain of unanswered questions and doubts, “Was my love not enough for you?”

You feel it before you hear it, when he nods against your head, hands coming up to hold your cheeks, “No, no, god, no. It was more than enough. It was so much more than enough that you became someone who didn’t deserve someone who couldn’t reciprocate the amount of love you were giving me. I’m sorry.”

“I miss you, Tae.” You whisper, and you can barely see him through the tears, “And it’s so, so wrong and I shouldn’t be doing this but fuck, I do. Four years and I still miss you and now you’re here, back in my life, and yet you’re still the farthest you’ve ever been from me.”

Maybe it’s the realization that he is – so far away from you and will never be close enough anymore – that you think maybe this is the long-awaited end. The closure you’ve once longed for but never had. Maybe there really was no reason for him leaving you beyond the fact that he didn’t love you anymore – and maybe that was enough reason. You just didn’t want to accept that fact. Maybe it’s time that you do. 

After Taehyung, you’ve become someone who believed that love is something that’s easy to let go, when in fact, all this time, it is the love you had for Taehyung you’ve never let go of. And maybe, it was never love for the people that came after him and so it became easy for you once it’s over, once it ended. Because what has started that really counted has never reached its end, for you anyway. Because it will never be the same. 

Because they weren’t Kim Taehyung. 

“Don’t cry for me. I don’t deserve it,” he smiles a small smile as he wipes a tear away. 

“Then stop making me cry, asshole,” you softly retort, hands coming up to wrap around his own to pull them away from your face. You can’t think straight when he has his hands on you, “I’m not asking for you to love me again, not anymore. Maybe we could be friends?”

It’s a weak attempt at humor, you know. And you really don’t think you can be just friends with Taehyung. But you’re weak for Kim Taehyung and you’re still so fucking in love him that you’d settle for whatever there can be between the two of you. He doesn’t need to know the specifics.

“Can we, really?” He laughs softly, a sad smile appearing, “I’m about to do something very stupid, for the very last time, so please, stop me if you don’t want to because I don’t think I can stop myself.”

He leans forward as the inches between you decrease down to a zero, his lips pressing against your cheek, your forehead, your eyelid, and to the corner of your mouth before he pulls away. “No, you had something to drink too, I’m drunk, you’re drunk. I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, ” Taehyung breathes against your cheek, eyes shut tight. 

“I’m not.” 

Whether that’s an answer that refutes your state of intoxication or a statement that debunks Taehyung’s apology, you don’t know. Because the next moment finds you pulling him forward, arms snaking around his shoulders as you kiss him. Soft and unhurried and sad – a declaration of what had remained unsaid for the past years. 

The last time, you swear, and from tomorrow then on, you’re going to be friends. This night will be void – forgotten and discarded. Taehyung is going to continue with his life and you with yours. 

It’s so easy to become so lost in Taehyung that you forget the rest of the world. 

That you don’t hear the sound of the door opening. 

Or the second set of drunk footsteps that follows the first one.

“What in the fuck is going on here?”

[angelsyd]

what your camera roll would look like dating taehyung

[caelesjjk]

entangled | jjk&kth - teaser

⟶title: entangled

⟶au: marvel au

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ genre: romance, smut, love triangle

⟶wc: 1.5k for this

⟶banner: by meee, and yes I’m insane and made a new one

⟶warnings: mentions of blood, kissing, a boob grab and an ass grab, but no actual smut for this, Jungkook calls you Data

⟶ summary: Jeon Jungkook is Spider-Man.

He saved your life twice. But he’s also been your sweet lab partner in college for the past two years and now someone who is more than just a friend.

You care about him…maybe even love him. But something tells you that you aren’t quite sure what love even is. How could you when you have feelings for someone else as well?

Kim Taehyung is the handsome stranger you’ve seen around campus and somehow ended up dancing with at Club Onyx. You were upset that Jungkook had stood you up once again and Taehyung made you feel like you were on top of the world.

What you didn’t know that night, is the dark secret Taehyung is trying desperately to hide, but the closer the two of you get the more difficult that becomes.

⟶ authors note: hello darklings. I know a lot of people have been waiting for this fic, and you’ll have wait just a bit more. But in the meantime, I offer this little teaser to hold you over. A little glimpse of spidey kook. First chapter will be posted in just a few weeks!

Also, if you asked to be on the taglist just now that I tried messing with it for a long ass time and got annoyed lol. I may try again for the actual fic.

“What are you doing here anyways?” You shove against his broad chest and feel his arm release your waist. He sighs, following you inside your apartment.

“I know you’re upset I missed the study session…” Jungkook starts to explain, but you twist back around to face him.

“If my friends hadn’t seen you around campus now and then, they would think I made you up, Jungkook. You never show. It makes me look pathetic.” You cross your arms over your chest and wait for the next excuse.

“You aren’t pathetic, Data. I’m just…” Jungkook winces when he reaches for you, a hand moving down to his ribs in pain. “Sorry, it’s healing it’s just slow.”

“What’s healing? What happened to you?” You let the fight go for a moment, closing the space between the two of you and moving his hand out of the way.

Beneath his fingers is a large cut, bloody but half hidden by his suit. It looks angry and inflamed. What could’ve made a cut like this?

“It’s nothing. I’ll heal up in a couple hours.” He pulls your hand away, blood stained on the tips of your fingers.

“It won’t matter how quick you heal if it gets infected. Come in here.” Your hand wraps around his and you pull him into your small bathroom. You steady him against your bathroom vanity and move to grab your first aid kit from the cabinet above your toilet. “Take that off.” You gesture to his Spider-Man suit.

“Yes, ma’am.” Jungkook teases, gingerly working his top half out of the suit. He hisses through his teeth as he peels the suit away from his ribs and lets it hang at his hips.

You are not the universe's strongest soldier.

Your eyes drift over all the dips and curves of muscle. A perfectly sculpted chest and abs you could literally eat off of are scrambling every sense you have in your head. You need to focus. Stay focused on the task at hand and not his ridiculously toned body.

“You okay, Data?” He asks, humor in his voice. That horrid nickname he had given you in your first year as lab partners is feeling more endearing these days. You clear your throat.

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be fine? Just tending to Spider-Man’s wounds in my extremely tiny bathroom.” You try to laugh but it doesn’t sound genuine.

You take out some bandages and gauze and get to work cleaning him up. But even as you tape down the gauze, you can visibly see the wound getting smaller. Super powers were really something else.

“Data.” Jungkook’s voice brings you back to reality.

“What?” You sigh.

“Please come here.” His hands reach for your hips and you give in, letting him pull you until you’re flush against him, suddenly nose to nose. “That’s better.”

“I’m angry with you.” You whisper, heart pumping a bit faster in the close proximity.

“I know that you are. I’m really sorry…I swear I wanted to be there.” You look down to see him slip his gloves off his hands and sit them on the countertop before they’re coming up to cup your face.

“Then what happened? You need to tell me.” Your hands wrap around his wrists.

“There’s something out there, Data. A…monster that we can’t figure out. He’s strong…and fast. Nothing I’ve ever seen before.” His thumbs brush the corners of your mouth.

“What does it want?”

“It keeps breaking into the Lab across the River. It’s looking for something. But no one at the lab is being very forthcoming with information.” His forehead presses to yours, “but Mr. Kim is working on that part.”

Seokjin Kim, also known as Ironman. He was a mentor and a good friend to Jungkook. He had helped Jungkook navigate the new world of being a superhero and also gave him a job to help him pay for school.

“Hasn’t Mr. Kim told you to call him Jin over and over?” You tease, hands coming up to rest against his chest. Jungkook laughs quietly, pulling you closer.

“He has. Guess it just slipped out.” His hands move down to palm your ass.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” You raise an eyebrow in question of his actions.

“Just feels like I haven’t touched you in so long.” His warm mouth finds your throat and he presses kisses to the skin.

“Two days is a long time?”

“It is when it comes to you. Thinking about how much I want you gets so distracting.” He nuzzles into the crook of your neck making you giggle.

“So what I did for you two days ago wasn’t enough?” You let your hands slither down from his chest and over the planes of his stomach.

“Never enough.” His nose skims over your jaw until you’re back face to face and his lips are devouring yours. “I’d like to pay you back.”

“How?” You moan when you’re cut off by his tongue sliding into your mouth.

“Let me show you?” Jungkook pulls away from the kiss, taking your hand and leading you out of the bathroom.

Thinking he means to lead you to your bed, you start to pull him towards it but he seems to have other ideas, walking you back out onto the balcony. He releases your hand momentarily to slide his suit back up over his shoulders.

“What are you going to show me out here, Jungkook?” You start to feel suspicious.

“Do you trust me?” He jumps up onto your railing with ease, still holding your hand in his.

“Not if it involves you swinging me around off the side of buildings.” You start to pull your hand out of his, but his web shooter from the other wrist shoots a web at your torso, using his inhuman strength to pull you up onto the railing into his arms.

“I would never let you fall. Never. Just close your eyes for a few minutes. I promise it’ll be worth it, Data.” He touches your cheek gently, and even though you want to throw up every time he does this, you close your eyes and wrap your arms as tightly as possible around his neck and legs around his waist. “Ready?” He whispers in your ear, one strong arm wrapping around your back.

You don’t verbally answer, just nod once before burying your face into his neck.

And then the ground is no longer beneath your feet and the sickening feeling of free falling is very apparent. You try to breathe, squeezing yourself around Jungkook as you listen to the whooshing sound of his web shooters discharge and swing you between the tallest buildings in the city.

“You’re doing amazing.” Jungkook kisses your cheek, “just another minute.”

You keep your eyes squeezed shut until the curiosity becomes too overwhelming, making you dare to open your eyes just the slightest bit. You see the sun completely setting on the horizon, orange and purple hues slowly disappearing beneath the river. As long as you don’t think about how high up you are, it really is beautiful up here.

Jungkook shoots a web straight up into the air, letting it connect to the side of one of the tallest buildings, slowly pulling the two of you up until he’s reached the highest ledge, tapping your thighs so you know it’s safe to put your feet down.

“Why are we up here, Jungkook? You know the heights..” he kisses you before you can finish the sentence.

“Can we try something?” He smiles, and it’s infuriating. You’re too weak for this spidey boy. You sigh with exasperation.

“I’m already very wary of saying yes.” You look away from the ledge towards the top of the building.

“Let me make you feel good…up here.” His cheeks heat a little when he asks.

“Is this some kind of weird adrenaline thing? Why would you want that?” Your voice cracks and you sputter, disbelief heavy in your tone.

“I think it’ll be intense…feel so good.” His lips move down and his teeth nip at your jaw.

“It’s insane…” you melt into his touch and the way his mouth sucks at your neck.

“If you don’t like it, I’ll take you home. And I’ll get you naked in your bed instead.” He pulls your shirt over your head, fully knowing you’re about to give in.

“Bed sounds so good right now…”

“Please, Data…just try it.” He tosses your shirt to the side, cupping your breasts and kissing the tops of them.

“What do I have to do?” You feel too good to let the fear ruin the way he’s making you feel.

“Lie back on the ledge, with your arms above your head and your wrists crossed.”

You let him lead you down onto the ledge, every nerve in your body is hot and on the edge. Jungkook makes sure that you’re settled before he stands back up straight, looking down at you while you slowly move your arms above your head the way he asked.

“You’re perfect, Data.” Jungkook stares at you a moment longer before he aims his web shooter and traps your wrists together against the concrete ledge beneath you.

[btsgotjams27]

he's so villain-coded.

[eoieopda]

PM already sent for smut authorization! The Bad Thing - Arctic Monkeys with Kim "NOT a Good Boy" Taehyung. <33

ayyyyyyyy! one of my favorite bands! this might be the smut fic of mine that i like most??? who am i……

listen here

cw: SMUT — 18+ so minors must avert their eyes! married!reader strays from her god-awful husband, public (restroom) sex, v fingering, p in v penetration, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, implied continuing affair, not fully proofread yet lol

(3/4/23) A follow-up, full-length one-shot is available here once you read this!

do the bad thing / take off your wedding ring / but it won’t make it that much easier / it might make it worse

Taehyung hates these firm dinners.

His boss is an asshole with bad taste in restaurants; and the majority of his team is full of retired frat stars who peaked in college. They drink too much, they get loud, and then they get rude to the waitstaff. The worst of them was sat two seats away, guffawing from his spot at the head of the table: Park Ji-won.

Taehyung doesn’t mean to stare, but he can’t help it. Fork clenched a little too tightly in his right hand, he can neither pretend the food in front of him is edible nor peel his narrowed eyes off Ji-won.

That sanctimonious fuck was on his fourth shot of whiskey, ogling any waitress that passed by, and spewing tasteless jokes. Taehyung used to push back in these moments, but he stopped trying because it seemed to hurt more than it helped.

The only person more mortified by Ji-won’s actions — who would be further humiliated by additional attention drawn to them — occupied the space between him and Taehyung: his wife.

Taehyung has spent the past two years wondering if you hate your husband as much as he does. Truth be told, likely more so.

You were supportive. You came with your shithead spouse to all his important work events and you looked perfect at every one of them. To top it all off, you were an incredible conversationalist — successful in your own right, sharp as a tack, and all smiles despite the mouth-breathing troglodyte at your side.

Until he’d start acting like this, that is.

Jaw-dropping as you were, the only one present not paying attention to you was the one who vowed to do so. Publicly, and in front of all your friends and family — in sickness and in health, as long as the two of you live.

And Taehyung can’t fucking stand to watch him ignore you.

You’re not eating, he notices, just sitting quietly with your eyes and head lowered. Maybe you finally look as neglected as you feel. Or maybe, like him, you get through your husband’s antics by imagining you’re elsewhere.

Somewhere exciting.

Taehyung, for example, imagines you staring at your reflection in the bathroom mirror while he fucks you from behind.

“— and then I told her, if you really wanted my business, you should’ve dressed like it. This stupid bitch showed up in a turtleneck like there’s a brain somewhere above those tits!”

You flinch at your husband’s words, then at his laugh, then at the high-five he exchanges with his boss. God, you poor fucking thing — cheeks burning with embarrassment, eyes flicking over to Taehyung to communicate an apology you shouldn’t have to make.

You don’t flinch, however, when Taehyung’s right hand bumps against the side of your left thigh as he pulls it off the table.

Your little black dress is tasteful when you’re standing, but it rode up when you sat down earlier. His knuckles brushed against your bare skin when he retracted his hand and he saw the way it made you hold your breath. He sees the way you keep glancing at him and the way you’re pretending not to.

So, Taehyung gambles.

With how closely everyone is packed at the table, no one’s the wiser when he slowly extends his arm in your direction. Millimeter by millimeter, his hand hovers closer until he’s able to run the knuckle of his index finger over that same bit of flesh.

Not an accident, but calculated. Subtle, too, and soft as a whisper. You clench your thigh reflexively, but you don’t move away. If anything, your leg shifts closer.

So, you did feel it — and you liked it.

Taehyung is emboldened; his rapidly beating heart has blood pumping through his veins, down down down instead of up. Certainly not to his brain, the one thing that could’ve stopped him from sliding his hand overtop of yours.

From pinching that gaudy wedding ring between his thumb and middle finger, and slipping it off to claim in the palm of his hand.

You don’t stop him when he pulls his hand back and stuffs it into the pocket of his slacks. You do follow him with your eyes as he stands up, pushes in his chair, and excuses himself.

One quick glance over his shoulder tells him you’re still watching as he walks towards the hallway ahead.

When he dips out of view, he keeps walking until he reaches the single, gender-neutral bathroom at the very end of the hall. Unlike the gendered bathrooms on either side, this one has no stalls — less risk of interruption.

Even better, the speaker spilling soft jazz into the restaurant is built into the ceiling, directly above its door — less risk of being overheard.

He ducks inside, shuts the door behind him, and crosses to the counter. Once he reaches it, he turns and leans against it with his gaze zeroed in on the door in front of him. He doesn’t know for certain that you’ll follow, but he hopes to god that you do.

After a few minutes, there’s a soft knock at the door.

He doesn’t say a word in response, opting to wait with his arms crossed over his chest. He tilts his head to the side as the door opens slowly. Warm all over, he smiles to himself when he sees the pointed toe of your black stiletto through the widening crack.

Then you appear, looking good enough to eat. There’s conflict in your expression, but your body language doesn’t convey the same sense of doubt. The steps you continue to take toward him are purposeful. When you finally close the distance, he can see it clear as day:

You want this and you feel awful for that, but you can’t stop yourself. Taehyung won’t be the one to try.

“I’ve never received a proposition in the form of grand theft,” you words tease, but your tone is the shyest he’s ever heard it. Oh, you angel. “Are you always this forward?”

He scoffs and tells you the truth, “Absolutely not.”

Never in his life had Taehyung pictured himself being so reckless as to make a pass at someone’s wife while they’re seated right next to her. But, then again, he’s never seen someone sit next to their wife and fail to give a shit that she’s there. Time after time after time.

You shift your weight from one foot to the other. So fucking cute when you’re shy. You decide to be reckless too and quirk an eyebrow, “Then, what? You’ve decided that I’m special?”

Taehyung feels the heat radiating off your body with how closely you stand to him. He leans forward, lowering his head as he towers over you and whispers, “No, I didn’t.”

Your eyes are locked on his when they narrow. Your red-tinted lips form a pout that he wants to kiss right off your face; and you part them to speak.

“You did,” he answers before you can ask. It surprises you, judging by the way you blink in response, but it shouldn’t.

So, Taehyung puts his hands on your waist and silently instructs you to switch places. As soon as he’s got you in front of the mirror, he spins you around so that your back is pressed against his chest. You gasp, but he’s not sure if it’s the movement that shocks you, or the pressure of his hardening cock against your ass.

Through the mirror, your puzzled eyes regard him carefully. He looks down, only for a moment, to watch the way your chest heaves with the weight of your breathing. When his eyes drift back up to yours, he drops one hand to pinch the hem of your dress between his fingers.

“You’re not special because someone looked at you and decided you were.” His voice is low as his lips hover near the satin skin of your neck. You’re vibrating in his arms when he begins to tug the bottom of your dress upwards. “He never looks at you and you’re still this fucking perfect.”

With the fabric pulled up high enough, his hand falls slowly down towards your core. He can nearly feel your heartbeat with his mouth so close to your pulse point; but he doesn’t kiss you there.

Not yet.

If he had, he would have missed the desire washing over your face when his fingers nimbly pull the lace of your thong to the side. All he can do is behold that whimpering mouth as he slides his finger through your slicked folds; and makes contact with your touch-starved clit.

“What I don’t understand,” Taehyung starts with a murmur. You gasp as his fingertip swirls against you, but you still look straight ahead at his reflection through fluttering lids. “Is how anyone could stand to look anywhere else.”

God, you’re so fucking wet.

You moan so softly, it sounds like a sigh. It’s all he can think about, and he has to ask:

“When was the last time you were touched like this?”

His finger glides from your clit slowly, relishing your arousal as he approaches your entrance. Whether consciously or not, your hips swivel slightly against his pelvis.

A girl like you should never have to beg.

His middle finger penetrates you and your breath catches in your throat. When it finally slips through your parted lips, that mewl is the prettiest fucking sound he’s ever heard.

“Like you deserve to be touched.”

His palm is drenched in your wet heat as you grind against his hand. Your reservations leave you when the pad of his finger finds that neglected spot behind your pubic bone. You bite down on your plush bottom lip and swirl your hips in tandem with his ministrations.

He leaves a chaste kiss on your neck without taking his eyes off of you. You unravel in his arms, fluttering around his finger as your orgasm overtakes you. Biting harder on your lip to muffle your moans, your manicured fingernails dig into his arm as it holds you tight against him.

“You shouldn’t have to silence yourself for other people,” he mutters against your skin before he kisses you again. Then, his tongue leaves a wet stripe over the same area. “Or shrink yourself to make anyone else feel taller.”

Your voice is raspy when you finally speak, but despite the hushed tone, there’s no ignoring your demand:

“Fuck me, Taehyung.”

Taehyung removes his hands from you just long enough to wrestle with his belt. He jerks down his slacks and boxer briefs, all in one urgent move. You lean forward against the counter; your perfect cunt glistening, begging him to sheath himself inside of you.

The sound you make as he fills you is just as heavenly as it is obscene.

He clenches his jaw as he bottoms out, but he manages to grunt, “Shit — what kind man wastes pussy like this? You’re squeezing me so fucking tight.”

It’s an unconscious decision — something primal, instinctive — to hold your arms behind your back, pinning them with his own against his chest. You whimper at the change in angle. Now, his cock drags over your g-spot with every thrust as he fucks himself into you.

“How could anyone leave a bed that they get to share with you?” He purrs with his mouth at your ear, and you keen, “I’d never leave the house again. Fuck!”

You whimper until he rolls his hips at a more feverish pace. Notably, you don’t silence yourself when you orgasm a second time. It’s music to his ears, hearing that uninhibited moaning as he fucks you through your high.

And that face!

Your eyelids shut so delicately despite how completely your orgasm consumes you — still so beautiful, even with the mess he’s making of you.

How can a person fall asleep next to you, wake up next to you, and not see you? He can’t fathom it — how someone could ignore the soft angles of your features and the ethereal glow of your skin. This is the face that could launch a thousand ships; and he’d volunteer to go down on any one of them just to see you like this.

“Holy s-shit,” you hiccup as he continues to drive himself into you, “Don’t ever stop fucking me. Fuck — Taehyung, you’re going to make me come again —“

The third time hits you the hardest.

Your back arches away from him and your head falls against his shoulder; you’re shaking. But he doesn’t stop, not when he follows you off the cliff, not while he releases inside of you — not until your cunt milks every last drop from his twitching cock.

The two of you are silent for the few minutes it takes both of your souls to return to your bodies. It’s just panted breaths, the rustling of clothes. You shimmy your dress back down to hide the evidence; he locks himself away behind a zipper.

When you’re both presentable again, you turn around to find him reaching in his pocket. Taehyung swears there’s disappointment stowed away in your eyes, but he doesn’t know what to do with it. His fingers finally find that gaudy, broken promise — but your hand on his forearm stops him before he can fish it out.

“Hold onto it for now.”

Your eyes are wide as if you also can’t believe what you just said. There’s a spark in them as they flit from your grasp to his face. The tiniest upward twitch at the corner of your mouth when you follow up with:

“It’ll be my reason to swing by yours later tonight. Ji-won won’t notice its absence — or mine.”

(3/4/23) What happens next...

[moonlitinks]

What Fate Decides [Taehyung x Reader] [Part 3]

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summary: You're a beta in love with your best friend, alpha Kim Taehyung. Except you know that you can never fulfill his dominating urges, so you draw a line between the two of you. Cherish his small kisses and embraces until an omega has to come along.

Until one day, you're not a beta anymore. Now, it's nearly impossible to resist the protective, endearing alpha in front of you.

pairing: taehyung x reader

chapter tags/warnings: angst, fluff, alpha/omega, a/b/o dynamics, best friends to lovers, slow burn ish, smut, mature, swearing

note: sorry for the wait all <3 last part coming in a bit! thank you for being here and reading my works (I am forever grateful). If you want to hang out with me, check out my insta, and if you'd like to donate me a coffee, check out my kofi page!

The accident turned you into an omega.

Okay, that’s kind of a lie. You were a dormant omega, apparently, but now you’re a real one. Or something like that. In truth, your face had been pale, and though the doctor’s mouth was moving, nothing seemed to register. Finally, you had been comfortable with being a Beta. And then suddenly, the world shifts it’s axis, it being Wacky Wednesday or something, and you’re an Omega.

You release a wry laugh. What a joke. 

A joke, because you lost your best friend.

A joke, because you lost your freedom. 

A joke, because you feel as if you just lost everything. 

The door swings open to your studio, and you watch as Taehyung is fumbling outside your doorway, hands in his pockets, peeking up from you from under his bangs. Though you normally wouldn’t think anything of it as a beta, the omega side suddenly sees it as groveling. An alpha hunching over and submitting to his omega. 

Ha. Like you’re his omega. There are thousands of them lined up already, begging for his attention no doubt. Adding yourself to the list among the more experienced, and beautiful, ones is a waste of heartbreak. 

“Do you want to come in?” You hesitate, and his mouth twists as he straightens. He’s tall. 

No surprise there. The only surprise should be that your omega is reacting to his height.

“You’re not on suppressants,” he starts, forming into a mother hen. “You have to be on suppressants.” 

God, you can’t even tell how much time has passed since the accident and he’s already making a list, throwing you into the omega life. And besides, it’s been like a week after you discharged? He was there every day at the hospital, but now that you could walk without any issues, he disappeared? 

“I don’t want to be,” you protest. “Why do I have to? I’ve never—”

Oh. Right. Because you’re different now. You sigh at the thought of the mundane life escaping further from your grasp. “Do I have to, though? Is there no other option around it?” 

That makes Taehyung pause from the doorway, and he turns around. 

“There’s this thing,” he starts, swallowing. “Called scenting. And you have a scent that can draw Alphas—”

“But you smell, too,” you wrinkle your nose. “And nobody attacks you or anything—”

“It’s not safe,” he repeats, but there’s a layer underneath it. Dangerous. Possessive. Raw. He growls, and you melt in his arms. Into a puddle of arousal, with the slick gushing out of you and the way your gut is aching. 

“Omega,” he thunders, and something shifts. He’s inching closer, and in the next moment, Taehyung’s kissing your jaw. Groaning. Murmuring, Omega. Let me scent you.

And you tell him—Yes. And when his mouth covers your gland and sucks, you cry out and clutch his arms.

“Fuck,” Taehyung groans once more. His teeth scrape the back of your neck, where your gland is located, and you babble incoherent words. “Omega. You smell so good. Taste fucking delicious.” 

This is not a good idea. 

But it’s one that your heart wants. 

Taehyung knows he should contain himself. He has to be the alpha that helps his best friend find a suitable companion. But he can’t help but think that you’re his omega, no matter how much he attempts to think otherwise. He doesn’t want to ruin the dynamic he has with you, but goddamn, he’s attuned to every one of your movements. Like the way you’re curled up against him as the movie plays, legs on top of his own, and head leaning against his chest. There are small, barely audible throaty sounds coming from you as you watch the couple fight, clearly disliking it. And he can’t help but wonder how it feels to suck on your gland again until you’re smothered in his scent.

Then he can’t help but imagine you under him, knotted and preening. He already knows you’re vocal with your whimpers and sighs—and if you can’t stop squirming, he’ll pin you to the bed and bite your glands on your wrists… and rut into you. Fuck, he might not even be able to pull out to thrust back in. 

“Taehyung?” You murmur, eyes wide and innocent, most likely catching the way he stared at you. Like he wanted to devour you. 

In return, the alpha mumbles your name and rests his forehead on your shoulder. It’s hell, he thinks, jaw clenching. You’re wearing his hoodie and no shorts under it, and he’s breathing in your lavender scent, mind repeating: this is hell, but also what content is like. 

It’s insane, how much comfort you bring. You brought it as a beta, but you’re also bringing it as an omega. Taehyung kisses your cheek and embraces you, closing his eyes for a second. The fact that you’re alive and breathing under him—that is enough. It’s all he can ever ask of you, to just keep smiling at him. 

There are some things that changed about him. He started—and he knows that you noticed—calling you love, or baby. He buries his head in the crook of your neck constantly, making sure you smell like him and he you. Satisfaction thrums through Taehyung’s veins when he can smell himself on you. 

Knowing that scenting you earlier meant that you belonged to him. That all his members could smell who you belonged to. His Alpha loves it, too, instead of thrashing around and causing anxiety. Finally, his head quiets. No thoughts about coming home, taking care of you, making sure you’re well fed, rings through his mind. 

“I have something to tell you,” he blurts, and you glance up.

Fuck. He can’t take it anymore. Screw company guidelines. Screw what people thinks. He wants you. All of you.

You’re his happiness; there’s no doubt in his mind that fate put you together. 

“I love you,” he murmurs, placing your hand over his chest, directly where your heartbeat is. “You’re everything to me. My whole world. My—”

“Your omega?”

“My omega. Just like I’m yours, too.” 

tags: @theblueslytherin @tatyhend @tinyoonsblog @vsmith0099 @midnightsora @cupcakesxdomjoon @likeshatteredrainbowglass @scuzmunkie @kookiwu @xjiminsthighsx @dreadity @lovelytaes-blog @noooodlllleeee @ggukkieland @namjoonshug @jaiuneamesolitaiire @hesmyphenominiall @hollyweird0

[7brownsuga7]

T a e h y u n g d a t e m o o d b o a r d

Three days worth of dates in a restaurant, jazz bar & spontaneous outing

[taegularities]

silk & stones | kth (m)

Summary: “Taehyung was a writer… he was a writer indeed.”

Kim Taehyung knows his way around words – they cast a spell on your heart and mind, leave you gasping dangerously fast. Until the mystery behind his persona unveils and his touch, along with his words, becomes a vivid memory.

➳ pairing: Taehyung x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: strangers to lovers, writer!au; angst, fluff, smut ➳ warnings: writer + violinist tae 🥺 who’s a gentleman in the 19th century, brief mention of injuries/a mental institution, misunderstandings, heartbreak, secrets, grief, much poetry (and my attempt at writing a poem, pls spot), much disgoosting fluff, flirting and lots of sexual tension; explicit sexual content: 2 sex(y) scenes, fingering on a boat, choking, teasing, begging, praising, soft dom!tae, big dick!tae, tiddie fondling/sucking, some manhandling, dirty talk, they’re just so cute :((, oral (f. and m. receiving), some masturbation, oc is into neck kisses, some biting, fingering, hair pulling, asking for permission :(, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (it’s the 19th century...), aftercare; there’s quite some angst ok; lmk if i forgot smth !! ➳ word count: 27k (💀) ➳ a/n: damn, this one was a lottt and i’m even somewhat proud i managed to post it cos i was dreading doing so LMAO. but my baby @hobisuniverse​ didn’t just beta it, but encouraged me so so much, too. i love you to the moon and back, my love 🥺 hope y’all enjoy !! as always, feel free to pop into my inbox and talk to me, it means the world to me <33

➳ listen to the S&S playlist for the full experience 🤍 

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST | WIPs

You thought there was insanity behind the idea of fate until you met Kim Taehyung.

You’ve never been big with words, despite being the proud owner of a dusty pile of books. Most of those, you must have read half a dozen times; a handful of those, you can recite by heart.

When you were little, your parents used to warn you that you might corrupt your mind if you read about fate, love and the drivel under the stars too much. That when you grew up, you’d not be able to distinguish between reality and wishful thinking anymore.

You always said that reality was too sour, too close, and that you couldn’t forget it if you indulged in the thickest novel known to humankind and never looked up from it again.

And anyway – fairytales aren’t real. And fate isn’t real. How could you grant those things much weight, connect them to reality when there was no actual proof of their existence?

At least that’s what you used to preach… but then came a day.

One you might even call fateful now that you think back.

THEN

Kim Taehyung was no artist, but he knew how to draw clean, dazzling lines on paper.

He’d always been big with words. Small and large ones; simple and fancy ones; verbal or written; loud or silent. The moment his eyes first caught yours, the words he whispered were quiet, a little hushed – nevertheless, chaotic. Like he’d collected all twenty-six letters on his tongue at once and rearranged them to describe whatever aura you emanated.

For Taehyung, nothing was truer or realer than fate.

With time, you’d come to realise that if you’d chosen a different branch of the fork on your road, the night would have turned out entirely different. Small happenings sometimes affect which drink you choose, or who you speak to, maybe even how your mood changes over the course of the event.

But this time, you might have found yourself elsewhere weeks later, had even one dust particle been out of place. Because you could have chosen a different path – easily.

Two hours of loneliness were catching up to you. One of your customers had recommended that you leave your house for a bit, informing you that the annual town hall festival was going to take place today.

“I wouldn’t have anyone to escort me to it,” you’d told her.

You couldn’t deny that you were crafting excuses to talk yourself out of it, but you knew she was right. Your days consisted of uneventful, quiet afternoons, and you worked your way through them until the horizon darkened and stars emerged again.

But your customer remained stubborn and convincing, wiggling a wrinkled finger as she said, “You don’t need to! Not every woman needs a man to court her. Try going alone. You will see the world with different eyes.”

And perhaps she was right about your confidence and your endurance; you did not need a man or woman to keep you entertained. But the event itself – if it had been more adventurous and not filled with guests who ogled you until you shrunk into yourself, you might have enjoyed it more.

You had your next thirty minutes already planned: find food, eat, leave. And with a hand on your rumbling stomach, you walked past the drunk, rich politicians and stopped at the table that portrayed an infinite line of finger food.

Then again, balanced harmony only remains so long.

You had barely decided which snack to pick up first when someone stepped next to you. Your eyes rocketed to the man, dressed fully in white. His trousers were blinding, a white shirt tucked in, an angelic coat draped over his shoulders; a contrast to the starry eyes and pitch black hair.

“Have you tried one of those?”

His voice chimed from the depths of his chest. Low and calm, inviting and rich. It almost didn’t suit his gentle face, and you opened your eyes further. Wondered if those words had actually come from him.

“I cannot even say what that is,” you answered, pointing to a small delicacy, covered in what you assumed was parsley. “I can’t name any of those.”

“Well, let me educate you. This is ham,” the man explained, lifting one of the snacks between two of his fingers. They were endless; long enough to capture your attention. “On… uhh… something.”

“Something, yes?”

You laughed when he did – his chuckle was strong, contagious and delightful. A man like him wasn’t easy to miss in an uninteresting crowd. Perhaps it was the bright attire he wore; but most of all, you couldn’t think of a single man you had ever laid eyes on, as beautiful as him.

And oddly enough, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d seen him before.

“It tastes impeccable, is all I know,” he continued, chatty and in a good mood, “and if you pour yourself a glass of rosé, it’s even better.” He paused, tilting his head in thought. “Actually. Let me pour you some.”

“Oh, I– I was going to eat a little and then go home.”

“Home? The night has barely started, though.”

“But,” you argued, shaking your head in disappointment, “I’m bored. There’s nothing to see here… or at least, nothing interests me.”

He laughed again, and your gaze froze on the small crinkles around his eyes for a moment. Then wandered to the rectangle grin. When he straightened his priorly tilted head, his fine, dark hair strands fell into place again, covering his sight, parted in the middle.

“Something is always happening. The question is just who’s interested in it,” he said, placing a snack on his tongue elegantly, twirling the glass of wine in his hand. “I’m Taehyung. But,” he winked, nodding, “don’t tell anyone.”

“Why not?”

Taehyung.

Taehyung?

Where did you know his name from?

“I like to wander around. See places. And it’s nice when people don’t recognise me right away,” he explained, looking around the golden lit room and into the cheerful crowd, “though some did ramble their hearts out to me tonight.”

You were confused – and curious. Hardly able to contain this very curiosity, you asked, “Recognise you? Are people supposed to?” Taehyung hesitated, blinking at you, so you added, “What’s your full name?”

“Uh.” He halted for a moment, peeking into his glass. Then, he flashed a smirk, looked into your eyes with newfound confidence and answered, “Kim Taehyung.”

“Kim Taehyung, do I know you?”

“I don’t know. Do you?” he questioned, cocking an eyebrow in amusement. “But I wrote some novels a few years back, though under a different name. Perhaps you have seen illustrations and photographs of me somewhere. To be honest,” he leaned in, laughing, “most people here haven’t really read my stuff, but they hear professional writer, and go mad.”

A writer. A novelist?

You reckoned that was why he seemed so familiar to you – and why every girl’s eyes lingered on him that passed by the table, tangled in someone else’s arm. Maybe you had seen his work in one of the bookstores you frequented.

“I’m sorry. You’re probably not used to clueless people like me,” you said, watching him walk to the other side of the table to pour you the same wine as him. “I came to this town a few years ago, but I don’t know that many people here. Thank you.”

You took the glass gratefully, disregarding the rule of the night that you weren’t going to drink. But the liquid courage tasted heavenly, like a piece of a garden dissolving on your tongue.

“You came here alone?”

“I did,” you answered, nodding, “for my education. But I never went back. I lived with my aunt, and she took care of me as long as she could, but… she didn’t make it past last year. So now I am here, in her house, still tending to her plants and dishes.”

“That’s remarkable,” Taehyung praised, fascinated and curious, “and what is it that you do?”

You couldn’t remember the last time a man had approached you with an interest like he did. Most of those you knew were straightforward, complimented your lips or your skin; hooded eyes that thought they were charming your feet off, but all they did was burn your skin alive.

Gulping, you turned to look at him, stepping back from the table when other guests flooded to the food in groups, “I used to work as a teacher. Taught children. But now I have a home-based thing where I stitch dresses.”

“Unusual,” Taehyung remarked, “but I like it.”

“My parents aren’t tied to community standards as much as they're expected to,” you clarified, suddenly missing your father’s words and your mother’s lullabies with a prominent ache, “they’re proud of what I do.”

“Then I am, too,” he joked, and your heart leapt, indulging in his saccharine voice. But then, he smirked and said, “Not everyone can stitch a dress that hugs a body this beautifully.”

Your shoulders and your hand dropped. If the glass hadn’t been empty already, you would’ve tainted his polished shoes. The corners of his lips fell when yours did, and you rolled your eyes, clicking your tongue before you said, “And when I thought you’re one of the decent ones.”

“What?”

You placed the glass on the table and wrapped your scarf around your shoulders. Shaking your head, you complained, “You’re handsome and amusing. And kind. So of course there would be a vice.”

“A vice?” Taehyung voiced, furrowing his eyebrows. His feet followed yours, eyes staring past you to realise that you were leaving the event. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s a man's world and we’re puppets. That’s alright. Men will receive compliments on their brains and their studies and how they built an entire business from scratch,” you continued, surprised when one of his big steps equaled your fast but small ones. “But we’re just bodies and pretty ones at that, and that’s all you will be able to compliment about m– oh, and I did not stitch this dress, by the wa–”

“Listen,” Taehyung stepped in front of you, barriering the entrance. You looked away, not quite fuming, but sufficiently irritated to seem so. “That was not what I meant at all. I told you you’re remarkable.”

“And that wasn’t to build up to the actual courting?”

He shook his head, clearly in disbelief and uttered, “Writers choose words carefully. Right? I wouldn’t say anything to you I don’t mean. Besides,” looking up and down, he shrugged his shoulders, folding his hands behind his back, “would it be so terrible if I courted you? For your beauty and for your brain?”

You pouted but felt the heat leave your head gradually, clutching your scarf as you mumbled, “Do you reckon I’m smart?”

“Of course I do.”

“Not just pretty?”

“Gorgeous. But not just that.”

You raised your chin, still careful but melting somewhere inside. You pressed your lips into a thin line before you let out an exhale, whispering, “Fine.”

Opting to walk away, you raised your dress, but he took the same step sideways as you, stopping you in your tracks once again.

“Listen…” he repeated, breathing in, “I can prove it to you. That I don’t only care about how you look.”

You sighed, relaxing your heart, your voice calmer and softer when you said, “It’s fine, Mister Kim. You don’t need to write me a novel or anything. We’re fine.”

“I didn’t want to. I haven’t written in a long time. Or well, I am working on something right now, but,” he sucked in another deep inhale, opening his palms, “the point is. Spend some time with me. I would enjoy getting to know more about you than your occupation. If you allow me?”

Regarding him with a suspicious look, you carved a crease between your eyebrows; endeared by the innocent dart of his tongue to wet his lips, but wary of his overall words and tone.

“I don’t know you,” you claimed, “I met you ten minutes ago.”

“I know, but,” he shifted from one leg to the other, laughing nervously, “every relationship, no matter between whom, starts with knowing them just for ten minutes.”

Squinting, you leaned closer; he couldn’t help but snicker at your childlike expression, and you leaned back with an even more magnificent pout as you inquired, “You won’t abduct me?”

“Abdu– do I look like–”

“Alright. I’ll allow it,” you said, finally gracing him with a smile. You looked kinder, softer when you wore a beam like this – like you couldn’t be feisty if you wanted to. But to know that you were, was luring him in a little more. “Where?”

“Hmmm.”

Taehyung bit the inside of his cheek, rummaging through his memories and places he had seen. And then, he clapped his large hands once, lighting up in enthusiasm.

“There is a massive architecture, very Roman or Greek. Numerous pillars.”

“Yes…?”

“Does Nary Hill sound good?”

Taehyung lived in a cube made of glass.

The walls of it were robust glass. The ceiling was unbreakable glass. The door was made of thick glass; and when he opened the windows, he did so carefully. The cube was sparsely decorated with barely any furniture inside – it lacked vibrancy, a monotone colour palette that only ever shone in different hues when Taehyung let the sun shine a bit.

So when you strolled to him on the agreed upon Sunday morning, he thought the glass of the cube broke a tiny crack. Instead, walls of firm wood grew around him, darkening the room – which was ironic and somewhat odd, because writers like himself usually refer to happiness and grace through brilliance and sunshine, don’t they?

But you didn’t feel like the sun and light to him.

In your own, gorgeous way, you resembled peaceful darkness. The kind that one closes their eyes to before falling asleep, when the world is quiet and serene, worries lift and the sun has set. You felt calmer and more comforting than bright, direct sunlight blinding his eyelids.

So when you looked at him with a shy, gentle smile, unsure how to greet a stranger you’d only talked to once, you gave his imaginary cube a more profound sense of home – with its new, steady, natural, wooden walls.

Your fingers, clutching and raising your lavender dress, released the fabric once you halted in front of him. Entwining them slowly, you nodded, flashing a bright smile as your calm voice spoke, “I would’ve been here sooner, but the carriage got stuck in–”

You stopped when Taehyung sucked in a deep breath, readying yourself for a gentlemanly scolding, wrapped in words kind enough to reprimand you softly. Instead, however, he stepped forwards, pushing his back off the pillar with a gentle, welcoming smile. 

The structure you stood under was familiar to you – it resembled a Greek temple, or a hidden sight of the town. Where you stood, the sun didn’t reach. Taehyung noticed that since you’d stepped into the shadow, your features had relaxed and your shoulders dropped, as though you were relieved that the heat wasn’t burning you up anymore.

Perhaps there was a reason you were more darkness to him than light.

“I don’t mind waiting,” he said, untamed dark hair hanging into his eyes, “I spent some time thinking.”

“Thinking? What about?”

Taehyung hummed in thought. His gaze wandered from your feet to the top of your head, taking in tiny bits of your appearance that differed so much from the very first time he’d seen you. You smiled a little more confidently today; there was no trace of timid quietness, and you didn’t look like you put a limit to what you wanted to say or think.

Just like him, you felt more comfortable in this environment.

“Have you ever heard of Mary Wortley Montagu?”

You parted your lips, scouring your memory for the name. But when nothing popped up, you shrugged your shoulders, responding, “I’m afraid I haven’t.”

Taehyung crossed his arms in front of his chest. It was the first time you noticed the undone buttons of his white linen shirt, casually tucked into dark trousers. You rarely saw men dress like him – most of them ran around in pompous suits and with big hats covering their heads.

But Taehyung didn’t seem to care much about the elegant choices you saw usual suitors of yours settle on. If they'd spotted him, they would've probably scrunched up their noses and shook their heads. To you, however, his little decision was more alluring than the sweaty men regarding you with cocky smirks and approaching you with revolting statements.

“Thou silver deity of secret night… direct my footsteps through the woodland shade,” Taehyung slowly recited.

You’d think a writer like him was confident, vain, and knew the effect he had on people around him. But there was softness in his words and his expressions, a smile utterly warm when he added, “It’s a poem by her… you reminded me of the moon when I saw you, so I thought of it.”

“I did?” you questioned, cocking an eyebrow.

Your dress might have been the most summer-esque clothing you could fish out of your closet. You kept your face free of additional beautifiers, your hair in a loose bun. Why you reminded him of the moon, you couldn’t quite say, but you could interpret the funny feeling in your guts just as less.

So you let your eyes drop so as to not showcase the ocean of flattery that claimed you, but Taehyung saw it anyway; knew you were taking his words as a gentle compliment. He was delighted – and perhaps a tiny bit enamoured. 

And when he invited you to a light walk down the hill you were standing on, you finally confirmed his foolish theory that you were indeed the glowing satellite rounding your world. Because your face contorted, your smile falling and morphing into a frown of fatigue.

“We can just,” Taehyung started. You looked sweet, so lost in thoughts, trying to come up with an excuse. “Stay here, too.”

You laughed lightly, your eyebrows furrowing in guilt as you answered, “If that’s alright with you. Walking is fine, too.”

“I’m open to anything.”

He pushed up the sleeves of his shirt, and your eyes shot to the veins adorning his arms. Kim Taehyung pulled off casual beauty so effortlessly; maybe you were wrong. Maybe the men you saw on other days wouldn’t have scrunched their noses after all, but burned in envy.

You hoisted up the hem of your dress carefully, delighted when the summer air blew onto your bare ankles. Taehyung took a seat on one of the steps leading up to the temple, waiting for you to join him; and when you did, you said, “I know this is boring of me, but I promise we can get up and walk around in a few minutes. The short way up the hill was just–”

“Don’t worry about it. Meeting you was about getting to know you, not about where we are or what we do.”

“So if we’d met at the noisy, stinky market?”

“We can go right now, and I’ll prove it to you.”

Taehyung moved, lifting half his body, but you were quick to pull him down again. You giggled in unison, and you shook your head, clarifying, “But I do like it here better. I enjoy it when it’s quiet.”

Of course you did.

“Do you have a favourite place then?” Taehyung wanted to know.

When you turned your head to him, you realised the gaping hole between the two of you. Your elbows and knees didn’t touch, and he didn’t attempt to close the distance, sitting on the steps with spread legs in contrast to your gracefully straight back and folded hands.

You’d never cared about manners much – but you hadn’t ever found lax behaviour this attractive either.

But despite the fact that you could fit another human being between you, his head was lowered, cupped in his palm, and the elbow resting on a step above balanced his torso. He was listening to you, intently, awaiting an answer.

His eyes were calm and dreamy – the kind that traps you, a mythical creature’s song who eats you alive once you give in.

You feared something about Kim Taehyung.

Clearing your throat, you raised your eyebrows, “Me?”

“Yes. You.”

The tender shyness he’d sported just a minute ago vanished when you caught him staring with an amused grin. Looked like he was enjoying himself with you, genuinely curious to know what floated in your foggy, little mind.

“Hmm,” you voiced, annoyed when your thoughts blanked. It was always when someone asked questions like these that you forgot every place you’d ever been to. “I think I like my garden.”

But Taehyung was having none of it; because he puffed out some air and rolled his eyes, sat up straight and wiggled his fingers – the full package of disapproval.

He admonished, “No, no! There must be something else.” He waited, thought for a moment, then added, “Think bigger, I’d say.”

Bigger than your garden?

“Something wrong with my favourite place?”

“Absolutely not,” he answered, but still shrugged his shoulders unconvinced, “but I feel like you just don’t want to think.”

Because you couldn’t think.

It was easy to lose your string of thoughts with him. He was a thief, trained to rob one of their sanity, it seemed.

But you tried for him anyway, giving his question another go until you smiled proudly and let him know, “Fine. So at the river. If you borrow a canoe and paddle south, you get to a bridge. And that bridge is tiny.”

Taehyung nodded enthusiastically, pointing at you knowingly, a deep but semi-loud voice chiming, “I think I know what you mean! A cream coloured, small bridge that’s barely broad enough for two people to walk on!”

“Yes! But high enough to let a boat through underneath it,” you confirmed, eyes widening in delight, “so, it has the look of a fairytale, almost Grimm like object, right? And it’s usually quiet there, too. There are pathways on either side of the river, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone walking along it.”

You shot him a quick look, checking whether you were boring him yet. But the corners of his lips were still frozen in place, elation and attention apparent, caused by nothing and no one less than you.

So you continued, “I sometimes feel like no one’s ever there because nature doesn’t allow interruption or to step onto steady grounds. It lets you admire it from afar… so I do. I like looking around or reading or– or doing nothing at all while the boat floats its way along the river.”

When you silenced, it dawned on you how loud you must have been. Because suddenly, you could hear the chirping of the birds and your rapid heartbeat again, could hear it knocking against your eardrums. It didn’t seem to bother Taehyung, though.

His eyes never left the features of your face. Looked to and fro, never truly settled on one spot or one of your moles, the curves of your lips or the curl of your eyelashes.

“That’s beautiful,” he finally said.

You drew a breath, studying his movements. They seemed elegant, calculated, but you doubted he thought about them much. Taehyung was graceful without trying; you had seen it the moment he spoke to you first. And you could see it now, too.

Lowering your voice, you let your eyelids flutter, hoping he paused to look at your tiny details the way you did. Whether you were succeeding, you couldn’t quite tell. “Why did you ask?”

“I just… I thought you were a closed mystery,” Taehyung laughed, rolling around a tiny stone with the tip of his finger, “for some reason. But you’re an open book, aren’t you?”

“Hmm. I don’t like reading mysteries, so why should I be one?”

Taehyung snickered. It was the first time you heard his baritone rise in volume this much, enchanting sparks falling out of the hearty laugh. Back then, you hadn’t known that the harmless melody of his voice carried a deadly quality of haunting your nights.

He was a walking power that could split a heart into two; back then, you hadn’t known.

“Fair point,” he admitted, full lips covering his blinding teeth again when the laughter ebbed down.

“So then,” you started, uncaring of your curved back, your tilted head, the fact that you were dirtying your palms by planting them on the dusty steps, “what’s your favourite place, Kim Taehyung?”

Taehyung didn’t waste moments sinking into thoughts the way you had, because apparently, he’d expected your question, answering readily, “A glass cube.”

Ah.

What?

“A what?”

“A cube made of glass that doesn’t let any noise or sorrow in,” he explained as though it could help him clear up anything at all. His hands formed an imaginary cube, and upon seeing your confused frown, he clarified further, “It’s a mental mantra that I invented. And I know it’s ridiculous, but it helps.”

“Helps?”

“It’s peaceful. It’s nice to be alone sometimes. No noise or voices. No one to judge. Just you and your thoughts and whatever the hell you want to do,” Taehyung retorted, emphasising his cursing, “and shit, you can’t tell me that doesn’t sound nice.”

You leaned forward and placed your elbows on your thighs, folding your hands under your chin as you teased, “You couldn’t find a better place to let your thoughts retreat to?”

Taehyung looked away from you and directly into the sun. It appeared as though he was searching for something, focused and unblinking; but then, he lifted his shoulders and let them fall, looking back into the shadow.

The shadow where you sat.

Serene darkness that soothed the blindness that the star had caused. Candy to his eyes.

“Yes,” he mumbled then, “I might have.”

You didn’t question what his new personal castle was. Taehyung's gaze had always been too intense; either begging to keep secrets locked in and veiled or asking you to reveal yours. You’d soon learn that it could throw you into an endless spiral, going deeper and deeper until you felt too dizzy and unbalanced to stand on two feet.

Today, it seemed to be the former – so you didn’t prod. Reckoned he’d tell you when the time was ripe, when he felt like he could entrust his deepest thoughts to you. Right now, it was clear that he didn’t want to elaborate.

“And how does my garden not count, but your cube does?”

“I didn’t say your garden doesn’t count!” Taehyung defended, feigning irritation. He shot up to his feet, staring down at you with his fists pressing into his hips. “I just meant there must be something else, something that brings you full and irreplaceable peace. And I was right!”

Sighing, you stood, joining his stance and leaned into him, squinting as you remarked, “Writers are odd, aren’t they?”

Taehyung imitated your tiny movement, and suddenly, he was close enough to breathe against your skin. His eyes wandered to your smirk before they stared back into the depths of your pupils; and for a moment, you considered tasting whatever lingered on his tongue.

But in your adventure with Taehyung, you had barely exited the first page. A bubbly feeling in your guts told you that your lips weren’t ready just yet; that patience was a virtue, that you needed to practice it to make the moment last longer.

And perhaps he thought so, too.

Because he leaned back and straightened his posture again, stepping out of the shadow and into the sun as he told you, “Writers like mysteries. You and I are different, sweetheart.”

He was right.

Maybe you were an open book, but Taehyung was an undecodable enigma. And you might not have liked mysteries – but you wanted to dip your toes into this one.

NOW

Whenever someone close to you, who has seen you rise and fall for Taehyung, who has watched you suffer and start anew, asks you whether you’d change how things worked out, you shake your head immediately.

Despite the ruins that Kim Taehyung left you in, you don’t think you could’ve ever mustered the strength to walk away from him, even if you could have. The night when he first talked to you. When you met him on the hill, leaning against a pillar of what seemed like Greek architecture.

When you kissed him for the first time, looked at him and knew. Things you’d never thought of, things that still seem unreal to you.

For nothing in this world, you’d give up the feelings and the pain he brought, the experiences you gathered, the trust you found in people. The realisation that not everything is the way it seems at first. That you were there, unwavering, ready to take his hand.

If you could travel to the past, relive a day and change something, it wouldn’t be the fact that you got to know him, but everything you told him.

Because then you might add to the numerous conversations, whisper to him what you always wished to whisper to him.

Perhaps, you think, he’d still be here today if you had.

THEN

“This doesn’t beat your cube?”

Taehyung’s hand functioned as a shell around his ear, trying to blend out the shrill noise that echoed through the little tavern. He told you it was his favourite place, but apparently, someone had gotten engaged, hence the tumult sounding around you as though Armageddon had started.

Bodies sashayed by you in a haze, dancing and drunk, laughing and making you join their contagious joy. You couldn’t say how Taehyung had managed to drag you here, or when you’d drunk enough to feel your cheeks warm.

But the inebriation felt less daunting with him across the table, patting your arm whenever he wished for your attention. It was a subtle touch, but you rather enjoyed it – looked away on purpose just to feel it again.

“Well, it might! Honestly,” he confessed, his face flushed and fingers wrapped around his drink.

“I get why you like it here.”

“Really?”

You nodded, grimacing when a loud cheer went through the crowd; you yelled with them, lifting your cup into the air, and when it was done, the music stopped for a minute. The voices calmed down. And no matter how fun the evening was, you were thankful.

Your head was thumping.

“It’s different from you,” you told him, comparing him to the calm image of himself in the shadows for the umpteenth time tonight, “like you’re trying to escape yourself.”

At least that was what you could tell from the last two or three times you’d had the honour to spend time with him. The renowned author had told you of the importance of his glass cube and its attributes, so you didn’t expect him to pull you into this old, sordid but cheerful tavern.

His smile faltered a little, and he granted his half touched meal a single look before he stared up at you again. Dark hair dishevelled, he brushed strands of it aside, rubbed a spot on his neck, red from the heat before he said, “I think we all do sometimes.”

Slight distress coloured his starry eyes, a contrast to the rosy hues on his cheek, but before you could blink again, he was suddenly smiling again.

Small wrinkles appeared around his eyes as he digressed, “Poetry. That’s another way to escape yourself. Time passes differently when you read, and maybe you’ll come back a different person once you close a book.”

Whichever topic he was trying to head to, you played along, eager to let the remnants of the sorrowful tension between you fade. “Might be one hell of a truth if I’ve ever heard one.”

“I want to write proper poetry one day. I’m a novelist, but I’m bad at poems.”

“You still haven’t given me a book of yours to read,” you interjected, rolling your eyes, “what’s worse is that I can’t find books under your name either. I need to pull some secrets out of you, mister.”

Taehyung shot you another one of the looks you’d grown accustomed to. The one that said, ”There’s something hidden in a cubicle of my heart, but I can’t tell you about it just yet.”

And you didn’t ponder. Instead, you listened to him as he spoke again, lifting a finger with closed eyes, “And maybe this is a deep sin. My fearful soul calls often with a shudder, and yet with passionate lingering.”

“Another poem?”

“One of my favourites. Not that popular, though.”

“Why this one today?”

But sneaky and teasing as Taehyung was, he shrugged his shoulders with a tight-lipped smile, announcing, “That’s for me to know and you to find out. You’re not getting more than that.”

“That’s cryptic. It tells me nothing.”

And then he nodded, as if to say, “Exactly!”, shaping his lips into a rectangle when you leaned back with crossed arms and a playful pout. Reassuring, he patted your elbow, close to where the curve of your breasts started, and you sucked in a sharp breath.

His fingers were far from touching you the way you’d started dreaming of – yet you couldn’t help but notice the tension, the sense of nervousness, and how on edge you were around him. You didn’t know in which ways you craved him, but you knew that he’d become a lingering presence in your mind.

“Don’t worry,” he sang-song, “I want to write you a poem one day.”

“Me?”

“Mhmmm… just write down whatever comes to mind. You make me want to write those.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Taehyung began, his deep voice falling deeper, your name rolling off his tongue before he said, “poetry is gorgeous. And you’re gorgeous. Inside and out.”

“Taehyung–”

The sentence you attempted to utter, of whatever stuttering mess it would’ve consisted of, vanished into thin air when another holler of his name sounded across the room. It overshadowed your whisper and made the man in question flinch, and he turned to find another one of his friends trudging over to your table.

In his calloused fingers lay a violin, used and old, though pieces of its gracefulness remained the way they always do with gentle instruments. The man sported a beard so thick that you could barely see his lips move, but the glimmer and glitter in his eyes were vibrant enough to showcase every trace of happiness he felt.

And as far as you could tell, he liked Taehyung.

“You haven’t played for us all night!” he said, and Taehyung’s eyes blew wide.

He looked back at you as if his friend had answered a riddle unsolved hitherto. But when you gasped, obviously thrilled, some of his worries seemed to fall, like he was waiting for your permission. Asking silently whether you were okay with it.

“You play the violin?!” you squealed, eyebrows raising and a hand slamming on the table.

“Well, I… a little.”

“A little,” the bearded man retorted, a slight mock in his mature voice, “Taehyung here is just like Snow White enchanting a whole forest.” He leaned in, winking as he mumbled to you, “He sings sometimes, too.”

“No way.” Close to jumping in your seat, you wrapped a hand around his wrist, excitement flooding through you like a high tide. “Just one piece. Please?”

You looked like a doe, staring into his eyes with tiny sparks; there was innocence in your gaze, not the slightest hint of anything evil. It seemed unreal, your being and its pureness, the unfaltering good that you portrayed.

How could he say no to you?

So he stood with a sigh, pointing an accusing finger at you as he warned, “You owe me.”

He snatched the violin from his friend’s hands, the man whose name you still didn’t know, and swayed to the front of the tavern. The fancy rooms your past rendezvous had taken place in couldn’t compare to this place, you were sure.

Because of the cheers and the clinking of cups, the whistling and cheer of Taehyung’s name – you couldn’t have met this level of merriment anywhere else.

But when Taehyung placed the violin on his shoulder, lifting the bow, everyone present fell silent as though they were witnessing the event of the century. Here and there, you heard a hissed “Psst”; could feel the intense pricking up of ears.

And when he played, you knew why.

Because the melody, full of melancholy and yearning, nostalgia and affection, reverberated through your body. It struck a chord you hadn’t known yet, a rhythm so wonderful that you caught yourself sighing half a dozen times.

Your fingers wrapped around the edge of the desk, keeping you steady; you didn’t know whether it was the beer or Taehyung’s skills that were pushing you into dizziness.

His eyes were closed, eyelashes brushing his cheeks. He was pouting, focused on the rich tones he played, the crease between his eyebrows appearing and vanishing every now and then. The piece, whether his original or not, was soft and gentle, similarly to him; yet powerful, touching.

You were used to the piano; growing up, you’d heard your mother play at least one morning a week, and you’d admired the soft flutter of her fingers over the keys throughout all those years. The violin was different. It was louder, shriller – but Taehyung managed to remind you of your mother’s gentle musical abilities within seconds.

The bow in his hand shook until it hit the last note; and when the music died down, thunderous applause replaced it momentarily.

You only noticed you’d stood up when his eyes shifted to yours and your knees almost buckled. You’d clapped your hands wound, loudly and smiling, your eyes damp from the emotions two or three mere minutes had evoked in you.

Taehyung touched you with his words… touched you with music. When you held his stare, sniffling and oddly proud, you wondered how he’d feel and what he’d say if he touched your skin, too.

Because… you thought his body would wrap around yours like a dream. You imagined the same tunes would play in the background when his lips roamed your shoulders, his hands on your waist, pulling you closer.

For a moment, you pretended that you were all he saw and knew, and that the man, desired by the whole room, was your acquaintance, yours for the night – and yours only. Which didn’t mean anyone else got the hint – because as soon as he stepped off the non-existent stage, greedy hands pulled him aside.

Giggling girls immediately threw questions and compliments his way, fingers fiddling with the fabric of his clothing. One of them brushed back his soft, dark hair – you’d never touched it before, no matter how much you’d desired to do so.

You didn’t think much of it – your gaze wandered low, your mind ridding itself of thoughts about their fingers roaming his body, planting charming offers into his head. But when you looked up again, he was staring back. Never looking away.

Like he was silently pleading to skip the moment and be in your proximity again.

It took him seconds that you counted to escape the greasy grips of the hungry pack of lionesses, and his feet carried him to you in a matter of moments as he offered, “Let’s go.”

The night was still young – but you ached to be alone with him. And judging the telling smirk in his face, you assumed that he’d had enough of the chaos, too.

You felt giddy, somewhat dazed when he offered his hand and pulled you out of the tavern. And though he let your palm go once outside, you didn’t miss the blur in his eyes either. Despite the mist, however, you thought you recognised firm hardness behind the gentle, sweet honey in his pupils.

You remembered the secrets he harboured; secrets that you thought he wanted to spill, secrets you wanted to know about. But detecting the hardness, you couldn’t quite shake the feeling there was something about him that might break your heart.

No matter how lovely he was, there was still overt caution in your movements and actions that he was steadily destroying. You wanted to heed the dangerous signals his mysterious being sent, but there was also an aura of comfort surrounding him that pulled you back.

The coldness, however…

“That was wonderful,” you told him as you walked down the path, straight to where your house stood.

“I’m happy you enjoyed it.”

“Everyone did.”

“They always do. But I played it for you.”

But you wondered, if he said that every night he went there – if there was a certain someone, or a new someone he played for each time he touched the violin. Why was he not as transparent as you? Why, with the puzzles his mind consisted of, did he unconsciously plant confusion in your head?

And why, with the despair that flashed each time you detected he was hiding something, did it seem like he was not only attempting to escape himself, but his own riddles, too?

You were sure that behind his chest, there was a stone instead of a heart. That in reality, it was fear, or perhaps numbness, and that he was desperately trying to fight it.

But when he’d touched your hand, dragged you outside, his skin had felt like silk. Soft, tender. Ambiguous, dual.

Overwhelmed and figuring out why your chest burned, you could barely breathe when he escorted you home. Your arms kept brushing, fabric between you rustling. His fingers ran through his tresses, and your heart raced some more; the fuzzy feeling in your stomach made you want to scream.

Did he have poems for this emotion, too?

And you hated it when you arrived at your door, darkness engulfing the quiet night. Stars shone onto you brightly, but they weren’t enough to function as proper light. But when he moved closer… forcing you backwards… hands behind his back – you reckoned you didn’t need to see him to go insane anyway.

“I want to see you again,” he whispered, speaking over the hooting of the owls, “will you let me see you again?”

You hadn’t hinted that this was your final night together even once. You didn’t know where his sudden worries came from, but you would’ve been a fool to not soothe them.

“Yes,” you answered, tipsy and nearly panting; sure that both your breaths were mingling. At least, you could feel his warmth brush your cheeks. “I want to see you again as well.”

“You do?”

Reflexively, your shaky hand travelled up his torso and settled on his chest when he inched closer – even though his clothes covered the entirety of his skin, he felt warm, his body broad. You wondered if your touch affected him at all. Lured him in more.

But he didn’t let you know of his inner turmoil, if there was any, or perhaps you were too tired and gone to notice. The only words you registered, sounding over the thump of your heart, were, “What did you think of tonight?”

“I… I loved it.”

“Good.”

“Did you, too?”

“I don’t know,” he murmured, tilting his head slowly, “I can’t remember doing anything but looking at you.”

His fingertips touched the back of your hand, still resting on his chest as if to keep a distance between you. You’d wanted him close all night – but now you thought that if his body moved towards you just a bit more, he’d feel your chest explode.

Taehyung didn’t attempt any more tonight, though.

He smiled the way he always did; brushed aside his hair once more; readied himself to walk away. And when the ringing in your ears finally stilled, you noticed a beat against your hand.

No stone underneath his ribs after all.

Taehyung was fond of Sunday mornings, and you soon learned why.

The world was sound asleep at those early hours. On a free day, when no work or education called, people tended to sleep in and dream some longer. But not Taehyung.

He always said that indulging in dreams didn’t mean a thing if your body didn’t move an inch off the bed. Taehyung pulled his dreams from his memory and gathered them in his palm; then, he blew them into the air like glitter and followed their traces.

He made reality his dreams and lived his days chasing whatever he declared beautiful and worthy enough to chase. And beauty truly did lay in the eye of the beholder – because he found dazzling perfection in things that you didn’t before.

In small alleyways. In thunderstorms. Dirty taverns, abandoned old homes, odd looking wildflowers.

By spending time with him, you’d learnt how to value tiny moments in life and how days were about being productive. Not that it was bad to do nothing sometimes, but pretty dreams were just pretty dreams after all – hard to let go but easy to forget. 

And the endless hours you walked around with him, letting him guide you through unknown places, showed you without fail that his words were memorable when he uttered them with both your eyes open. They locked into your memory easier than when he roamed your dreams, soon becoming one himself.

Those days… that was before he’d turned things into a nightmare.

“Who can say then exactly what I feel, and maybe this is a deep sin,” Taehyung murmured, breathing in, eyes lifted to the sun.

The canoe swayed lightly, following the path of the river, and your eyes darted from water lilies to his body. His back was pressed against the low walls of the wooden boat, legs stretched and crossed. He had his trousers rolled up and the collar of his shirt danced in the summer breeze.

This was the most relaxed you’d ever seen him – you wondered if he’d truly brought you here because you’d mentioned it or because it brought him a sense of peace, too.

You didn’t know what you enjoyed more: the tranquillity and clarity he wallowed in, utterly endearing and gorgeous, or the flutter of your heart he’d caused merely an hour ago. The fog in your mind had settled with intention to stay the moment you noticed where he’d taken you.

He’d told you to cover your eyes and pulled you into a random direction, insisting that you weren’t allowed to ruin the surprise. Only, the surprise wasn’t as random as you thought – and in all honesty, having recognised the bushes and tree lines at the beginning, you somewhat guessed where he was taking you.

And suddenly, you were here, stepping into a canoe with a gaping mouth; you shook your head in delight, squeezing his hand, and thanked him a thousand times for not only his attentiveness but for bringing you genuine happiness on this Sunday morning, too.

If there were ways to fall into the abyss that he was any deeper, then you’d found at least one of them. And you couldn’t climb to the surface anymore.

“You can’t end it here,” you told him, patting his ankles from the other side of the boat. “You need to give me the whole poem or nothing.”

“That’s half the fun, though. Take it as a riddle and find out about it,” Taehyung joked, turning the smile into a candied chuckle when he heard you groan. “Fine. I’ll give you a name. Sophie Albrecht. The rest is your problem.”

“You’re incredibly insufferable.”

“I must be doing something right if you’re still here, though,” he remarked, blinking before he shot you a look. He shut one of his eyes close again, squinting at you as a finger rubbed his eyelids. “I’m seeing stars.”

“Well, that’s because you’d been ignoring me for ten minutes.”

“I was not ignoring you,” Taehyung defended, playfully outraged and shocked, “I was thinking of you.”

His flattering words hit you like a brick every single time. They erupted out of nowhere, like lava from a volcano, flooded and burned your lungs and heart beyond recognition. Bashfully, you stared back at the fish in the water, questioning, “What could you be thinking about me?”

“Right now? How the poem fits you,” he answered, leaning forward, “you and me, both.”

“Oh.”

“But…” He hesitated, followed your gaze to the fish before he stared back and you met his eyes. “I catch myself thinking about you a lot… these days.” You thought he noticed the moment your heart jumped out of your chest – because something flickered in his eyes, mirroring danger and longing, and he whispered, “You’re like a damn fever.”

Taehyung’s personality, albeit captivating, was tinged with diffidence. It showed when he brought you to new places, nervous to gauge your reaction. You saw it when you walked towards him in the first few moments. And you knew about the timidness that sometimes surfaced when he recited his poems.

But when he let his heart speak and flattered you with whatever floated through his mind, most of his nervousness faded immediately. He never feared your reactions then, because he knew he had nothing to lose – instead, he made you lose your sanity.

The chirping of birds pulled you back into reality. Your surroundings cleared and the blur dispersed, though Taehyung still enjoyed your unwavering focus, building the centre of the image you were staring at.

Being with him was like a trance – you never noticed you’d slipped into it until something broke you out of it.

You cleared your throat and sucked in a breath between your teeth. You ran a finger along the edges of the boat, brushing against the paddle, and told him, “You didn’t have to do this, by the way.”

“Do what?”

You gestured to the trees and the water. “Bring me all the way out here.”

“It’s alright. I enjoy the view, too.”

But most of the time, he’d been looking at you.

“I…” you began, pulling your legs closer to your body to place your chin on your knees. “I was thinking. And I’d really love to read a book of yours.”

Taehyung’s face lit up for a moment, but then fell again. Unspoken emotions suddenly invaded his peace before he let his smile fall and said, “You won’t find any book by me.”

“Why not?”

This wasn’t the first time he was telling you that – but he never disclosed his reasoning either. Today, however, you leaned into him, still keeping a safe distance, touching his calves as you insisted, “Why not? Are you really a writer, Kim Taehyung?”

It was supposed to be a light-hearted joke; some of his forehead wrinkles disappeared, but he still seemed on edge. Teeth nibbled on his lower lip, hair covering his drooping eyes, and his head fell, eyes staring at the wooden ground of the boat between his legs.

And you decided to drop the topic once and for all before he suddenly admitted, “I… wrote under a different name. A pseudonym.”

The information hit you with full force.

You shouldn’t have been surprised – he was a mystery, an enigma, a puzzle, riddle; whatever you’d already used to describe him as. There were probably a gazillion things you didn’t know about him – but perhaps it was the change in identity that threw you off so suddenly.

Because to you, he was Kim Taehyung.

You couldn’t imagine him as anyone else – his words belonged to him. His face, his hands, his voice, his body. They were undoubtedly Kim Taehyung and no one else; but now, he was another persona?

“May I know?” you tried, quiet and unsure.

“Maybe one day.”

“That’s unfair, I–”

You didn’t get to defend your point of view or urge to read his thoughts any further – because without prior warning, the water left to your boat broke, the shimmering surface disturbed when waterlife meddled with your peace of day.

It was a fish bigger than your head, flapping through the air, aggressive and attacking, and had your boat not moved forward in the meantime, it would’ve landed either on your lap or in the boat. Flapping some more, grappling for air, so utterly stupid to jump out of the river in the first place.

With a yelp, you fell backwards awkwardly, close to waving the canoe goodbye when strong and firm hands wrapped around your waist and pulled you in. Struck with fear, you flailed your arms the way the fish’s body had, almost breaking Taehyung’s jaw and bringing the boat to a dangerous shake.

The water had long cleared and calmed down again when the carp, you assumed, had gone back to swim in the peaceful river. You steadied your stagnant breaths, letting your body go limp in his grip. And only when the temporary shock subsided, did you properly realise what was happening.

Taehyung was silent. Arms still around your waist, he didn’t make a move to let go just yet – instead, you stayed just like that, unconsciously pressing yourself into him. He took in your scent; brushed back the strands of hair that had escaped.

Then, he swallowed; and you couldn’t see his face, but you thought he sported a bewitching beam when he asked, “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head immediately, planting your palms on his hands, breathing, “No. I’m alright. Thank you…”

Taehyung’s lips roamed close to your heated cheek, fingers escaping from underneath your hands to play with more loose hair strands of yours. His heartbeat hammered against your back and synchronised with your own sometimes; rapid in one moment, seemingly still as the water in the next.

And you didn’t understand your surroundings or recognised them as what they were until he whispered into your ear, “The bridge you love.”

With the way his fingertips explored clothed parts of your body, ghosting over your sides and your clavicles, you couldn’t keep your deepest desires veiled as you had until now. The goosebumps on your bare wrists and underarms were too telling, your shaky breaths and gasps too obvious.

You looked up into his face, eyes locking on his lips, and caught him staring back. His mouth was parted and his gaze hooded, darker than usual; the waters in it weren’t as calm as the ones surrounding you.

“Taehyung,” you mumbled, and he almost missed it, your voice timid and thin. “Tae–”

You whimpered when his hand travelled along your neck before it came to a halt on your jaw. The boat swayed, though remaining steady, but there was a tumult raging in your heart that made you dig your nails into his arms.

Hissing, he brought his free fingers down your body, touching your stomach and your hip over your dress. Tugged at the fabric until he revealed your legs, up to your knees, enraptured by your skin and your trembling limbs.

“May I?”

The deep baritone of his voice vibrated against your temple, lips barely touching your hair. You couldn’t recall how long you’d been waiting for this moment; when the profound yearning had started. 

But as you closed your eyes, a smile spread on your face and a fire expanded in your stomach. It burned the butterflies and gave way to seething pleasure and longing; and seeking salvation, you nodded, whispering a single, “Yes.”

The pads of his digits pressed into your thigh immediately, and you sighed, attempting your best to trace his movements with your eyes. But they kept fluttering shut, giving into whatever he was doing or trying to do.

He painted circles and other forms onto your skin, wandering the way up to where your most sensitive part lay covered. Taehyung moved slowly – but you wiggled in his grip, eagerly and silently begging.

The image of you, pliant in his grasp, had floated in his craving mind for longer than today. He couldn’t remember what he’d imagined or what he’d fallen asleep to. You had become his new cube, a new imaginary paradise to retreat to; that’s all he truly knew.

But this.

You.

Outside of the fantasies he indulged in under the sheets, alone in his dark bedroom, feeling the phantom touch of your hands all over him.

And his hands all over you.

He didn’t have a clue how, but you were astonishing beyond belief, right here in the real world. And for possibly the first time in his life, he muttered, “I don’t know what to say.”

Your breath hitched when he pushed against your soaked panties; and then your heart stilled when he pushed them aside slowly. You bit your lower lip, dizzy from the motions of the boat, dizzy from his touch; but somehow, you still managed to remark, “You… you always know what to say.”

“Not with you.” A pause, and then quieter, lower, “Not right now.”

“You call yourself… a writer.”

“No… a fool.”

His hands pushed your legs apart, holding your panties to the side, before his fingers touched your dampness ever-so-slightly. You could barely feel them ghosting over your heat, humming and crazed; but when he pressed a digit between your nether lips and dove into the wet sensation carefully, you thought you were losing your mind.

“Taehyung,” you repeated, and he pulled your body up, further into his lap. “I–”

“Yes.”

“I’ve been wanting this.”

“Me too.”

“Ever since I first saw you.”

Shit. Fuck. 

What was he supposed to tell you? That you were a haunting demon, stalking his dreams and thoughts and mind every waking second? That he couldn’t stop thinking of you, of your smile, your body, your touch?

That whenever he closed his eyes, he wondered how you tasted, how you felt under him, trapped and pinned; his lips on your shoulder, your neck, your mouth. That there were so many things he needed to tell you, but that would never topple off his tongue, because he was scared.

Scared that you’d fall deeper. That he’d fall deeper. Scared of how far you’d dig to learn things about him. Scared of what you’d think once you found out.

“Please,” you suddenly pleaded, looking at him, guiding his hand to the bundle of nerves with the same innocence written in your eyes as always.

To Taehyung, you were the most sensual and most ironic free verse poem ever written.

“Please.”

“God, the patience,” he said, two endlessly long fingers rubbing your clit before they found their way back to the entrance – and pushed in, “you have none of it.”

You gasped and moaned, pushing yourself up some more, entirely delirious when you felt his arm close in around your chest. He held you pressed against his body, and the hand not shoving his fingers into you snuck its way up to your neck. Pressed into your skin.

Then moved down, eyes falling at your dekolleté as he tugged at the strings bound to a bow. With your dress loosened around your chest, he explored the warmth of your flesh further, digging underneath the clothing until he let his fingers pinch your erect nipples.

He was too much… his hands cupping your breasts, kneading and scratching, enjoying the feeling of you… you were perishing inside.

“I’ve more than you know,” you cried out.

His fingers pushed in and out of you tenderly, the sounds hot and lewd; he curled them and rubbed the same spot over and over again, moaning in unison with you. His thumb soon settled on your aching nub, circling it slowly – you were astounded and surprised.

None of your previous flames or affair had ever known to handle a woman like this. Taehyung knew what he was doing; and it filled you with jealousy, intrigue and contentment.

“Untrue,” he contradicted, dying a small death each time you winced and moaned, “you’re always in such a hurry.”

“I’m… I’m not.”

“Pity. So what if I left you high and dry?” he questioned, biting into your earlobe before soothing the ache with a kiss. “If I just…”

And suddenly, you were empty, his fingers gone, and you protested, close to tears. “No. I… please, finish it, I’m–”

“You’re… what?” Taehyung teased, kissing your temple. “What do you want?”

“What I want?” you asked, mock apparent in your voice, mixed with a hint of irritation and frustration. “What do you think?” The volume of your voice grew, and you spat your next words, “What do you think have I wanted from the very freaking begi–”

This time, you didn’t get a warning.

This time, you gasped for air, surprised by the hand wrapping around your throat like a necklace. He pushed your head back and up, against his shoulder, wet kisses landing on your jaw; his tongue was hot and dizzying against your skin, calming in contrast to his light nips.

He shoved his fingers into you with a welcoming yet unforeseen force, pumping harshly, watching your body lift from his lap and fall back repeatedly. Sometime during your sins on the river, you felt the hardness of his length poke against your bottom, throbbing and hungry.

And you didn’t need to guess what he was thinking, because he told you, “If I could… I’d ruin you thoroughly. Take you until the sun sets and rises again…” He paused, breathing heavily, relishing your mewls and constant squirms. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

Your waterline dampened and your chin trembled; pleas fell out of your mouth – and before you could count to five, your whole body was quivering, your voice rising. You bit your fist to muffle your noises as every inch of your body collapsed.

Limbs turned weightless and the knot in your stomach dissolved, and as your eyes rolled back in utmost pleasure, you heard him say, “Told you… no patience.”

Only when your shiver calmed down, did he let you go. The hand on your neck fell, fingers drenched in arousal painting a crude trail along your thighs.

You didn’t move off his lap, savouring the moment some more. A fantastical amount of joy coursed your body when the godless lust passed by and gave way to fondness and honey.

Because when his arms wrapped around yours, there was no wicked intention behind it; your dress was long covering your legs again. Instead, you heard nature sing its songs, the river flowing for what felt like hours as his embrace lifted every evil worry you’d ever encountered in your life.

You couldn’t overthink and analyse the situation until the night ended. When he brought you home and left again, tinted cheeks smiling at you as his fingers tucked your hair behind your ears.

Your beam was bright when you let your door shut behind you tonight – and your knees were weak, so weak that you dropped against the heavy door, enraptured and falling.

This was the point of no return.

NOW

There had never been a point of return.

In retrospect, you were doomed when you saw him for the first time. You should’ve known that he was going to end you thoroughly, that you would never be able to go back to how your life was before you knew him.

Sometimes, you ask yourself if you should’ve been more incessant. If you should’ve prodded more, demanded answers to your questions, not let him keep his damned mysterious mask on that he loved so much.

You wipe the dust off your old poetry book, combing the pages for the words you have memorised by now. Taehyung was right – he couldn’t tell you what more Sophie Albrecht’s poem consisted of. Because if he had, you’d known what had bubbled in his heart.

Because the poetess spoke about drunken love; fervent kisses; yearning and pining and longing, intense and torturous… magnificent and beautiful.

And yet with passionate lingering, my mouth stays glowing at your lips.

You shut the book and let your eyes drift over the pile you pulled out of your shelf. You place the poetry next to a novel; one that you have probably read a couple hundred times. The name of the author calls upon a burning, piercing sting; today, of course, you understand why he’d never told you his pseudonym, but his birth name.

You laugh.

The only truth he ever told you voluntarily, without you having to pull it out of him, was his name.

Kim Taehyung.

You were the only one who knew that he’d been born as Kim Taehyung. The only thing he ever confessed to you so blatantly.

And other than that… Why couldn’t he confide in you? And why did he disappear, left you in your melancholy, everlingering and everstaying.

Taehyung… this can’t be what your wonderful phenomenon of fate had written out for the both of you.

THEN

The first time Taehyung opened the gate to his little, humble home, he led you into his office holding your hands gently. 

Your fingers were wounded and aching from stitching several dresses yesterday, and had he not taken your palm into his, greeting you with a tender kiss on the back of your hand, you might not have said anything at all.

But he had top notch remedies to soothe the sting your needles caused; and while he came up with the idea, he used his medical kit as the ultimate excuse to keep you closer to him. In his own four walls, showing you where he slept and ate. To him, this was a sense of intimacy – because it wasn’t as though he brought home a girl every day.

Or at least, not anymore.

“I’m fine,” you assured, slowing down your steps. He was walking backwards and close to you, squeezing your hand, drowning in your eyes. “We can go anywhere you want. I know you despise being at home.”

“I don’t mind,” he said, the same as usual, “and it feels a bit more like home with you in it.”

Your cheeks heated up and you giggled like a child, tilting your head as you fell for him harder, deeper. He let your hands go once inside his office, and the shadows in his face darkened, merely dim rays of the sun shining between his curtains and into the room.

His touch, however, didn’t leave your body just yet – because within a second, he had you pulled into his body, one hand on your back, the other palm on the side of your neck.

Since you knew Taehyung, your lips had never touched his. But after the incident on the boat, something between you had cracked. Like every semblance of courage was suddenly roaming free. The way he hugged you, the way he touched you.

It wasn’t what good acquaintances did.

But you two… not quite friends. Not quite lovers.

”The utmost share of my desire shall be… only to kiss the air that–”

“That lately kissed thee,” you finished, proud and satisfied, “I have read this one for once.”

Taehyung laughed airily, and you saw his soul floating and jumping behind his eyes. Stars twinkled in his pupils once again, bringing night at bright noon. You felt enamoured and faint – you’d never considered that a warm hand on your neck could twist your guts like this.

“I missed you all night,” Taehyung whispered; you didn’t know which night he meant. You hadn’t seen or talked to him in a week. But he clarified, “I missed you every night. And every day. Every damn moment, even when I slept.”

Taehyung was a writer… he was a writer indeed.

And he sucked you in the way your favourite novels did.

Your breaths accelerated as though you had run up a hill – nearly panting, unsteady, anticipating. His nose brushed yours as he moved closer, his mouth parting and eyes shooting daggers of affection into yours.

“Do you ever miss me, too?”

Did you miss him?

Do stars miss the moon when it’s not full? Does the shore survive without waves? Did a life without Kim Taehyung still exist, still sound imaginable?

Did you ever miss him, too?

“Taehyung,” you mumbled, hands on his chest, fumbling with the two open buttons of his shirt, “does anyone ever escape you?”

“I always want to escape myself,” he admitted. You still didn’t quite know what he meant; those statements weren’t rare, but you still couldn’t make him lay open his heart entirely. “But I don’t want you to escape me.”

Taehyung wasn’t made of stones. His body didn’t consist of a cold rock; behind his chest, a bleeding heart pounded.

Taehyung was all cotton and silk.

All cotton and silk.

“I don’t want to either.”

And then, he closed in.

Brushed his lips against yours. Hardly breathing, feeling your fingers curl into fists against his chest.

But before his mouth could finally meet yours, a sudden triple knock pulled you out of your red coloured box of affection. You flinched the same moment he did, and your heads shot to the entrance, perplexed and questioning.

Next to the open door, a girl in a nightgown appeared slowly. She had her arms crossed in front of her chest, and her expression was somehow trist. But then she smiled, and you reckoned, the melancholy only inhabited her eyes – that she was young, perhaps twenty years old and that everyone carries a sense of despair at that age.

Drawing a breath, Taehyung’s eyes flickered between her and you, and you were confused – didn’t know why a girl stood in the middle of his room. His place. Pretty and young, smiling, matching his ethereal glow even in a nightgown.

“I think I know who you are,” her almost juvenile voice chimed, and she leaned against the doorframe, her feet bare and her legs crossed. She called your name, dragged and stretched it out. “I didn’t think I’d ever get to know you. Or that he’d bring you home.”

You searched for answers in the room, looking at her with a squint and then at him with wide eyes. What is happening? you were seeming to ask, and Taehyung, albeit hesitant, soon provided an answer.

“She’s my cousin. My mother’s sister’s daughter,” Taehyung explained, fingers still curled into yours, though the warmth of his body had left yours, “her name’s Hana.”

Hana. Another secret he’d kept from you effectively.

“I didn’t know,” you told her, smiling softly. “It’s good to meet you, Hana.”

In some ways, Taehyung and Hana looked alike. She had the same nose as him. The same dark eyes, soft black hair, full lips that turned into rectangles when she grinned the way she did right now.

“I would’ve been surprised if you had known. Taehyung enjoys being a mystery.”

If this wasn’t the truest declaration you’d ever heard.

“Don’t you have studies to do?” Taehyung scolded, hissing through gritted teeth. He was riled up. Not as calm as he usually was. “Or anything else.”

“Yes. Christ,” Hana rolled her eyes, pushing herself off the wall, “I just wanted to come and wish you a good day. I’m gone.”

And then she stepped out, throwing her untamed hair back, announcing one last thing that you didn’t fully understand. But your focus soon shifted to the relieved exhale Taehyung left out, eyes staring at you in apology before he told you, “I will get you something for your fingers.”

“Thank you…”

Why was all of this so odd? Why did the picture of her face, of her and him together, bring a hidden memory or déjà-vu to the surface that was too blurry to make out?

Something chewed at your brain, and you couldn’t help but feel confused.

You pushed the irritating perplexity aside and stepped into the middle of the room to refocus. Turning in a slow circle, you scanned the room in a 360-view, admiring the set-up of his office.

The room was as organised as Taehyung’s thoughts were, every piece of furniture at its place neatly. A chimney stood in front of the sofa, and under the latter, you detected a carpet of dark but soothing colours.

As you walked around in tiny steps, fingers crossed behind your back, you realised how undoubtedly the interior of Taehyung’s place mirrored his personality. Calm, quiet, comforting.

The only misplaced object that disrupted the peace lay on the chair in front of his desk, opened at a random page and its spine worn out. You leaned closer, picking it up to read the first sentences on the page.

Initially, a smile grew on your face, baffled and impressed by the otherworldly metaphors and writing style. The words felt pleasant on your tongue as you whispered them, flowing like the calm river water you loved.

You turned the book and peeked at the title; you didn’t recognise it, but the author’s name seemed familiar to you. The concept of the novel was a lost memory itself, but looking at the cover, you thought you could still remember having read this very novel years ago.

But the realisation of its background didn’t hit you until you skimmed the next three pages, diving into the lives of a couple who fell in love and fell apart. A famous author who met the woman of his dreams; the page that you’d opened described their separation, tear-filled, desperate and heartbreaking.

The name of the characters; the sunset the girl gazed into; her movements, her words, his goodbyes.

You knew about them.

You never jumped on the train of bestselling novels much. You preferred underrated writers who no one had heard of, stories hidden in the back of a bookstore that you made your own; deemed your very own world.

Big, supposedly groundbreaking books never captured your attention for too long, so you forgot about them fast.

This one however? How had you forgotten about it? Considering its aftermath… you should’ve recognised things earlier.

But since the confessions written on the yellowed pages had caught your attention, broken pieces of a story you’d heard at gatherings returned. Back when you would go out more, meet couples for coffee and tea, hearing them tattle about people far away.

A stranger country. A writer in an affair with a woman who had gone mad. Claiming the novel was about him and her. An obsession dangerous enough to invade his home and confront him about it.

And he had reacted in a way no author should – no authorities were involved until the woman rested on the ground with closed eyes and a bleeding head. A dish used as a weapon in the writer’s hand.

“I found it.”

The cheerfulness in his voice shattered your heart. You hated that you couldn’t despise him – hated that you’d learned of emotions that you’d never felt before. That despite everything his past consisted of, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Kim Taehyung was a different person from the one you remembered.

Remembering before you had even ever spoken to him.

“You were brave to get so close to me,” you mumbled.

You didn’t know what more to say – you were too scared, your voice too strained, to tell him straightforwardly what you’d seen.

“What?” Taehyung asked, stepping closer.

His hand sunk, his fist closing around whatever he was holding for you. You shook your head, taking a step back, bumping against his table as you held up the book and told him, “Cha Yujin.”

And that was… that was when he froze. Like an ice sculpture, halting in the middle of his steps, gulping with eyes so wide you thought they’d fall out of their sockets.

“How could I not remember?” you reprimanded yourself, sniffling, feeling a hot tear trail down your cheek. “The novel that caused all your problems. And Cha Yujin. You’re… absolutely…”

He called your name, stretching out a hand as he whispered, “Let me explain it to you.”

“You’re revolting. And you touched me. Almost kissed me, for God’s sake, and made me fall for… what, a criminal?”

“No.”

“No?”

”No,” he exclaimed, and you shrunk, dropping the book on the table before you wrapped your arms around your chest and made a move to step out.

Walking past him, however, proved to be the biggest task, much as expected. Because his arm shot out and his fingers wrapped around your wrist, tugging you back to his body before his sad eyes fell on yours.

Kim Taehyung had a wistful and sombre gaze. Even when he was happy, there were hints of dreaminess and quietude. Usually, those skills of his eyes enchanted you. Today, they scared the hell out of you.

“Let me go,” you ordered, fighting out of his grip, but he was stubborn.

“I need to explain…”

“You can’t possibly explain this.”

“I’m not…” he started, jabbing holes of desperation into you, “please, I wouldn’t hurt you, I promise, I–”

You stilled, crying, out of your mind and fearing the worst.

“I could never hurt you.”

“But you would and could hurt someone else,” you argued, pulling back once his fingers loosened, “you did hurt someone else.”

But he was still shaking his head when you backed away. When you closed the distance between you and the door, eager to walk out, scared beyond sanity. And the fright in your head only grew once he mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

And to yourself, your heart, the time you’d wasted… you were sorry, too.

It had rained last night.

The pavement was still damp and drying, and clouds still hung over the town gloomily. Today was a little colder than you were used to from the summer, and you rubbed the skin of your wrist, wearing a thin dress that had already earned you some questioning stares.

Or perhaps, it was your tears.

Your form sat on a bench in a stranger park, ignoring every single body passing by you in slow motion. You couldn’t register the way they were regarding you; there were bigger clefts in your world. Ones that you were trying so desperately to mend.

It was absurd to expect instantaneous relief; but what else could you hope for with the constant cuts injuring your heart?

You couldn’t remember anymore when you’d run away. When you’d left his neighbourhood behind and found this very bench. When it had become so cold, or how long you’d been crying and pitying yourself.

All you knew was that the steps approaching came way too fast. And you wanted them gone; you weren’t ready for further grief, couldn’t take whatever they needed you to hear.

“Did he tell you to come?” you asked, your voice breaking and fragile. “To lie more for him.”

“No,” Hana said, calm and firm. She had her hands folded in front of her body, her movements careful. “He didn’t want me to come here because of what happened.”

“This is ridiculous and you both kno–”

“What is? What’s ridiculous?” Hana inched closer, shrugging her shoulders with a pained expression on her face. “That he’s trying to start a new life? That he found you on the way? That I’ve never seen him this happy… or falling this hard.”

Your tears returned in full force, and you wiped them away with the back of your hand – to no avail, because there were too many of them, endless and stinging. You took a deep breath, rubbing your wet cheeks, and slowly, quietly, said, “I can’t hear this. I don’t…”

“And I cannot let you tap in the dark. Or let you keep asking yourself why he did what he did, because you will never find peace like that,” Hana stated, and you despised how much sense her logic made. “He didn’t want me to come because he’d rather you hate him than me.”

“I don’t… I don’t know you, Hana.”

“And you don’t need to.” She flattened her dress and tucked it under her legs before she took a seat next to you, placing a hand on your shoulder that you almost shook off again. “But listen to me.”

Your head was spinning by the time she attempted to start her story. Your body felt as though it was physically moving in circles, and you held onto your head, letting it fall between your shoulders.

“Cha Yujin didn’t die.”

Hana’s voice was faint, echoing. It mingled with your surroundings; the chirping of birds and the quiet chatter of passengers. But her words were sharp, cutting through your mind, widening your eyes.

Your head shot up in a sudden motion, too fast for its liking and it still spun and swirled when you murmured, “What?”

“Yujin is alive. And she’s not the victim that the police and newspaper made her out to be.”

“Where… what happened?”

“She was a reader of his. Knew every word of the novel he’d written. But she was also one of the secret affairs he’d had.”

Something about her tone and her revelation threw your heart into a pit. To all the things you thought you knew, this information didn’t belong. You wondered if anyone knew – wondered if whatever had happened years ago had ever reached at least part of the public eye.

“Taehyung used to enjoy a lot of women’s company. Back when his name was still known all over the country, it was easy for him to find the next bed to jump into. And Yujin was similar… just. Went on for a longer time.”

You listened intently, though your brain begged and urged you to blend it out. You didn’t know what hurt more – the partial truth in the crime story, Taehyung’s old habits or the assumption that you might have been another one of his… pleasures.

And you didn’t know which thought to focus on.

“And Yujin was convinced that the novel… a romantic one at that… was about him and her,” Hana continued, fiddling with her fingers, visibly nervous. “So she came to our home. Long after my parents had died, and I’d started living under Taehyung’s wing. She came to our home and claimed she just wanted to talk.”

She shook her head, sucking in a shaky breath, eyes drooping in exhaustion, “And they did talk. He told her no woman had inspired the novel. She couldn’t accept that… to the point that she started yelling and throwing things, and Taehyung had to build a barrier of chairs so she wouldn’t hurt him.”

In the middle of the narrative, she silenced, swallowing the knot of distress, and in a moment of odd solidarity, you put a warm hand on her knee and spurred her on, “And then?”

And then.

Hana elaborated on the curses and threats Yujin had thrown Taehyung’s way. Described the scars and harmless wounds he’d shown his cousin after everything had ended. They weren’t deep, but they reminded him of the night for days; not that there was any reality in which he could forget anyway.

Yujin had physically opted to attack Taehyung, and he had never lifted a finger against her, enduring because he was certain she would have had enough in just a second. But when the anger advanced, and the girl slipped into incurable mania, Hana stepped out of the room that she’d promised to not leave.

No matter what happened.

“But I couldn’t just let her hurt him,” her voice was quivering, and she kept repeating her sentences, calming her mind and her nerves, “and I saw this… this kettle standing on the dining table. I swear I didn’t want to knock her out like that, but I didn’t know what to do and I promise it was just self defence, so–”

You rubbed her knee in reassurance, cooing at her, but she couldn’t help the tears that started flowing. They collected on her chin and fell in droplets, eyelashes wet and long – strangely, you couldn’t muster the strength to cry.

Not now. Not when the whole story was ridiculous, bewildering.

Was she making it up?

She didn’t look like it.

“What happened to Yujin then?” you asked softly. You didn’t know if empathy outweighed your curiosity – but you needed the truth.

“Mental institution…” is all Hana mumbled, stopping for a minute as she stared at a distant fleck in the sky.

Terror had spread across her face and her chest; she said that even today, she sometimes felt her fingers tremble the way they had that day. When they had seen the unconscious body on the ground, half breathing, somewhat alive.

You wondered whether she was thinking about it now, too. Whether you were supposed to shake her out of her grief and fears.

“Taehyung never let me tell anyone the truth. Took the blame and was considered guilty without testifying. He was barely allowed to defend himself, because the police in our town were corrupt. Which was ridiculous, because Taehyung wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Hana continued, still shaken by her story and memories, “Yujin’s family is richer than any of Taehyung’s books could make him.”

“He took the blame for you?”

“He said he’d promised to take care of me. He decided to do it this way.”

“I don’t understand,” you said, rubbing your forehead, processing whatever you’d heard and gotten told, “how did the both of you get here then?”

Hana smiled, but her eyes portrayed different emotions. Her tears had subsided, her stare tired; she looked exactly how you presumed she felt.

Like someone who had carried the weight of sorrow for years, and now voiced parts of it – unfathomable feelings that had gathered in a ball of stress had been released into the open. You couldn’t imagine how fatigued she felt.

“We… we fled. Before they could capture us.” You drew the pleasant evening air to stop the whirling of your mind, not believing what you had gotten yourself into. She looked at the horror in your face, defending, “You don’t understand. They would have jailed him and tortured him. They loved Yujin’s family and would have killed Taehyung if they’d wanted that.”

The thoughts and possibilities she listed were scarring. Even though they weren’t real, just what could have been, what never had been – they gutted you, stabbing your heart, entangling your thoughts.

“The public did not talk about his birth name. They knew his ridiculous pseudonym, so coming here, living his life as Kim Taehyung… even if he barely spoke about his identity… was an easy way out.”

Now that she pointed out all these things, you realised that it hadn’t been his name that you’d found familiar when he’d introduced himself to you. It was his face, and you’d most likely seen it somewhere when his story blew up, in passing.

“I know… It’s why he never lets me read his books…”

She blinked at you in slight disbelief – you couldn’t tell why. But the emotion vanished as soon as it had emerged, and you ignored the short flicker of it when she continued.

“I suppose so. We came a long way,” Hana concluded, sniffling and wiping her eyes, “from a place far away. None of us can risk anything. And… I know it’s a lot to ask, and I don’t hold any expectations from you. But I would do anything for you to… to not spread our secrets.”

You removed your hand from her knee, entwining your fingers to keep them from digging into your palm. “I am not sure what to tell you.”

“Nothing… I just…”

The wind blew and chilled your bones – it had gotten even colder without you noticing, and despite nature’s warning to get home soon, you didn’t move an inch. Instead, you heard her speak on.

“Back then… Taehyung, he saw it all, but– he never speaks about it. Just keeps taking the blame,” Hana added in a whisper, and you leaned in, perking up your ears, “I can sometimes hear him whimper in his sleep. But those nightmares…”

In the beginning, Taehyung had told you that he didn’t like to dream. That he enjoyed walking into the world and around the globe, seeing places, speaking to people, watching the sun set and rise, gazing at the stars and the moon, observing the slow floating of the clouds.

You never considered the presence of nightmares as a trigger – but then again, he had begun listing his dreams more often these days. As though he had found a liking in them, discovered a corner of his brain that didn’t conjure grotesque images of his past.

“They are less frequent now,” Hana continued. Her eyebrows furrowed; she looked at you as if her mind was lighting up with an epiphany. As if she had grasped something she hadn’t quite thought about before. “Since he started spending time with you.”

But you shook your head, flinching at the sudden clump in your throat. It constricted, and you swallowed, sighing before you said, “Hana, I’m… I can’t be hopeful with th–”

“I mean it,” she interrupted, her gentle words accompanied by the subtle rustling of the trees, “it doesn’t wake me up at night anymore. I don’t have to leave my bed to wrap my arms around him anymore. And I cannot remember the last time I stayed awake talking to him.”

“Hana…”

“Think about it.” Her fingers wandered to your shoulder and she pulled you in, her tone still calm but keener now. “Taehyung doesn’t just talk about himself to anyone. He didn’t just open up to you, even somewhat, but he brought you home, too. Why?”

You were clueless; or perhaps you weren’t. Perhaps a voice inside your mind, behind your jumbled thoughts, knew what Hana meant, and was telling you what it was, but you were scared of hope. Of love and heartbreak.

So she spelled it out for you.

“Because there must be a reason why he trusted you like that. Maybe he knew you’d find out one day… maybe he wanted you to know, just not yet. Maybe he saw something in you, and he knew you would understand when the time was right. That he would stay with you or fall in love with you. Keep you by his side.”

Falling in love? Love. Love.

At this moment, it was equal to fear.

“I suppose we didn’t get this far.”

“Yet. That’s why you need to stay… that’s what it means. Ensuring someone’s trust. Telling them everything. That he didn’t yet doesn’t show a lack of trust, but fear. Absolute horror,” Hana explained, calling your name, “because you mean something to him, he fears what you might think of this. And of him.”

When does love’s blindness turn into insanity?

Some years ago, your logical side would have known what decision to settle on, who to speak to and where to go. Rethinking all recent events, you thought that you would have taken the mature path even a few months ago.

When you hadn’t known him. When his name meant nothing to you and the string of your memories wasn’t filled with his smile and touch.

But now…

“What should I do?” you whispered into the world, blinking away the dampness in your eyes. “I don’t know.”

“I think you do,” Hana argued. She stood and dusted off her dress, preparing to walk away. “I think you absolutely know what to do. Whenever you feel ready.”

The house’s furniture was elegant and delicate.

Various patterns adorned the wooden pieces; paintings of landscapes and gardens hung in the anteroom; everywhere you looked, the flame of candles flickered gently.

The rooms were coloured golden, laying quiet and still. From afar, you heard fire crackle, and you followed the sound as you’d been told to. Hana assured you it would be fine to walk in unannounced.

But as you neared the office, your steps small and slow, you felt restlessness wrap around your neck. You didn’t know what to say – hadn’t thought of a speech you wanted to deliver, emotions you wanted to confess.

All you knew was that you were shivering. That the last three days you’d gone to sleep, woken up, worked, eaten and fallen asleep again had been cold. The clouds still hung in the dark sky, restricting the view to the stars. The world felt gloomy and your heart stone hard.

Three days of thinking, rethinking, overthinking.

Of yearning and crying, unsure what to say or to do. You still couldn’t believe you were here. Could barely trust your eyes when you entered the office and saw his form, hidden under a blanket.

Not on the davenport, but sitting in front of it, feeling the warmth of the chimney.

You called his name, crossing the room, quick to crouch next to him to improvise the next minutes. But when you looked at him, he was sound asleep. He had pulled the blanket up to his nose, breathing in a peaceful slumber.

His dark hair fell into his face the way it always did, a silver earring dangling from his earlobe and his skin drenched in a homely orange. In front of him lay an open book – the same novel you had touched. You wondered if he’d chosen to read it again, relive whatever it evoked in him.

Closing it, you took a seat next to him, leaning against the sofa. You put your head on his shoulder, cheeks warmed by the blanket; but Taehyung, as you found out, was a light sleeper. Because the moment you touched him, he flinched, eyes shooting up to inspect his surroundings.

And when they found you, his eyelids fluttered until he adjusted to the sight of you.

“Hana spoke to me,” you told him, biting into the inside of your cheek, “she told me the truth about this,” you pointed to the book, “about everything.”

Taehyung nodded, as if he already knew. Hana must have told him before you arrived.

He held your stare until he suddenly looked away. Like you’d burned him with your eyes; like something had told him he wasn’t allowed to stare at you.

“May I?” you asked, pointing at the blanket.

And when he nodded, though with slight hesitation, you smiled in reassurance, wrapping the blanket around your body before you pressed your shoulder against his. “I believe you. Hana and you, both.”

You heard Taehyung’s gulp without looking at him; and pieces of your heart hurt and steamed when he spoke, his voice hoarse, but still so tender, “She said you did.”

A minute of unspoken questions and answers passed in silence, and when you spoke again, you felt the smile on your face, “I may not know you inside out, Kim Taehyung,” your gaze met his and fingers sought his cautiously, “but I know you well enough to understand that you aren’t a bad person.”

His eyes were glassy, drooping; he still appeared to be dreaming. Half asleep.

Your free hand lifted under the blanket, shuddering, and you watched as his eyes closed when your fingertips brushed the skin of his jaw. You traced the sharp line and touched his earring; wandering on until your palm was resting on his cheek, cupping his face.

“We didn’t mean to bring anyone pain,” Taehyung whispered, aching and breaking, “we always considered ourselves good people.”

“You are,” you spoke up, rubbing your thumb against his face, leaning in, “you are. You’re the best man I know.”

“Do you mean that? Are you saying that? Actually saying that?” He leaned into your touch, his chin quivering, and before you knew it, a single drop of tear escaped his eye and landed in your hand. “Or am I hallucinating? Still dreaming…”

“I am here. Right here.”

Taehyung called your name, his deep voice fragile and crumbling. His body seemed limp, as frail as his heart; you had never seen him like this before. You wanted to mend the pain, wanted to assure that you weren’t walking away.

But before you could speak, he whispered your name again, a hand travelling to your waist, towing you closer. His eyes searched for something in your irises, darting up and down, from left to right. Busy hands touched the warmth of your body, squeezing your waist and brushing back your hair.

And then, a new surge of determination inundated his chest; still crying, he promised, “If you ever forgive me… I will try to be better.” He sniffled, breathing heavily, and you could barely believe that you were witnessing the cracking of his soul – seeing what you meant to him. “I will make everything right. I am so sorry, sweetheart.”

“We will find a solution one day… and I’ll be here,” you cooed, shushing his winces; brushing an alleviating hand through his hair. “Do you understand?”

It was too late to escape now. Of course you would stay – ready to live and die by his side. To your past self who hadn’t spoken to him yet, your decision might have appeared comical. Your past self might have taken the other path that night; gone home without approaching any finger food or wine.

Left the event and fallen asleep.

If the flutter of a single butterfly’s wings had been any different… but it hadn’t. And that was alright.

More apologies fell out of Taehyung, accompanied by diminishing tears. Your foreheads collided, him holding you close. Honeyed breaths, steadying, fell against your face, eyes closed.

You didn’t fathom that you were crying until Taehyung wiped your salty grief away, his nose grazing the tip of yours as he – slowly, carefully, suddenly – verbalised, “Your… your fingertips fire cannons made of needles; you puncture my soul, my heart, my bleeding skin.”

Hands tugged you in.

Lips caressed your mouth.

His whisper grew quieter.

”Yet, I remain an utter fool, drowning and blind; seeking the sting of your lips, the most ravishing sin.”

Something about the return of his habit cracked your heart open; like a gush of your usual emotions invaded your heart, everyday conversations breaking the grief and mournful nights. The familiarity threw you back to better days.

When you watched river water flow by and a bridge approach, trapped in his arms, whimpering pleas and his name.

So you cried more, closing your eyes when his lips moved to caress your cheekbones, and you asked, “Who wrote this one?”

Taehyung pecked your cheek, left a line down your face until he was back where your mouth parted. Sweetly and sickening, he admitted, “I did… for you.” His furrowed eyebrows relaxed, and his eyes opened for a moment; his soul was lost and found as he repeated, “I did, for you.”

And that was it.

The final words before he closed the distance. His lips fell on yours like they belonged there; like a puzzle had fallen into pieces. You locked your mouths in place and threw away the key. Weak from the way his plush lips moved, miniscule noises falling out of his throat.

He sighed and gasped against your face, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Your heart leapt and frolicked when he pulled you flush against his chest. He pushed the air out of your lungs; dug his fingernails into your waist and hips.

The kiss was all you registered, and all you lived for, though it was killing you.

Because the touch was intense, laced with passion unmatched. A slow, steady rhythm that only broke when he opened your mouth, whispered your name and let his tongue slither in. You were a labyrinth to him, you noticed – because he lost his way somewhere, then found himself in the core of your being, but never moved past it to the exit.

“Taehyung–” you muttered when he moved to your neck, leaving a series of damp kisses.

“Don’t speak,” he interjected, leaning back, his eyes hungry and sober, “no more talking for tonight.”

So you obliged.

You let him wear out your name; his embrace was the leading compass that night. You allowed him to dive back in, capture your lips, tugging and nibbling at them, tongues dancing.

You drowned in the fever he caused as your back fell against the carpet, the fireplace still flaring and his arms trapping you. The fingers of his hand locked with yours, lips kissing their way to your clavicles and back to your mouth.

And that’s how you remained: clothed, chaste, crazed.

Kissing each other through the night.

Falling, falling, perpetually falling.

NOW

Candle-lit and golden – it was one of the last nights in which reality as you knew it made sense.

You still feel the touch of his lips on your skin. His hands holding your waist, his voice whispering words and promises that must have been fairytales.

The days you spent after this fateful night proceeded just as feverishly. There seemed no border between you, no restrictions and limits. The possibilities, dreams and touches; you remember them all too well.

A hand on your back leading you down a path in the forest; conversations held beside river shores as you nibbled on fruit; your body caged between walls or trees and him. A mouth kissing your neck and your jaw, discovering more of your sounds.

You spent your mornings talking, afternoons drowsy, nights lost in each other. You hadn’t known happiness this unconditional before; and it felt real. Tangible.

Perhaps you should’ve remembered every moment, smile and kiss better.

Because nothing made sense after that.

THEN

Taehyung and you abandoned your rule of weekly strolls through the town and soon advanced them to regular occurrences.

Lovesick and watching through a tinted version, you opened your business earlier in the morning and closed it earlier in the evenings. You would wrap up work to meet him at a previously determined time and place. Or you would visit him at home.

He would visit you at home.

So it didn’t come as a shock when he knocked at your door one night; you’d indulged in a long, warm bath and didn’t expect the interruption tonight. Especially not so long after the sun had set.

Freshly wrapped in a nightgown, you opened the door, greeting a version of Taehyung you’d never seen before.

He was smiling; the way he always did. But his eyes looked distracted and strange, tainted with something you recognised quicker than he probably intended.

“What’s wrong?”

Your immediate worry lit up a nerve in him – because he opened his mouth to speak, his expression baffled for a fraction of a moment before it calmed again. He removed his hand from the frame of your door, stretching his arm.

“Let me come in,” he ordered, albeit softly, kindly as he watched you place your palm in his. But the demand was still different from his usual requests for permission. “Please.”

You nodded and stepped aside, eyebrows still furrowed as you played out the different reasons why he might be here. But as soon as he entered your house, he seemed like a different person.

Or rather, his true self.

Dreamy eyes looked at you, pulling you into his body, and you chuckled, cheeks warming as he said, “I was missing you.”

“Really? That’s why you’re here?”

You swayed lightly in his arm, dancing to music that wasn’t there. His lips barely touched your forehead, taking in your scent, and he uttered, “Mmmh. Just hate being anywhere else.”

“Anywhere else?”

“Anywhere that’s not with you.”

“You’re so…” you thought for a moment, staring up with a playful smirk, “gushy again today.”

Taehyung laughed, his nose touching yours, and you knew he was close to kissing you but not quite. He enjoyed the teases before he dived in; loved to hear your breathing stagnate until he stole it entirely.

“So,” you breathed, your hands settling on either side of his neck, “what have you got for me today?”

He knew immediately what you meant; he smiled, and perhaps, he would’ve broken into hearty laughter too if your eyes hadn’t pushed his attention to them. He stared into your pupils intently, alternating between letting his eyelids flutter open and shut.

That’s why you could never let go of him. Why he mesmerised you so ardently.

Because Taehyung was a tender lover. Lost in dreams, caught up above clouds. He carried a galaxy in his heart and an ocean in his mind – vast and wide; soft and calm. 

If you hadn’t felt his touch a hundred times before, you would’ve deemed him a fantasy.

You thought he’d bring you Shakespeare today – you’d talked about him just a few days ago. Or perhaps Jane Austen. But instead, he tangled your thoughts into a tight knot as he leaned in, pecking the corner of your lips, and whispered, “You drive me crazy.”

Being with him… you had gotten used to elegant confessions and a love language manifesting in rhythmic, poetic words. And when he opted for such a mundane confession instead, you felt your heart leap into your throat.

Perhaps because the feeling of having pushed him into speechlessness filled you with pride. Or because of the way he was looking at you.

“This might sound blunt,” Taehyung started, gulping, “but can I stay here tonight? 

Taehyung was always unpredictable – today, however, he sounded more suspicious. You wondered if you could pull his thoughts out of him.

“Of course you can. Of course,” you permitted, burying your fingers in the tresses in the nape of his neck, “anything for you.”

The mouth that ghosted over yours closed in, teeth capturing your lower lip before he pulled lightly, let go again and echoed, “Anything for me.”

He didn’t endure for long tonight. His thumb traced the apple of your cheek, the touch affectionate, careful. He began a gentle backward stroll of your bodies, urging you into a specific direction until you’d entered your bedroom.

“What are you doing?” you asked, bewildered by his gaze. “Kim Taehyung, you–”

Your speech broke when the back of your knees hit your bed, and with his weight pushing against you, you fell, his body following suit. His knees dug into the mattress on either side of your thighs, and he leaned in, seeking something in your eyes.

“I just want to touch you,” he responded quietly, palms pressing into your bed, “just want to keep touching you tonight.”

And so he did – as if he was touching you for the first and last time.

His digits brushed back your stray hair before his arm snuck under you, holding onto you, pinning you down with his chest. His free hand brushed along your bare arm, raising it slowly until it was in his firm grip, immobile next to your head.

He kissed the sensitive patch under your ear, loving and captivating. The intimacy was new to you; you didn’t know yet how his bare skin against yours felt. The thought of his burning body on yours, with nothing in between, joggled your heart and left it beating harder.

But no matter how hot his touch, you couldn’t shake the feeling of suspicious unease.

“Is something wrong?” you questioned as he left barely-there kisses on your jaw.

He looked up, blinking at you; and then moved his head from left to right and back, the movement subtle and miniscule. “No,” he answered, his breath warm on your cheek, “absolutely not. This is perfect.”

His words sounded definite and certain, so you stopped questioning his intentions. If he wasn’t ready to lay open the content of his heart or had truly no sorrow to hide, then you weren’t going to push him.

Instead, you let his mouth and hands explore your body. In one moment, he’d hold your wrist tight, and in the next, you’d feel his slender fingers on your chin, embarking on a journey down to your chest. His lips traced your jaw and your neck before they found home on your own again, seeking your tongue and your taste.

Teeth bit your lower lip and pulled at the soft flesh, and you frisked your mind for something to say before he beat you to it and confessed, “Every moment without you has started feeling like…”

Like an empty void. Like advanced boredom. Like a cumulation of silent yearning, heartache and loneliness.

“Not living.” And this. “I feel more alive with you.”

You didn’t grow up with sappy words and deep love confessions. Infatuation never bothered you, and you were proud to say that you were able to move on quickly. You didn’t think, however, that you possessed the power to leave him behind.

“Is that alright?” he asked as his hands tugged at the sleeves of your nightgown.

He slipped one side off your shoulder, baring your skin, and taking in the hint, you nodded eagerly; told him a single hushed, “Yes.”

Eager digits freed you of your clothing; you raised your body to aid him in his quest, shutting your eyes tight, unsure what he might think or say. But to your pleasure, boosting your ego, he pressed a flat hand on your cheek, commanding, “Look at me.”

You obliged cautiously, but didn’t freeze in your movements, turning your insecurities into confidence as you began unbuttoning his shirt. Ripped half open, it hung off one of his shoulders, showcasing his golden chest; glowing, soft, comforting.

Ridding him of his trousers, your eyes locked on the bulge growing under his drawers. You brushed a hand along its confines and outline, hearing a gasp from above, and he retracted; put a distance between you and stood, even if only to kick off the garments.

“You’re making this hard for me,” Taehyung said to you, shaking his head. “So incredibly hard.”

At least that was what you thought you heard – you couldn’t focus much anyway. Your attention had shifted to his veiny hands as they glided along his thighs and cupped the length that had sprung out. Endless fingers wrapped around his shaft, pumping twice, and then he let go again.

“God… Tae…” you mumbled, crawling closer hungrily, thirst burning up your chest.

“Don’t look at me like that…” he said, his voice strained, as though he’d delivered an hour long speech before coming to you. “You can’t dismiss your own beauty and then admire me.”

“Why can I not? You’re…”

But he’d never find out what he was, because in the very next moment, you were kneeling at the edge of your bed. You gripped his cock, looking up at him with a tender expression before you gulped and brought your lips closer to the head of his member.

You gathered a trivial amount of saliva on your tongue, letting it escape through the gape of your lips as he cursed, “Oh… fuck. My dreams could never compare to this.”

“Hmm?”

“I have… thought of this so often.”

You took the last moment to respond with a nearly inaudible, “I have, too” before you began swirling your tongue around his head. He enjoyed the eye contact, going crazy as you sucked in the precum; toying with the sensitive skin.

Your fist, wrapped around his cock, moved up and down, your wrist twisting. For just a moment, you slowed down, tracing the protruding veins, aware of each one of them as you imagined what they’d feel like inside you.

The vivid picture made you shudder, your walls clenching and dripping, and you brought your hand resting on his thigh to your clit. Slow rubs adjusted to the pace of your mouth, bobbing back and forth, taking in his girthy and impressing length as much as your throat allowed.

Breathing hot against his cock, you drew a deep inhale before you dived back in, letting your tongue do its work until spit ran down your chin. Taehyung cherished the small details of your actions; the swish of your tongue over his ridges, slow and focused, and the way your hand wandered up and down his erection before it stilled to toy with his balls.

Taehyung detected your subtle self-pleasuring movements late – but he did. They elicited a light shake of his head, and the fingers previously buried in your hair pushed your body back, eyes watching the string of saliva connecting your mouth and his slit break.

As he observed your breathless form, his hands pried your legs apart, pinning them against the mattress in a sudden motion as he whispered, “I wanna taste you, too.”

But instead of moving straight south, he half fell onto you again; naked this time, nothing separated your skin. And when his body touched yours, it felt like flames colliding; you were burning up like the summer sun at noon.

He settled between your legs, hardness rutting against your slick folds; he listened to your moans with lips kissing a trail across your face. Roughly, he pulled your legs over his waist, holding your limbs there as he commented, “I saw an angel so beautiful…”

An immediate giggle erupted from your chest, amused at the dramatic choice of his words, and he chuckled with you before he silenced your echoing joy. Open mouthed kisses landed on your neck, wet and crude.

Dazy and dizzy, you mewled, clenching your hands to fists against his back as you told him, “Feels so good… feels so damn good.”

Proud and satisfied, he started moving down until his tongue circled your nipples. His mouth alternated between each of your breasts, but he never left one side without attention; gripping it, digging in, squeezing and kneading.

He cupped your mounds, pushing them up, pinching your perked nipples before he bit into them lightly. Travelled down teasingly, clearly aware of his unwavering effect on you.

When he paused above your pelvis, you sighed, opening your eyes that you didn’t realise you had closed. You looked at him, pushing his hair back, and revealed, “I don’t want you to stop.”

“I’m not going to stop,” he assured, taking in your scent and placing a kiss on your aching nub, “I’m not.”

“Don’t…”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

You didn’t get time to grow used to the endearment, surprised when he pulled you down the bed, placing one of your legs on his shoulder and the other against the mattress. He kept your thighs apart vehemently, his tongue darting out to taste your lust for the very first time.

Licking a stripe between your folds, he repeated his action before he made home above your clit. The wet muscle driving you mad flicked over your clit, slowly raising its pace before he closed his lips around it. Kissing, indulging in you, dark hair strands hanging low and tickling your skin.

He granted you with all of his attention, eyes closed, relishing your fragrance and flavour. Two of his fingers soon joined the pleasure he gifted you, pushing in with expected ease. Accompanied by the heated making out, his deft digits pushing in and out made you wiggle under him, your leg slipping off his shoulder and down his arm.

Your eyes rolled back further in their sockets, passionate moans and groans falling out of your mouth, and barely articulating a sentence, you mumbled, “Mmmfuck, Tae… please do–”

He hummed against you, understanding your language without its coherency; the tremble of your legs and hands in his hair told him more than enough.

So he engulfed your tits with a large hand, scarring your flesh with his nails; his tongue fastened, fingers fucking into you deeper, more impatiently. And then – it was over as soon as it’d begun.

He aided you through your high, could almost see the way high waves of pleasure flooded the pit of your stomach, untying the tight knot. You relaxed – or fell, he couldn’t quite say. The arched back flattened, fingers around the sheets loosened, and your body went limp.

“Was that good enough?” you suddenly heard him ask, his voice way closer than before. Your head still spun when you met his eyes, his face floating above yours as he muttered, “You look… incredible.”

Staring up at him with gentle, pure eyes, the same sweet innocence pulling him to heaven. Or dragging him to hell. You were the only person he knew who could surpass the devilish gates and still remained virtuous.

Because despite the honey in your heart, the fog in your eyes was sinful.

Split a part of his soul, tainting his mind, colouring it in new, vivid hues. A sky blue when you comforted him; but a bright red when you filled him with undying lust.

“You…” he began, but stopped, his pupils flickering. “You know how much you mean to me, right?”

The centre of your stomach fluttered, spreading across your body; after all those times he’d kissed you, looked at you, showered you in poems, you still couldn’t believe that you were the object of his affection. 

You.

Not anyone else who existed in this wide, vast world. No… you. Right under him, naked, aching.

“Tell me.” You skimmed his flushed cheek, your insides screaming when his chest pressed against yours. “Please.”

You kept begging tonight – he wondered if he knew you didn’t need to. That he was ready to cross oceans and run through wildfires to get to you; if the world had allowed, he would’ve even fought the lesser devils of the world to stay with you.

But…

He shook his head free of intrusive thoughts, rubbing himself against you and admitted, “No… I feel out of words today.”

And then, his length, still standing tall and hard, aligned itself with your entrance, pushing in for just a fraction of a second. The moment was miniscule, but you gasped at the thickness already filling you, and threw your head back.

But he caught your face momentarily, bringing it back to him. Teary eyes gazed into his as his cock returned to your leaking mess, and breathing roughly through his nose, he spoke against your lips, “I’ll show you instead.”

And when he kissed you this time, his motions were more urging, more fervent. Your noses collided, your act aggressive. In the midst of the dance his tongue performed with yours, he pushed in fully, and you yelped into his mouth, sharp nails digging scars into his back.

A million and trillion fuzzy feelings coursed through your torso and down to where you connected; you were falling in love so fast and hard, it almost hurt.

Full and soft lips left yours to kiss your neck and clavicles again, suckling before he buried his face in your skin. He fucked you gently, increasing his pace slowly without unleashing cardinal, harsh lust just yet.

“Are you alright, baby?” he checked for the umpteenth time tonight, and you nodded wildly, whimpering and whining.

He felt as heavenly as you’d pictured. Passionate, zealous and fiery. He filled you to the brim, his length curved, hitting a spot you felt bloom for the first time ever.

As he raised his head and aligned your gazes, you saw him melt clearly.

Because he looked at you like the world was devoid of any existence but yours. Stared into your soul, deep moans vibrating in your eardrums; you recognised that he wasn’t writing but reading you tonight.

With connected foreheads, he asked, “It doesn’t hurt?”

“No… no,” you managed, panting as he pushed into you deep, pressed against you, “it feels so good. You're so good… so beautiful.”

“You,” he returned, hips pulling back before slamming back in, “are beautiful. Can’t stop thinking of you,” he waited, fucking you more passionately, and you held onto him, sweaty bodies colliding, “ever.”

The misty scene of lust and romance, laced with worries you tried to abandon, brought upon a thousand emotions in you.

Endless pleasure from his touch and the way the ridges of his cock rubbed against your nerves. A swarm of butterflies from his words invading your insides. The ardour eliciting goosebumps, making you shiver. 

A nagging voice in the back of your mind, because he was too… too intense.

Or perhaps, that was actually what he felt for you. The vigour, the unmatched ferocity of his fondness.

“Tae…?”

You didn’t know what you wanted to say. Maybe you wanted to wear out his name; you weren’t sure. But as he heard your whisper, he pushed a large hand under your head, fingers in your hair, palm settling on your scalp.

He raised you to his lips, his jaw clenched. His motions slowed down, allowing you to feel him better, more intense, because he pulled out almost entirely before he hammered back in.

Patiently, he stared at you, waiting for your words, but when he realised that your mind was empty of everything but his name, his lips crashed against yours. You moaned and hummed against his tongue, and he swallowed your sounds, tilting his head.

You were still trapped between him and the bed, but his unoccupied fingers still somehow found their way between your bodies and to your clit. You lost your mind steadily, holding onto him as he fucked you, pushing you up to the headboard.

He pressed a quick peck onto your mouth, and then said, “I don’t know how to–”

But he stopped, distracted by your keen cries as you unwinded again. Your eyes were damp, and your arms tightened around his neck. And once you were done, shaking and sniffling, he tried again, “I don’t know how to live without you.”

A quiet tear rolled down your face; he caught it with his thumb, his hand falling from your head and sneaking to your shoulder blades. He pulled you into him, leaving not an inch of you untouched, and started thrusting into you so devotedly that you dropped all sense of time and space.

“Then don’t,” you pleaded, your voice weak and drowning in your other sounds, “stay.”

His eyes scared you. They carried a presentiment; you didn’t know what to do with it. All you could do is beg and wait, hope he told you what storm twirled inside him.

“Shit, you,” he began, chasing his high, groaning deeply, his tone dropping a dozen octaves, “you make me fall… so damn deep for you.”

And that was the last thing he uttered before he shot ropes of his hot arousal into you, moulding your lips with his once more.

Both your bodies shook from the impact your night together brought; his breathing was heavy, his skin glistening in sweat. His hair stuck damp against his forehead, and you brushed it aside, taking in the universe in his eyes; a mirror that reflected your face.

He dove in for another kiss on your cheek, his exhales igniting your skin. Mumbling something else you didn’t understand, he pulled out of you, staying on top of you for some minutes before he raised his body slowly.

The lack of touch felt cold on your perspiring skin, but he didn’t leave you without it for long before he pulled you up and walked you to the bath. You sat at the edge of the small tub for a while as it filled, his hands brushing the knots from your hair and rubbing your aching thighs.

Once you settled in the water, hypnotised by the scrub of his hands on your scalp, you dozed off before you could realise. The gentle, wet back of a hand woke you up after what felt like an eternity, and you mumbled an apology under your breath.

“Everything is fine, my darling,” Taehyung cooed, soothing your worries.

He let you wrap your arms around his neck and carried you into your bed with a slight, exhausted groan. Laid you down, tucked you in, appearing next to you within a few seconds.

Pulling you into him, you took in his odour, burning it into your memory. You were half asleep, kissing his chest, never finding out that he was swooning, smiling, hiding half his face in your hair.

Sometimes, you think that if you’d known, you would’ve fought harder. Or perhaps ran away, not given in to the foolish act you’d indulged in tonight.

But then, you reckon, you would still do the same thing again today if you could. Naive and in love, being reborn and dying with every word he uttered and every of his touch you felt.

As you drifted off, you thought you heard him say something to you. And then, Taehyung closed his eyes with you in his arms for the last time; wordlessly.

The night proceeded thunderously. The rain didn’t start until you were fast asleep, and it kept you in dreamland until the first lightning struck.

It was early morning by the time the storm shook you awake. You realised the weather wasn’t the only thing raging; because within a moment, your heart bled, too. The thick liquid erupted like a volcano spitting lava that had been laying silent for so long.

You knew something had been wrong – that when you’d been worried, you’d been right.

Because.

When you woke up, he was gone. The other side of the bed was cold and empty, a yawning silence not only in your and his own home, but in your cavernous and splitting heart, too.

After Taehyung left your bed and life, you realised for the very first time how colossal and vast your town truly was.

The first few days, you spent every single second searching high and low for him. You left no stone unturned, tracing back his presence until your feet ached and bled. The taverns, the hills, the river. The market, the hospital, all bookstores in your proximity.

His house.

Taehyung was nowhere to be found.

The incessant knocking on his door was never answered, and he didn’t send a letter, didn’t come back, never granted you a hint of what had happened.

And you barely slept. Revisited memories of his eyes and his touch; the way he had spoken to you merely a few nights ago. His lips haunted you when his face didn’t, and oftentimes, uneasy sleep would only pull you in once you had cried yourself tired.

A week later, you still didn’t know what had gone down. You didn’t know why you couldn’t find him – why everyone around you acted as though he was just a mirage who’d touched your imagination for a transient moment.

You didn’t even know what questions to ask.

You were angry. That was all you were aware of; the fury boiled hot and clear, transparent.

But the anger morphed into a new stage of grief when two weeks had passed. The trigger emerged in the form of a displeased bang on your door. You didn’t expect a guest, and didn’t expect anyone to make sure you were doing fine. No one knew about it anyway.

The hopes buried deep within your heart, however, sparked and lit up like the lights of a Christmas tree; your feet carried you to the entrance, new tears falling. But once you ripped the door open, your pumping organ fell quiet and dark again.

It wasn’t him.

“Good evening.”

The stranger was wearing a half-decent smile; she was clothed in a dress and coat way too warm for this season, balancing her weight on one leg, then the other. Half her face was hiding under a hat, so you could barely make out her eyes, considering that she was a good chunk shorter than you.

“Good evening,” you greeted back. “Do I know you? How can I help you?”

“I…” She was nervous, gulping, averting your eyes. “I was…”

But you were not patient enough to wait for her explanations and questions. Not today. Sighing, you clutched the door, telling her, “I apologise, I am currently closed. And I don’t want to buy anything if that is what you–”

“No,” she chipped in, shaking her head before her hand lifted to the hat, taking it off. You still didn’t recognise her face when she finally looked at you properly. “I’m here to speak about Kim Taehyung.”

The silence in your room hid the fact that you weren’t alone in your house. It was more prominent than when you were, pressing and numbing, uncomfortable to a degree that you felt your body tremble.

“Would you like some coffee? Or tea. Warm milk is an op–”

The woman, sporting dark circles under her eyes, much like you, shook her head at your suggestions. She managed a small smile, and you nodded, leaning back in your chair, legs pulled in.

If you weren’t holding onto your knees, pressing them against your crumbling chest, you might have broken down.

“I don’t understand,” you whispered, licking your lips, “you’re Yujin’s mother. You came to talk to Tae. But I don’t understand why that made him leave. And why you’re here now.”

“I am afraid it’s not that easy. He didn’t leave because I came all the way to talk,” she clarified, staring at a pattern on your carpet, “when I arrived at his house, I was angry. Out of my mind. He thought I was going to hurt him the way my girl did, but… I never had the intention to.”

Your eyes blew wide, fearing the guilt in her voice, and you pulled your limbs in more, questioning, “Did you… did you hurt him?”

“No! No, I couldn’t. I couldn’t.” She shifted in her seat, her back straight, but her face full of tortured emotions. “I just wanted an explanation. I wanted to know why all of this even happened. I didn’t know about their affair, you know? I didn’t come for revenge but for closure.”

A desperate attempt to find out what had happened that night, because Yujin had never told the whole truth. You were sure of it.

“Your daughter tried to kill him,” you said, your voice growing monotone and dropping empathy. “And he did whatever he needed to do, so he could come out of this unscathed. Yujin never–”

“I’m aware now,” she cuts in, staring into your eyes with a glassy look, “Taehyung explained it to me. Hana added onto it some more… and perhaps it’s easier for me, after all those years of taking care of my daughter, to believe it and to forgive him for the sins he didn’t commit.”

She waited, shaking her head again. An apologetic expression crept upon her face, and in a careful whisper, she added, “But the police won’t.”

Sinking behind your legs, you must have looked to her as though you already knew about this. As if you expected this, unable to act surprised anymore. But in truth, you were shrinking into yourself, holding onto your broken pieces.

Because words, as alleviating as they can be, have the power to disrupt a peaceful mind, too.

Since Taehyung had come into your life, you had witnessed the force with which words could make your heartbeat skyrocket. Despite the bookworm that you were, you hadn’t paid much attention to the effect a sentence could cause.

Now, you did all the more.

She called your name, and you looked up into her face with puffy eyes, limbs shaking as you asked, “They know where he is, don’t they?”

“Not now, they don’t. It’s why he left… they might not be able to find him very soon again. It took them years even now.”

“Excuse me,” you mumbled with a faint voice, standing on wobbly legs. You wiped the tears off your face, and braced yourself for your next reckless act as you said, “I need to go somewhere. You… you know where the exit is, yes?”

You clearly didn’t know a thing about this woman. But theft didn’t scare you anymore; you couldn’t care less if she was to take any belongings from your humble home. A ridiculous and foolish thought – but she couldn’t take more from you anymore.

But she stood, clearing her throat. “I think,” she started, so quietly you could barely make it out. Seemed that she was just as exhausted as you. “I think I will be leaving as well. I’m not sure what to do here anymore.”

You were quick to encourage her decision, draping a light coat over your shoulders before you stepped out with her in tow. The season was warm, but the weather fluctuated; your hand was unsteady as you locked your door and waved goodbye to the stranger.

She had become the embodiment of triggering memories in less than an hour; you were fine with the thought of never seeing her again.

As she stepped away from you with idle steps, you approached the busy streets, waiting for a hansom cab to take you with it and where your heart resided.

You weren’t sure what you were doing. It wasn’t as though you were expecting anything where you went. You were breaking yourself, you were certain – but as you watched the clouds gather into one grey form, hiding the sun, you abolished thoughts of what might await you.

You clung onto hope. It was stupid; it was nonexistent at this point. Taehyung’s mood wasn’t as fickle as the weather.

And you still did.

But the path to his house was empty. The park nearby, the streets, his house’s porch. They were all vacant, letting the wind howl through the desolation as you wandered along the line of trees.

His house stood small and inconspicuous at the end of the road. It was beautiful – painted a tender light beige-brown, fitting the colours of his personality. Homely, sweet, carrying his touch and preferences.

But right now, it looked ominous. Haunted. Like souls floated along its walls. You reckoned it was the remnants of his life he’d left that lured you in. Somehow, his voice always called to you; you just wished it’d shut up for a moment.

Your eyes swished between the doorknob and creaky ground. Nothing was here for you; that was what your logic whispered. But another voice, less prominent, more concealed, urged you to step forwards. As if there was something left of him. As if logic was a blunt liar.

So you came close to the wooden door, raising a fist, and knocked lightly at first. The cry of the wind buried the sound of your action; and you took a deep breath, steadying your spinning mind before you knocked again, harder this time.

“Is someone here?” you questioned, bringing your mouth close to the door, your ask maniac.

You tried to knock once more, but came out blank.

“Tae?”

Your voice muttered the syllable faintly and feebly.

His name had started feeling unreal; had you truly known someone who reacted to Kim Taehyung? Or had you just repeated the word so often that it had begun sounding unnatural and strange to you?

“You wouldn’t hurt me, you told me,” you said, pressing your forehead against the door, “you broke your promise like every novel about lovers describes.”

You laughed at the irony of your story; when had you become the suffering character in a tragedy? Who was writing your fate like this?

“Officers?” you tried again, blinking. “If you’re here, you might want to talk to me first before…” You gulped, raising your voice. “Kim Taehyung isn’t here anymore.”

And then it dawned on you.

That.

Kim Taehyung was gone.

Kim Taehyung had left.

And also.

“Kim Taehyung isn’t coming back anymore,” you yelled louder, slamming your fist against the entrance again, “so you might as well stop looking altogether.”

You sniffled from the cold, closing your eyes. You rubbed your eyelids with parted lips, noticing the racing of your heart. Agony was catching up to you again, and you didn’t think you could do this again, right here, right now.

But life didn’t allow you to catch a break.

“Ask me. I know he’s gone,” you exclaimed, ripping your eyes open and hands ready to yank the door open the same way.

You wondered how many kicks could break it; or if any number of kicks even could. Who cared anyway? Not you – too lost, too crazed.

“Fucking open, because there’s nothing for you,” you spat, full-on hammering against the door now, probably bruising your hand, “there’s not even anything for me, so you can’t be, can’t be more privileged than me.”

Yet, nothing happened. The silence proceeded, and you couldn’t do anything to beat it.

You turned on the spot, your vision blurry. You slid down the door with a quavering chin, pressing the heels of your palms against your eyes until they hurt. The ground in front of his house was cold, shivering, bushes rustling and the gust of the wind howling between leaves.

Yet again, the baleful, sinister scene returned, out of a thrilling novel; it didn’t feel like the romance anymore that your story had started as.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there, relying on the warmth of your dress, your face freezing and tears drying. Your head was still turning in circles, and you didn’t trust your legs to carry you home safely just yet.

So you waited until the world stilled – with no avail.

Instead, a door opened. Next to you, a blurry figure appeared; dressed in a nightgown you recognised, holding the door tight, hair dishevelled and flowing over her shoulders.

She was calling your name, but you only heard it faintly – yet, you understood enough to realise who she was.

This time, he didn’t even take her with him. He left all alone, with nothing but his battered heart and cotton touch. How must he have felt, all lonely and without company? After years of close help, this was the first time he found himself thrown into the desert that the world was.

How was he doing? Was he thinking of you? Missing you? 

Would he escape the authorities for long enough, just until you found a way to bring him back? Or would he return by his own sheer will?

You didn’t know. You didn’t know.

Hana inched closer, crouching next to you, placing a hand on your face to make you look at her before she said, “I’ll be here.”

Red-rimmed eyes stared back at her, and she wiped at your tears, shaking her head as you asked, “Why?”

“Because he decided to fight alone this time. Because I was never wanted by the police the way he was. I just,” she dropped her hand, touching her knee, “need to leave this place. Find somewhere else to be, so I don’t get dragged back for fleeing the country.”

She smiled at you in reassurance; a feeble attempt to lift the tension. But you knew she was hurting as much as you were – if not a thousandfold. She was like a sister to him after all. They had taken care of each other when no one else could.

You and her – you shared the pain. She was all you had left of him. You were all she had left of him.

“How could this happen?”

Your voice was weak and hoarse when you spoke, and she rubbed her forehead, controlling her emotions. The slight flinches in her face revealed her true feelings, but neither you nor she elaborated on them.

“I’m not certain,” Hana answered, helpless and mourning, “but whatever it was, it wasn’t a selfish thing. I just know.” She paused and looked into your eyes, clearing her throat. “He left me a note. Nothing big, but… it’s all I got.”

The burning sting in your chest grew further. It spread across your body and boiled your insides; you didn’t know how much you still wanted to take. How much you could take before you collapsed.

“I… I didn’t get any,” you admitted, burying your face between your torso and your legs.

But Hana clicked her tongue, heaving a sigh as she stated, “I’m sure you did. You know him… he has a knack for the mysterious.”

So much he became a mystery, too.

“You just need to know where to look,” she continued, “and… even if he didn’t… I’m very sure he left pieces of his heart with you instead.”

You didn’t know what to answer. She didn’t know how to bring you solace.

So when you’d stopped staring into each other’s eyes, seeking peace or comfort in the fact that you shared your misery, she helped you up and sent you home eventually. You were quick to decline the offer to come in.

You couldn’t bear being in the rooms he’d been in. Hearing his voice, feeling the presence that was gone.

And your mind was whirring – too focused on whatever you could find. So you opened the door, left your shoes on, sprinted to your living room and scoured the bookshelf your aunt had gifted you years ago.

You pulled out your favourite books; ones you knew you had talked about to him. You leafed through the pages, turning the novels upside down. It took you four tries to finally find a piece of paper between one of the pages; and it was a bookmark.

Two more tries until another tiny letter floated to the ground, no bookmark or irrelevant document this time.

In a gentle, curved font, long fingers had written a note, for you to find whenever and in whichever way. You wondered if he’d expected for you to discover it this quickly. He always praised your intelligence – you hoped he still held onto it.

You unfolded the paper to reveal the last few words. Your eyes swelled with more tears; you were sick of crying, tired and devastated.

And then…

The hands of fate led me to you. Quietly and softly. And one day, they ought to drag me back to you, my angel… back to where my heart resides and my soul floats.

Or alternatively…

Alternatively.

You blinked at the paper, unsure what to do with it. Those were the only words he’d granted you, ripping you apart; where his heart resided and his soul floated. It sounded like a promise – like something to flood you with hope.

But hope was…

“Absurd,” you whispered, holding your forehead, fingers pressing into your temples.

You read the lines over and over again – alternatively, alternatively, alternatively.

And you didn’t understand until you turned the paper around, realising that he’d put more at the back, inconspicuous and small. Perhaps that was the breaking point. When you tumbled down with no way to recover.

Because.

I love you.

Hana was wrong.

He hadn’t left pieces of his heart with you. He’d left all of it there.

NOW

You still cherish the pumping organ he placed in your palms years ago.

Though, defective days bring defective thoughts.

In your lowest moments, you sometimes wonder whether he truly loved you. Did he write it down on some piece of paper and then just leave? No intention behind it, empty words and nothing more?

Why did he leave? Why do you still think of him?

He was just a man. Just a writer.

Just… just Kim Taehyung.

“What are you looking at?” a familiar voice calls from behind, and your eyes, dry and unfocused, blink rapidly.

“Just… the same as usual.”

You fold the newspaper into half. You can’t remember the headlines you read or what the printed letters speak about.

Lately, you’ve been drifting fast. When Taehyung left, you fell into a dark pit that showed no possibility to climb to the top again – you kept tapping in the dark. Then, things seemed to normalise – Hana told you it was denial, but you think you were progressing.

Then, last year, his existence crept up on you again, like a nasty bug impossible to shake off. Not that he’d ever left. But since then, he has lingered, haunted you, dark tresses and darker eyes chasing your thoughts, awake or asleep.

Speaking of which…

“Hana,” you call, dropping your eyes to a word in the newspaper, “have you heard anything about Yujin?”

Hana, gathering small and dirty clothes from the floor, freezes mid-action, looking up at your form on the chair before she sighs and admits, “Not since last year. Since… you know.”

None of you ever dares to say his name. He was a constant in both your lives, even if just for a fleeting moment for you; but he has become a ghost now. Sometimes, you wonder if he truly existed. He feels like a figment of your imagination on the worst days.

But last year marked an important event for you, and more for him.

In a quiet moment on a cold winter morning, you received unexpected news about his past yet most relevant affair. Yujin had apparently fought her way out of the mental institution, strolled to the police – with or without her family’s knowing, you still don’t know – and admitted her wrongdoings on a night of utter devastation.

According to herself, written in an apologetic letter, she’d broken down in a weak moment of guilt, unable to live with her mistakes. She wasn’t a bad person, she promised; she was certain that her younger self would have wanted her to admit her sins and stand up for them.

So she did. Put herself in the position of the big bad wolf and Taehyung out of it.

No matter what her family’s deal with the police was, she’d broken the bond when she’d begged and pleaded the officers to stop hunting him like an innocent doe. Tears were never sufficient, of course – but once she had come back with a fortune big enough to swoon them, they’d been silenced once and for all.

The happenings were surreal and sudden. None of you expected them to unfold like this – not after all those years, not with you involved in this equation.

But the worst thing was that the information reached you easily; but never him. Never the man in question, seeing the world alone; and no one but him could tell if he was even alive or not.

“You’re regressing,” Hana interrupts your thoughts, suddenly next to you and taking half a seat on the armchair, “and I don’t know what to do.”

“I’m not regressing,” you defend, leaning back with a sigh.

She mumbles your name, a hand on your shoulder as she says, “I know what he meant to you. And he was… is my cousin, too. But you need to start fighting your demons.”

But he’s your biggest one. And once possessed, how does one get rid of a demon?

If it’s Kim Taehyung… probably never.

“I just don’t understand, Hana,” you mutter, rubbing your tired eyelids, “why is he not coming back if Yujin opened up?”

“He might not know.”

“But this is a big thing. He would keep up with such information.” You’re desperate and hurting – it’s no secret. But your voice, strained, could tell a stranger that your heart is cracked, unable to heal. “I sometimes feel like I made him up.”

Hana’s ears perk up. It’s not the first time you’re confessing such a thing – at times like these, even Hana cannot help but agree, admitting that he has started feeling too far away from her.

If her existence right here in this town, next to you, didn’t prove that he had truly been here, she might have concluded along with you that he hadn’t been real.

“Like he never touched me. Never spoke to me or loved me. Or like he never left me with the last crucial piece of him,” you continue, your chest and head heavy, “and I hate feeling insane.”

“I know… I know.”

You wait, grieving through the silence with her. And when you find your voice and courage again, you state, “This is going to stay. Forever. I just don’t know if I have the strength to endure it.”

“There is no way for you to move on, is there?”

You contemplate.

Is there?

Not when certain things still remind you of him every single day. When he impacted your life to a burning, menacing degree.

Long ago, he entered your life like a sudden fresh gust of air. The time you spent in his company, reminiscing about your favourite novels and his dearest poems, wasn’t just an evanescent mingling of your souls.

He was here for a moment. Kim Taehyung.

He turned your world upside down… Kim Taehyung.

Hana knows. And Hana understands. The emotion you share the most with her is the love you both felt towards him. She still sees the agony in your eyes; how could she not?

Fiddling with her fingers, she looks away, uncertainty lacing her voice out of the blue as she begins, “I didn’t want to do this, because I felt like it’d damage you long term,” she pauses, and you stare up at her, a million question marks written in your eyes, “but I think I need to show something.”

A trait you have seen in both her and her lost cousin is the ability of sudden confessions. You think you have gotten fairly used to them; but at this moment, your mouth still drops and stays agape, and you can’t possibly guess what she’s talking about.

“What is it?”

Hana hesitates, wrapping the thin scarf around her shoulder that she threw on your coffee table haphazardly before. “I think it’s easier to just show you.”

And you guess, the less questions you ask, the faster you’d get to the mystery she was hinting at. 

She gives you no more than ten minutes to dress, so you can embark on your journey – her eyes flicker impatiently, her limbs restless. In a matter of minutes, her demeanour changes; and suddenly, she’s nervous, chewing on her lips, vehemently urging you to hurry up.

“We should take Sora with us,” Hana suggests, though there is purpose in her tone, like it’s part of a plan, “she should show her face sometimes anyway.��

“She needed to go to the neighbours.”

“Needed to.”

In the years without Taehyung and on your own, more people have entered your life out of the blue. They left and came back, never a constant, mercurial change of mind dragging them away and back to you.

Sora never left your side. She was a constant. You think that if Taehyung had waited, taken the chance to meet her, he would’ve loved her just as much as you do.

If not more than you ever would.

So you knock at the neighbour’s door, asking whether she is still here, and when she walks out, happy and excited as always, you listen intently. She always has a lot to say.

Her rambling distracts you from the adventure you have decided to live through, smiling whenever she builds up to the peak of a story. She likes Hana – is a dearer friend to her than to you sometimes.

And for once, you don’t fight for her attention in the playful manner you have gotten used to, glad that she’s indulging in teases and jokes with Hana. Because the moment you pass a newspaper stand on your way to a carriage, you hear something so peculiar that you come to a halt.

“Did you hear that?” you turn, staring at Hana who looks back at you with enormous doe eyes.

“Hear what?”

“The name he just said. He said something like… him singing in a tavern.”

Singers of ballads and operas in taverns aren’t rare. The conversation could be about anyone, talking about any tavern – but despite your growing insanity, you’re sure you didn’t mishear.

You waste more of your and your companions’ time, stepping closer to the seller, and his focus shifts from the casual conversation with a passenger to you. He smiles, joyfully and in a good mood, a hand on his knee as he asks, “Can I help you, pretty lady?”

You ignore the comment, shaking off your confusion and asking, “Who were you talking about?”

“Who was I talking about?” he questions back, his voice way too loud as he laughs.

Have you become cynical, irritated or is there actually no joke behind his response?

“You just mentioned a name.”

“I mean,” he barks, leaning forwards, “I say a lot of names every day.”

If you could just fight through your fears and mention his name. They are three syllables, harmless words; they shouldn’t block your language and lock your mouth like this. But when the knot of your tongue doesn’t let you utter his name, you feel heat rise to your face.

“You just said a freaking name. One single,” you step closer, furious; deep down, frustrated and hurt, “name. And it means something.”

“A young lady like yourself should not be cursi–”

“I apologise deeply,” Hana interferes, pulling you away.

You shake off the fingers wrapped around your bicep, taking a deep breath. More swears fall out of your mouth, irritation spreading through your mind and chest. Hope doesn’t exist anymore – you need to stop holding onto it.

Stop, stop, stop.

The rest of the way passes silently. The tension caused in the middle of the street still lingers when you enter the carriage. You still don’t speak when the buildings, houses and busy markets of the town vanish and quiet down.

As the greenery expands and nature showcases wide fields, sunflowers facing the bright yellow star in the sky, you begin to realise what way you might be heading. The canopy of trees and the empty paths… you have seen all of them before.

And when you leave the carriage, good thirty minutes later, and stare into the peaceful forest adorned by various families of plants, you confirm your gut feeling to be true.

Somewhere not far from you, there must be a river flowing softly.

And when you hear it, your mind turns upside down.

Water splatters from afar. Combined with the songs of the birds and the stillness of the place, a melodious sound; peaceful, resembling a fairytale. You clutch Sora’s hand on your right, smiling reassuringly. Hiding a heart beating in your throat proves harder than expected.

But the task reaches its peak on the mountain of impossibility when the pathway ends, giving way to the riverbank. The usually silent and empty stream is hidden behind a figure you spot today.

The person, a stranger on the first glance, sits on the grass with one leg angled up, propping an arm on it while the other hand presses against the ground. He is staring into the sun, though always a lover of darkness and shadows, and his hair strands sway in the light summer breeze.

You shoot a look at Hana, shaking your head, your waterline damp as your eyes ask, “How am I here? How is he here?”

The heart beating in your throat escapes through your mouth and floats through the air, making a bee-line straight to his feet where it drops.

On its knees for him.

He still loves to wear white, you realise. From your point of view and angle, dark raven hair hangs in his eyes, a miniature feather dangling from one of his earlobes. You think you recognise the earring, even now.

In front of the blue river water and light green nature, he looks like an angel sent from above. Like a scene from Garden Eden. Or Greek mythology. Like he was painted by Michelangelo himself.

As a dozen times before, you wonder if you’re hallucinating; stepping closer, but scared to touch him. He might dissolve – who truly knows? 

Your hands are a trembling and sweaty mess, and you let go of Sora, ignoring the pleas of your knees to buckle with all your willpower. You only realise that you’re crying when his voice chimes through the silence of the forest. Still so sweet; still so soft.

“A second visit in just two days?”

And then, he turns around.

You freeze on your spot the moment he does. A rectangle smile, blinding teeth flashing, falls when he detects you, contemplating whether he’s dreaming. Whether you’re made of dust particles that have taken your form to deceive, close to fading.

Behind you, you hear Hana speak up, her voice timid but loving as she remarks, “I knew you’d be here.”

But Taehyung doesn’t answer. You barely register it. Sora looks back and forth between the three of you, unsure what is going on, but not courageous enough to ask just yet. Instead, she leans against the tree, nibbling at her fingernails as she watches the scene unfold.

You can’t blame her for her confusion – she’s just a child after all.

“Since when…?” you mutter, looking at him, but speaking to Hana.

You’re utterly unable to look away; and he stays unblinking, too. Both your fingers twitch and ache for an embrace, your lips parted, a million thoughts and words begging to come out.

“Just a few days,” Hana clarifies; she sounds a little like she feels guilty, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.”

“Why…” you gulp, your voice unsteady, “why didn’t you?”

For a moment, it’s quiet. Then, you hear steps come closer, slowly and patiently; and before you can turn to her, she places a hand on your shoulder, her mouth close to your ear, so you’re sure he can’t hear much of what she utters.

“Because… it takes time and patience to get over heartbreak,” she explains further and you shake your head again. “Especially in the company of the same person who broke you. And you…”

She pauses, grabbing your chin softly to turn you towards her, making you look at him. “Do you think you are able to deal with all the memories? To relive them with him and talk through them?”

Is there much to talk about?

Much to say except the repeated words of how incomplete you felt? Cut in half with a dirty knife. Infected wounds, pushing you into a murky fever.

“I love him,” is all you argue; your eyes are filled with sadness, carrying a tinge of hurt and disappointment that she didn’t tell you when you needed it.

You move your head again to look at him, and he’s still sitting, though less lax than before. His body looks like it’s about to lift itself off the ground every moment now, but he’s petrified; you imagine his limbs must feel as heavy as yours.

Three small steps bring you close to him, and you finally drop to your knees, uncaring about the dirt and the new state of your cream-coloured dress. Together, you must look like a couple from paradise. If all the dark plot points of your lives weren’t still so fresh, you might feel the same.

Years ago, when you met, you think you felt the same.

“I loved… love you,” you repeat, finding your voice amidst the tumult your heart causes, “I still do.”

There are scars on your heart, and he’s still written in them. He cut you open wide – and his face right in front of yours flicks at least an inch of the wound.

He whispers your name… lifts his palm, shaking and nervous, letting a tear escape his eyes.

Taehyung still looks the same. On his forehead, there might be one or two more wrinkles. His skin has changed a little, the lines of his features sharper.

But he’s still him.

Taehyung.

Your Taehyung – a steady memory.

Warm fingers, as soft, soothing and devoid of calluses as a writer’s hand, graze your damp cheek and your jaw. You close your eyes for a moment, inhaling a sharp, shrill breath; your sobs splinter and smash his heart.

In all those years, he kept your existence alive by engraving your smile into his mind. That he’d meet the opposite emotion when you’d see him again was much expected; but it doesn’t pain him any less.

“Where did you go?” you whisper, your palm sneaking to his arm. “One night and that was it? How could you–”

“I just–” God. Whenever he speaks, you fall a bit more. “I needed to keep you safe… And…”

“And yourself.”

“And myse–”

“Do you have any idea how hard it was to–”

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, your words overlapping in constant interruptions, and soon you’re not sure what either of you is saying.

You hear his apologies – he hears yours, whatever they stand for. And a moment later, your hand rests at the nape of his neck, his buried in your hair, and you’re both crying in the middle of a forest, disrupting nature’s piece with your very own tragedy.

“I never stopped thinking of you,” he confesses, his voice quiet and hitching, “not… not one second.”

You breathe in through the nose, sniffling and still moving your head from the left to right, for whatever unknown reason. In a second of silence, Taehyung looks past you and from his sister to the child.

When your gazes meet again, you recognise sadness in his eyes, an unspoken question asking, “Ours?”

And you nod.

In his stance and sobs, his words and touch, you understand that he’s still filled with confusion you’ll need to clear. Just as much as you’ll need to comprehend the years he spent apart from you, only to walk in a circle and land back in your arms.

You’re not certain what the future might hold for you. With Yujin’s confession and Taehyung’s innocence, a logical voice tells you that hurdles have finally vanished; but you can’t quite say just yet how much weight to give this hope. Pain doesn’t just fade.

You can barely believe your eyes just yet.

But there are a few truths in this world that are universal. No matter what life throws at you, they won’t change.

One – you could never find the strength to unlove Taehyung.

Two – his touches are still soft as silk, like the thin scarf bound around his wrist; comforting to an ethereal degree.

And three – you used to think that behind his chest, no heart hammered but a stone rested. Despite his clear affection, he seemed hard to break until he did; your early days were laced with doubt and confusion.

Today, his eyes still look like stones.

But this time, they might be gems; onyxes.

okay, so i was kinda unsure about this fic, but did love writing it, so i hope you guys at least enjoyed it, too !! 🥺 i fell for this tae hard :((

also, please do support me/this fic by liking, commenting/leaving feedback, and most importantly, reblogging (even if it’s without a review)! it takes just a second and means a lot and it’s cool to do it hehe !! 🥺 also, feel free to talk to meee, i’m curiously awaiting anything y’all have to say 🥰 

thank you so much for reading, loves <333

[luaspersona]

Seoul Town Road | kth (m)

pairing ↠ horseback riding instructor!taehyung x reader (f. reader) genre ↠ college!au; idiots to lovers; light fluff; pwp; crack. summary ↠ having a sore ass on a Saturday after spending a day riding with Taehyung is nothing like you anticipated. rating ↠ +18 | minors DO NOT interact warnings ↠  tae was supposed to be a himbo, but reader is the stupid one; ig this doesn’t qualify 100% as reader insert, the reader is very black coded, but it’s still vague enough; jimin’s a lil shit; reader likes keke palmer (‘cus of good taste ofc 💅🏽); reader is in denial; bickering; crying, but not the way you think; i make one joke about being in the closet so there’s that; taehyung’s hands 😩; there’s an innocent massage that turns sexual; explicit smut: super soft dom!taehyung, a LOT of praise kink, teasing (i can’t help myself), begging (borderline desperation), light dirty talk, body worship, tit play, fingering, unprotected sex, slow sex and that’s a WARNING, brief oral sex (m. receiving), cum eating. word count ↠  8.5k note ↠ hey, y’all 🤠 i’ll casually pretend this didn’t take forever for me to finish and that i haven’t vanished on the meantime, so let’s not talk about it *clears throat* ok, so… it all started with this video, then i saw this, and here we are. also, pls ignore the corny ass title, it was provisional until i couldn’t come up with anything better, then it suddenly wasn’t. note² ↠ always need to thank @uarmymoonlight for being the most precious being ever and helping me outline and organize my thots on this one, ily 🤟🏽 note³ ↠ also, thank you @badgalsgetinfree again for making me this beautiful! banner 🥺 you’re really talented and i appreciate you! and thank you @eoieopda and @namjinsmoonchile for beta reading this and taking their time to make sure this wasn't complete shit lol

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It seemed like a really good idea at first. And, granted, it was almost fun: Taehyung’s firm grip on your hips and that large palm warming your thigh was definitely something, but goddamnit if your butt isn’t sore as fuck. 

Now, here you lay, ridiculous groans muffled by the soft fabric of your comforter as you try to balance a hot water bag over your hurt ass. And the worst part? He seemed so unimpressed. Meeting your eyes with nothing but amusement at your pathetic riding attempt.

That settles it. You’re never horseback riding again.

“For the record, I think you’re being pathetic about this,”Jimin says. 

“Shit, I think the pain must be affecting my memory too, ‘cus I don’t remember asking you a damn thing, man.”

He rolls his eyes, reclining on the chair. 

“I don’t need your permission to tell you that you’re being stupid.”

“Well, then I choose to ignore you.”

He huffs. “You’re impossible sometimes.”

“Then give up already.”

“Girl, just look at you. You have a water bag on your ass and you haven’t even fucked the guy.”

“You know what, maybe I just like the warmth.”

“Stop being stubborn. I bet Taehyung would be more than down to fuck you.”

You groan, burying your face in your comforter. “It’s not that simple.”

“Except it is.” He lets out an exasperated sigh. “You’ve fucked everyone you’ve met, what’s so different about him?”

“Are you slutshaming me?”

Jimin takes a deep breath. 

“I’m shy-shaming you for not fucking the guy you’ve been pining over for the last six months. Quite the opposite.”

“I’m not pining. I do not pine.”

“Right, ‘cus you always wanted to learn how to ride a fucking horse.” He rolls his eyes.

…

Yeah, you don’t really have an answer to that.

To be honest? You didn’t even know horseback riding instructor was a real job. Much less that there is a stud farm near campus that offers part-time slots for college students that are too broke to care about employment rights. But then, Taehyung used his first paycheck to gift Yoongi an overpriced craft whiskey for his birthday and buy Jimin an original Celine sneaker for their “wonderful six months of friendship” — being a perfectly good example of why, even employed, college students stay broke.

Add that piece of knowledge to an ungodly amount of alcohol and you wake up to months of avoiding major embarrassments shattered by a “hoe much 4 u 2 teacj mr how 2 ridw?” text. And sure, you could’ve just dismissed it, said you were drunk or whatnot — but you were completely sober when you confirmed the date. The messages you exchanged after were pretty tame. He told you he could give you a free first lesson (“you’re a friend!”), explained to you how it worked, arranged some riding clothes for you and asked if Saturday was a good day. It wasn’t. But fuck it, you made it work.

It’s not like you and Taehyung never hung out. As far as he was concerned, you were friends. You drink together, you tease him, he sometimes teases you back, but never just the two of you. Never after you accidentally called out his name in bed two months ago — resulting in a pretty pissed and unremarkable hookup and a new feeling to shove to the dark corners of your mind until it finally disappeared.

Except it never did. And then, before you knew it, you were taking forty minutes to choose what underwear to use at a goddamn stud farm (you went with lace, by the way — you never know).

The class itself was terrible. Taehyung had to prioritize the hundreds of kids with cowboy hats whose parents had actually paid to be there, so it took around two hours for him to finally remember you were there too. He then introduced you to a pretty horse, told you her name was Princess and you allowed yourself to pretend that every call of her name was aimed at you.

“Listen,” Jimin’s voice pierces through your thoughts. “I’ll give you some tough love now, so pay attention and just stop being nasty with me. I’m on your side here.”

“... Okay?”

“You’re my best friend, and I know you have that weird ‘the shittier the better’ philosophy going on, and I can’t change that. But if you’re not doing anything about your crush, then stop acting weird around him, ‘cus I’m sure he’s noticing. Just… I don’t know, put your big girl pants on, accept that you’re into the guy and move the fuck on.”

“I’m not in—” your rebuttal dies in your tongue at the glare Jimin directs at you. You scoff. “Whatever.”

“Have you talked since yesterday?”

“No.”

You're lying, of course. Earlier that morning you got a little consolation prize.

[08:48am] taehyung 🥵🐎: yesterday was nice! it's been a while since i taught an actual adult lol

[08:50am] taehyung 🥵🐎: how was is for you?

[09:11am] you: it was nice

[09:32am] you: i’m sore af now, tho 💀

Hours later and your text stood unanswered — making the twenty minutes you spent overthinking it even more pathetic.

Jimin narrows his gaze.

“You didn’t say anything stupid, right?”

Well.

“Depends on your definition of stupid.”

“Something like saying he smells really good for a vet major.”

You groan. “I said that once, and it was meant as a compliment.”

He offers you a pointed look. Eyebrows raising just slightly as if to say “I rest my case”, before a notification lights up his phone.

“How’s your butt?”

You welcome the change in subject.

“Better.”

“Good. I have to go now.” A small smile tugs on his lips. “Have a date.”

“Ohhh” you smirk teasingly, “on your way to win someone’s heart?”

“You bet.”

“Nice. Have fun, Chim.”

“Thanks. I’ll call you later.” He gathers his things and places a kiss on the top of your head. “You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah. Love you too.”

“Great.” He steps out of your dorm, glancing at you one last time and saying “stop being stupid”, before leaving your room.

Jimin clearly overestimates you.

The next hour is spent with occasional reheatings of the bag and apprehensive checks of your phone — and it doesn’t take long until Jimin’s words spark a frustration deep inside you.

You know what? You’re not into Taehyung. No. Absolutely not. No way.

You pride yourself on being on control of shit like this, with a terrible and meticulous track record of only fucking people you pick up from trash — bonus points if they treat you like shit afterwards to ruin any sparkling possibility of feelings.

Actually, coming to think of it, it’s probably just his kindness that gets you confused.

…

Of course, it could also be his eyes.

Or his deep voice.

Shit, but there’s also that boxy smile, tho…

Ugh.

Fuck Jimin and his preposterously hot friend. And fuck whoever is knocking on your door at such a vulnerable time.

You groan into your pillow, deciding in no time not to answer it; the bag on your butt too warm to give up for that weird ass finance major from the first floor that’s still trying to get you to invest in his crypto currency or whatever the hell that powerpoint meant. Besides, you look like shit, and you ain’t gonna let—

Your thoughts are interrupted by your ringtone. Normally, you’d patiently wait for whoever’s calling to give up and text you instead, like a decent fucking person, but when you grab your phone and Taehyung’s name flashes on the screen a surge of panic runs through your body. Before you can even process what you’re doing, your fingers move to decline the call.

You drop your phone on the bed. Staring it down for a full minute before impulsively reaching for it and hitting the call button under Taehyung’s contact. 

He picks up after the first ring.

“Did you just hang up on me?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Damn. Cold.”

“Why are you calling?”

“Wanted to ask you something real quick. You live in Bang Si-hyuk Hall, right?”

“You could’ve just texted me for that.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah.”

“Second floor, dorm thirteen right?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Right. Are you home?”

“Yeah?” 

“Great! Can you open your door?”

“Huh?” God, you’re so eloquent.

“I’m here.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Pretty sure I am. Here, let me just—” another knock hits your door, “hear that? That’s me.”

You gasp, immediately jumping off the bed and fighting to stifle the subsequent groan at the way your bottoms sting with the abrupt movement.

“Shit–I, uhm, wait a sec.” You say, before ending the call.

Your face is all puffy from being pressed on the pillow the whole day and you’re still wearing your pajamas. You control the urge to cry at the prospect of Taehyung seeing you like this, seeking some sort of consolation as you run your fingers over your eyebrows, in a feeble attempt to make something look presentable.

You cross the space to your door, quickly scrunching your hair before opening it. 

“Hey,” he smiles. When the universe created Kim Taehyung, there was no mercy, because how on Earth can a man look this fucking good? And as his deep eyes fix on your chest, you can feel your brain trying to come up with its own syntax. “Where the hell did you get this from?”

You follow his gaze, landing on your less than flattering cropped pajama top that says “some people ride the crazy train, I drive that bitch”. You grimace.

“Why? Not to your taste?”

“You know what? You’re almost pulling it off.”

“Almost? This is my best look.” You sure hope not. “Besides, I feel like it encapsulates my crazy bitch personality.”

“Sure.” He chuckles, and his attention is on your face again. “So, I’m sorry for coming unannounced. I saw your message when I left work and I… well,” he reaches behind him, fumbling on his backpack before he reveals a small pharmacy bag “thought I could be of help.”

Your stomach flips. A perfectly normal reaction to a friend buying medicine and coming all the way to another friend’s place after seeing they were in pain. 

“I just felt bad, I guess.” He continues when you just keep staring at his face — that beautiful, sculpted face of his. “I forget how painful it is to ride for the first time and I didn’t give you proper aftercare instructions.” Did those words actually leave his mouth? “Can I come in?”

Admittedly, there were some horny nights with some thirsty thoughts — but in none of your fantasies your hair had this much frizz when you let him in your place alone for the first time, so you immediately shake your head.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to. You’re probably tired from work and all.”

“No, really, it’s no heat. I know how bad the pain is. I used to be sore as fuck all the time, so I learned just how to deal with it.”

…

You mean… he did come all this way to provide some assistance, and you’re not rude — not all the time at least. So you step aside to give him room to enter, closing the door once he does.

Taehyung’s eyes roam around your room, and after some seconds of quiet inspection, he regards you with a frown. “Thought you had a Keke Palmer poster.”

You mimic his confusion.

“What?”

“Pretty sure you said you had one when we watched Nope.”

You take a few seconds to understand what he’s talking about, but eventually Hobi’s ridiculous attempt at making movie nights a thing a couple of months ago returns to you.

“Damn, you remember that? Obsessed much?” You tease, prompting Taehyung to roll his eyes.

You’re grinning when you step in front of your closet, slowly bending to grab the large Keke Palmer Glamour cover that you printed out months ago.

“Oh. You keep it in the closet?”

“It builds character.” You turn to show it to him. “Also if I so much as stain the wall, I have to pay a fee.” You pout. “But I only found out after spending a shit ton of money to get this laminated and framed, so.”

“I can hang stuff in my apartment.” He shrugs.

“Congratulations. Wanna tell me how nice it is to have an individual bathroom too?”

“No, I’m just sayin’... you could hang it there.”

“What, you like Keke Palmer now? You haven’t even watched True Jackson.” If this man had a flaw, that was definitely it.

“I mean, we could watch together. We never do anything just the two of us.”

Yeah, well, no shit.

“That’s ‘cus you annoy the hell out of me.” Which isn’t 100% wrong. “Besides, we just rode horses together, my sore ass is definitely a testament to that.” You turn to place the poster back. “Which reminds me. What about the drugs you were going to give me?” 

“Here,” he reaches for the pharmacy bag again, pulling out a pain relief plaster from it, “this is the best one I’ve found, and it doesn’t have any major side effects or anything...” he pauses. “You aren’t pregnant and shit, right?”

“And shit?”

“Like… suspecting?”

“Not really.” 

“Then we should be safe.” 

“Damn. You ain’t sure?” You laugh anxiously.

“... ‘Course I am.”

“You hesitated.”

“I used this before, and I’m fine.”

“You can’t really get pregnant, though, can you?”

“Thought you said you’re not pregnant.” He narrows his eyes.

“That’s not the point.”

He grimaces.“People from work use it. And some of them can get pregnant, so… you’ll be fine. Don’t you trust me?”

“Not at all.”

“Great, then.” He smiles and you can’t help smiling back. “Where’s hurting?”

“Basically my back and legs… also my butt, but I ain’t sticking patches there.”

He nods. “Seems fair.”

Taehyung’s attention shifts to your bed.

“Mind laying down for me?”

You swallow the urge to vomit.

“Sorry?”

“It’s easier if I apply them for you. If you place them wrong they won’t work properly. Besides, it’s probably better if we don’t use a lot, for…” he darts his eyes away, “safety concerns, in case you ever want to pop some kids out.”

Yeah.

It makes sense, right?

“Okay.” You narrow your eyes. “But no funny business, mister.” You say, like a fool.

He raises his palms in surrender, before helping you climb the bed carefully. You shift a bit, pulling the hem of your shorts lower over your ass as you lay on your stomach. 

“Show me where it hurts.” He fishes for a patch inside the package.

You extend your hand to hover over your lower back and then point generally to your thighs.

“No, show me where it hurts the most. I can’t put these everywhere.”

“There’s not a single place, Taehyung.” You scoff. “I barely got up from bed this morning.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. Didn’t know it was that bad.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll never horseback ride again— by the way, why it’s horseback riding? Where else would I ride?” You shake your head.

“Fuck if I know. Also, the pain is just because you’ve never done it before. The more you ride, the more accustomed you get. Like… like sex!”

Yeah, you’re not having this conversation with him.

“Just put the damn patches, man.”

“Wait, let me think.”

“God, this will take some time.”

“Shut up.” He goes quiet for a moment, and you turn to find him looking at your bottom with his hand on his chin. Not flattering, really. “Let me give you a massage.”

You can only hope that he can’t see the way you shiver as the words leave his mouth. 

You laugh.

What.

“What?” You voice, twisting to look at him.

“It’ll help to relieve the pain, then we can see the best spot to place the patches.” 

“You just wanna touch my butt,” you can only hope you don’t sound as desperate as you feel.

He chuckles.

“You wish.” Fuck, you kinda do. “But I’m serious, it’ll be good to soothe it. Also, my messages are pretty good.”

You won’t do this.

You shouldn’t do this.

…

No, really, you shouldn’t do this.

But then again… you and Jimin have given each other a bunch of massages before. Even Namjoon had given you some proper kneading before, and it was no big deal. This is just a friend helping out another friend who happens to be in pain.

…

Yeah, maybe Jimin’s right. Maybe you are stupid, and maybe you do stupid things when it comes to Taehyung.

“Whatever.” You return to your previous position, resting your cheek on your palms on the bed. “You better be good at this.”

“I’ll make you feel so good, you’ll want nothing more.” He taunts, and you’re afraid he might be too right on that one.

You and Taehyung have touched before. He’s a cuddler, so occasionally you fall victim to his hugs. He’s also been beside you in the backseat of Yoongi’s car one too many times, pressed together as you try to make room for Jimin’s thick ass. There was also that time you fell on top of him when you all went to a water park and he stood at the bottom of the slide — like a dumbass —, but even then it was mostly your foot on his face.

So now, as his large palms find the bare skin of your waist, exposed by your cropped top, it’s like the first time you’ve ever been touched.

But the feeling is short-lived, as Taehyung immediately pulls his hands away.

“Are my hands cold?”

“No?”

“You got goosebumps.”

“Oh.” You chuckle awkwardly. “It was kinda sudden.”

“Sorry.” He pauses. “I’m going in, then.”

You sigh when the weight of his palms returns to your waist, and Taehyung chooses to ignore the way your body still shivers while his feather-light touch travels over your lower back. 

“You comfortable?”

“Yes.”

He hums and you close your eyes.

He gradually starts to add more pressure, digging into your skin and eliciting a quiet grunt out of your lips when he kneads on a particularly sore area.

“Sorry” he stops briefly, “this will probably hurt some, but let me know if it gets too much.”

Months of one sided sexual attraction are enough to make his five minute touch already too much. And you know this ain’t looking good. Not with the way your body receives this as if it’s some kind of tantric experience. You can already feel heat spreading under your skin while his hands get familiar with your back, and you’re definitely way more tense then you should be — but you do your best to force your mind out of the gutter and try to enjoy this friendly massage.

And to be honest, he’s actually really good at this.

His hands work in a disarming rhythm. Hard pressure unwinding your sore spots, only to return with soft and delicate caresses whenever your pain announces itself. He pays attention to every inch of your hips, charting the flesh with the utmost care and determination, and making it impossible for you to hold grunts and soft sighs of relief — which, despite bringing a tingling heat to your face, only seem to spur him on.

As his fingers trace every line of your lower back and ease pains you didn’t even know you had, it doesn’t take long for you to allow yourself to relax, and it’s no surprise when your mind wanders. It wanders with simple, yet agonizing questions, such as how those palms would feel in other parts of your body. Nothing too daring, just… 

… on your neck, untying the knots you sure have there too, or… 

… or on your shoulders, kneading the tense areas…

… but maybe your thighs too, caressing their soft, tender skin…

… and maybe a bit higher, in between them too.

You’d never admit it out loud, but for a moment, while your waist is so attentively being touched by him, you pretend that this whole shallow breathing, overthinking and nauseating butterflies thing isn’t one sided, and that his hands aren’t just soothing a pain he feels somewhat responsible for, but rather claiming your skin, like you have wished he’d do, caring for your body as if it’s his to care for.

“You good?” He asks, and you feel intoxicated by his quiet voice sounding from above you. 

You hum softly. “Feels good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You sigh.

“Nice. Can I massage your thighs too?”

Of course you nod. How could you not? Nevermind your thighs are sensitive as fuck. Nevermind the telltale longing you feel as soon as his hands leave your back. What minds, though, is the welcoming warmth of when they find your legs. The delicate and hesitant contact is enough for you to suck in a sharp breath, firmly grasping the comforter beneath your hand.

His palms are as purposeful as they were on your hips, easing the soreness and softening the flesh, while being careful not to surpass or even brush the limit of your shorts — but holy fuck how you wish he would. You wish he would just read your mind and feel as electrified by your skin as you feel by his, because you know — you just know that you’re melting way too fast, tight grip on the bed getting more useless by the minute, and you don’t even notice when your reasonable grunts and sighs turn into breathy whimpers and mellow moans.

But Taehyung notices. Hands hesitating before finally coming to a full stop and parting from your skin when a brush in the hem of your shorts prompts a wanton moan to fall from your lips.

You groan at the loss, your glazed over eyes making you oblivious to his hooded ones as you lift yourself on your elbows to better face him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Uhm,” his eyes flicker to your pouting lips, “maybe we— I think we should stop…” he clears his throat. “Yeah. We should stop.”

“Why?” You frown, cautiously turning to sit up straight.

He rehearses an answer a couple of times, opening and closing his mouth exasperatedly, before deciding to not give a fuck to be coherent. “‘Cus— god, you are–you” he runs his hands through his hair, before chuckling humourlessly “shit, you’re driving me fucking insane,” he blurts, squeezing his eyes shut.

“What?” You mutter, not keeping up with the fact that Taehyung’s having a mental breakdown right now.

“You seriously need to ask?” Is he… angry at you right now? “God, you just— shit, sound so fucking hot, you sound like heaven, and touching you is making me all… I don’t even know, I’m not–I can’t think right now, shit, do you have any idea how soft your skin is? Just fucking look at yourself. Your bod–you’re just so beautiful and I’m touching it like it’s not making me fucking horny as hell, and I know we’re friends and shit, but god you’re just…” he finally breaths before noticing your wide eyes and agape mouth. “Shit, I’m— fuck, I’m sorry, I’ll just leave, sorry for whatever the hell this was, please don’t tell Jimi—”

It’s only when Taehyung starts to step back that you snap out of your own head.

Shit.

Jimin is right.

“Taehyung” you reach for his wrist, “shut up.”

“No, but I’m—”

“I don’t want you to stop.”

For a second he looks just as helpless as you feel.

“What.”

“Taehyung,” you stare deep inside his eyes, “keep touching me.”

He blinks, but steps closer to the bed again.

“What are you saying?” 

“Damn, boy, do I have to spell it out for you?” You tease, but the neediness is evident in your tone.

His expression softens immediately and he chuckles — somewhat incredulous, somewhat relieved —, drawing his tongue along his bottom lip as he allows his eyes to trail over your whole body, traveling over your chest, then down your legs, before he’s returning his attention to your lips.

Not a single hint of hesitancy veiling his actions anymore.

He steps closer, placing one of his knees on the bed and leaning over you. His hand cradles your jaw, softly tracing the skin. You can feel his breath fanning over your face, and you promptly close your eyes, anticipating what his kiss would feel like. 

“Wanna hear you say it.” He whispers against your ear. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

Your mind spins at the pet name, his deep voice lacing it with the purest of honeys as you feel excitement tightening every muscle in your body.

“Taehyung, I…” you swallow thickly, feeling his pillowy lips touching your cheek “I want you.”

You sigh.

“Please.”

And then, his touch leaves your face, and you open your eyes, confused.

He stares at you with desire blanketing his eyes. A small smile crosses his lips before he opens his mouth again.

“Lay back down on your stomach for me, then.” He smirks. “Let me finish your massage.”

You return to your previous position in a heartbeat, expecting Taehyung to do the same, but as soon as you’re comfortable — or as comfortable as one could be while this tense — his legs circle your body and he straddles your thighs, knees framing your hips.

“This ok?” You nod, whispering a quick affirmative. “Tell me if that changes, I can’t see your face.”

“Okay.”

This time, when Taehyung touches you, he traces your skin as one would the finest porcelain, fingertips traveling through the expanse of your back as if trying to memorize each and every inch of it. But he doesn’t avoid reaching higher now, palms raising your top slightly before feeling his way along your sides and down to your ass.

He molds the flesh under his palm, but freezes when a soft squeeze prompts a hiss out of your lips.

“Shit, sorry, you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You say immediately.

“Right.” He hesitates. “Also, please let me know if I hurt you at any point.” You nod, but he still doesn’t continue. “Tell me you understand.”

“I’ll let you know if you hurt me at any point.” You assure, wiggling your hips a little. “Now, please.”

He chuckles. Your eyes flutter shut as soon as his touch finds your legs, thumbs grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh and you feel like you’re learning how to breathe all over again.

The pleasure he’s eliciting from your body is so profound it’s almost worrisome, and it’s all you can do not to get too much in your head, because you’ve never been touched like this before.

Like, yeah, sure, you could’ve guessed Taehyung’s hands were sinful, or that some deep-buried pent up emotion would make the knot in your stomach that much more delicious, but you don’t think you could’ve dreamt with how easily he’s able to read your body, working you up at an alarming speed as his patient but insistent touch make you feel like one of those white mystical bitches who cum on camera with that tantric bullshit you’ve laughed about before.

If it weren’t for the way your panties are soaking wet already, uncomfortably sticking to your pussy, and for the weight of his body above you, you’d sure be blaming this on some weird sex dream you’d rather never acknowledge. 

But as much as you’re enjoying it — and somewhat surprised at his patience —, it doesn’t take long before you start squirming under him, begging for something more intimate.

“Taehyung,” you sob, “more.”

“Shit, you sound so needy. Nothing like the bad bitch I know.”

“Taehyung,” you hiss, and it’s supposed to be a reprimand, but he only chuckles.

“Don’t get me wrong, though, I fucking love it. Love to know I’m the one making you feel like this.”

You ignore the way his tone makes your brain stop for a full second before you wiggle down, trying to near his hand to where you need him the most, but his hold is firm on your thighs.

“Shit, don’t tease me.” You cry.

Taehyung clicks his tongue, body leaning forward to press down on your back before his lips find the shell of your ear.

“I don’t think you understand what’s gonna happen here, baby” how is Taehyung’s voice so fucking hot, god, this can’t possibly be fair. “If you want this, you’ll have to behave and listen to me.” His hand finally moves, and a strangled moan falls from your lips when his thumb finds your pussy through the thin fabric of your shorts. “Can you do that?” His lips tease the skin below your ear. “Can you be a good girl for me and let me take care of you?”

Jesus fucking Christ.

Why does he sound so calm? And why do you feel anything but?

“Yes,” you mutter under your breath, and Taehyung pulls your earlobe between his teeth before returning to his previous position.

“Good. Now tell me what you want, baby. And be clear.”

His demanding tone sends a wave of arousal to your panties. 

“Touch me.” You blurt.

“Ain’t I?” He swipes his thumb over you again and you gasp.

“No–not enough. Just… fuck, please,” you swallow thickly, trying to think, “you know what I want.”

“Uhm, but I don’t. Why don’t you spell it out for me?” Another swipe. 

“Shit” you shudder, “give–give me more.” You squeeze your eyes shut. “Take this– my shorts, take them off, please”

He chuckles. 

“So needy.” He mocks, but if the speed with which he gets off of you is anything to go by, he’s not much better.

He’s careful to not spark any pain as he slowly pulls your shorts down your legs, but leaves your panties on as he straddles you again and gently grabs your ass.

“Taehyung,” you whine.

“Shit, you sound so pretty saying my name like that,” his fingers swiftly pull your panties aside, and you both let out appreciative moans when he feels up and down your aching pussy. “You’re soaking my fingers, baby,” he murmurs, fingers parting your folds, “want me this bad?”

“I want you so much,” you answer, mind functioning way past self-preservation.

His hand dips down to rub your clit, making your walls flutter around nothing. He speeds up and you hear how wet you are for him, feeling your arousal dripping down your thighs. Taehyung shifts a bit and helps you carefully spread your legs with him still above you, and the momentary discomfort is worth it when he pushes two fingers inside your aching cunt.

“So fucking hot,” he groans, low tone dripping with lust as he starts to properly finger you open for him, “just sucking me in. Can’t wait to feel that around my cock.”

You shudder at his words, doing all you can to not rip the comforter with the force you’re clutching it.

“God, baby, wan–want that too” you gasp.

“Yeah?” 

“Want you to fuck me dumb.”

“Holy shit,” he lets out a strained chuckle, “I’d love that too, baby, but if I did that it wouldn’t really help with the pain.”

You swear you had an answer in the tip of your tongue, but Taehyung curves his fingers in that exact moment, hitting your sweet spot just right and you suddenly don’t recognize your own voice, spilling filthy nothings and moaning shamelessly as he pairs his now precise rutting with a languid grinding of his palm on your cunt. “So what about I fuck you sweet and slow instead? Worship this gorgeous body of yours, hum?” 

Taehyung takes the way your pussy squeezes his fingers as the answer that it is, and adds a third digit past your dripping folds, further preparing you for him. Your hips jolt when he takes his thumb to your clit, smearing your juices around before he’s rubbing circles over it.

You feel your stomach tensing the longer he fingers you, but as delicious as this is, you didn’t fantasize about this day for months only to cum on his fingers.

“Taehyung, I’m—” you moan wantonly, body tensing under him, “I’m close, but I don’t wanna—”, his fingers leave your cunt with a loud squelch, and he pushes himself away from you just as quickly.

“Turn around for me, angel.” 

You take a second to process his words, his abrupt stop making you feel devastatingly empty, but as soon as you do as he says, he dives down to slot his lips against yours — and holy shit.

Taehyung kisses you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. Mouth molding over yours with an intensity that makes you feel loved. His hands travel over your body with similar admiration, tongue slipping past the seam of your lips to tangle with yours as you two savor each other.

Your mouths fit perfectly together while your skin burns with desire. He’s such a good kisser, matching your rhythm with ease. 

You slither your fingers through his hair, pulling the strands and turning his face slightly to deepen the kiss. He makes you drunk, intoxicated in the sweet taste of his lips, and the sloppier it gets, the hungrier you get.

“Wanna kiss you everywhere” he moans, mouth parting from yours to trace your chin and jaw, licking and sucking on the skin, while he starts to push your top up.

“You first” you mutter, running your hands down his chest and sliding them beneath his shirt, nails scraping against his stomach before you’re raising it up his torso.

He sends you a disarming smirk, kneeling on the bed to pull his shirt off.

“God, Taehyung, for fuck’s sake” you groan. “How are you real?”

“You’re one to say.”

“You damn right I am.” You scoff, suddenly self-conscious. “Have you seen yourself? How do you expect me to undress in front of you?”

“Nah, stop that shit,” he huffs out a laugh, leaning above you again to whisper against your ear, “where’s the bad girl I know? The one who owns every room she walks in, huh? If anyone should be insecure here, it should be me,” you bite your lip and he tugs on your shirt, “let me see you too, babe.”

You pout, but help him take off your top — and his gaze burns through your bare chest, impossibly darker.

“So fucking perfect,” he mouths, before diving in and taking your lips again, kissing you fervently and letting his hands run free over your whole body.

His large palms cup your tits, grabbing them and caressing the soft flesh for a while, then pinching and rolling your nipples in between his fingers. He moves his lips to your cheek, leaving small bites along the side of your jaw before he buries his face in the curve of your neck, licking and kissing every single spot.

“I’ve been dreaming about this body for so long” he says against your skin, “I thought I was gonna die when I saw you with a bikini on that trip” he admits. “But seeing you like this— actually seeing you,” he takes his lips further down, “shit, you’re prettier than any dream, than any thought I could have.” 

You feel your whole body warm with his praise, mind spinning as you try to make sense of his words — but failing miserably as he closes his mouth around one of your tits. Your eyes flutter shut and you roughly pull his hair, eliciting the sexiest fucking sounds out of him, all while rewarding them with your own loud pleasure as his tongue fondles with your nipple. His lips chart every inch of you, leaving no spot untasted or unkissed as he makes your body his.

“You make me dizzy,” he mumbles, “shit, can’t fucking get enough.”

He seems so fucking satisfied. Smuggly smiling against your body whenever you shudder or moan a bit too loud, pride overwhelming his features whenever his name meets his ears in a shaky breath, reveling in the way you melt under him.

Taehyung pulls the waistband of your panties between his teeth, biting down on the fabric to then carefully and slowly slide them down your legs, not daring to take his eyes away from yours until you are completely naked under him.

“Wanna taste you so bad.”

You feel goosebumps trailing over your skin, the idea sending a fresh wave of arousal down your cunt. So, naturally, when you pull him up and shake your head, you’re almost as surprised as him.

“No…” you whisper, and he freezes, worry taking over his face, “want you to fuck me.” Relief washes over his face, before a slow, teasing smirk takes over his lips, but he doesn’t say anything. “Shit, Tae, I need you to fuck me.”

Your whole face heats up when he snickers.

“Say that again.” You bite down on your lip when he grips your flesh with a bit more force than before. “My name,” he whispers, crawling up to caress your cheek. “Say my name like that again. Like you’ll fucking die if I don’t give you what you want.” His palm chases down your neck and pushes your head back a bit. 

“Tae…” you sigh, closing your eyes when he kisses your jaw, “Taehyung, please fuck me.”

“Fuck, so hot” he whispers on your ear. “Begging for cock like a good girl,” you whine when he pulls your earlobe between his teeth. “Are you always needy like this? So desperate to be fucked?”

It is humiliating to admit, and you feel a not-so-sexy kind of anxiety creeping up on you and catching up with you clouded brain, because you know damn well you’ve never begged for shit — and that's why a teasing smile and innocent look is the best you can muster before pulling him in for a kiss. 

Taehyung takes a second to process your touch, but soon melts into it, slipping his tongue past your lips and securing your waist on his hands. He rolls his hips, pressing his clothed erection on your cunt, and you both shiver at the friction.

“Why the fuck you still have your pants on?” 

“Was kinda distracted,” he scoffs, and your hands reach between your bodies for his belt. You struggle with the poor angle, but eventually manages to open his jeans, and Taehyung lets out a relieved sigh, sitting up to properly push his pants off.

“Hurry up,” you whine, rubbing your thighs together.

“You’re this eager to see my butt?”

“Yeah, wanna see where you hid it.”

“Damn,” he chuckles, shaking his head as he tosses his last piece of clothing away.

It’s pathetic. It’s so fucking pathetic the way your jaw goes slack and your eyes widen. But what can you do when you finally see his cock — the one you’ve imagined way more times than someone who doesn’t have a crush probably should. He’s so hard it sure must be painful and precum collects at the tip, making your mouth water.

“Wanna suck you.”

“If I ain’t tasting you, you ain’t sucking me.” You pout.

“You just scared you won’t last.”

“I wasn’t the one begging less than a minute ago.”

“Shut up.”

He chuckles, slotting himself between your thighs.

He teases up your entrance, smearing your arousal around your pussy until his crown finds your clit and a low moan rips from your throat. You’ve never been this wet before — but you’ve also never felt this wanted before either.

Then, Taehyung’s patience seems to finally have reached its limit — his own teasing overbearing even for himself, because he doesn’t wait another second as he parts your folds, pressing his tip before finally pushing in. You tighten your grip on his shoulder, digging your nails on his flesh while his eyes are hypnotized by the way your cunt throbs around him, adjusting to his size as he fills you to the brim.

“You ok?” He whispers, heavy breath fanning your face as you thread your fingers through his hair.

You nod, “Please, move.”

He starts to roll his hips back.

“God, you’re so tight,” Taehyung groans, eyes rolling back at the way you clench around him.

“Shit,” you moan, “this feels so fucking good,” you’re not really aware of the words leaving your mouth, feeling as if you’ve lost your ability to think — an ability that you weren’t particularly good at in the first place.

When Taehyung moves back in, you can feel every inch of him as he stuffs you full, grinding on you as soon as your hips meet and stimulating every part of you. He sets a disarming pace, cock reaching deep with every stroke and he has to control every urge in his body not to pound into you like you both would like him to. 

And you’re not used to this. You’re not used to the softness of his hold nor with the care he fucks you with. 

Sex for you always felt like a race, but Taehyung makes it feels as if he stopped time altogether. The overwhelming bliss he sparks within your body is just so fucking good, already so much better than any past orgasms you’ve had.

When he feels you fully accommodate him, he speeds up enough to have you spiraling but not enough so your thighs are hurting. Between lustful moans and low groans, his hooded eyes search yours to read your every reaction, to understand which angle makes your brows furrow deeper, which rhythm makes you sound the most vulgar, and you can feel yourself dissolving into pleasure — the toe-curling, mind fucking and dangerous type — in no time.

He whispers the dirtiest things in your ear, tracing your neck with his tongue and biting on your jaw, loud pleasure and wet sounds fill the room. 

You ignore the slight pain that hits your body whenever he makes your hips jolt or your legs shake, mostly because his soothing hands are anxious over your skin: fingers digging on your thighs, palms grabbing your hips, pinning you down on the bed to contain some of your roughest spasms. You’ve never been fucked so deep and so deliciously before.

You babble what seems like his name, but you’re too lost to be sure, desperate and uncoordinated sounds leaving your mouth loud enough to earn you some noise complaints later.

“Shit— ngh, so–so fucking good.” You arch your back, and Taehyung takes his hands to massage your tits.

Your head tilts back on the comforter, eyes squeezing shut despite your desire to keep looking at him — at his dark, unwavering gaze, staring you down while fucking you so deliciously —, but it’s just too much. You swear he’s on a mission to make you lose your goddamn mind as he earnestly fucks you, reaching every spot and grinding on you.

“Feels so good like this,” he grunts, “just sucking me in, so fucking wet.”

And you don’t answer — because you can’t. There’s nothing but Taehyung’s name in your mind, and some shaky version of it reaching his ears.

You can already feel the steady pressure building in the pit of your stomach, making your legs shiver around him as your whole body tightens. 

“Shit,” he buries his face in your neck, feeling you constrict around him, “you close?”

You nod, biting his shoulder as a guttural moan leaves your lips.

“Then cum for me, princess, cream my cock.” He commands, pressing his thumb down on your clit at the same time, and making you come undone beneath him.

Taehyung can't really detain your whole body from quivering, hips buckling while your back arches from before you collapse on the bed.

An exhaustion takes over you, and it feels like hours until you’re finally able to open your eyes again.

Your body’s still quivering with aftershocks, pussy way too sensitive as Taehyung fucks you with lazy, shallow thrusts.

“Shit, that was so fucking hot” he groans, before his brows knit up, “I’m close too.”

He suddenly pulls away, quickly rising to kneeling position and circling his glistening cock with his large hand. His eyes travel over your body as he pumps himself, palm focusing on the tip as he chases his own release.

You ignore the way you pussy clenches at the sight.

“In my mouth,” you mutter, voice barely audible — but he hears you, because his movements falter.

“What did you say?”

“Want you to cum in my mouth.” You lick your lips before supporting yourself on your hands to get closer to his crotch. He groans when you replace his hand with yours, jerking his length to spread some of your juices around before closing your lips around his tip.

His head immediately falls back with an elongated grunt. And you feel your pussy leaking when he starts to twitch inside your mouth. 

“So fucking good,” he praises, making you hum.

It takes only a few expert flicks of your tongue and hollowing of your cheeks before Taehyung’s hips buck and you feel his salty taste spilling down your throat. You keep sucking him, milking every last drop of his cum and swallowing it all like a champ, before releasing him with a pop and cleaning your lips with the back of your hand.

“You just swallowed my cum.” He says, as if trying to process it.

A sly smile takes over your face, but it doesn’t stay long as Taehyung’s face slowly scrunches up in what can only be described as sorrow. His lips turn into a pout and he gets off the bed in a heartbeat, searching for his discarded clothing.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

Your mind, empty a second ago, suddenly overflows with a million thoughts. 

Shouldn't you have swallowed his cum? Did he want to cum on your tits? Why the fuck are his eyes glossy like that? Is he crying because he wanted to cum on your tits? Why is your heart about to explode? Say something, why can’t you just say something?

“I’m really sorry about this” he starts, pushing his underwear up his body, “I can’t believe I–that we…” he groans, running his hands through his hair the same way you were doing just seconds ago.

It hits you maybe too late into the overthinking process that having sex with Taehyung wasn't probably the best idea — not only due to his current euphoric attempt at an escape, but also because now, after your brain starts functioning at a normal speed after cuming that hard, you’re finally able to process the messy string of thoughts knotting inside your head and come to the alarming conclusion that… yeah, you kinda have a crush on that man fleeing from you right now — undeniably so, given that he’s struggling to stop crying after fucking you and you still feel the urge to cuddle with him and pinch his cheeks.

The fuck is wrong with you.

“Taehyung.” You call, remnants from his cum lingering on your mouth.

Thank god Keke Palmer is secured behind that closet not to see you failing her like that.

He’s mumbling to himself, seemingly forgetting that you can, in fact, hear him.

“— can’t believe I just fucked her, this did not just happened—” he says, among sniffles, fighting with his zipper, “argh, this was so fucking good, she was so fucking hot and now I just won’t be able to forget this shit and this is the opposite of what I was supposed to do—”

“Taehyung!”

“What?!” He snaps, giving up on his jeans and letting them fall uncomfortably on his thighs. 

“The fuck you on about, man?”

He lets out a strangled noise, exasperated by your calmness.

“How am I supposed to get over you if my dick is now in love with you too?” He blurts, probably unintentionally, probably not realizing that you’re on the receiving end of that statement. 

“... Well, damn.”

He sobs when it hits him. You just chuckle.

“Please, forget I ever said that—”

“Why, tho? This was the most romantic shit someone’s ever said to me.”

His exasperated groans are so fucking cute.

“I… sorry, let’s just pretend I never said anything. I didn’t mean it.”

“Oh. That’s too bad, cus I kinda like you too.”

“That’s not what I…” He closes his mouth immediately, eyes wide in a mix of panic and bewilderment as you smile.

“Don’t say shit you don’t mean right now.”

You chuckle.

“Why? Gonna cry?” He actually sobs. “Damn, boy, you sound nothing like the bad bitch I know.” You mock, but then bite your lip and crawl off the bed, trying to stand in front of him despite your stumbling legs. “I like you too, you dumbass. Been liking you for sometime, actually.”

You place your hand on his face, softly cleaning the tears off his cheeks.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

He frowns, breathing finally normalizing.

“But you never really talk to me.”

“Yeah, I was kind of in denial and your personality didn’t help.”

“... That’s a compliment, right?”

You chuckle. “Yeah, Tae.”

“And what was yesterday about, then?”

“I was obviously trying to seduce you. And look at you,” you smile proudly, “seduced.”

“Yeah, ‘cus there’s nothing sexier than a sweaty woman fighting to stay on top of a horse, if you ask me.”

He opens one of those large, intoxicating boxy smiles of his, and you’re suddenly unable to smile back.

“Honestly? You intimidated the hell out of me. But seeing you completely out of your element yesterday watching me train some kids at a stud farm?” He chuckles. “Made me realize that… yeah, you’re amazing and all the shit I already thought… But you’re kinda lame too.” 

Your mouth falls open.

“I’m sorry, you just said your dick’s in love with me, asshole.” You roll your eyes. “And you were about to fucking flee the scene. While crying, may I add.”

“Yeah, cus you just ate my cum,” he smirks. “That does something to a guy’s heart.”

You roll your eyes. 

“Yeah, right.”

He shakes his head, an annoying smile still plastered on his face.

“I really do like you, you know? And like… we don’t have to figure anything out right now, this doesn’t even feel real yet, but…” he snakes his arms around your waist and pulls you flush against his chest, “I really fucking like you.”

He caresses your cheek with his thumb, slowly running his finger over your lips. This time, his kiss is tender, full of unhesitant affection. You two fumble backwards, and he carefully lays you on your back, falling beside you and pulling you to frame his side.

“I like you too.” You whisper, snuggling closer.

“We can do those corny things together now. Like… uhm, like watch that Real Jackson show you always talk ab—” you grimace.

“It’s True Jackson, Taehyung.”

“Whatever, same difference.” Keke please forgive his ignorant soul. “Oh, and I’ll take you to ride with me.”

“Yeah, don’t push it. There’s not a single chance I’ll be riding again.”

“Oh, no, babe,” he and offers you a smirk, “I meant riding this fucking dick!”

Sigh.

But honestly, that might not be too bad.

note ↠ sooo, what we think? 🥹 writing this after taking a break was way harder than anticipated lol, but i made it! so i hope y'all enjoy it note² ↠ all form of feedback is deeply appreciated! note³ ↠ you can go back to navigation here

[httpknjoon]

(re)starting over again | kth; 9

plot | Your four-year relationship with Taehyung was going well and strong. Until he was involved in a car accident, resulting to him losing some memories. By some, it means everything that happened five years ago. Things he remember? His friends, his bakeshop, and his ex girlfriend from the past. With that, you tried to keep up, restarting over again.

words | 1.6k+

genres | fluff, angst, amnesia au

pairing | taehyung x reader

warning/s | -

note | all i can say is I greatly recommend listening to ceilings by lizzie mcalpine while reading. that song was playing in the background for hours while I was writing this one. anyways, have fun reading!

main masterlist | series masterlist

“No, no.” 

You held on to the bags tighter when Taehyung tried to carry them for you. Ever since that interaction with Lily earlier, you’ve been quiet. You two stood next to each other while waiting for the car you booked for your ride home. He stole glances at you and you were just looking anywhere but at him. When the car arrived, you placed the grocery bags between you two, not speaking much.

His chest felt heavy throughout the whole ride. It felt harder to breathe like he was drowning in silence while you look outside the window. The image of your smile fading from your lips when you heard about Lily going to the bakery days ago kept replaying in his head.

“I can do this alone,” you said, almost in a whisper.

There were five large grocery bags. You brought the three on your own, walking ahead of Taehyung when you arrived in front of your shared home. He can tell you were struggling from behind. So he immediately catch up and opened the door with his keys. You didn’t say anything and just went inside, heading straight to the kitchen. 

You were quick as you dropped the bags on the kitchen island. You immediately brought the items out of the bags. Taehyung followed what you did wordlessly.

“I told you, I can do this alone,” you repeated in a stern tone.

He answered shortly, “I want to help.”

You stopped. Taehyung looks up and he sees you staring at him with what seems like a blank gaze. You sighed heavily. Like you were annoyed. Suddenly, the thought of you possibly getting tired of him crosses his mind.

“Fine, do it on your own then.”

It was childish, you thought. But you can feel your bones aching right now for some reason. And you don’t think staying in one room with Taehyung right now would help you feel any better.

“YN…” he called your name. You didn’t respond verbally but you turned around and raised an eyebrow. He asked, “Can we talk?”

You bit your cheek before looking away, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

That answer from you made him breathe in sharply. None of you two even mentioned what you were going to talk about. He nods repeatedly, respecting your decision.

“Okay. But can we do this together? I don’t know where all this stuff goes.” he admitted.

Your expression somehow softened. He swore he saw a glimpse of something in your eyes before you dipped your chin, “Sure.”

One by one, you two placed everything you grocery item you bought. You remained quiet and focused as you kept your head down, and Taehyung could feel the tension in the air. He doesn’t feel it easing anytime soon. 

“The candies go into the jar. Those breakfast cereals are in the big empty jar too, the ones next to the candies. Soda cans and those yogurt drinks just put them properly in the fridge.

“Too organized, eh?”

He tried to lighten up the mood with a soft snarky comment. He hoped to hear maybe a small chuckle or see a small smile on your lips. But you just turned away, like his comment just traveled from one ear to another. He ignored his muscles tensing after earning no reactions from you. You were distant and avoided eye contact. Your voice was dull. 

“The teabags–” your voice shakes, Taehyung noticed. You cleared your throat, “The teabags go to the container in that drawer.”

He still noticed that you were trying to stable your voice as you instructed him with your back facing him. He mumbled a little okay before following your instructions. His head is starting to form ideas that maybe you’re mad. You won’t even face him right now. Before he can even think of more thoughts about that, a small noise is enough to break his thoughts. A sob.

Taehyung paused, processing if he had heard the right thing. Then, another one follows… and another. Everything around him gets quieter and all he can hear is that small, restrained sob from you. He turned around. He immediately spotted your shoulders shaking while your back still facing him.

“YN?” he called for you, worried.

Your shoulders tensed. It took you a minute to respond to him. Instead of saying anything, you hummed.

“Hmm?”

“Y/N…” he called you again since you remained turned against him.

You cleared your voice and from behind, he can see that you were wiping something on your face before finally turning around.

“Yeah?”

You kept your response small, not letting Taehyung catch more emotion in your voice. But your face failed you from hiding. He can see your still-damp, red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks. You were biting your lower lip so hard as if you were clinging to the thin thread of strength left in you.

Contemplating if he should ask you about whatever made you cry or just ignore it as he did in mornings when he saw you spacing out with heavy eyebags, he knew he need to say something at the moment.

“Are you okay?” he asked with a soft tone.

The thread was instantly cut by that question. A single tear trickled down your eye and your lips formed into a frown. You feel like your knees are turning into jelly. You sniffed and tears just continued to flow from your eyes. 

Whatever facade you put on in front of him ever since he woke up from that accident was just shuttered with a simple question from him. The weight of thoughts and questions in your head is too much that you felt like just dragging your head while your heart felt squeezed out. 

From the other side of the kitchen island, Taehyung watched you break slowly piece by piece. Your palm covered your lips as you shake your head. He can hear cracks forming in his heart with the sight in front of him. He was about to take a step toward you. But you spoke,

“P-Please. Don’t come near me, don’t try and hold me” you sobbed, trying not to stutter with words. “I think I will just break down here if you’ll hold me. I don’t think I’ll be able to keep it together longer…”

But even though Taehyung accepted your rejection of receiving any comfort from him, you began breaking down. Just full-on sobbing behind your palms. You were whimpering like you were still trying to stop yourself from crying. But you just can’t. Everything hurts but you also felt numb at the same time.

“I don’t know anymore.” you wept, admitting while meeting his stare

Taehyung looks down, “I’m sorry…”

“Oh, no. no. no. Please don’t say sorry.” you panicked, shaking your head. “You see, I understand why you invited her to your shop, baked her something, and talked with her. I understand why you wanted to see her after your accident. Because Lily is your girlfriend… right?”

As much as it hurts you to say that, you two knew you were right. His head and his memories are all from five years ago. The bakeshop’s there. Jimin’s there. Lily is there. And you, he will only get to know you months after he broke up with Lily. 

You continued, “No, she is. Right? Five years ago. Before we met. Lily was the only woman in your life. She was the one in my place and I can’t be mad with that.”

When you said that, his eyebrows raised like he was surprised to hear you say that. He opened his mouth to say that you can, you can be mad. You have the right to do so. But you resumed, with a shaky, teary laugh.

“And… and how can I be mad? How am I supposed to be mad at you? Of course, you will always come back to what you remembered. And I am just unlucky that you didn’t meet me five years ago…” you paused. Your voice gets weaker and smaller as you mumbled, “I am basically a stranger from the moment you woke up from that hospital. I understand all of those things. But what I don’t understand is why you haven’t told me about her? And I hate that I don’t understand because all I can think about are these questions inside my head… Taehyung, what am I to you here?”

Everything gets quieter with that question from you. The question repeated over and over again in his head. While your heart was getting torn into pieces just by looking at him. You know him too much to read through his face and see that he is trying to think of something that won’t hurt you. He looked like a little kid lost in this new place and you felt bad for him. Your emotions are all mixed up but the pain is definitely up there. Your heart breaks for you, for Taehyung, and for everything that led up to this moment.

“I know you wanted to know what happened between you and Lily in the last five years…” You sighed and your voice breaks when you continued, “But Taehyung, I’m also here… We also happened.”

You inhaled sharply, looking away from him, before walking away from the kitchen. Alone, Taehyung stood frozen in the same spot for a long time. He thinks quietly, thoughts and questions flying around his head. He sighed heavily. He doesn’t know how long he stared at the thin air before he looked around, seeing the unorganized grocery items. So, he tried to continue. He tried to remember where he would have liked to put everything.

Never go to bed angry :)

Taehyung once wrote that on a piece of paper and stick it on your refrigerator door just a few weeks after you two moved in together. You saw it in the morning after you two resolved your unending misunderstandings after living in one place together. You two were adjusting and learning more about each other.

During that conversation, you learned that you tend to run away, keeping your feelings in you than talking about it with him. Taehyung hates miscommunication so he always tried to talk about everything with you with full honesty. He said most relationships end just because of misunderstanding and overwhelmed emotions. And if you’re going to let that emotion and misunderstanding stay overnight, it might lead to an ugly ending.

Now, that piece of paper is squeezed between the pages of that old book you read before. You kept it as a reminder to yourself.

Now, you lie awake on your bed, tears streaming from the corners of your eyes. You’re angry. You’re tired. You’re confused. But mostly, you’re in pain. You don’t think you can talk this emotion to existence. It’s just a lot. 

For now, you just want to cry and silence the thoughts in your head by putting yourself to sleep.

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[mxcnliight]

let me take a picture (kth)

beauty can be captured in many ways, for professor Kim Taehyung that is taking naughty photos of his favorite student

Pairing: Professor!Taehyung x Fem!Reader 

Theme: One shot; college au, SMUT, PWP, fluff

Word Count: 5.9K

Warnings: explicit photos; sexual tension; dirty talk; swearing; sir kink; edging; orgasm denial (kinda); oral sex & fingering (f receiving); handjob (kinda); p in v penetration; unprotected sex + crempie (use a CONDOM)

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It’s a Wednesday afternoon and you await your professor in your photography class. You have always been into photography ever since you were young. You loved taking pictures of flowers and bugs with your grandma. She let you borrow her camera one time, and afterwards you were obsessed. You wished for a camera like hers for your 6th birthday, and to your surprise, you got one. In fact, you still have that camera from 14 years ago, but it now sits in your closet catching dust. You knew you wanted to go to a college that had the photography programs you desired and you stumbled upon one college. You remember reading the class description and were amazed at the programs and opportunities they had in the course. So you did the only rational thing which was to apply and hope and pray you got in. About 4 weeks later, you got an email saying you were accepted and you cried your eyes out. You were so excited on your first day to meet your classmates, take new photos and especially meet your professor. Under the details of the course, you found out the professor was a man named Kim Taehyung. You recognized the name as he is famous in the photography business. He has won many awards in the past for his photos, and you look up to him. Not only is he your professor, but he is also extremely hot. There is no flaw on that man's face. This had bloomed a little crush in your heart when you first started attending his class. Of course, you knew nothing would happen because you’re his student and he’s your professor, but you always hoped for something. As you have done the course for about a year now, you got to know your classmates better as well as your professor. You became more comfortable with everybody, along with Mr. Kim. He’s been a big inspiration for your photos and sometimes you would secretly take pictures of him without him knowing. But because you got to know him better, your crush faded away slowly. Sure, there’s still something there, but you see him as your professor, nothing more. 

You put your hand in your palm and sigh while looking out the window. You think about what you will take a photo of today. Just then you hear the door open as your eyes meet Mr. Kim coming in with a bunch of papers in one hand along with his coffee in the other. He wore a black barre hiding his light brown hair, paired with a white dress shirt and some black dress pants with a belt. For shoes he wore his white sneakers. “Good morning class! Sorry I’m late, the line at Dunkin’ was super long.” You chuckle at his comment as your eyes follow him over to his desk. He sets down his coffee along with his papers and sits down. He goes through the papers and starts to organize them. “What are you thinking about taking a photo of, Y/N?” asks your friend next to you. You look over to her. “I think maybe one of the new flowers the gardening club planted yesterday.” She nods as you look back over at Mr. Kim. He sips his coffee as his eyes set on one of the papers. His eyes then widen. You wonder what it’s about as you see a faint blush form on his face. He then looks away from the paper and clears his throat before swiftly putting it into one of the drawers on his desk. You make eye contact with him and speedily look away. After a couple seconds, you look back over at him as he gets out his camera and looks around at the class, “who’s ready for some photos?”

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You’re now outside and it’s a bit dewy. You look up at the clouds and they’re colored gray as the forecast said it should rain soon. You look over at Mr. Kim. “Alright class, for today’s lesson I want us to capture the ambience of life. Now, that may be different for everybody. It may be the gloomy clouds or the plain of trees. Whatever it is, I want you to take a photo of it and give me your story behind it.” You all nod and go your separate ways. You know you still want to take a photo of a flower, but finding the meaning with Mr. Kim’s prompt will be harder than you thought. You make your way over to the patch of flowers, crouch down, and think of which one to take a picture of. Your eyes catch some pink Dahlias that have a single drop of water on one of them. You think that this will do, take off the cover of your camera lens, and turn on your camera. You then position the lens towards the flowers and zoom in a bit. You close one of your eyes and snap the picture. You then go to the gallery on your camera and look at it. “What did you take a picture of, Ms. L/N?” You look up and see Mr. Kim towering over you. “A pink Dahlia,” you reply, looking back at the picture. “And how does that relate to today’s prompt?” he asks as you think of a response. You could say that flowers are like beauty and beauty can be flawed or explain how Dahlias symbolize love and love doesn’t always go the way you want it. You hear Mr. Kim chuckle and you look back up at him. “What did I say about taking pictures without context, Ms. L/N?” “Oh, no um…” you look away. “Flowers represent growth and everybody has their growing pains.” You look back up at Mr. Kim to see his approval as he nods. You form a slight grin on your face and look away. You hear Mr. Kim clear his throat as he bends down towards you to look you directly in the face. “Please see me after class, Ms. L/N.” Your face turns towards him and he’s only inches away from your lips. He then straightens up again and walks away. You can’t help but wonder what he wants.

You and your class soon return inside since it started to rain a bit. You look out the window and it’s already pouring hard. You look back at your photo in the solution, wondering how you will get home after class since you don’t have a car yet and you would most definitely miss the bus staying after class. You then hear the door open and see your friend walk in. “Hey! I finally found something to take a picture of!” she says, shutting the door behind her. “That’s great!” you reply. She comes by your side and puts her photo in the solution. “So… you think Mr. Kim is looking pretty handsome today?” She asks, nudging at your arm. You both chuckle. “I guess so,” you reply. “Oh, come on Y/N! He’s so handsome! Didn’t you have a crush on him?” You look down at your picture and smile. “I did, but… I don’t think I do now.” She scoffs at your answer. “Well then, I guess I have Mr. Kim all to myself.” You snicker at her comment as you grab your photo out of the solution and get some clothespins. You then hang your photo on the fishing line and walk out the door. Once you make it back to the classroom, you make a beeline for your table as you crouch down to your backpack. You rummage through your bag and open your pencil pouch. You frown when you realize you don’t have a sharpie and you will probably have to get one from Mr. Kim. Just then you see Mr. Kim out of the corner of your eye handing out sharpies to all the tables. He makes it to your spot as you take the sharpie and maintain eye contact with him.

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The minutes have passed and your photo is developed and ready. You uncap your sharpie and write “growing pains” at the bottom of the photo. You then cap it again and get up from your table. You make your way to the whiteboard and hang your photo up with one of Mr. Kim’s magnets. You then take a step back and look at everybody else’s photos. One thing we always do after we get done with our photos is look at the others, giving some type of critique and/or praise. You see that Mr. Kim got up from his desk to join the crowd of students by the whiteboard. He proceeds into the middle beside you and you look up at him, taking in his beauty a bit before looking back at the board. You hear one of your classmates is about to speak when Mr. Kim puts his hand up. “I would love to do critiques right now, but I have other work to do. We will pick this back up tomorrow.” You’re surprised he ended class this abruptly, but he must be really busy. Everybody goes to get their bags and you do too when you forget that Mr. Kim wanted you to stay. You wait for all of your classmates to leave as you see your friend put her backpack over her shoulders. She then looks at you. “You coming, Y/N?” she asks. “I forgot I need to do something, so go ahead without me,” you reply. She looks confused for a second, nods and leaves the classroom. You realize that was the last of everybody, and you look back over at Mr. Kim. He takes another sip of his coffee as he stares at you with his dark eyes. He sets his coffee cup down and gets up from his desk. “Please follow me, Ms. L/N.” You come with him into his office as he locks the door behind you. You’re confused about why he locked the door. Are you in trouble? You see him make his way behind his desk and sit down. He then sighs and looks back up at you and motions you to sit down as well. You sit in the chair across from him. “The reason I brought you in after class, Ms. L/N, is that…” he trails off and looks away. “You see, we photographers get many opportunities for different projects and we can either reject them or work on them based on how much the pay is… and this morning I was going through these papers of opportunities I got and came across one that caught my attention, which is why I brought you in today, Ms. L/N.” He looks back up at you as you wonder what the opportunity is. “Do you remember our model unit, Ms. L/N?” he asks. “Yes I do,” you reply. “Well, I was wondering if you would like to be a model for this opportunity.” Your eyes widen, a model? You don’t think you’re confident enough for that. “I know what you’re thinking, but I think you would be perfect for this shoot,” he reassures you. “What’s the shoot?” you ask as you see a small smirk form on Mr. Kim’s face. “I’ll get to that soon, but before…” he opens a drawer, pulls out a piece of paper, and sets it on the desk in front of you. “I’m going to need your consent first.” You look down at the paper as he grabs a pen from his pen cup. He hands it to you as you start to read the consent form. You skim through it and your eyes gradually widen at what it’s for. You tremble a bit and look back up at him. “A porn magazine?!” you exclaim as he sighs. “If you don’t want to, I understand Y/N… but I did say you would be perfect for this shoot.” His eyes are filled with lust and you shiver at his expression. You look back down at the paper and wonder if you should accept it or not. I mean, it is for porn and a bunch of men will be jerking off to your image, but you look down at the payment and your eyes widen, $600?! You could use that money to save for the new car you want. You lick your lips and think of the pros and cons before clicking the pen and signing your name. You see Mr. Kim smirk as he takes the paper from you. “I knew you would say yes, Ms. L/N.” He then puts it away before grabbing his camera. He gets up and makes his way towards you, helping you out of the chair. “I’m going to need you to take off your dress, shoes, and socks for me.” You blush at his words and fidget with the hem of your dress. “Could you look away, Mr. Kim?” He nods and turns around. You sigh and begin to take off your dress along with your shoes and socks. You hold your clothing in your hands. You guess it was a good idea that you wore some lingerie today. It’s a light blue color with some delicate lace. “Mr. Kim, where do you want me to set my clothes?” “On my desk is fine.'' You do as he says and he turns around. His eyes widen at your body as he clicks his tongue in his mouth. You blush at his actions and look away. “Alright pretty, let’s start shall we?” You nod as he brings his camera up to his face. “Alright, I want you to be as natural as you can be but with a bit of sexiness.” You blush again and try to pose the way you were told to. His camera flashes and you do another pose. One thing you learned during the model unit was that models have to change positions or poses for each photo, whether it be slightly or largely. It’s a good thing that you learned this tip for this shoot. He takes a couple more pictures. “Now I want you to look into the camera for these next photos.” You do as he says and look into the camera lens. It’s a bit difficult because the flash is on, but you get used to it. He then lowers the camera out from his face and smiles down at it. “Almost done love, I just have to take a few up-close shots.” You nod as he comes closer to you and you faintly blush. His camera lens comes close to your chest and you try to pose naturally, but it’s not going well because of how close he is. You clear your throat as he finishes the shoot. He smiles down at his camera again and then takes the strap off of his shoulder. “Thank you for the help Ms. L/N, I’ll be giving you your payment tomorrow.” You nod as he makes it behind his desk. You let out a sigh and pick up your clothes. You’re about to put your dress back on when you hear Mr. Kim speak. “Because you were such a good model for me… would my good little student like a reward?” He asks as he slowly comes towards you, backing you into the wall. You look up at him and he smirks. “Are you flirting with me, Mr. Kim?” you ask. “Flirting? Me?” He chuckles. “Oh my darling student, if I was flirting you would definitely know.” You look at him trying to see what he’s getting at and you chuckle. “Well, if you were… how would it go?” “Oh, you want to know how it would go?” He lets out a breath. “Are you looking for more lessons to learn, hm?” You nod as he chuckles. “Well, I would stand…'' he moves closer to you. “A bit closer to you, and you would be standing against the wall like this. Mhm.'' He then puts one of his hands near your head. “Rest my hand against the wall so you’d be surrounded by me but you could always step away if you wished.” He then licks his lips. “I would ask you…” he leans in towards your ear to whisper, “what perfume are you wearing?” His low, gruff voice sends shivers down your spine. “And I’d lean in very, very close” He’s mere inches away from your lips now as you tremble a bit in anticipation. “And…” he leans in towards your ear again, “breathe you in.'' You feel a pool of your wetness forming in your patines as you whimper a bit. He leads back towards your face and lightly smirks, “And then… I would pull back, but only slightly so that I can look down into your beautiful eyes and tell you that you smell like heaven and ask…'' he huffs a bit, “do you taste like heaven as well?” He then leans down and kisses you. Your eyes widen at his action but you soon melt right in and kiss him back. You guys make out for a little and you drop the clothes in your arms to wrap your arms around his neck. You deepen the kiss as his hands meet your waist pulling you in. He then breaks the kiss and leans back a bit. “Did you like your lesson?” He goes in for another kiss that is more passionate and filled with some lust. He breaks the kiss and you both try to catch your breaths. “Yes” “Yes what?” He says. You’re confused at first about what he wants, but you then realize your answer. “Yes sir.” He chuckles a bit. “Sir” he repeats back. “Good girl. Now… don’t you think my good student deserves her reward?” You nod as he smirks, “well then… what’s the magic word?” “Please sir” you say in a tone with a bit of lust. “That’s right. Come here.” He kisses you again and without breaking the kiss, he leads you over to his desk. He then pushes the papers off his desk and sets you down on it. He breaks the kiss and looks at you with eyes filled with lust. “I knew you wanted me from the first time you came into my room, Y/N. You always had so much neediness.” “Well, I didn’t know you wanted me,” you reply. “I always have,” he says as he spreads your legs with his hands. “You were just too good to not… devour.” He growls the last part which leads you to moan. He then lets out a low chuckle and looks down at your panties. “Somebody’s a mess, isn’t she?” He asks as he hooks his finger around the rim of your panties. You whimper and nod as he smirks. “Well, don’t worry… I can help you with that,” he says as he takes off your panties with a swift movement. You gasp at the cold air hitting your wet lips. “Now place your feet on the arms of my chair.” You do as you’re told and you see him scoot in. He then growls. “Good girl. Now, let’s see about preparing you for your reward.” He hums as his hands meet your ankles. “Watch my hands resting on your ankles, massaging gently on your calves, my fingers caressing on the backs of your thighs,” he takes in a breath, “and my thumbs resting just shy of your beautiful, pouting lips.” He hisses a bit and then moans. “I can feel your heartbeat pounding against my thumb.” He’s not wrong. Your heart’s beating so fast in anticipation of what he’s going to do. “Are you throbbing for me?” You nod, “yes.” “Yes, yes what?” he repeats back and waits for you to say the word. “Yes sir” you say and he chuckles. “Good girl. Are you aching for me?” You nod and pout your lips and he smirks. “Good. Shall I see about that wetness?” You nod again. “Are you wet?” “Yes sir.” “Well then… let’s see. I’m going to slide my thumbs between your legs and gently massage your pussy lips with them.” He does just that and you gasp at the feeling and whimper. “Oh yeah,” he moans, “they’re so warm, so inviting.” He continues to massage as you pout your lips at how good the feeling is. “And if I dip inside…” he dips one of his thumbs in as you moan and so does he. “So silky, look at that, so pretty, shiny and wet.” He smirks, “and see here, look…” you look down at your lower half with him, “that beautiful clit, she is so swollen for me, begging to be touched, caressed, tasted.” You whimper at his words. “Tell me love, do you want to feel my warm mouth on your clit?” You gasp at him and he smirks, “yeah.” He chuckles at how submissive you’re already being for him. “I will do that for you. But first, you’ll have to make a promise.” You give him a confused expression. What is he talking about? “Well, since I think it’s always good to practice self control, you are not to cum without permission. Is that understood?” he asks, raising his eyebrow and cocking his head to the side. You nod and he hums. “No matter how much I tease and lick and suck on you. No matter how good it feels, no matter how much your body wants to release, you are not to cum unless I say so… is that understood?” “Yes sir,” you reply. “Good girl,” he says before diving into you. You gasp at the contact of his lips and tongue on your clit as you grab a fistful of his light brown hair and moan. He kisses and licks it while moaning on it. The vibrations feel wonderful. He places his tongue flat out on your clit and licks it back and forth before kissing it again. “Come here, come closer,” he growls as he pulls in closer and dives in again. He continues to lick and kiss at your clit while you let out a string of whimpers. As he moans on it and kisses it, you feel like you’re going crazy. “Don’t you, don’t you…” he whispers before going back in again. Your thighs shake at how good he’s doing you right now. You can’t believe he can tell just from your whimpers and moans. At this point he’s basically making out with your clit. He growls into it which sends shivers up your body and you whimper again. He pulls back a bit just to get a breath of air before going back in and licking it again. The sounds that are coming from your clit are also driving you insane because of how wet you are. He then pulls back. “So delicious, so sweet,” he says before kissing your clit again. “Such an extraordinary student,” he gasps a bit, “I can feel your thighs shaking, yet you obeyed me,” he says before pulling you into a deep kiss. You can taste your juices on his lips as he kisses you. “Are you ready for more?” he asks as he kisses you again. You moan a yes into the kiss and he chuckles. “I want you to lick and suck on my fingers, how many is up to you because once they are nice and wet…” he gives you one more kiss, “I am going to slide them inside your hungry, aching pussy and you are going to ride them. Now show me how many you want.” You ponder how many you want for a second and then take 2 of his fingers into your mouth. He then gasps and moans at your wet mouth on his fingers. You begin to lick and suck on them, swirling your tongue around them. “Good girl. Yeah, nice and wet,” he says. You then slip them out of your mouth and he smirks. “Good girl. Are you ready? Will you be able to hold back for me?” You look down and frown a bit. “I don’t know,” you reply. “You're not sure? Well, we’ll just have to see how close we can get. And if you're about to cum, I want you to tell me.” He chuckles a bit. “Now open your legs for me,” he whispers, and as you were told, you spread your legs. “Good, now lift your hips,” he orders. You then lift them. “And when you’re ready-” you cut him off by lowering your hole onto his fingers. You gasp at the fullness you feel from them. “Yes, just like that, ride them,” he growls the last part a bit as you begin to ride his fingers. You moan at the feeling, it feels amazing. Mr. Kim moans with you, “you’re so tight and hot.” You whimper at his words and begin to speed up your movements a bit, anticipating your orgasm. “I know you’re trying hard, I can feel your body gripping me, you’re pulsing around my fingers, you’re such a good girl. And you're doing so well, yeah… so well, in fact…” he trails off, “that I’m going to stroke your clit with my thumb while you ride.” He begins to do just that and you arch your back in pleasure at the amazing stimulation you feel. “Is that too much?” he asks, smirking. “Oh fuck you’re so sexy right now, can you feel my thumb against your clit?” You nod vigorously as he speeds up with his hand movements hitting your spot. Your eyes widen as you feel you’re getting dangerously close. “S-stop,” you whimper. “Stop?” He smirks and pulls out his fingers. You’re disappointed with the empty feeling. “Oh fuck, I think you’re ready for your reward. What do you think?” “Yes!” you blurt out. How close you were makes you so needy that you’re unaware of your own tone of voice. “Yes, so eager.” He smirks and licks his lips. “I want you to lean forward for me and unbuckle my belt.” He stands up as your cue to do what he asked. You start to unbuckle his belt while he takes his hand and puts it underneath your chin, making you look up at him as he brings you into a kiss. “Fuck, that sweetness,” he says, and he kisses you again. “Now unzip my pants.” You pull down the zipper. “Good. Now slide your hand inside.” You’re hesitant, but you put your hand inside of his briefs and you gasp when your hand makes contact with his hard cock. He gasps as well. “Can you feel that? How heavy and hard I am for you?” You nod as you squeeze his cock a bit making him moan, “yeah, you can stroke it a bit.” You begin to stroke his cock up and down, it’s so big compared to your hand. You can’t even wrap your hand around it. He hisses at the feeling of your movements. “Oh fuck, feel me in your hand.” You then completely take it out of his briefs and begin to jack it a bit with your eyes filled with lust. “That’s it, think about it, yeah… when you have it in hand. Think about how I’m going to fill you right up. Every inch just for you,” he moans out the last part as you jerk it a bit faster, licking your lips seeing the pre-cum already forming on the tip. “You like thinking about that, huh?” “Mhm,” you respond, eyes still on his cock. “You do, don’t you? Yeah, you like thinking about riding this big hard fucking cock huh?” he asks as you let out another mhm as he moans. “Oh yeah, feels so good, you want it hm? Tell me you want it,” he growls out and you whimper. “I fucking want it,” you say, looking at him. “Come here, stand up,” he commands, growling. You’ve never seen Mr. Kim like this, and it honestly turns you on but also scares you a bit at the same time. You get up off of his desk, “Yes, now bend over the desk.” You turn around and bend over so your chest meets the cold surface of the desk. He then spanks you unexpectedly as you let out a yelp. “Are you ready? Tell me, look behind and tell me. Tell me to fuck you.” You turn your head and see Mr. Kim has changed, lust has completely taken over his body. “Please fuck me, sir,” you say seductively. “Yeah, let me play with it.” You turn your head back around and feel his cock meet your wet lips and you gasp. “Push back,” he says and you push back on his cock as you both moan. “You going to take me inside of you? This big, thick cock?” You hum and you can feel him smirk. “Do you want me to put it inside of you? Tell me,” he whispers right beside your ear. “Yes sir.” He pulls back and rubs his cock up and down your pussy lips. “Oh yeah, you're going to show this dick aren’t you? You’re going to show it how good of a student you are. You’re going to cover it in your cum aren’t you? Yeah, feel it, feel it part your lips.” You feel the tip go in as you both moan. “Yeah, just sliding inside.” He then spanks both of your ass cheeks and you whimper. “So inviting.” Another smack, “Good girl, taking it just like that.” You whimper as you feel almost half of it in you. “Being fucked by your teacher, on the desk where I graded your photos. Yeah, taking this big cock, right there, so sexy. Take it in more, come on. Swivel your hips, take it in more.” You follow his commands and you feel more go inside of you as you whimper. “Let me look,'' he says as he parts your pussy lips taking a good look at his cock inside you. “Now push back.” You push back on his cock as you whimper even more. “All the way in…'' You feel the tip hit the back of your pussy and you gasp. “Feel my hands on your ass, that big dick inside of you throbbing. Come here…” he leans down towards your ear, “Yeah, feel it throbbing inside of you, stretching your pussy out.” He begins to thrust into you as you moan out, “Fuck, Mr. Kim!” He pulls back and smirks. “Call me by my real name darling, you know what it is.” His thrusts are slow, but that doesn’t stop it from hitting so deep inside you. “Yeah, let it get in there.” You’re now pouting at how good it feels. “Yeah, fuck me. Yeah, look back at me.” You do, but your expression is so lazy because of how fucked out you already are. You see a smirk on his face, “Show it, show that dick baby. Yeah, such a good student and that big cock is so deep inside, yeah fucking you in and out. Mhm, bent over the desk like a naughty girl. Yeah, so fucking naughty,” he whispers as he speeds up his thrusts while still pounding into you. You let out a yelp followed by a string of moans. “Fuck, Tae!” you let out. “I’d fuck you in front of the class, I wouldn’t be able to resist you. How sexy you are,” he whispers as your eyes widen at his words. You let out a rushed moan. The room is now filled up with your moans and thrusts. Anybody could probably hear it by now. “Yeah, you make it harder, don’t you? A little harder? Feel my hands slide up your body.” You gasp as you feel his hands move up to your clothed breasts. “Yeah, up to those tits, massaging them, teasing them, pinching those nipples while this cock takes control and you feel it take fucking control?” You clench around his cock as you’re getting close again. “You’re gonna cum on it, aren’t you? You’re gonna cover it in your cum.” You let out a whimper as an answer. You can barely speak with all of this simulation you’re getting right now. “Show me those beautiful eyes.” You turn your head back to meet his gaze and he looks almost as fucked out as you are. His hair is sticking to his forehead with the sweat that’s covering his skin. “Oh god, so good, fuck!” he growls, “Feel it, oh god, yeah!” You can tell he’s getting close by how sloppy his thrusts are and how desperate he is with his moaning. “You want me to rub that clit?” His finger goes down and rubs your clit as your eyes shoot open because of how close your orgasm was. “Oh my god, fuck, Tae!” You almost yell out. “Cum on it for me, please!” he pleads. His words do it  for you as your orgasm shoots through your body and your eyes roll back, your head meeting the desk. “Oh, I can feel it! Squeeze your pussy around that dick, yeah! Lock it around.” Even though you’re in your post-orgasm and you’re really sensitive, Mr. Kim still continues to pound into you, chasing his orgasm. “Good girl. You’re going to take mine? I know you’re going to take it for me. Tell me what you want. Say those fucking words.” You whimper, “Please cum in me, Taehyung.” He groans at your words and you then feel him shoot his cum inside you, filling you right up.

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

After you both catch your breaths, you feel him pull out of you. “Fuck baby, look at all of that cum,” he says as he spreads your ass checks to reveal your pussy dripping with his cum. He then chuckles at your state, how fucked out you are from him. He helps you off the desk and brings you in for a long kiss. He then breaks it and chuckles at you again. “You’re such a mess, love.” You look down at yourself and cringe, “I feel so sweaty.” “Sorry, it did get a bit steamy in here,” he says before kissing you again. “Did you like your reward?” he asks and you nod. Just then your eyes close for a bit and he kisses your head. “Somebody’s sleepy I see.” “Yeah, you fucked the brains out of me, Mr. Kim,” you reply. He chuckles as he looks at you. “So, um… how are we going to go about this?” you ask. “Well, I would get fired if the college found out I was dating my student, so for now we’re going to keep this a secret, alright?” You nod and look down at your clothes. “Could you take me home? I’m pretty sure it’s still raining,” you ask. He nods as you grab your clothes. Once both of you have your clothes back on, he grabs his keys and closes up the classroom. The two of you make your way down to the parking lot. He drives you home with some slow jazz music in the background and asks you various questions about your experience with him. He soon arrives at your apartment and parks the car. You forgot to bring a jacket, so you know you’ll have to speedily run inside. Before you get out, Mr. Kim stops you. “Take my umbrella.” “But sir-“ “It’s pouring, you can give it back to me tomorrow.” You sigh as you take it. He kisses you before you step out of the car, opening the umbrella over you and making your way up the stairs to the door of your apartment. You look back at Mr. Kim, waving goodbye before heading inside.

[mrworldwideshoulders]

can’t take my eyes off of you || reader x kth

Pairing: reader x KTH Word count: 5.1k Rating: M / R (18+) Genre: one night stand, smut, pinch of fluff Summary: It was supposed to be a girls’ night out. So what are you doing here by yourself, and why has the guy across the bar set his smoldering gaze on you of all people? Inspired by Runaway Baby - Bruno Mars.  Warnings: alcohol consumption, penetrative sex (protected of course), orgasms, big dicc!tae (my god), reader is a blushing mess (and so am I jfc) A/N: this took forever for some reason (even though it was totally supposed to come out sooner T_T) but it’s finally here (and just in time)! first attempt at real smut so this is probably a mess but enjoy anyway >.< as always beta'd and bannered by the amazing april (@onmypillow-onmytable). thx! ly - robyn P.S. I do not own BTS or their likenesses, nor do I own the music of Bruno Mars (lol), they simply inspire me. 

inspo playlist here

part of the doo-wops, hooligans, and unorthodox magic collection (masterlist)

“Should we take this somewhere more…private?” That deep, velvety-smooth voice again, a whisper that brushes lightly against your ear. 

You awaken with a start, eyes roving around, attempting to make sense of your surroundings. That is definitely not the ceiling of your apartment above you. Everything is unfamiliar: everything from the sheets to the art on the walls to the handsome stranger in bed next to you. He’s asleep, a flop of messy hair sweeping over his delicate, almond-shaped eyes. His arms wrap around you, as if he’s hugging a pillow to his chest – as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear. You only have to look at him to remember that it was his voice in your head. Who is he? And how did you get here? Memories of what must have happened last night flood into your brain, though somewhat obscured by the fog that comes with heavy drinking and other bad decisions. 

The bar. You remember getting to the bar. What happened afterwards? You were supposed to meet your best friend Hyejin, but she cancelled on you at the last minute, something about how her younger brother was visiting on surprise leave from the military. "I'm sorry, y/n!" she'd wailed into the phone. "I had no idea Jun was going to pull something like this. I was literally walking out the door when he showed up, and he's only in the city this weekend, so our parents will kill me if I don't take him out to dinner at least once." 

You sigh, only slightly annoyed. "It's fine, Hyejin. He's your brother. I understand." 

"Not that I don't appreciate the thought, but aish, I could just kill him sometimes. Will you be all right by yourself?"

You glance around the bar, which is starting to get noisier as more people fill in. "I'll be fine. I'll probably just have one drink and then go home. Since I’m already here."

Hyejin blows you a raspberry. "Boring! And we were going to get you laid tonight, too. Finally break that dry spell of yours. All because my brother decides he just has to surprise me this weekend."

"Jin!" you hiss, cheeks flaming. You’ve never been the casual hookup-one night stand type, and she knows that. Why is she so hellbent on getting you laid?

"It's true!" she insists. "It’s been months since you’ve gotten any. Y/n, please promise me that you won't just have one drink and go home. Have two drinks. Three, even. Give excitement a chance to unfold. Maybe get yourself something – or someone – special?" You can almost picture her waggling her eyebrows on the other end of the phone. 

You roll your eyes. “I’m hanging up on you.” 

“Okay, okay. Promise you’ll tell me all the gory details at lunch tomorrow?”

“I doubt they will be in any way gory or interesting, but fine. I’m really hanging up on you now, Jin. Have fun with your brother.” 

“Be safe, y/n. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, and don’t forget to use protection!” You can hear the mischievous grin in her voice.

You let out a disgusted groan, and hang up without another word, sighing as you stare down into your nearly empty cosmopolitan. Hyejin is right. It's been what, almost six months since you found your boyfriend in your bed with another woman? You still miss the sheets you’d had to throw out after you kicked him out of your apartment. The whole experience was enough to put you off dating permanently – but you can’t deny you have your own needs. You’re a grown woman, after all, and there’s only so much your vibrator can do for you. You finish off the last of your cocktail and order another, fully intending to leave once it’s gone. There will be other nights, and other men, and you’d much rather do this when Hyejin is around to keep you from embarrassing yourself too much. 

The bartender sets a fresh glass down in front of you. “Compliments of the gentleman over there.” He nods toward the end of the bar, where what may very well be the most attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on is sitting. Dark hair falls in a swoop over one eye, and his shirtsleeves are rolled up to reveal a set of toned forearms. An expensive-looking watch rests on one wrist, completing the full image. He nods at you, winks, and raises his glass of red wine. You raise your own in return. 

First and last time that’ll ever happen, you think to yourself, sipping on your drink. The clamor of the bar builds, and you sit there alone, not quite sure what to do with yourself. You tug at the hemline of your dress: short, spaghetti strapped, uncomfortable, thinking of the sweatpants you’re going to change into immediately upon returning home, the shows from this week that you need to catch up on, and then maybe you’ll fall into bed at a reasonable hour, waking up just early enough to squeeze in a workout and a shower before you have to meet Hyejin for lunch and tell her all of the non-details of your non-adventurous evening. Boring, routine, and comfortable. A glance tells you the man at the end of the bar is still staring at you. You try to ignore him, but his eyes are still laser-focused on you. You shift uncomfortably.

Just who does this guy think he is?

You down the last of your cosmo and vacate your stool, making sure not to wobble in your heels as you march toward him. He watches you approach with what seems to be great interest. "You," you demand, pointing a finger at him. "Why do you keep staring at me?"

He holds your gaze, almost defiantly. He doesn’t even flinch at your accusing finger. "I like looking at pretty things," he says, his mouth quirking up at the corners in a smirk. "Can you blame me?"

You're not sure whether to feel flattered or creeped out, but your mouth speaks for you before you can even think about it. "What, so I'm a thing now?"

"Is that so bad?" he questions. "To be the object of someone's admiration?" His eyes darken as they look you up and down. 

You feel bare. Exposed. Like he's seen something about you that you've never even seen yourself. “What if I don’t want to be an object?” you challenge. ”What then?” 

“Hm. I don’t know,” he says. He seems amused. “I’m sure we could figure something else out.” 

“Who are you, anyway?” you ask, narrowing your eyes. 

"I'm Taehyung." The name rolls off his tongue. "But you can call me Tae. Yours?"

You hesitate. "Buy me another drink and maybe I'll tell you," you say finally. 

Taehyung smiles. Challenge accepted. He motions the bartender over, who looks between both of you questioningly. "You heard her," he says. "Whatever she's having."

You slide onto the barstool next to him, and the bartender sets another cocktail in front of you. "So," you start. "Hasn't anyone ever told you it's rude to stare at people?"

"They have. It's never stopped me before, though." Taehyung takes a sip of his wine. “You still haven’t told me your name, by the way.” 

“Y/n,” you say after a momentary pause, debating whether or not you should give him a fake one. “It’s y/n.” 

“Y/n,” he repeats. Your name sounds different when he says it. “A pleasure.” 

Your cheeks warm, though you’re not sure if it’s the liquor or his gaze. "What brings you out by yourself tonight, then?" you ask. “Surely someone like you has plenty of places he could be on a Friday night, instead of sitting by himself in a bar, staring at unsuspecting women.” Handsome. Seemingly well-rounded. Fairly charming. 

"Hmm,” he muses. “I’m an artist of sorts, but I’m feeling a little…blocked at the moment, so I guess you could say I'm looking for inspiration." 

“You’re an artist?” you say. “I never would have expected that.” A closer glance at his hands reveals a few stray flecks of paint around his nails.

“I get that a lot.” He chuckles. “I guess I don’t really look the part, do I?” The corners of his eyes crinkle with the boxy smile that emerges from his laugh. 

“Well,” you say, resting your chin on your palm. “Mr. Artiste. How’s the search for inspiration going?” 

"Between you and me," he says, turning to you, one elbow leaned against the bar, "I'd say it's looking fairly promising. But…” Taehyung looks you straight in the eyes. “I could ask the same of you. Y/n, what’s a beautiful woman like yourself doing alone at the bar on a night like this?”

“You flatter me.”

“It’s true.” He shrugs. "Anyone can see that you're positively captivating."

Your ex never would have told you anything like that, not in the months before things ended. Your ears tingle. "At least someone thinks so." 

“Why do you say that?” he asks.

“Where do I start?” You stare down into your glass, running a finger around the rim. You shake your head. “Ah, don’t listen to me. I don’t want to bore you with complaining about my asshole ex.” 

“Whoever he is, or was,” says Taehyung, gently turning your head to look at him, “it’s his loss. He has no idea what he’s missing out on.” 

"You just met me five minutes ago," you say. "How could you possibly know that?"

"Well," he says, the corner of his mouth twitching, "I get the feeling I'm about to find out."

Oh my god. Oh. My. God. You take a deep breath in an attempt to keep yourself from panicking. What did you do last night? What are you supposed to do now? Your memories are still blurry, but one thing is for certain: you’ve got to get out of here before he notices you’re gone. Hoping he doesn’t wake up, you extricate yourself gingerly from his grip and edge gently to the side of the bed, holding one of the blankets to your chest while you scan the floor for your clothes. As you’re about to stand up, a hand suddenly locks around your wrist in a firm grasp. You look over your shoulder. Taehyung’s eyes are open now, his gaze fixed on you. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he demands. His voice stops you in your tracks. Even half-asleep he sounds like the type of person who’s used to getting what he wants. "Did you think I wouldn't notice you trying to disappear on me?"

“I was just…” You clear your throat. Your cheeks burn. What exactly are you planning on telling him? Leaving? Looking for the bathroom? Going on a coffee run and never coming back? You can’t make yourself finish the sentence. It's as if his gaze has caused your brain to short-circuit.

Taehyung sits up, the bedsheet draped tantalizingly low across his hips, the firm planes of his lower abdomen taking your mind somewhere it shouldn’t. “Don’t tell me you’re getting shy on me now.” He dips his head at the blanket covering your breasts. “Especially not after everything you begged me to do to you last night.” He smirks.

Your face flames even hotter. “Um – I…I don’t —” 

“You don’t remember?” he says. “Hm. And what should we do about that?” An arm wraps around your waist, pulling you back toward him. “Should I give you a refresher?” he whispers into your ear. “I’m ready whenever.” 

“I can tell,” you say breathlessly. You can feel him pressing against you – every inch of him. 

Taehyung kisses you, just behind your ear, letting his teeth graze the outside of it, planting a trail of blooming kisses down your neck and across your shoulder. “Anything?” His voice is low and dark, filled with lust. “Or should I continue?” 

“It’s coming back to me,” you exhale. Don’t stop. Please.

The brick wall outside scrapes against your shoulder blades, the cold night air making you shiver slightly. His lips are on yours, on your neck, trailing down across your bare collarbone, each one burning more than the next until you’re completely aflame. The front of his shirt is clenched in your fists, the only thing keeping you from sliding down to the pavement. But he pulls away, and you let out a frustrated huff. A crowd of people leaving the bar walks past, chattering loudly, and Taehyung’s hand is suddenly on the wall next to your head, his arm out to shield you from anyone’s view. He’s biting his lower lip, dark eyes glinting. “You have no idea how much I want to just take you right here, right up against this wall.”

“So do it then,” you breathe. "Take me. Fuck me right here in this alley.” You don’t know what you’re saying. All you know is that you want his hands back on you, right now, so you guide them toward your waist. 

“So eager.” He smiles. “But not here. I want to be the only one who hears you scream tonight.” Taehyung’s voice lowers to a whisper as he leans in. “Should we take this somewhere more…private?” He tilts your chin up to look him in the eye. “Last chance to say no.” 

“Is there a reason I should?” You look up at him through your lashes. 

“Not in my opinion.” Taehyung smirks. “So what’s it going to be?”

You're barely inside the door of his apartment before his hands are on you again, fumbling for the zipper of your dress, eventually giving up and yanking the whole thing over your head. "Hey, be careful," you giggle between kisses, working at unbuttoning his shirt. "That dress was expensive."

"I'll buy you a new one," he says, flinging it away so you don't see where it lands, nimble fingers moving to unhook your bra, an uncomfortable strapless push-up you only ever wear to make your tits look good. “I’ll buy you ten new ones." He tosses the bra over his shoulder as well. "God, you’re so fucking beautiful.” He hoists you up, palming your ass with those massive hands of his, letting your legs wrap around his waist. You buck against him, needing the friction to lessen the ache between your legs. “Fuck, y/n,” he growls. “I can’t control myself around you.” 

“I don’t care,” you say, gasping as he presses you up against the wall. “I don’t fucking care.” You’re moving again, down a hall to another room. The bedroom. 

Taehyung tosses you down roughly on the bed. He looms over you, his eyes nearly black with desire. “Stunning,” he says. “Absolutely stunning. Now that I’ve got you all to myself…I might never let you go. I’m going to ruin you, y/n.” He snaps the waistband of your underwear. “Are you all right with that?” 

“Why are you still talking?” You pull him down toward you and kiss him, pushing the unbuttoned shirt all the way off his shoulders. “Go ahead and do it already. Ruin me. I’m all yours.” 

"That's right," he says, dropping another kiss on your lips. "You're all mine, baby. Just for me.” His lips trail down, a waterfall of kisses running through the valley between your breasts, down your stomach, stopping just above your hips, where he deftly slides off your underwear and tosses them aside. “Are you ready?”

You nod wordlessly. “I’m ready.”

“Good.” He’s gorgeous, standing there in the moonlight. He leans over you, reaching for something in the bedside table, enveloping you in his scent: sandalwood and bergamot, hints of pine. You hear the crinkle of a condom wrapper. 

“Wait.” You stop him before he can put it on. “Let me. Please, Tae. I want to.”

“You want to touch me?” Taehyung smirks. “Even better.” He hands you the unwrapped condom. “I’ll let you do the honors.” 

You draw in a breath and roll the condom up his cock: thick, heavy, already wet with precum. It’s bigger than you imagined, especially in your hands – in fact, massive might be a better word for it.

He groans as you move slowly up the shaft. “Y/n…” 

“What?” you tease. “Something wrong?”

“It’s not every day I have your pretty little hands wrapped around my cock.” He grins. “I’m just enjoying the ride.” 

"Oh, these hands?" you ask innocently, running a finger down his length.

"Fuck," he exhales. He leans down, bringing his face inches away from yours. “You trying to kill me?” God, this man knows how to use his mouth. And his fingers. He traces one long index finger down your drenched center, teasing at your entrance. “So wet for me already,” Taehyung marvels. “It won’t be long now.” 

“Tae…” you whine, biting your lower lip.

“Say please.” 

You inhale sharply. “Please.” 

“Good girl.” He slips another finger inside you, circling your clit. It’s so swollen and sensitive he barely has to touch it before you let out a soft moan. "Talk to me, sweetheart. Tell me what you need." 

"I need you," you gasp. "Need you inside me. Right now."

Taehyung gently touches your face. “Not yet, baby,” he coaxes. “Wait for me. Just a little while longer.” He settles himself between your legs, the tip of his cock pressing against your core. You close your eyes, sucking in your bottom lip, gasping slightly as he slips inside, feeling yourself stretching to accommodate him, shifting your pelvis to take on even more. You feel full. Warm. Good. It feels good. 

“Fuck,” you breathe. He’s huge. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. “Can I move?” 

You nod earnestly. “Move, Tae. For the love of god, fucking move.” 

He rocks into you, slowly at first, then faster. “God, you feel amazing. How is it possible that you’re so amazing?” 

“Show me,” you demand. “Show me how good I make you feel.” 

“Whatever you want, baby. I’ll give it to you.”

“Harder,” you pant. “I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t see straight. I want to see stars. Constellations. The whole damn solar system.”

“Happy to oblige.” Taehyung smiles. His thrusts intensify, leaving you teetering on the edge, fists clenching the sheets underneath you. You cry out, the pressure of your impending orgasm nearly too much to bear. He touches your cheek. “Wait for me,” he commands. “Almost there. Almost.” 

“I can’t,” you whimper. “I’m going to –” 

He silences you by touching a finger to your lips. “Shh,” he whispers.

That moment seems to last forever, building, building – until finally, the dam bursts. Pure, white hot adrenaline, the passion, the desire, all setting off fireworks behind your eyes. Your nails dig into his back as you hang on, seemingly for dear life. He comes undone with a groan, spilling himself inside of you as the force of your climax hits you like a tidal wave. 

He collapses onto the mattress, panting slightly, and presses a kiss to the side of your forehead. “Fuck. That was…”

“Really something,” you finish. Your heart is still racing. 

“You could say that.” Taehyung chuckles. 

“I haven’t come that hard since…ever.” 

“Never?” He turns his head to look at you, one eyebrow raised. 

You think back. “Maybe once. But it’s been a really long time.” 

“So definitely better than your ex?” he teases. “I’ll take it.” 

“That’s it? You’re easily satisfied.” 

His arm snakes around your waist, pulling you toward him. “No. I’m not. Not usually. So you’d better be careful or…”

“Or what?” 

Taehyung smiles, eyes closed, almost half asleep already. “Hmm.” He hums gently. “I just might fall in love with you.” 

“So,” he says, his low voice bringing you back to the present. “Where were you running off to in such a hurry just now?” 

“Uh…” What was it you were about to do? You were looking for something. Clothes. You were looking for your clothes. “My dress. I need my dress.”

“Oh, that,” Taehyung says dismissively. “I think we left it somewhere near the kitchen. Along with, well…” He peers around at your face, grinning. “Everything else.” He’s still pressed up against you. 

Your senses come rushing back, and you pull away. “Look,” you babble. “I don’t normally do this kind of thing, and last night was…great, but —”

“I’d like to think it was more than just great,” he shrugs. “Phenomenal. Earth-shattering. Damn near amazing. But call it what you like.” 

“I’ve really got to go,” you blurt. “I have an…engagement.” Lunch. With Hyejin. Right. What time is it, anyway? 

“Ah.” If he’s disappointed, he doesn’t show it. “Of course. Don’t let me stop you.” Taehyung cocks an eyebrow wolfishly. “Unless you’d like me to.”  

"Uh, no. That’s all right." How does he do that? How does he know how to fluster you with a single look? You keep the blanket wrapped around you while you pad into the kitchen, where you find your dress in a mound on the floor. Wrinkled. Of course. You sigh and pick it up. The daylight allows you a better look at the rest of his apartment, one that you didn't get the night before. The front room is high-ceilinged, exposed brick and tall windows overlooking the street below. Your eyes linger on the canvases leaned up against one wall, the easel with the cloth-covered painting on top of it. Or you would assume there's a painting under there; you can't exactly see it, but it would only make sense. "So he is actually an artist," you say to yourself. 

"Of course I am," he says, appearing behind you out of nowhere. "Not exactly the kind of thing I’d lie about." 

You whip around to find him standing there, clad only in boxers and an amused expression. "I don't know. You could have just told me that to make yourself seem more interesting. You wouldn't be the first guy to do it. Women love a man with depth."

"So did it work, then?" He presses his lips together, obviously trying to hide a smile. "Do you think I'm interesting?" 

"Hm." You smile and look down. "Not sure yet. I'll let you know." 

"Please. By all means."

You seem to remember there was something else you were supposed to be doing. "Uh…bathroom?"

"Down there." He points you back in the direction of the bedroom. 

"Thanks." You gather up your things into a pile and shut the door after you, letting out a breath as you lean against it. You dress quickly and fix your hair as much as you can with the comb you keep in your purse, splash some water on your flushed cheeks, then head back into the kitchen. He’s there at the island, scribbling something on a piece of paper. “What’s that?” you say as you approach, still fiddling with the back zipper on your dress that seems to have jammed itself on its way off last night. 

“My number. I realized I didn’t give it to you last night.” He smirks, pushing it toward you. “Just in case you need me.” 

God, he's cocky. You'd be lying if you said you weren't a little into it. “Who says I'll need you?” That’s what you say – but you tuck it into your bag anyway. 

“If you change your mind. Here, let me.” Taehyung gets the zipper unstuck and finishes zipping up the back of your dress. He presses a final kiss lightly against the shell of your ear. “You should go. You have your engagement, don’t you? Wouldn’t want you to be late.” 

"Are you rushing me out?" you say, glancing over your shoulder.

"Oh, you can stay as long as you like," he says. “Just trying to be considerate of your time.” 

"I appreciate that." Suddenly you don't want to go. You’d rather stay here, in bed, in his arms. But that’s not what that is. You don’t know what this is, but you know it’s not how this kind of thing works. You pick up your shoes and walk toward the door. He follows closely behind you. You hesitate, turning back toward him. “I guess this is it, then?” you say. 

“I suppose it is,” he says. 

“Well…thanks,” you say, unsure what to say next. “I had a good time.” You recall the stiff, sore feeling between your legs and sigh internally. You’re going to be feeling this for the next day or two – but regret doesn’t even begin to cross your mind. 

“Until the next one?” He’s still smirking. 

Next time? “Who says there’s going to be a next time?” You cross your arms and look up at him. 

“Just wishful thinking. I would like to see you again, but we can discuss that when the time comes.” He smiles down at you. “Enjoy the rest of your weekend, y/n.” 

Wishful thinking indeed.

You hurry home with just enough time to take a quick shower before you have to go and meet Hyejin for lunch. Your mind wanders to Taehyung several times while you’re waiting at the restaurant: the way his hair fell across his eyes, that squinting, boxy smile of his, his hands, exploring every inch of your body. The way it felt when he—

“Y/n? Y/n, hello? Are you there?” Hyejin is looking at you pointedly. 

You jump. “Yeah. Sorry. My brain stopped working for a minute. Were you saying something?” 

“What happened last night?" Her eyes narrow. "Please tell me you didn’t just have two drinks and go home. Did something happen?” Hyejin raises an eyebrow. 

You consider telling her about Taehyung, but you’re not sure if you could do him justice. “Nothing happened, Jin. And that’s exactly what I did. Two drinks, went home, fell asleep watching Bridgerton.” You redirect your focus to your lunch, the smell of which makes you a touch nauseous.

She crosses her arms and stares you down. “I don’t believe you. You definitely had more than two drinks. You’ve got that look in your eyes that you get when you’re hungover. I’d know it anywhere.” She squints at your right shoulder, right in the crook of your neck and gasps. “Y/n! Is that a hickey?” 

You nearly choke on your water. Shit. How could you have not noticed that? You tug at the neck of your sweater. “Not so loud! I don’t need the entire restaurant knowing I have a hickey! Which I don’t. Because it’s not a hickey. It’s, um—”

“Oh my god, it is! It totally is. Y/n! You got some, didn’t you?” 

“No comment.” Your face burns red hot. 

“Okay, well, based on the fact that you don’t want to tell me, your best friend, about it, it was probably either really good or really bad. And judging by the way you’re blushing…” She leans her chin on one fist. “I’m going to guess that it was really good.” 

"Stop it. You're the worst. The absolute worst." There might as well be steam coming off your face. You lower your voice. "Yes. It was really good. He was hot, thorough, and not clingy at all. The consummate hookup. Are you happy now?" 

"Overjoyed." Hyejin looks far too pleased with herself. "Does this guy have a name?”

“Taehyung.”

“Taehyung,” she repeats. “So. Are you going to see him again?"

You think about his number written on the scrap of paper currently sitting in the change pocket of your purse. In case you need me. "I don't know. Probably not. I mean, that's how one-night stands work, isn't it? Kinda defeats the purpose of the whole ‘one-night’ thing if you see them more than once." 

Hyejin shrugs. "They can. There's no rule that says they have to. You said he's hot. Would you want to see him again?" 

"Well…maybe?” You think about it. The man hasn’t left your mind since you left his apartment. “If the opportunity presented itself? He did give me his number. And he did say he wanted to see me again."

She sighs. "Y/n, I love you. But you might be the dumbest person in the world when it comes to this kind of thing."

"What?" you demand. "What is that supposed to mean? He was probably just being flirty. I doubt he really wants to see me again." 

"Of course he was being flirty. He wants to see you again. He made it a point to give you his number, y/n. Opportunity is literally pounding on your door. Are you just going to let the best sex of your life slip past you when you could seize the day and do something you’ve never done before?” Hyejin leans in. “Look. I know what you’re going to say. You’re not looking for anything serious right now, and I totally get it after what that piece of shit did to you. But why not have a good old-fashioned no strings attached fling? You deserve it. You’re practically a saint for putting up with that asshole for so long. And if this guy isn’t on the same page, then you cut your losses and move on. Simple as that.” 

“Simple as that, huh?” You cross your arms and stare pensively at the table. 

“Honestly.” She shrugs. “If you don’t text him, I will.” 

“Jin, you’re engaged.” 

“Yeah, but I’m not dead, am I?”

You: Hi. It's y/n. You: From last weekend? You: This is Taehyung, right? Taehyung: It is. Taehyung: I was wondering when I’d hear from you. You: And I was wondering when I could see you again. Taehyung: That depends. You: On what? Taehyung: How bad you want to see me.

You rap three times and wait, the silence in the hallway almost unbearable. For a moment you think you’ve made a mistake coming back over here, but then the door swings open, and there he is. Barefooted, in shorts and a baggy, paint-stained t-shirt. A far cry from the way he looked when you met him last weekend, but at this moment you don’t think you’ve ever found anyone more attractive.

He looks you up and down, a satisfied smirk creeping across his mouth. “So you came.”

“Yeah. I did.” Your heart is pounding. “This is probably a bad idea.”

“Uh-huh.” Taehyung nods, leaning against the frame of his front door. His crossed arms draw attention to his rolled-up sleeves, accentuating his biceps. 

“A really bad idea.” Your nails are digging into the palms of your hands. 

“So you’ve established.” He tilts his head to one side. “Still time to leave. Although I won’t say I’m willing to forget it ever happened.” 

You shake your head. You’ve already spent way too much time thinking about this. “No. I want this.” 

“Good, because I do too.” He holds out a hand. “Are you going to come in, then?” 

You put your hand in his, and he immediately tugs you toward him, until you’re mere inches away from each other. His touch is magnetic. Like perfect polar opposites. “Yeah,” you breathe, inhaling his scent. Sandalwood, bergamot, and pine. “I’m coming in.” 

©2022 by @mrworldwideshoulders​

[jeonzaxs]

no reason ⋟ kth

SUMMARY; three things you hate about kim taehyung.

pairing; kim taehyung x reader

genre; enemies to lovers

warnings; just banter and slight sexual tension. cursing. oc is grumpy and ceo tae is a menace, lower case intended

word count; 400+

notes; ahhh this is my first ever fic that ive published. @jeonqkooks forced me to do it. and this is a repost from my old account!! feedback and reblogs mean so much to me, please dont be shy to. enjoy <3

this is the fifth time in this week you're seeing his drink on your table, you seriously do not understand what he wants with you, the first thing you hate about taehyung is how unserious he is, and now you've had enough because there is no way his new secretary has been misplacing his drinks five times in a row.

“fuck him” you mutter as you stand up, grab his stupid latte and head to his office with an annoyed face, dashing to his room without knocking but to only find an empty room.

you place his drink on his table, the urge to pour it on his stupidly handsome face is strong but he's nowhere to be seen. as you turn around to leave, that deep voice of his echoes “waiting for me?”

and the second thing you hate about taehyung? his voice, you hate how it always gets a reaction out of you.

with a sour look on your face you basically shout at him “why the fuck is your drink always on my table? and no do not give me that excuse” your raise a finger up to his face stopping him from blaming his secretary.

“no reason” taehyung answers, a taunting smirk playing over his lips. two long strides and now he's close enough to you that you can feel the warmth of his breath. taking a step back, cautiously, your back hits his desk and you do all your best not to look at his lips as your eyes meet his.

“youre so fucking childish” you whisper, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. contrary to your anger, he seems too calm, his eyes skimming over your face.

“am i now? i’m not the one complaining first thing in the morning, baby” he replies, head tilting. taehyung loves this so much, he loves how you react to each word of his, you're an open book and it makes things so much easier for him. 

There is barely space between your bodies and if anybody outside the room was seeing this right now, it wouldn't end well. You place a hand over his broad chest pushing him away, finally having space to breath as you turn back to look at him “one more time i see your drink on my table i will not be hesitating to pour it over you and i'm sure your white shirt would love that” to that taehyung can only nod in a mocking way as you exit his room.

and the third thing you hate about taehyung? you sleep with him way too often.

all rights reserved © jeonzaxs. reposting, translating and modifying is not permitted.

[kiestrokes]

How BTS Would React to You Coming Home Drunk (and Horny) from a Night Out with Friends | NSFW

Pairing: BTS x Reader/You/Yn (some gendered + some non-gendered) Rating: NSFW! Mature (18+) Minors DNI. Word Count: 691ish Genre: scenario/imagine, smut, sprinklings or crack/fluff, established relationships. Warnings: mentions of drinking (consensual drunken behavior between partners), reader is wearing a dress because ease of access.

Sexually Explicit Content: penetration (penis is whatever you want to imagine: vagina/ass), cunnilingus, fellatio, nipple play, cockwarming, kissing/making out, overstiumulation, cuddling. Let me know if I missed anything!

🗝️ Note: I’ll format this tomorrow. But in tradition of when this imagine was made, that’s a sober Kie problem. A repost from @/goodsoop. Edited 8/20/23 to include warnings!

Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction; I do not own any of the idols depicted here. 

KSJ: would be mildly "unapproving" of your loose behavior but would fix himself a double and quickly get on your level. Until you both were drunk, loudly playing video games on the couch of the game room. This of course escalates into you attempting to cheat by climbing into his lap. You end up getting distracted by his beautiful lips and it turns into a sloppy, laughter filled fuck on the sectional. Jin boasts that he, of course, won. In the game and in getting you off.

MYG: was asleep when you drunkenly climbed into bed, laying on top of him Jung-Hoseok-spread-eagle style. Grumbles about the fact you’re going to have a hangover tomorrow. Slips out from under you and begins to remove your clothes. Batting away your wandering hands that are attempting to climb under his shirt. He leaves you passed out on top of the covers to get water and pain reliever. Returning to your sad attempt at getting yourself off. Huffs at you to let him do it, because he secretly loves how pliable and vocal you are when he gives you head this way.

JHS: is also in bed, you strip down to your panties and climb under the covers with him. He sleepily pulls you back into him, large hands drifting down your bare body. You have no trouble rousing Hoseok for drunken foreplay, he’s already hard. But he just wants a little cock warming tonight. To feel you clench around him as he plucks your nipples between nimble fingers and drifts off into the wettest dream of his life.

KNJ: was up late reading, stands up to greet you, reading glasses still on. Catches your mouth just as you tug his face to yours. The two of you clumsily fumbling with each other across the living room. He curses as he accidentally drops you onto the coffee table. But you’re unharmed and laughing, hands already reaching to tug down his sweats. Giving him a thoroughly dedicated blow job. Until he coats your throat and is moaning at you to stop.

PJM: is waiting for you in the bedroom, watching a new drama. Waiting in his boxers for the return of handsy and affectionate you. This is the only time that you’re almost as touchy with him as he is you. You don’t even take your dress off, just drop your panties at the bedroom door. Climbing onto Jimin’s lap to kiss the lips you had been thinking about since your second drink. It’s slow and intense sex that has you both crying out from overstimulation.

KTH: is mopey of course that he couldn’t go with you and the "girls". Has a bit of a wine buzz and is dancing around the kitchen to some Leon Bridges. You slip into his waltz and Tae serenades you, spinning you around the island. Until you’re pulled into a mutual kiss like two magnets, charged by the music and alcohol pulsing through your veins. He pins you against the island with his husky, low groans. Fingers slipping under the hem of your dress, and under your panties until his fingers are coated in your essence. He swallows your cries of pleasure, murmuring quiet pleas against your lips, begging for you to take him out next time.

JJK: he of course is gaming when you get home. So you slip past him, dropping your clothes along the way to catch his attention. He grumbles to his teammates in frustration, excusing himself from the game. Running to catch up with you just as you make it to the bedroom door, nude as fuck. You squeal as he spins you around and peppers wet, open mouth, kisses from your neck to the top of your knees. Before folding you across the edge of the bed, ass bare to him. Making quick, erratic work of your orgasms. Before collapsing on top of you, his t-shirt collecting the sweat that had accumulated on your back. He abandons the game to climb into bed with you, cuddling naked.

© COPYRIGHT 2023 by kiestrokes All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be reproduced without written permission from the author. This includes translations.