#kth scenarios

[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!!! 💜 🥳 🎂

[ivygguk]

kim taehyung fic recs!!!

my favs<3

One-shots:-

Lover's Revenge - @kooktrash

summary:- you dated Taehyung before he made it big, so it was easy to assume he’d forgotten all about you. but for the past two years you’ve been his muse even after your split. a forbidden love that never faded.

All you want - @kooktrash

summary:- in the world of high society finding your future partner took a lot of preparation. kim taehyung is one of the most sought out bachelors and he’s been roped on a blind date with Y/n, a spoiled rich girl not used to being told no. what happens when the two clash?

Heatwave - @curly-bangtan

Summary: When your town is hit with a heatwave, and the air conditioning at your shared place coincidentally malfunctions, you start to go a little crazy at your shit luck because there’s nothing you hate more than clammy pits, while Taehyung goes a little crazy thinking you’re trying to seduce him with your tiny shorts and popsicle-sucking skills.

Loverboy - @kookslastbutton

Summary: 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 things take time (supernatural au) - @laughing-with-god

Summary: There's something wrong with your boyfriend Taehyung. At least, you think it's him.

Electra heart - @kooktrash

summary:- just dumped by his cheating ex girlfriend, taehyung seeks help from the campus primadonna to make his ex jealous. y/n is spoiled, mean and filthy rich—everything his ex loathed. what happens when the two form a pretend relationship that leaves their hearts in great turmoil?

[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]

join tag list for future works | masterlist of all works previous | next drabble

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 become a member on my ko-fi page! or buy me a coffee 💞

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

[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

[studio-multi]

Dialogue #2

Setting: Kim Taehyung has a demon inside him that feeds on sexual pleasure, when he and the OC/Reader finally have sex, he loses control of himself, and the demon takes over pulling too much energy from them. They wake up later to his worried hovering.

-

"What are you? Some kind of sexual dementor?" OC/R laughs dryly when he gives them a chocolate bar to get their blood sugar back up.

Taehyung tilts his head, "I don't understand that reference."

OC/R sighs, "Harry Potter will be added to our watch list. We will have to pirate it though; we can’t fund that transphobes lifestyle."

[illneverrecover]

static voice pt 2 | kth (M)

➛pairing: Demon Taehyung x Fallen Angel Reader (ft. bff Angel Jin) ➛summary: It's been weeks since his healing, and yet you still have a lingering demon house guest - something your best friend isn't going to let you ignore. However, with more time that passes, you realize... do you even want him to leave? ➛genre: Angel/Demon!AU, fluff, humor, eventual smut ➛word count: 3741 ➛rating: 18+ for this installment, please check each part for rating as there will be smut ➛warnings: cursing, some quick descriptions of violence, some heavy petting. ➛notes: Demon Taehyung demanded a full story line, and here we are. Shout out to static voice anon who started this whole thing by sending a simple ask -- you have no idea how much your encouragement means! And as always, sending love to @allbutmemorywillfade who sent in the original prompt which lead to the creation of these sweet dinguses, and who has been nothing but supportive & kind. You're too good to me 🖤 This is rough edited and unbeta'd bc I have no patience whatsoever. ➛song: Mine - Sleep Token & I Can See You - Taylor Swift ➛tagging: @jimins-ass-eater, @quinnkoo, @thatlongspringnight​

It’s Sunday morning, and there is currently a demon folding laundry on your bed.

Everything about that sentence should be blasphemous, and yet, it’s become normal. Well, normal for you. Certainly not normal for any other Fallen you’ve ever known. 

Taehyung’s brow furrows as he concentrates, sorting the mass of clothes first into piles before making way to fold each piece. His hands are precise, fingers lining up each seam as he works, eyes only leaving his work to dart towards the TV playing something in the background. He liked having something on for noise, he had explained, and who were you to question someone willing to fold your clothes?

Jin would say that your use of that argument is what led to having a demon for a roommate in the first place, which is exactly why you keep these kinds of thoughts to yourself - you didn’t ask for that kind of negativity. 

Not that there was any downside that you could see. Sure, you hadn’t asked Taehyung what his plan was yet, but you also hadn’t needed to. He was the epitome of a perfect house guest, slotting into your life easily and effortlessly. He was considerate, always offering to assist with any healings that he could; from triaging those who showed up at the door, to talking with them softly while you worked, easing their anxieties with a few kind words. And in those difficult sessions where there was nothing for him to do, he offered what he could - his presence, his reassurance.

It made you feel safe, knowing that he was on your side, no matter what you opened your door to. 

“Does this need a hanger, or am I supposed to fold this?” 

Taehyung holds the garment pinched between his fingers, eyes peering up to meet yours. It’s a black silky dress, mostly held together with string and a prayer, and you know for a fact it was something you hadn’t worn recently - let alone put in the wash. 

Heat creeps up your neck, and you fight the embarrassing urge to rip the fabric out of his hands and throw it out the window. The demon blinks at you with wide blue eyes, and you wonder not for the first time if he’s fucking with you. 

The other thing about Taehyung is that he’s impossible to read. His ability to go from the aloof affectionate demon who cuddles with your cat to the flirty winky man who drops innuendos in your kitchen leaves your head spinning. Worst of all - at least, to you - is that nothing has happened since that night at your place four weeks ago. Other than a few lingering glances that leave you questioning, Taehyung has made no more comments about his desires, which you try not to think about. Even if it’s driving you crazy. 

“That needs a hanger - though I have no idea how that ended up with the laundry, I haven’t worn it in ages.”

It was something you had purchased on a spontaneous whim, back when you had first become Fallen. It had made you feel sexy, powerful; and you had nowhere to wear it, so it had lived its life mostly stuffed in the back of your closet. 

“Oh, I put it there,” Taehyung says, nonchalantly, as if he’s discussing the weather. “I was going through your closet to see if there were some things you could donate to that shifter that you healed two nights ago and found it crumpled on the floor. It was too beautiful to leave in that condition.”

Fighting the urge to sigh, you instead fix him with a glare. 

“Oh? So you were aware it needed a hanger,” you grumble, though there’s no heat in your tone. “And what am I supposed to do with it now? It’s not very practical to wear for healing,” scoffing, you nod towards the dress. 

“I disagree,” Taehyung sniffs, placing the garment on the hanger before laying it down on the bed delicately, smoothing it over with a palm. “I think the sight of you in that dress could be healing in more ways than you could imagine.” 

Suddenly, the air in the room was stifling and you forget how words work, instead just blankly staring at the demon on your bed. He looks up at you, the slightest hint of a smirk pulling at his lips, and before you can formulate a response, a loud sound interrupts from the other room. 

“HEY! Lucky, you asshole, I’m trying to walk!” Jin yells, clearly fighting a battle with the cat in the foyer of the apartment. “Where is everyone, anyway?”

“In here!” you call out, moving to grab the dress off the bed and put it in the closet before the angel sees. You’re not sure why you feel the need to hide it from him, but the last thing you need is him doing something to embarrass you - especially after Taehyung managed to fluster you so thoroughly. 

Jin bumps the door open with his hip, his arms full of plastic bags, various groceries sticking out of each. “These are the groceries I owe you after eating all your last ones,” he announces, eyes scanning the scene he’s walked into. “I want it to be known for the record.”

“Hi, Jin!” your demon roommate greets, moving to stand. “Want me to put these away for you? I was just finishing up laundry.”

Jin’s gaze slides over to you, and you do your best to ignore the pointed question he was daggering into your skull, instead answering for him. “That would be great, Tae. Thank you.”

“Yes, thank you, Tae,” Jin echos, sliding the bags easily into the blonde’s arms. “We’ll  meet you out there in a second.” 

You’re about to mouth off about how Jin isn’t your father and he doesn’t get to order anyone around, least of all you- but Taehyung is already acquiescing, leaving the bedroom with the soft click of the door.

“So, he folds your laundry for you now, too? What’s next, he gets your dry cleaning? On Wednesdays, are you going to drink wine and do face masks?”

Tsking, you cross your arms. “Don’t be ridiculous, Jin. We both know I don’t have dry cleaning, and face masks are part of Smut and Skincare Sundays.”

This time, the angel doesn’t hide his annoyance in his glare.

“Come on, you know what I mean. I get why you haven’t kicked him out, but…” he sighs, plopping himself on the edge of your mattress. “What are you doing? What is he doing? What’s the end goal here?”

It’s what you’ve been asking yourself these last few weeks, and yet you’re no closer to coming to answer now than you were before. All you know is that you enjoy having him around, and something about the unreadable lanky demon being nearby gives you a sense of peace you haven’t felt since before becoming a Fallen. A feeling of comfort, of safety - and you’re terrified of losing it. 

“I don’t know, Jin. I just know that I don’t mind having him around,” you avoid his eyes, instead rounding the bed to finish putting away the clothes. “It’s nice having help with the healings, especially with the late night calls. You know I don’t like being alone here.”

You leave the other piece unsaid - that you don’t like being alone, at all. That Taehyung’s warm, infectious laughter and mischievous charm added light back into your once dark, monotonous days. That it felt like he belonged there - but that you have no idea how he feels, at all. 

The silence is heavy, as if Jin could read your mind, but if he does he doesn’t say anything, instead letting loose a breath. “Yeah, I know. I get it. I’m not trying to be a hard ass or anything, but I am trying to look out for you.” 

“I know.”

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt,”

“I know that, too.”

“At least promise me you’ll talk to him about what his plans are? If he intends on staying here indefinitely, or…” Jin pauses then, as if he doesn’t want to even go down the route. “Whatever. But promise me you’ll discuss it?”

He reaches out then, stopping you in your tracks until you meet his eyes. There’s no longer any annoyance there, just genuine concern, but for some reason that doesn’t make you feel any more at ease. 

“Yes, Dad,” you tease, shaking your hand free with a grin. “I promise I’ll talk to him. But it’s certainly not going to be in front of you, so it’ll have to wait for tonight.” 

“Fair enough,” Jin moves to stand, reaching for your door. “Just make it soon, okay?”

He closes the door behind him, and you hear his voice joining Taehyung’s in the kitchen, giving you a moment to collect your thoughts. Why are you so scared to talk to Taehyung? It has nothing to do with his status as a demon, something you barely noticed outside of his beauty; you could tell he was a genuine being, regardless of his beginnings. And he’s easy enough to talk to, has been nothing but a perfect gentleman of a roommate. 

It’s easy to tell yourself that it’s because it’ll be an awkward conversation, one that has the potential to make him feel awkward as well, something that you don’t want in the least. But if you’re honest - truly, deeply honest - it’s because you’re scared that he will leave, and you’re not sure that you want that at all, anymore. 

Actually, you know you don’t want that anymore.

The answer seems simple enough, then - have the discussion, ask him to stay. 

But why does the thought of asking him make you feel like you’re swallowing glass?

“You better come out here if you want to help pick dinner!” Jin yells, and shakes you from your thoughts. 

Joining them in the kitchen, you see they made quick work of putting away the groceries, leaving the counters clear with the exception of a few paper take-out menus. 

“Grocery shopping exhausts me,” Jin explains, nodding towards the array of menus. “It’s my treat, just let me know what sounds good and I’ll go pick it up. I promised Tae I’d stay for a movie.” 

After settling on a local Thai place, Jin calls in the order before heading out, demanding that you both are on movie selection duty in his absence. 

Plopping yourself onto the couch, Taehyung joins you, sitting side by side so close that your thighs are pressed together. Ignoring the building heat his proximity brings, you quickly grab the remote, scrolling through various streaming options trying to settle on something that you’d all like. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Taehyung interrupts, voice low.

“Of course.”

“Do you ever wonder what life would be like if things were different?”

Tearing your eyes from the TV, you focus on his ethereal face illuminated in the flickering light of the screen, on the intensity in his eyes. He looks distant; his gaze still bright, but more serious than usual, more lost. 

“What do you mean, Tae?”

He sighs, a mixture of resignation and something more. “I mean, what if I wasn’t a demon? What if I hadn’t been injured, or it had happened in another district with a different healer? What if you hadn’t Fallen? Would our paths still have crossed?”

His eyes are a bright cerulean blaze, more solemn than you’ve ever seen him before, and it has you frozen in place. It feels like he’s asking you something much bigger, much more vulnerable than he’s letting on, and it makes your throat tighten. 

Meeting his stare, you reach for him, taking one of his hands into your own. “I believe that some connections are meant to happen, regardless of the circumstances,” you reply, hoping he could hear the sincerity in your tone. “We could have made different decisions, but ultimately, our souls found each other and brought us together.” 

It’s then you realize just how close you are, how close his face is to your own, how his body is pressed up against every inch of your side. The intimacy of your words and your bodies has you feeling exposed, and yet you can’t seem to pull away. 

Taehyung’s gaze meets yours, his eyes shimmering with emotion. “You really think that? That some connections are destined?”

“Of course I do,” you nod, and his answering smile is almost blinding. Sliding his hand away from yours, he instead launches into a hug, pulling you to his chest. 

“Thank you for saying that. You really have a way with words, you know,” Taehyung murmurs, nuzzling his face into your neck. “You have no idea how much peace your presence brings me, Angel. It’s something that I thought I’d lost forever.” 

His words have your heart squeezing painfully in your chest, your tongue thick with the things you want to say. You’re even more affirmed in your decision to ask him to stay, pulling out of his embrace to do just that, when a loud knock at the door startles you both. 

“Hello? Is this where the Fallen healer lives?” a male voice calls out, one you don’t recognize. “Please, I just need some healing - are you home? Hello?”

Moving to open the door, you wait until you hear Taehyung follow in step behind you before answering. Leaving the chain lock in place, you open the door enough to peer into the hall. “Yes, how can I help?” 

A demon stands there – the tiny horns barely visible in his dark hair – black like his wrinkled suit. He was dressed like he either just left some sleazy bar or was on the way to one, though based on the stale whisky scent emanating from him, you’d guess both. 

He gives a low whistle, eyeing you up and down in a way that makes your skin crawl. “Damn, they didn’t mention how pretty you are, just that you were the closest healer. If I wasn’t so hungover, I might try to shoot my shot, but at the present, I-” 

“Nevermind, I’m not home,” you deadpan, moving to close the door, when the demon's foot stops it from shutting completely. 

“Please, wait! I’m sorry, you’re right, that was rude of me–” he starts frantically, clearly not wanting you to leave. “Listen, I’m just really, painfully hungover, and I have a big meeting I have to get to with some guys that I do not want to piss off and I was hoping you could help me out a bit. I just need a little healing, and then I’ll be out of your hair.” His hands wring together, and you notice how much his teeth are working his bottom lip, the tinges of his fear evident despite his bravado.

Glaring at him, you sigh heavily before peering over your shoulder to lock eyes with Taehyung. If all he needed was a little hangover cure, it should be simple enough of a healing without taking too much of your energy, and then he could be on his way. Easy enough. When your demon gives you a reassuring nod, you turn back to the stranger. 

“Fine, a quick healing, and then you leave me alone.” 

“Yes, of course! Thank you, seriously,” he continues, pausing as you unlatch the chain and open the door to let him inside. “I really appreciate it.” 

Standing in the entryway, it’s once he closes the door behind himself that the stranger finally notices Taehyung, eyes narrowing. “What’s another demon doing here?”

“He helps me,” you reply, giving the same simple answer you give anytime the question is asked by a creature looking for your services. At the end of the day, it’s none of their business who he is and why he is with you, and the less information given, the better. “We’ll do the healing down the hall.”

Moving to get your supplies, you go to show him to your workspace but he’s still paused, glaring at Taehyung. 

“What, he helps you, you help him, that kinda thing?” he sneers, speaking to you but still only looking at Tae. “Can’t say I blame him, you really are a looker. I bet you’re really fun to play with.”

Temper snapping at his words, you spin on your heel to point to the door. “That’s it, you’re done. Get out.” 

Before the demon can utter a reply, Taehyung is in his face, as if he was waiting for your unspoken signal to spring into action. Holding him in place with a fist in his suit jacket collar, he shakes the demon once, walking him backwards toward the door. “You heard her. Leave now, and do not return.” 

“Come on! Can’t you take a little joke?” the asshole shouts, any pretense of niceties fully falling away. “It’s just a quick healing, you sensitive bitch!” 

You can feel the change in the atmosphere when Taehyung tenses, his form seemingly trembling with restraint as his pupils blow out until his eyes are black. “You’re going to regret that,” he murmurs, a sinister smirk on his lips.

A bright light has you covering your eyes, slowly blinking until you can make out the form of Jin, his wings fully spread and an angelic dagger in tow.  The Thai food was still in bags in his other hand, Jin clearly returning from his trip only to walk into a different kind of battle.

Dropping the bags by the door, he saunters into the room.

“He’s right, you will regret that,” Jin says, voice even, “but you’re going to have to deal with me now, instead.” 

Plucking the demon out of Taehyung’s hold, Jin tugs him into a headlock, placing the blade at the bottom of his throat before turning toward the door. “Taehyung, why don’t you make sure our girl here is all taken care of while I take care of the trash, will you?” 

He waits for Taehyung’s nod, and then Jin looks at you. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” you affirm, stepping closer to Taehyung. 

“I’ll come check on you guys later.” He nods, and then he’s out the door, a bright light streaming through the cracks as it closes. 

And then, it’s just the two of you.

Taehyung immediately springs into action, arms sliding around your shoulders as he guides you to the couch, draping a blanket around you once you settle. Despite your assurances that you’re fine, he continues his task, moving next into the kitchen to put the take out in the oven to keep warm before putting the kettle on for tea. Finally, he searches through the newly stocked pantry for a sugary snack, something that will appeal to your sweet tooth. 

“What sounds better, sour gummy bears, or those nerd cluster things?”

“Sour gummy bears, please,”

Soon, the coffee table before you has a cup of hot honey lavender tea and a little bowl of sour gummies, and Taehyung is settling beside you, reaching for the remote to find something to put on TV. You feel cozy snuggled up on the couch, a blanket wrapped around you and your overly affectionate demon beside you, and it’s then that you realize just how comforted you really feel.

Effortlessly, without you realizing, Taehyung knew what to do to soothe you, knew the actions that would bring you peace after something stressful had happened. He didn’t need to be asked, or told – just sprang into action to support you, asking for nothing in return. There was only one other person who had done that for you, even before becoming Fallen, and that was Jin. 

The thought has your heart thrumming in your chest.

Pressing play on some vampire show, he then leans back on the couch, pulling you with him until you’re resting cuddled into his chest. “Is this okay?” he asks, eyes questioning. “If it’s too much, I can go get some pillows instead.”

It’s his thoughtfulness that finally breaks you, has tears welling in your eyes as you stare into his depthless gaze.  You can’t hold it back anymore, the question you were going to ask, and you blurt it out before you can doubt yourself. 

“Taehyung, will you live with me?”

 His eyes widen in surprise, and you feel your stomach drop, scrambling to explain. “I don’t know what your plans are, or how long you wanted to stay here… But I’ve come to realize that I really, really like having you around, and I don’t want you to go. So I wanted to ask, would you stay here with me?”

The surprise in his gaze fades, leaving behind wonderment, adoration. 

“You want me to stay?”

Not trusting your voice, this time, you just nod, giving him a watery smile.

Taehyung scoops you up, practically pulling you into his lap and  immediately wrapping you into a big hug, squeezing you so hard your lungs fight for air. “Yes! Yes, I’d love to stay with you.” 

A deep chuckle reverberates in his chest, and you can’t help but join in, his laughter and joy infectious as he crushes you. “No one has ever asked me to stay before.” 

You go to pull away, to move back to your spot on the couch and to continue this conversation, but Taehyung’s arms lock you in place, holding you to him. 

Brow furrowing,  you go to question him, but then his mouth is on yours.

The kiss is electric, sizzling down your spine and through your veins until you’re dizzy, until you’re consumed in nothing but the feeling of him and his mouth moving against yours. You’re drunk with it, on the precipice, and when his tongue licks at the seam of your lips, you let him tumble into your mouth, salvation be damned. 

“Well, what do we have going on here?”

Jin's voice startles you both, interrupting the kiss. Breathing heavy, you go to slide off Taehyung’s lap, but he is having none of it; instead tucking you in closer and giving the angel a proud grin. Rolling your eyes, you stay put, working to get your heart back to a normal rate. 

“I would say I’m surprised about the whole kissing thing, but I’m not,” he continues, moving fully into the living room to face you both. “However, could you tell me why in the hell you were both glowing?”

[gimmethatagustd]

55 taehyung

When I wake up you're not next to me / Guess I'm missing all your energy / That's all I want / Promise I am not your enemy / I just need another memory / That's all I want / 'Cause all I want is you

» pairing: taehyung x reader

» genre: BTS | 18+ | drabble | exes to friends/future lovers | fluff | angst

» wc/date: 1k | December 2022

» warnings: alcohol | taehyung is Gentle and Soft and Everything Good in the World

» masterlist | AO3 | send me ur thots 👅

» notes: this made me so delulu you have no idea 😫 also this was my first time writing in present tense and ngl i kinda like it 👀

“You’re still the love of my life.” 

Candlelight casts dancing shadows across Taehyung’s face. They highlight the sharpness of his jawline and reflect orange sparkles in his dark eyes. You want to believe the sudden cool breeze cutting through an otherwise warm summer night makes you shiver, but you know that would be a lie. No, Taehyung is to blame for your jitters. He always is. It’s the look he gives you as he lifts his wine glass to his mouth, his tongue briefly slipping out to wet his lips before taking in the red liquid. 

How many glasses were you on? 

You press your fingers to your cheeks, knowing your skin isn’t hot because of the wine. 

You were wine drunk the first time you met Taehyung. You tell everyone you don’t remember that night, but it’s only to save yourself from the embarrassment. You were at a house party hosted by someone you genuinely don’t remember anymore. Although most of the night was a drunken blur, you do remember Taehyung’s warm hands squeezing your own. You remember how gentle he was, how his thumbs rubbed circles into your skin to soothe you while you blabbered through hot tears about your friend leaving you alone at the party. His willingness to find a quiet corner to talk down a stranger from a drunken panic attack was everything anyone needed to know about Taehyung, in your opinion. Calm, patient, and unafraid of looking someone in the eyes during their worst moment and showing them kindness without any judgment or ridicule. 

You couldn’t have imagined that a year later you would move in with the gentle boy from the party. You couldn’t have imagined that you’d get to hold those warm hands all day, every day, whenever you wanted. 

You also couldn’t have imagined that two years later you’d be moving out. 

The gentle boy from the party never changed. Sure, he grew up. He finished graduate school, got a “big kid job” as he put it, adopted a dog, and bought a condo. He matured, but he didn’t change, not really. He was still the same gentle boy. 

You were the one who changed. 

“You don’t have to say anything. It’s okay.” Taehyung gives you a sad smile when silence falls between the two of you long enough for him to come to his own conclusions. “I suppose that was unfair of me to tell you.” 

And there he goes, being considerate when you’re the one who has been so, so unfair.

“Why,” you blurt out. 

Taehyung looks as though he’s going to speak, but your waiter suddenly appears at your table to inquire about the food that’s gone mostly uneaten on your plates and the bottle of wine that’s halfway gone. 

It’s so easy to get lost in Taehyung’s presence, to forget that there’s a world beyond him. You remind yourself that you’re at an expensive restaurant, on the outdoor patio. All around you are couples sharing a late dinner beneath the stars. It’s Valentine’s Day. The waiter is gone now.

“Why?” Your eyes refocus on Taehyung who now has his fingers threaded together beneath his chin. Despite his sad smile, there’s a quirk to his eyebrows that makes your stomach do something you wish it wouldn’t.  

“I treated you horribly. I put all my energy into writing that stupid fucking book. Writing imaginary worlds instead of paying attention to the one I was in. The one you were part of.” Your voice is small, but Taehyung’s has always been soft enough to never overpower yours. 

He sucks on his teeth and lets his hands fall into his lap. With a cocked head, he watches you for a few too many heartbeats for your liking. 

“I did then what I knew how to do. Now that I know better, I do better.” He takes another sip of his wine. Waits. 

“Are you quoting Maya Angelou at me right now?” Your question is meant to carry an accusatory tone, but it’s nothing more than light teasing, and perhaps a bit of confusion. 

And then there’s the boxy grin you once had the privilege of waking up to every morning. Now you had one of those alarm clock lamps that mimic the sun rising. It’s nowhere near as bright as Taehyung’s smile. 

“Perhaps.” He puts his hands up when he knows you’re about to press him further. “But it’s a good quote!” 

He always knew how to speak your language, even when you hadn’t tried to learn how to speak his. 

“It’s an excuse for shitty behavior,” you point out. 

“It’s a promise for a better future.” 

You stop yourself from running your mouth and force yourself to sit with his words. Taehyung, forever the optimist. Where you saw failures, he saw opportunities for growth. 

“Neither of us knew what we were doing,” Taehyung continues softly. He reaches over to take your hand in his. It’s been a year and he’s still soft, still warm, still calming. “But now we know better.” 

You want to tell him he’s wrong; you were the only fuck-up in this equation. But you don’t because Taehyung never lets you get away with speaking poorly of yourself, even after a year apart. 

“I want to try… to do better. But I don’t want to hurt you if it’s not good enough.” 

Taehyung lets out an airy laugh, his intense gaze finally falling from your eyes to instead gaze at your fingers interlocked with his. “I’m not so fragile, Y/N.” And just as quickly, his dark eyes are on you once again. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to look him in the eyes without feeling like your heart is in your throat. “And even if I was, I’d still rather be hurt by you over and over for the rest of my life than settle for loving someone I can never give myself fully to.” 

“I wouldn’t let it happen over and over again,” you whisper, willing the prickly feeling at the corner of your eyes to disappear. 

“Mhmm,” Taehyung hums with a squeeze of your hand. “And that’s how I know we’ll be okay.” 

all rights reserved © gimmethatagustd on tumblr & AO3

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

[jeonaachu]

Mi Amor || KTH

Genre: Established relationship, fluff

Pairing: Kim Taehyung × Fem. OC

Word Count: 0.8k words

Summary: Just Taehyung admiring his girlfriend while she fixes him a sandwich

A/n: We love men in love. 😔👆🏻

Taehyung watches as his girlfriend Haeun prepares a sandwich for him while he sits at the table with his head resting on the palm of his hand, elbows planted to the wooden dining table.

“How many times have I told you to be careful in the kitchen, hmm?” Her sweet voice fills the comfortable silence and all he could do was smile to himself at the way that voice made him feel so many things. Good things.

She’s always been so caring and gentle and just…. so wonderful. It doesn’t really matter to her that she has just returned from a long, tiring day of work not too long ago but what matters to her is that her boyfriend has got a small cut on his index finger while slicing some vegetables when he was fixing a quick snack for himself.

He’s always been the messy one in the kitchen so most of the time it’s either her cooking or just simple takeout food. It’s not like he’s just eating and lazing around when it comes to the kitchen though, he helps out his girlfriend anytime and any way he could. Cleaning the counters and dishes or just setting up the table, he does it all to take off at least some of the burden from her shoulders. He can’t possibly just sit and watch his girlfriend work like a cook for him, could he?

That wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of him. Or just humanly, for that matter.

Besides, he’s quite fond of just helping her around and admiring her while she cooked for the both of them. Like he was doing at the moment. There was a permanent smile on his face as she cut the crust of the bread, knowing well that he doesn’t like eating that part while she told him about her day. It always warmed his heart, the way she was so careful and considerate when it came to him.

Perhaps he’s just too in love, too whipped for this gorgeous woman before his eyes. Or maybe she’s really that deserving of all the affection, praise and love he has for her, stored in his heart. He always thought it was too little. Maybe it could have been better if there was a better, bigger place to use it as a love storehouse so that he could give her more of it. His stomach, maybe? Or his liver? They were definitely bigger than his heart.

His eyes trail down to the little bandage she had wrapped around his injured finger. It had cute stars on it. He very clearly remembers them buying a whole pack of these when he went grocery shopping with her last week, they had quite a good banter when deciding if stars would be better to heal the wounds the bandages are put on or the hearts. The final decision was done by a round of rock, paper and scissors and of course she had won.

She’d always beat him to the game but he was always happy to lose. A loser in love. Just for her though. His competitive ass won’t let him lose to anyone else.

“Here you go, Mr. Boyfriend.” Her voice breaks his train of thoughts and he gives her a grateful smile when she sets a plate of sandwiches before him. And as if her acts of service weren’t enough for him to melt into a puddle, she had even decided to give him a kiss on top of his head.

Oh, this woman.

She always had him weak with her gestures. “Why are you looking at me like that?” She questions in that tender voice of hers that Taehyung has come to love. He loves every bit of it, the gentleness, the way it sounds so soothing to his ears, the way it manages to give him tingles throughout his body each time.

He raises an eyebrow at her, slightly confused by her question. “Like what?” He asks because he’s sure he’s just adoring her through his eyes. Nothing weird, right? Obviously not if he just removes the bit where he’s been watching her with those dreamy eyes for a whole eighteen minutes.

Haeun gives him a smile with a shake of her head before returning her gaze back at him. “Like you love me more than anything and everything.” Her words hit him straight to his heart and he breaks into a small grin.

“Because I do love you more than anything and everything, mi amor.”

His words make her cheeks turn a sweet shade of pink, a shy chuckle slipping past her lips and he grins at the sound of it. It always manages to make his heart do a little dance in his chest, especially when he's the reason behind it.

He’s a goner. He knows that and he’s happy because it’s her.

Only her.

DO NOT COPY OR REPOST.

[sugarwithtea]

hiiiiii i would like to request 8 & 12 from the angst list (i'm sorry!) and you can pick whatever ship your heart desires congrats on your milestone bby!

deluded | kth

you walk into your home, only to find your boyfriend wrapped up in the arms of someone else, on your own bed, causing you to realize how you were being deluded into believing the truth of your relationship.

pairing : taehyung x reader

rating / genre : nc-17 // angst, infidelity au

word count : 1.4k

warnings : cheating, swearing, crying, gaslighting for a second but oc is strong 💪🏻

note : thankyou jess!! i am so late lol but i loved the idea! hope you like it! also, it's unedited 😭 prompt — “You broke me! You ruined everything we had and- for what?” & “You really were the worst thing to ever happen to me. I mean that.” from this list

masterlist

The sky is overcast with clouds, ready to pour anytime now. Just like you, it's on the verge of tears.

"I, I can explain–"

"What?" you spit out, cutting him off.

It's so funny, that after just a two week long business trip, you return home– to surprise your boyfriend, but are met with him woven in your silk sheets, pleasuring someone else. It's laughable, how blind you have been. Obviously this wouldn't have been his first time, right? Because the girl looked so familiar.

How could you not recognise your own coworker, whom you had almost called your best friend?

"What are you going to explain? That it was a mistake?" your voice gets louder as you drop your bag on the floor and walk towards him, "Was it a mistake, hm, Taehyung? Were you not fucking her on my bed?"

You had twisted the lock open, faint noises greeting you right at the threshold of your home. That very moment had you raising your walls and walking cautiously. It was in plain sight– the door wasn't shut closed, infact open, because of course there was no intruder expected.

You hadn't dropped your bag, or screamed, or even ran away. You had simply stood there and cleared your throat, because apparently, their sounds were too loud to register the clicking of the lock or the steps you had taken into your broken relationship, your broken heart.

Taehyung doesn't give you an answer, his tan torso littered with marks– marks that weren't made by your lips, but by someone else's. His head hangs low, and you have this sudden urge to slap him, to grab his hair and make him look at you, look at the damage he has done.

"Are you going to speak?" your voice booms around the apartment – no longer your home. No, it lost that privilege the moment your boyfriend had defiled it by even thinking of going back on you. The sound waves echo off the walls, seeping back into your skin, and filling your veins with a new found energy.

The energy to get the fuck away from this man.

His eyes meet yours as he raises his head, but still, his mouth is zipped. There's a glint in his caramel eyes, one that threatens to spill out. You could drown in them, lose yourself in his eyes, but the red marks blooming to a darker shade are way too evident for you to step wrong. You can't risk falling again.

You can't risk being deluded again.

Your steps are quick as you walk towards him. He looks up, ready to anticipate anything and everything from you, but you step around him and head to your bedroom. Not your– the bedroom. Your face automatically forms a grimace as soon as you step into it, throwing your closet open and grabbing all the clothes and belongings you find first, stuffing them in a small suitcase which you had grabbed from the side. You'll come later for other things. Right now you just need to get out.

Thunder rumbles outside of the window, and your head snaps towards the direction, albeit not able to see the window, but still able to feel the misery, the feeling of the loud rumble all too well. You don't even know what you are feeling. It's like you have went numb, just taking the steps your brain tells you to take, so you don't wake up in a worse state of misery. You want to cry, you want to shout, you want to throw your precious vase at his head– but you can't get yourself to do that, or anything for that matter. Your heart has broken and already shrunk into nothingness, so void of feelings that you feel … nothing.

You fumble for your phone, to ask your best friend Momo if you can crash at her place, and as soon as you unlock it, Taehyung's hand touches your arm, making you freeze.

"Y/N, please. Don't." his voice wavers and you wanna ask him, why? Climbing on the top of the tallest building, you wanna shout at him, that why did he do that? Were you that inefficient? Were you that unlovable? Were you that insignificant for him that he had been so quick to find solace in someone else's arms, all while you were still there and trying?

You take a deep breath, none of your turmoil reflecting in your well leveled voice,

"Please don't say that. I am so sorry."

“You broke me, Taehyung. You ruined everything we had and– for what?” you don't break, no. That would be weak. So what if it's almost four years of love vanishing into nothingness, so what if your heart will now always have a hole shaped like his form. So what? You can definitely live with it, survive the rest of your life, very well, of course.

Now this, irks you.

"A sorry won't make you go back in the past and change your fucking mind. So keep this act to yourself, and save the words for the girl who just ran out of here," you grab your bag and rush out of the bedroom, hints of tears lining your eyelids, before you speak again, "That is, if she is the one you are going to now."

He steps in front of you, blocking the main door from your view.

"I wasn't sleeping with multiple people."

"Doesnt make me feel any better, you asshole." Deep breaths, that's what you tell yourself. You really need to save your energy, especially if you have to drive all the way to your friend's house with a broken heart in a broken weather.

"I didn't mean it tha-"

"Save it." you sniffle, and step around him, yet again. Still better than the way he had stepped all over your heart, your love and your devotion. You are still, and will always be better than him.

Always.

"Save it for when I come back here to grab the rest of my things, Taehyung. Because after a five hour flight, I don't have the energy left to fight you." you grab your keys and don't look back at him.

"So you are just letting go this easily? It's like you aren't even affected by this." you pause as his tone suddenly, changes? What the actual fuck? Does he think you are the one to be blamed here? Does he know how he has ruined any and every thing for you, atleast in the foreseeable future? This has to be the most ridiculous thing he has ever said.

You let out a snort, "You are going lower than I ever expected you to."

It's like those words of yours bring him back to his senses (if there were any left) and he pleads, "No, sorry. I am- I didn't mean to say that."

"You never mean anything. Did you mean it when you said you loved me?" you unlock the door and swing it open, not even bothering to listen to him. One of your legs is already out of the apartment when he speaks again.

"Yes, yes I did. I did mean it, please." At this point, it's starting to get annoying. This man has nothing else to say except please? No explanations, no … nothing? It's like he is stuck on that one key while typing, and it prints the same letter without any breaks. Like he has speared your heart with a knife and is not able to pull it out, so is just twisting it more, trying.

You completely step out of the apartment, your suitcase in tow– and this time, he doesn't stop you. You laugh low. Even he is tired of the constant forward and backward game, tired of acting as if he was in that game in the first place, as if he cares for you anymore.

It's when you turn around to look at him, and your old home for the last time that you say the thing which has been haunting you, and will live in the nooks and crevices of your hollow heart forever.

“You really were the worst thing to ever happen to me. I mean that.”

The first tear falls down in tandem with the first raindrop landing on your cheek as you step in the parking lot, the sky hiding your misery with its own.

— hii. i wrote this so quick at night. I'll definitely go over it in the morning again lol. but in the meantime, i like it. 😉

🧸 please let me know what you think of this by reblogs, comments and asks, as feedback is highly appreciated as always. 🤍 (also, no taglist for requests)

© sugarwithtea 2023. do not repost.

[luaspersona]

fic announcement | kim taehyung (m)

title ↠ seoul town road

pairing ↠ horseback riding instructor!taehyung x reader (f. reader)

genre ↠ college!au; idiots to lovers; fluff; pwp; light 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

complete work warnings (subject to change) ↠ massage; explicit smut: super soft dom!taehyung, sub!reader, kissing, strength kink (kinda?), praise kink, very light dirty talk, body worship, tit play, fingering, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, slow sex, multiple orgasms, cum eating; sweet aftercare.

release date ↠ around late april-early may… probably 👀

note ↠ pls ignore the corny ass title, i couldn’t think of anything better 🤡 i’m still writing this one, but i’m halfway through, so unless ✨life happens✨, it probably won’t take much long!

note² ↠ also, wanna thank @badgalsgetinfree for this beautiful banner 🥺

if you wanna be added to the taglist just leave a comment 🥰

navigation | masterlist | permanent taglist 

[k-nayee]

Growing Pains

wc: 4.7k a/n: just know this was written YEARS ago when I was dealing with insecurity issues and such💀 I promise my writing ain't as dramatic as this

⚠𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆⚠: Eating Disorder topics such as Anorexia will be mentioned/insinuated. To those that may find this triggering, please skip to the next chapter or read with caution

Dreamer M.List

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

′𝐈 have to do this′

′I NEED to be perfect...'

Staring at the food spread across the table, I muster a smile as a plate is handed to me. Yet once I'm alone, it ends up in the trash, unseen.

'...and I'll do whatever it takes for it to happen.′

I ignore the low growls and take a sip from a water bottle, finding comfort in the temporary fullness it does to my empty stomach.

"All right guys! We gotta do some warm-ups to get our muscles ready: Arm circles, leg stretches, high knees to complete before we dive into the regular twelve count of squats and jumping jacks with five laps to wrap it all up!" The instructor's upbeat and encouraging voice cuts through the air. "And then we can start with today's dance!"

Groans of protest bubble around me, but they do the tasks anyway in order to avoid getting scolded.

I breeze through the majority of activities with ease. It wasn't until when those all-too-familiar black spots forming at the edge of my vision did I become wary.

Luckily, I managed to get rid of them or at least slow the process by slowing down my pace.

"Hey, you okay?" The worry in his tone interrupts my focus.

Offering another smile, I dismiss my body's weaking state. "I'm f-fine."

Not a moment later my legs suddenly gives out.

A pair of hands catches me in time and look into my exhausted eyes.

"Hey, I think you need to lay down. You don't look too good. Have you eaten lunch yet?"

Their worry tugs at my heart; the reflection of my gaunt face in their eyes feels like a dunk of cold water.

′Maybe this isn't right...I...I should stop.′

I almost confess—about starving myself for weeks. Hoping to get small and beautiful enough, to get what everyone told me I'm the opposite of. Th-

"Come on now! I know we joke you act like a Panda, but I didn't think you'd get tired that fast! Maybe it's time you stop eating like them before you start to really look like one!" Someone calls out, laughs echoing around.

The vulnerable expression I once had hardens into a cold, emotionless mask.

′No. I can't give up now...not when they all still see me as fat. I can't continue to embarrass them anymore.′

"Hey ignore them, they're just playing. But seriously though, you should lay down and eat something. It looks like you've been starving yourself or something...have you?"

The handsome male's concern is met with my cold glare.

"Leave me alone. You never cared then, so don't now!" I break from his hold with a sneer and start back running.

The black spots returns with a vengeance, but they only push me to go even faster. A twisted motivation if you will.

After an agonizing ten minutes, I complete the laps with nods and pats of approval for being one of the first.

My body screams for rest so I sluggishly make my way towards the seats.

Each step is heavier than the last, the world blurring into a bright haze as the sounds around fade into the distance.

′Just a bit further...′

But my body can't go anymore.

With one final step, I collapse onto the floor.

The sickening sound of my head hitting the ground causes everyone to go silent in shock as a shockwave of pain zipped through my skull.

I feel a wet warmth slowly seep against my head causing my hair to go damp.

A panicked voice cuts through the haze. "O-oh my god! Somebody help! T-there's blood!"

"Call the ambulance!"

Hands cradle my face as a light flashes into my eyes. I don't feel my pupils reacting properly.

"Hey hey, look at me. Are you alright? Just focus on me."

I open my mouth, but no words come out.

"Don't talk, conserve your energy. Help is coming," a soothing voice promises, but my consciousness is slipping away.

With the last of my strength, I want to scream, admit that I was wrong. That I should've said something.

But only a whisper escapes.

"H-h..."

My eyes roll back as darkness surrounds my vision.

I gladly accept and let it take me into its welcoming grasp with two words that I wanted to say before I'm all the way gone...

Help me.

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

It was a regular day at the band's dorm.

Jungkook was currently teaching Jin how to play a racing game after the elder had continuously begged him to.

"Press the left button."

"Left?"

"No, just flip the controller and it'll run on its own—of course the left button!"

Jin shoots him a glare. "Well damn! Actin' like it's easy for me to adjust to these types of controls like you do, oh so great Golden Maknae. Maybe tone done the arrogance a little yeah?"

Jungkook could only scoff in response with an eye roll. "Honestly, after being taught the instructions for thirty minutes straight, you'd think you'd at least know how to make the car move. But then again, if it doesn't involve food, you're pretty much stupid."

Jin's eyes widened, a mix of shock and indignation flashing across his face. "You little shi—"

"Guys we have to go now!" Their playful squabble is abruptly cut short by a frantic, wide-eyed breathless Taehyung with a grave Namjoon silently in tow.

"Now what is it-oh, my god! What happened?!"

The vocal duo's facade of annoyance immediately drops upon taking in the usually tanned male's pale visage.

Taehyung opens his mouth to say something, but his emotions get the best of him rendering him speechless and teary eyed.

Namjoon quickly wraps an arm around the idol in silent support while Jin exchanges a worried and confused glance with Jungkook.

"What happened, Namjoon? Is everything okay?" Jin asks the leader in concern, leaving the forgotten game behind in favor of embracing a trembling Taehyung.

Namjoon releases a shaky breath, the tension in the room palpable. The sound of the front door slammed echoes into the heavy silence.

"What was that?" Jungkook questions as he grabs his jacket and hat after turning off the TV, ready to spring into action

"That was Yoongi."

Tired of the useless clues and wanting to get straight to the point, Jin presses. "Okay...and why did he leave in such a hurry?"

"It's Jimin...he's in the hospital."

|

|

"We have to hurry up!" Yoongi's voice is thick with urgency, his leg bouncing uncontrollably as dread twists his stomach the closer they get to the given location.

"Calm down Yoongi, everything's going to be alright" Jin sends the tense male a small smile while trying to keep his own distress from showing.

The rapper isn't easily soothed. "That's easy for you to say! You wasn't the fucking one to hear Hoseok's voice over the phone—panicked, scared..."

"Okay, but—"

His words are cut off as they pull up to the hospital. Yoongi doesn't even wait for the car to fully stop before he bolts out the door.

Jin lets out a sigh of resignation before slowly unbuckling his seatbelt. "Come on, let's go."

"Where is he?!" The moment he's near the reception desk, any and all thought of concealing his identity from public's eye is forgotten.

The nurse, unflustered by his panic, maintains her composure. "Sir, you need to calm down and take a seat. We're—"

"Don't fucking tell me to calm down! I am not in the mood to listen to whatever useless bullshit you wanna say unless it has something to do with Jimin," Yoongi interrupts with a sharp glare, his tone bordering on hostile.

The nurse says nothing at first, only staring at him with a blank expression before a low and slow sigh escapes her.

"First of all, I work damn near eighteen hours a day getting piss, vomit, and maybe even shit on me. And I'm also forced to have a smile on my face when assholes like you come up and order me around as if I work for them. I am my own person, and I should not-no, WILL not let some pale ass skinny idol come and boss me around. So sit your ass down in the chair!" She snaps causing Yoongi's eyes to widen in shock before quickly doing what she says.

The woman shift her gaze towards the frozen onlookers who witnessed the whole scene with wide eyes.

An arched brow was all it took for them to follow along and scramble to the seats to avoid her wrath.

Satisfied with their obedience, her stern expression melts into a warm, beautiful smile that seems to make the band's hearts as she step closer.

"Now that we're all on the same page...hello! I will be at your service today. Kingly fill out this form for any future visits." she said,  voice a blend of authority and welcome.

A moment of silence pass before Jin breaks out of his daze and accept the clipboard from her.

"Um, w-we were told by one of our bandmates -Jung Hoseok- there has been an altercation with another bandmate -Park Jimin," he says nudging his head towards a silent Yoongi. "That's why we rushed, hence his behavior and actions."

"Well, I was going to tell you that the room you're looking for is number 256. Your friend Mr. Jung Hoseok already notified us you all were on the way. But I couldn't explain that due to a rude interruption," she states, giving a pointed look to Yoongi, who suddenly found the dirt at the bottom of his shoe the most interesting thing ever.

Namjoon stepped in, smoothing over the tension. "And for that, I give you his sincerest apologies. I can assure you he's normally more considerate, right Yoongi?"

Chastened, the guilty male bashfully nods and offers a quiet apology just as the nurse's phone started to ring, demanding her attention.

"Hello? Oh, Oppa!~" Her smile doubles in brightness, the group watching her becoming so captivated with the woman's sudden butterfly-like personality that no one noticed a male creeping into the building.

"Have you eaten today?" Whatever that is said on the other line causes her to pause with a gasp of shock. "No?! You need to take better careful of yourself and health. I can't have you walking around with an empty stomach...What?"

Her scolding morphs into confusion. "You can't dine with me if you're busy with rehearsals...You're not? T-then where are you?...Turn around?"

With hesitant moves, she follow his request only for her eyes to brim with tears at what—or who—awaited her.

Curious for the reason of her sudden emotion, the group's attention diverts to a handsome male causing their eyes to widen.

"Holy shit!" Taehyung's mouth drops at the sight of the very familiar face before him, "Her Oppa is—"

"Impossible...i-it can't be. You're supposed to be all the way across the world doing your tour right now," she softly says before quickly running into the open arms of Byun Baekhyun. [Hehe, Get it? Because EXO did a cover of 'Open arms'?...No?...Okay Imma stop]

"The fuck? Baekhyun is her boyfriend?! Where? When? Why? Shit better yet, how?" Jungkook bitterly questions as he watches the heartwarming scene happening before him.

"Now now, let's not jump to conclusions. Maybe he's a brother or family member. She did call him 'Oppa' after all," Jin weakly says knowing that his theory was a stretch.

Even so, the small part of him that hoped for it to be tr—nevermind...they're kissing.

"You were saying Jin?" Taehyung mumbles with a sad pout, voicing out the same the others felt regardless of just meeting the woman that same day.

"Quite a beautiful looking couple, am I right?" Jin releases a startled yelp at the unexpected voice as it cuts through the dejected air. 

Turning from the two lovebirds, they're met with a man in a white lab coat casually checking the charts on his clipboard.  "And a little word of advice: he's quiet possessive of her, so I wouldn't try anything if I were you..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Oh, where are my manners! My name is Dr. Choi, I'm the assigned doctor of your bandmate Park Jimin." Dr. Choi introduces himself with a sweet smile, continuing to review the charts at hand.

"Wait. So...so that's her...boyfriend?" Jungkook gasps in disbelief, barely latching on to anything but the word 'couple' in the doctor's previous statement.

"Fiancé actually. I believe you're all acquainted with him and his group? Um...it's EXO...yeah that's the name. Baekhyun here has been working with his idol group while she decided to go to a college that's close to the hospital. Despite how hectic both of their schedules are, they remained together. Just recently got engaged after deciding to get married once she graduates and gets her degree. Anyway back to your friend, Mr. Park...He's been asking for you. So if you would please follow me." Finishing those final words, Dr. Choi pivots and briskly strut down the hallway.

Alerted, Yoongi quickly rise from his seat and follow with the others in tow.

|

|

"Jimin!" A chorus of voices shouts as they burst through the door, startling the oldest maknae from his TV watching.

"Oh~ Hi guys~" Jimin sings out in happiness as he continues to consume the chocolate pudding in front of him.

The room goes silent for a moment as the newly entered group analyzed him with confused gazes.

"Um...w-what's this?" Jungkook exclaims, tense body expecting to see the older male laying in bed with a life support machine hooked up to his broken body.

But instead? He only sees a foot brace adorning the lead dancer's right ankle.

"What? Oh, you mean the cast right? I know it's cool, they decorated it with glow-in-the-dark stickers and markers." Jimin boasts, making Taehyung's eyes widen in awe and quickly approach for a closer look.

Jungkook follows the other maknae in curiosity while Jin and Namjoon go to a corner to check their social medias, leaving a dazed Yoongi alone in the middle of the room.

"...You're okay," Yoongi breaths out in amazement; but as he continues to chant those two words, his face once soft of worry turns into a statue of anger. "Not only did I run out of bed in sickening worry, but I also got my ass handed to me by a nurse just to find out that you're fucking okay?!"

Jimin pouts, a hint of guilt in his tone. "I mean...the fall wasn't just okay. They even said that it's one of the most severe ankle sprains they've had this entire day."

Yoongi scoffs at the response as he begins to pace along the tiled floor in hopes of calming down.

"I can't believe this! Hoseok was literally bawling his eyes out on the phone, saying you were hurt really badly and that there was blood everywhere."

It was now Jimin's turn to frown in confusion.

"Blood? There wasn't any blood. If anything the only red thing there was the fruit punch he wasted on me when he saw me fall. Which, by the way, ended up in my hair and became sticky."

Yoongi's face goes blank. "I'm...I'm gonna kill him."

"Kill who?" Hoseok's light and unsuspecting voice fills the room, everyone silent as they turn to the cheerful man holding bags of food in hand.

"Run bitch, ruuuuun!" Taehyung screams, half-joking and half-serious once seeing Jin and Namjoon stand next to Yoongi.

Hoseok looks confused as he place the food down on a table nearby.

"Huh? But I just got...back..." his words trail off, atmosphere thickening upon catching the stern looks of his bandmates.

"Oh h-hey, Jin...Yoongi...Namjoon," Hoseok quietly greets the three after letting out an audible gulp.

Jin's rebuke is swift. "Don't hey us! Why the hell were you crying and blubbering into the phone like that?! Actually made us fear for Jimin's life and think that something had actually happened to him."

Hoseok holds up his hands in defense with wide eyes. "B-but he really was in serious danger! He could've broken his ankle or leg."

"Yeah, but the way you said it made it seemed like he broke his neck. Especially when saying there was blood everywhere, when in reality it was only the red juice you dropped." Jungkook interjects with raised eyebrows.

"I was in panic and they both look very similar in the practice room's lighting okay?!" Hoseok snaps, the fear he once had quickly replaced with irritation.

Jungkook mockingly shrugs, feigning defeat. "Hey, I'm just stating facts here. But at least you're not a complete crybaby and drama queen who makes everything seem worse than what they are...oh wait."

Hoseok could only stare at the maknae before suddenly lunging towards him, only to end up being constrained by Yoongi and Jin.

"Man this bastard's been on a roll today...first me, now Hoseok. Someone needs to teach him as a lesson." Jin bitterly mumbles as he continues to keep the seething Sunshine from beating Jungkook.

"I'll do it! Just let me go, I promise it won't be that damaging. Maybe a little bruise here or there but that's nothing makeup can't fix." Hoseok pleads upon hearing Jin causing Jungkook's eyes to slightly widen at the threat.

"D-don't let him go!" The once smug male nearly cries, having already experienced how painful the third eldest of the group's hits are.

Jin looks at the shivering maknae with a smirk. "I don't know, it might be good to put you back in your place...should we let him go Yoongi?"

Yoongi shrugs, acting along with Jin as he too found Jungkook's behavior wrong. "Sure, it'll do him some good."

The two began to ominously loosen their grip on the vengeful dancer while Jungkook, on the other hand, starts to panic more.

"ENOUGH!" Namjoon's voice slices through the chaos, making everyone stop. "Jungkook, you know that's not how we treat one another, especially those older. You need to apologize."

"I-I'm sorry Jin...I'm sorry Hoseok. I know I've been raised not to act such a way towards you two. Must've gotten too comfortable." Jungkook softly voices out with his deepest sincerities.

"It's okay, I forgive you. Just don't do it anymore, I find it very hurtful when you do things like that." Jin states as a now calmed Hoseok nods his head in agreement.

Namjoon nods his head over the now mended problem. "Now that one of the situations is solved...Hoseok" the sound of his name being called out caused the male's body to stiffen.

"Y-yes Namjoon?" He cautiously questions already knowing a scolding is about to happen.

"Please wait until they inform you of the situation before you go and call what happened next time. We can't keep doing things like this okay?" Namjoon gently says, desperately wanting to go back home and rest at the moment.

A sigh of relief leaves the older of the two, happy that nothing worse came as he nods his head.

"Good now—"

Namjoon pauses mid-sentence at the sudden knock of the door, opening it to reveal Dr. Choi and the pretty nurse from earlier.

"Apologies for the intrusion. It's time for Mr. Park's vitals check. Please, feel free to wait over there," she suggests, soft yet authoritative as she dons her gloves.

Not wanting a repeat of before, the group obeys and relocate to the chairs, gazes remain fixed on the nurse and her captivating presence.

Noticing their intense entrancement, Hoseok lets out a snort.

"Gonna take a guess you all got the honor of meeting Miss Nurse there. Maybe ease up on the gazing, yeah? She's not an exhibit," he teasingly chides, sparking a wave of sheepish glances among the others.

"I-I can't help it! It's...she's just so..." Taehyung trails off, gaze lingering as he release a dreamy sigh.

"I know, I was a stuttering mess when I got here," Hoseok confesses, cheeks tinted with a rare flush as he remembers the way she giggled when he was making a fool of himself.

"Yup," Jungkook speaks up, tone heavy with envy, "Too bad she's got a boyfriend—fiancé, actually."

Hoseok chokes on his spit in surprise. "She's engaged?!"

Question answered by solemn head nods, his once bashful demeanor morphs into one of downhearted.

"Man...that's a total bummer. I was really hoping she was single. Well, maybe we can be friends if her fiancé isn't the jealous type." Hoseok muses out loud a small smile that quickly turns into a frown once he saw the others' faces.

"Really?! You've got to be kidding me! Dammit...can't meet anyone nice without being already spoken for or getting tangled up in dating rumors."

The disappointed dancer huffs, shifting his gaze causing a smile to appear. "At least Jimin's having a good time." Following where he was gesturing to, they all collectively look towards the said male.

"Look at him! Using his injury as a boost just to get closer...this is so unfair." Jungkook kisses his teeth, forced to watch idol cutely flirt—even going as far as holding her hand due to being afraid of needles, which the woman giggled at in fondness.

"Hey, remember when ____ begged us to ask the company to make a fake doctor's note about her leg being broken so she won't have to participate in that dance fitness class?" Jin lightly mumbles out trying to bring up the others sour moods.

And thankfully it did.

"Yeah, I remember! She was so pissed when the university she attended made it a mandatory course. Literally threatened us that she'll break her leg on purpose when we refused to do it."

"Ha! She wouldn't dare. We all know how much she's afraid of getting hurt."

"It's funny how she decided to stay in the class all of a sudden huh?"

"And going out more for jogs? Yeah, I've been noticing that too. She needs to start taking a few breaks."

"Maybe she wanted to get thicc like me?" Taehyung casually says as he flutters his eyelashes causing the others to scoff.

After ten quick minutes of the group talking about random things while their injured bandmate try woo taken woman with his sly attempts, the checkup was finally over.

"Alright, so far vitals seem to be in check. I'll prescribe some painkillers for the sprain. Though because of the severity of the twist itself,  he'll have to stay for the next two days in case it's something more other than a sp—"

Distant shouts and an emergency ambulance siren cut off the doctor as his pager goes off, mirrored by the nurse's tablet in hand.

A silent exchange passed between them, a prelude to the storm brewing beyond their immediate sight.

Swiftly taking a look at the noisy devices, the two exchange a look of wary realizing they were ringing for the same patient.

"Apologies, but we're needed urgently. The painkillers will have to wait," Dr. Choi's voice, once steady, now carried an undercurrent of haste as he disappeared through the door.

"I'll be back, perhaps in a few hours." Voice usually soothing, now carries a weight as she discards the medical gloves with a practiced motion before opening the door.

"Wait! What's happening?" Hoseok reaches out, concern etching his features.

The hesitation is clear in her eyes, the professional boundary wrestling with human need to share. "It's...not my place to say. Especially with surgery waiting. I'm sorry."

Before she could leave the room, Jin steps forward. "Please. We promise to keep it to ourselves, we won't tell a soul. Just...who is it?" He softly pleads.

The others murmur in agreement, just wanting to help console the family that's probably standing in the waiting room thinking the worst.

A heavy sigh escapes her, surrendering to their insistence.

"I...it's a student from Seoul's University of Performing Arts. We were told a severe head injury: traumatic blow to the head from falling against concrete during an outdoor dance warmups...there's significant blood loss. Now I'm sorry, but that's all I can say right now." Words, hurried and clipped, she disappears into the crowd of moving medical residents.

"No, wait!" Taehyung calls out as he and Namjoon try to pursue her, desperate for answers.

Looking around the hallway for the runaway nurse only to end up empty-handed in their search, Namjoon gestures back to the room with a rueful sigh. "C'mon...let's go back." 

Slowly walking back in defeat heavy in their hearts, a flash of a familiar hoodie causes Taehyung to freeze.

"No, is that...?" His voice trails of in uncertainty as his eyes narrow just to be sure.

His breath hitches in surprise, eyes widening in shock and disbelief before striding over to the huddled person, drawing puzzled looks from Namjoon.

"Taehyung? Tae-what are you doing?!" The band leader calls out as he steps from the room's doorway, gaining the other members' attention and causing them to follow.

Jungkook reaches the vocalist and pulls him back, staring at him weirdly. But the idol doesn't care, he continues to stare at the back that faces them in a trance like state.

"Tae, what are you doing? Are you insane??" Jungkook hisses, sending a wary glance over to the person hunched up in the corner crying in worry of disturbing them.

"No, t-that hoodie looks familiar see?" Taehyung faintly whispers, not wanting to believe that what his mind is making up is true.

Jungkook takes a closer look at the piece of clothing before letting out a breath.

"Look, there's plenty of hoodies that are similar to yours! You're just stressed...you can take a nap when we get back to Jimin's room okay?" The maknae assures in hopes of coaxing the older to move.

And he does. Though hesitant with every step, his eyes never leave the figure's back.

"Come on Tae, we'll eat some Panda Express. It'll help you feel better once you have a full stomach." Jin coos, gently directing the tensed idol towards the direction of the room.

But as if a tug pulled at him, Taehyung takes a step back. He looks at the faces of the others as his final decision is made.

Namjoon's eyebrows furrow in confusion at the male's expression. "What? Taeh-wait!"

Namjoon's confusion turns to alarm at younger's apologetic look, knowing he's about to do. "Taehyung! W—"

Swiftly dodging the hand attempting to grab him, he quickly jogs back where he last saw the hoodie as the rest trails after.

The chorus of voices telling him to stop were ignored.

Walking up to the person, he turns the crying person around with a tug of their hood, revealing a head of very familiar hair.

"Tae—" Yoongi's harsh voice of irritation cuts off upon seeing a tear-streaked face he immediately recognized.

"Adora!" Taehyung breaths out in relief, vaguely recalling how it was the same hoodie he gave for her to borrow but was never returned.

"What's wrong?" Jungkook softly questions the girl as her legs gave out, tears starting to well.

With quick reflexes, Taehyung grabs a hold of her, slowly bringing the troubled woman over to the cushioned chairs against the wall.

"I-I...t-they" Adora's words are in jumbled stutters, body racked with sobs making it impossible to clearly speak.

"Adora? What are you doing here?" Namjoon cautiously probes when her cries finally calms down a little.

"[N-nickname]," she croaks out as the tears resurfaced once more.

Confused dread fills up in the minds of the men around her at the mention of you as she continues to cry out her pain.

Yoongi stills with a sinking heart, fragments of past conversations piecing together into a grim realization.

"...it's a student from Seoul's University of Performing Arts. We were told a severe head injury: traumatic blow to the head from falling against concrete during an outdoor dance warmups..."

"...funny how she decided to stay in the class all of a sudden huh?"

"...going out more for jogs? Yeah, I've been noticing that too....needs to start taking a few breaks."

With frantic movements, Yoongi desperately clasp Adora's trembling shoulders.

Eyes brimming with the onset of tears, his heart feeling as if squeezed by an iron grip of dread.

"Where is she? What happened to her?"

He's answered by sobs, louder and more pained than before.

"What the fuck happened to ____ Adora!" Yoongi's voice escalates, raw with anguish as he slowly shake to the floor with cries of his own.

While everyone else looks at the rapper alarmed, Taehyung's own tears spilling over as he draws Adora into a supportive embrace.

"She's...in critical condition. They..." Her words are fragile with despair, the weight of it nearly snapping the hearts of those who heard it

"...they say she might not wake up."

[hwanggeum-ashi]

Anger Management

→Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader

→Genre: Fluff,Angst,smut

→ Word count : 4431

→ Guess who's back from the dead, Lol Lol me. This was in my drafts for so long and it's raining today and I'm suddenly in the mood to post as if I don't have finals looming over my head lmao. Enjoy the ride!

You've known Taehyung long enough to know what habit, word, action pisses him off. It's in his twitch of an eyebrow, the slight click of his tongue and the ever prominent tick of his jaw, that tells you he's gonna lose it soon. And his blood is always boiling. He's never been the one to keep his anger at bay. Always getting in fights ever since he was young, coming back with bruises on his arms, a bloody nose or a busted lip.

And you've always been there to haul his ass back before any major damage could take place. You've always been a witness to his mom's scolding, countless grounding, lots of arguing and screaming and in the end, a strawberry cheesecake – a peace offering, one for him, because her baby had been hurt and one for you, because you had been his anchor all this time.

It was around the time when you were 8 and Taehyung was 9, when he got into fewer fights because your mom told him that you cried every time he got back with a new bruise. The following years went by fairly less fighting, as far as you know until puberty kicked in which ticked off his adrenaline to such a high, even you couldn't stop him. Still, you never stopped being his friend.

At 13, he broke his left arm, because he got into a fight with some seniors. He never told you the reason. At 15, he was suspended for a week for giving his classmate a bloody nose and he kinda deserved it. He was a major asshole to everyone. This gained Taehyung popularity points when he came back to school, only to fuel his ego more. At 16, he got into a biker gang but was found out fairly soon before he could do any more damage but the saddest part was

— He was sent to a boarding school.

And then, he came back a week before his 20th birthday.

And boy oh boy, did he grow up. He did not come in with so much of a hello, rather he climbed up the side of your wall, jumped, grabbed the sill of your window and slithered in like a ninja, settled himself on your bed and gave you a Cheshire cat grin. You, in your skimpy camisole and butt shorts, with a towel draped over your shoulder, hair falling out from your makeshift ponytail, dropped the mug you were holding and proceeded to scream.

Only, the scream never came as Taehyung's big, yes big ass hand covered your mouth. His other hand gripping your waist, holding you in place. Your wide eyes looked at him, then down at his hand, then again at him. When he felt you visibly relax, he let go of you slowly.

"you have big hands"

Taehyung only smirked at your reaction.

"You know what else is bi-"

"-what are you doing here? No. When did you get here?"

"why else? I came to meet my best friend"

"through the window?"

"through the window."

"glad to know we wasted money on adding a door."

He only laughed in response. His laugh. Oh how you missed his laugh. That boyish sound that reverberated through you. That boxy grin and closed eyes. You figured that questions can wait. For now you just wanted to hug your best friend and never let him go. And you did.

You pulled him in a bone crushing hug.

Literally.

Because he winced. You pulled back to take a look at his face. It was a mixture of guilt, pain and 'oops?'. And you knew. Another fight.

"I'm going to kill you."

"Just hug me" And you relaxed your hold on him and nestled in his arms, softer this time.

You both sprawled yourselves on the bed and you started badgering him with questions. He told you that he came back on Tuesday but he didn't go straight back home because he had to take care of some things.

Which things? He wouldn't tell you. You didn't ask further. He said that things went south and he was in a bit of a pinch. To which you responded with a poke to his side. He gasped. Yep, bruised rib.

"I wish you would stop getting into fights."

"Don't worry. I'm fine."

You scoffed but didn't dwell on it. Over the years, you've learned when to shut up around him and when to hand his ass to him. Now was the time for you to remain silent.

Despite his soft hold on you, his breathing was a little shallow, his eyes weren't as bright as they usually would be around you nor was his tone deprived of hidden anger. You knew whatever happened must’ve been big enough to piss him off this much, that even you can't reach him. And it was rare when you couldn't penetrate through his anger and calm him down.

So you decided to let it go and fall into peaceful slumber with his arms around you.

His birthday came and went by with a breeze. It was a blast to be honest. Despite his anger issues, Taehyung managed to make great friends, all of which were apparently in the same college, including you. It was crazy, like it's some sort of fanfiction or something.

Taehyung was majoring in music and dance, two of the things he loved ever since he was a kid. Jungkook and Jimin were with him too. By the time first semester finished Taehyung managed to lay low and got into almost zero fights, give or take a few heated arguments which Jimin was amazing enough to handle in his own angelic sort of way. Jimin was an angel. Period.

The start of second semester seemed promising, Taehyung was no longer fighting, he scored well,was fairly popular in college, teachers and students loved him alike despite his anger management issues, his parents were happy. You were happy. But there was a nagging feeling at the back of your mind.

Things were going too smoothly.

That is until Friday night rolled up and in came a very, very angry Taehyung with bloody knuckles and ripped white shirt smeared with blotches of blood. You liked that shirt.

He grabbed your wrist and dragged you into your room and shut the door with a loud bang. It was a good thing your parents went to dinner at Kim's which you and Taehyung were supposed to go too but Taehyung had meticulously lied about you two having tons of assignments to do while you got a single text from him that had you stuck in the place for two seconds.

"Do not leave your house."

Silence in the room was heavy. Taehyung had his back towards you, hands settled on his hip, head thrown back, eyes closed and his brows twisted in a deep frown. Taehyung was breathing hard. His hands were shaking. You knew he was controlling his anger. But why was he here? He never came to you when he was about to blow up. Something about not controlling himself or whatever he said made you stop meeting him when he was this way. So why was he here now?

"Taeh-"

"Shut up."

It was barely a whisper but you caught it. You decided to take a risk.

"what is-"

"I said- he turned to you quickly, eyes burning with rage."- SHUT UP!"

You jumped on the spot, watching him with wide eyes. But Taehyung wasn't looking at you.

He couldn't look past his blinding rage and edged closer towards you in two long strides. He had a death grip on your forearms. His finger digging in your bare flesh. You winced at the pain.

"Taehyung, you're hurting me." Eyes closing in response.

"Look at me. LOOK AT ME!"

You looked up at him from underneath your lashes and you were taken aback by the sight in front of you. His face was red with anger. His eyes were different shade of dark, not lust filled dark or mischievous dark but dark as in they were dead set to murder.

You shivered under his gaze. His jaw was set and you wondered if his teeth were hurting. His lips were all chapped but still red and you only hoped it wasn't blood.

"I- I don't know what I'll do. So just-"

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath

"-so just stop."

You two stayed this way for god knows how long and you felt his grip getting lighter on your arms. There was a deep red bruise on both of them which didn't go unnoticed by him. He let out a deep sigh and rested his head on your shoulder, in the crook of your neck. His forehead was hot on your skin.

"Fuck you look hot like that."

You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion and turn your head slightly only to be met by his heady fragrance from his hair.

Fighting or not, Taehyung always managed to smell good. It made you sway. Without thinking, you brought up your hand and tangled them in his hair. You felt his body stiffen and just like that you were out of your trance and drew your hand back at the speed of the lightning.

Taehyung pushed himself off of you and grabbed your wrist tightly. He wasn't looking at you though.

"Don't stop"

His tone was still sharp and something told you that if you were to disobey, it wouldn't end up well with you. So you brought your hand back and massaged his scalp. He seemed to relax in your touch. But you made a fatal mistake by asking him.

"what happened?"

He drew back from you so quickly, almost knocking you over and gave you a death glare.

"Who said you could ask?"

His voice was cold and calm but he himself was seeing red.

"why can't you just stay quiet and let me be"

"you're the one who came to me."

You muttered under your breath, getting annoyed by the second.

"what?! What was that?"

When you refused to speak he asked you again with a loud voice which made your heart thump against your chest.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?!"

"I SAID YOU'RE THE ONE WHO CAME TO ME!"

"Is that it? I can't come to meet you now?"

he raked his hand through his hair, messing them up even more and huffed. Shit he was beyond pissed.

"I can't come to meet my FUCKING BEST FRIEND?!"

"Best friends are supposed to know what's going on with each other."

You tried to keep your voice as level as you could but there was a slight tremor.

Taehyung pressed the palms into his eyes, he was controlling. He was trying not hard not to burst but you've had enough of his mysterious escapades. You had to know.

"What did you do Taehyung? Why are you covered in blood? Is it your bl-"

In a swift moment, Taehyung came up to you and grabbed your face, pinching your cheeks, making you instantly shut up.

"You’re so fucking annoying"

With that his lips were on you.

The kiss was unexpected but hot. Your body was on fire. His other hand snaked around your waist pulling you flush against his chest. He parted your lips with his and went for a deeper kiss. You were burning. Your hands were limp at your side. Your head, full with his strong arms around you, his smell and most importantly his hot tongue inside your mouth. You were out of breath.

Feeling you losing oxygen, he let go of you so abruptly that you stumbled a bit, already in a daze. Your lips were swollen, breathing heavy. You looked up at him only to find him scowling at you.

"I need to fuck you right now or I'll lose it."

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

Did you hear this right?

What did he say?

What did he just say???

"What?"

"You heard that right. I want to fuck you."

When you didn't respond, he edged closer and closer to you until your back touched the wall.

"Can I fuck you?"

"I- what?- you-"

You were a stuttering mess. You couldn't believe the words that came out of your best friend.

Did you find him hot? Yes.

Have you ever had wet dreams about him? Yes.

Did you find him undeniably hot when he was angry? Yes.

Were you willing to take this step? Blank.

"It’s a simple yes or no question. Can I fuck you?"

You don't know whether it was his scent or his lips or the way that his hands touched you at the sides or the way he looked at you, you breathed out a 'yes'.

In an instant his lips were on yours again. This time it was more rough, more passionate, more raw. You melted into the kiss, your knees buckled slightly and if it wasn't for his arms holding you in a vice-like grip, you would've sunk to the ground.

You wrapped your arms around his neck for leverage and pulled him closer. One of his hands rested on the wall behind you as he pressed further into you. Your heart was beating against your chest so much it was hard to breathe. You felt a tap on your thighs, signalling you to jump and wrap your legs around him.

You felt glad that you wore shorts today. Taehyung hoisted you up on his hips like you weighed nothing and threw you on the bed rather harshly. He ripped your shorts and shirt in a frenzy, it took you a moment to comprehend what had just happened. You brought your hands to cover your bare breasts but he slapped them away and pinned them to your sides.

"Don't you dare hide from me."

You whimpered in response, eyeing him with glassy eyes

"Now that's the look I love."

Pinning your hands above your head, he proceeded to kiss down your neck, sucking at various places, marking you, painting you in red purple. His lips trailed down to the valley of your breasts, down to your stomach, just above your hip line.

He let go of your wrists but you didn't dare move them. Something in you felt like if you would move so much as even an inch, you’d be a goner. He massaged your breasts, rolling and pinching the nipples until you were breathing harder.

His hand travelled down without warning and rubbed your clothed sex making you moan out loud for the first time in the night. He motioned his fingers up and down your slit earning moans after moans from you. Your hands grabbed everything they could- bedsheet, pillow, his hair, his shirt. You tried your hardest not to buck your hips into his hand. He wanted you to beg.

Then his hands stopped and you let out a whine only to be shut up with a fiery kiss. It was probably at that moment, he got rid of the last piece of clothing and you were totally naked in front of him. You looked at him with hooded eyes, pleading with him to touch you. But he was just hovering above you, not moving an inch.

"Say it."

You closed your eyes and bucked your hips upwards, whining in the process. Something snapped inside Taehyung, he grabbed your waist and forcefully pushed it down making you gasp. He lent forward, close enough that you felt his breath on you. His whole body weight was crushing you. Fingers dug at your sides as you closed your eyes to drown the pain.

"Don't make me more angry than I already am. Say the damn words."

His voice was cold, devoid of emotion and yet it sent chills down your spine. You breathed out the words, hoping he'd hear because he was weighing you down so much you couldn't move an inch.

"Please.. Please fuck me."

"Now that wasn't so tough was it?"

Taehyung got off of you and you sucked in a long breath only for it to hitch at your throat because Taehyung's fingers found their way into your sopping cunt.

He slid his fingers up and down your slit, circling at the sides but not touching where you needed him. You wanted to bring your hands down to touch yourself but willed yourself not to because you knew you'd be in a lot of trouble. Instead, you buried your face in the pillow. With his free hand Taehyung grabbed your face and tilted it upwards.

"Look at me when I'm fucking you."

Your eyes were filled with tears of frustration. One stray tear slipped down your face. Taehyung bent forward and licked it, making you shudder. His other hand never stopped working up and down your slit. Occasionally he'd prod a single finger at your entrance but drew away quickly. It made more tears spill down your face.

"It’s sick that even your tears are delicious to me. I’m going to have to drive you so crazy whenever I fuck you so that you’ll always be on the brink of tears."

"Please…"

You managed to cry out. Without a warning Taehyung flicked his finger on your clit making you throw your head back and cry out. He did it again and again and again until it hurt from the direct hit. You were whimpering. Finally, he dipped two fingers inside you so deep and curled them. You let out a heavy sigh, head lolling to your side.

He picked up a fast pace, making his fingers curl every time he reached deeper. His thumb circled your clit and you don't know for how long you had been screaming his name. Your walls tightened around his fingers, a familiar knot in your stomach. Just a little more and you'd come undone. But then he retracted his fingers.

You let out a loud whine but was instantly put in place when Taehyung fixed you with a death glare. He removed his shirt and tossed it somewhere across the room. His belt was next to go. He was about to throw it away but then an idea struck his mind. He tied your hands above your head to the head post with the help of his belt. The leather felt cool around your skin. You were hot all over.

He freed himself of his jeans and boxers and crawled towards you, kissing your stomach, going down to your sex. When he licked a stripe, your eyes rolled back into your head, fingers gripped the belt and toes curled. You involuntarily pushed your hips upwards but Taehyung held them in place and proceeded to give you kitten licks.

Your impending orgasm was brought back to surface so quickly. You needed release and you needed it now. He sucked at your nub and you saw white all over. Taehyung stopped.

"Did you just cum? Without my permission?"

You froze. You did not wish for it to happen. You had it under control but you lost it. God you were fucked. So utterly, devastatingly fucked. A slap at your cunt made you jump but your throat was dry. God, you were shivering and so damn terrified. Luckily, for you Taehyung settled for no answer.

He gave your pussy a few slaps and you were reeling in aftershocks of your orgasm. He sucked harder, fingers pumping faster. You were so sensitive, you didn't know if you wanted to push him away or keep him in the place. Feeling your orgasm approaching again, he stopped again. But you caught yourself from complaining. You didn't want to piss him off more than you already did. He grabbed your face again and whispered in your ear. "You come, when I tell you to come."

Taehyung gave his dick a few calculative pumps and smacked it across your pussy. You were looking at him with pleading eyes, begging him to stop this torture. Taehyung clicked his tongue at you and pushed himself to a hilt with a single thrust. Both of you sighed at the feeling.

Not giving you any time to adjust, he started at an insanely fast pace. Sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the room along with your moans that eventually turned into screams. Taehyung switched paces from excruciatingly slow to hip breaking fast. His fingers left more bruises at your sides. He placed one of his hands on your stomach and almost pulled out all of his length. He thrusted in slowly, watching him disappear inside of you and curled himself up so that he could feel himself in your stomach. You almost lost your voice by screaming out so loud.

Taehyung stilled.

You were going to cry.

Taehyung was looking at you with murder in his eyes. Panic overcame you.

What did you do??

What did you do????

Taehyung was so still, it hurt. You wanted him to move. Now. You were gasping so hard, possibly hyperventilating. And you cried.

"Taehyung.. Please move.. Oh god, please move. I'll do anything! Please Tae, please please. Just move!"

You managed to shout out the words between your sobs. He was a sadist. A true sadist. Having fun watching you crying, making a mess of yourself. You gripped at the belt tighter but dared not move your hips even though every cell in your body screamed. You were full on sobbing now, pleading with him.

"Hurts doesn't it?"

You gave him a weak nod.

"Then you should've kept your voice down."

He whispered against your ear.

"Tae… Please.."

You pleaded one last time, strain evident in your shaky voice.

And Taehyung did move.

And it damn near broke you.

He started at such a fast pace, you saw stars. He pistoned in and out of you, your wetness making him easier to dive in deeper and deeper. You were a total mess. You were crying, moaning, screaming, you don't know. All you knew was that in that moment, you needed to touch him or else you were going to die.

Maybe you're a masochist, because you risked it again and you cried out.

"I want to touch you please…"

Tears were now stained all over your face and fresh ones were already forming. And maybe, just maybe Taehyung took pity on you or maybe he wanted to feel your touch too, he freed your hands. And boy did they hurt. You instantly wrapped them around his back. Taehyung had taken to a relatively slower yet still harder pace. You held onto him for dear life and cried in the nook of his neck.

You felt your stomach coiling in a tight knot again. The feeling was there again. You vaguely remember begging not to stop when your orgasm washed over you. The intensity of it made your thighs spasm. Your fingernails left angry red marks all over his back as he fucked you through your orgasm.

You felt his pace falter. He was close too. Still not recovered from your orgasm and the overstimulation his cock caused made you cling onto him even tighter. And then he spilled inside you. White, hot painted your walls and you both sighed in unison.

Taehyung flopped down on you, you still had your arms wrapped around his shoulder. As soon as he caught his breath, he felt you silently crying. He stroked your hair.

"I'm sorry. You did so well. I'm sorry"

Your grip on him loosened and you looked at his face. He had a worried smile on his face. Your own face is red with tears and anger and post orgasm.

"God! I hate you."

You said softly.

"I know. I know. I'm sorry."

He hugged you once more.

You were both now lying on the bed facing each other. His eyes were closed. His face was no longer frowning. He was no longer angry. Whereas, your face showed 50 shades of tiredness.He looked so beautiful. So peaceful. You lazily traced your fingers on his lips and touched his nose softly. He smiled at your touch, eyes still closed. You smiled too. You inched closer and traced your thumb once again, against his lips and tapped. He opened his eyes at that.

"When you were 8,- Taehyung started. “-some boy said that your frock looked ugly. But it wasn't ugly, your mom made it for your birthday. It made me so angry, I punched him. He punched me back"

Taehyung laughed at the memory and turned on his back. You nestled against his side and placed your head on his chest, sensing that it's gonna be a long story and you'll finally know the truth.

"On Valentine's day, back in 6th, some guy from 7th grade was going to give you chocolates he picked up from the bin because Yu Jin- you remember Yu Jin?"

You gave a nod.

"Because she told him to."

"She hated me"

"When I found out, I kicked him. We got into a fight and he slammed my arm against the desk"

You softly traced your fingers across his arm as a way of saying sorry and urged him to continue.

"I never joined that biker gang. They were talking about this girl, saying how her body was fuckable and how they wanted–no, how they need to have her.”

You felt Taehyung’s heartbeat quicken so you placed a small kiss on his chest in attempts to calm him down.

“They were talking about you. I wanted to murder every single one of them. But I was weak. So I crashed their leader's bike. Which got me into a whole lot of trouble and then-

“Got sent to boarding school."

"Yep, straight to boarding school."

"You were so stupid and reckless."

You both laughed softly.

"And today? Why were you covered in blood? I got so scared you know?"

You brought his hands to kiss each of his burst knuckles.

"I found that biker gang again. They spewed shit. And I'm not so weak anymore. So I punched him. Again and again until he was bleeding, crying, begging-"

You placed your hand on his chest, calming him down again. Then you brought it up to touch his cheek and make him look into your eyes.

"I don't want you to fight again. Promise me."

He closed his eyes and exhaled as if it was physically paining him to make that promise. Then he opened his eyes and grabbed your hand and brought it to his mouth, planting a soft kiss.

"I promise."

[eoieopda]

(Re-sending bc your inbox exploded) Can you write about Taehyung being the BIGGEST simp for his reader girlfriend while she’s on her period? I’m in the fetal position and this is the only thing that will help at this point. 🙏🏻 Heal me, Jade unnie 🙏🏻

oh sweet bb, i’m sorry you’re in pain! i have endometriosis, so i am very familiar with curling myself into a ball :(

(also i damn near choked to death on my sandwich at HEAL ME JADE UNNIE ☠️😂)

cw: fluff, best boy tae, period mention, there is a text but this is not a SMAU!

There was an entire king-size bed at your disposal.

Despite this, you were sitting cross-legged in the dead center of the mattress with your body slumped in half over your knees. You were exactly as uncomfortable as you looked; but folded over like the world’s angriest crêpe, you could at least pretend that you were fighting back against your uterus.

Going tit for tat with your reproductive system like this might have been petty - you acknowledged this. In fact, it might have also been absurd. But at the end of the day, you never subscribed to this menstruation bullshit in the first place. Consequently, you didn’t give a fuck if you were waging a losing war.

Besides, with your back exposed the way it was, Taehyung had a canvas. He stretched out sideways behind you because your unyielding presence in the middle of the mattress limited his options to two: the well between you and the pillows, or the floor. From that trench, his fingertips sketched invisible doodles against the fabric of your t-shirt. Hangul you couldn’t quite make out, pictures you could only guess at.

As always, his little ministrations calmed you. At any other time of the month, you would be fast asleep by now. Maybe that’s another reason why he nestled in behind you: so you’d have a warm body to lean on if your insides ever gave it a rest.

“What more can I do for you, petal?”

His murmured words snapped you out of your hypnosis.

“I could grab take-out from that new place up the street,” He continued as he sat upright, scooted closer to you.

When you unfolded yourself, his chin dropped gently down to rest on your shoulder. Never one to miss an opportunity, he placed a peck on your cheek before bumping the tip of his nose against the very same spot. He got the reaction he wanted, which was the first smile he’d seen from you all day.

You hummed in consideration. On the one hand, you couldn’t take more ibuprofen without eating; but on the other hand, he’d be gone from you for twenty (20) entire minutes. Your growling stomach answered before you did. Taehyung’s head tilted to rest against yours as he chuckled quietly.

“So, yes to the dumplings, then?” He teased as one of his hands tugged at the back hem of your shirt. At the mention of food, Yeontan stretched out of the ball he’d made of himself near your bent knee. “Do you need anything else?”

You didn’t want to ask, but it wasn’t an errand you we’re currently capable of running yourself. To be fair, you weren’t uncomfortable about asking this of him; it was what it was. You just knew how confusing this pharmacy aisle could be for people with periods; Taehyung might not stand a chance.

He expertly translated your silence, kissed your cheek again, and scooted himself to the edge of the bed. Bright white teeth glimmered at you as he grinned. They sparkled nearly as much as his eyes did when he raised his hand to his forehead in salute and declared, “I’m on it, boss!”

Your mirth was exhaled through your nose. Your concern tilted your head slightly to the side as one side of your mouth hitched up, “You sure you’re up for this mission?”

His boxy smile widened while he blinked back at you. His eyes said nope and help, respectively, but his mouth said: “I will not leave that pharmacy until the objective is completed.”

You dropped your face into your palms with more muted laughter spilling out. “Please don’t die in there,” You mumbled through your fingers, “Tannie and I would never manage without you.”

He hopped back over to deliver two more kisses - one to the top of your hung head, and the other to Yeontan’s - before heading on his way.

There were nine (9) minutes between his departure and his text.

[whalientaegi]

here's your perfect | kth. I

➸summary : "The only person who can help you to endure your pain is your soulmate" -But you find it hard to believe that now. Not when he's sitting right across the table from you, his face devoid of any emotion. You think if you really are as strong as you believed. 

➸ pairing : taehyung x reader

➸ genre : soulmate!au, idol!tae, s2f2l!au, angst, fluff 

➸ rating : PG-15

➸ word count : 5.6k

➸ warnings : swearing, anxiety, slight depression 

➸ playlist : carried away(love to love) by surf mesa, madison beer, blue and grey piano cover , bts v - sweet night piano cover

Chapter one 

A soulmate is someone whose soul is fated to match your own. 

They say that one's soul is only completed when they meet their soulmate. Someone who will accept you with your flaws. Someone who is fated to love you. 

"They will help you to endure your pain." 

Some legends say that it's like looking at your own reflection. Some legends claim that it's like finding the other half of your soul. Some believe that a piece of our soul is with our soulmates, that when you finally meet, it's like finding your own soul.

Soulmates have always been a startling thing. No one really knows the mystery of our souls. Even after countless studies and researches, people still cannot fathom the real equation of the existence of soulmates. It's something peolple have left on the plans of the universe .

___________________________________________

As long as Kim Taehyung can remember, he has always longed to meet his soulmate. 

"They will be able to read you like an open book, Taehyung-ah. They will love you exactly the way you want to be loved." He remembers his grandmother saying this to him, he remembers the way his heart used to ache with longing, with hope.

Taehyung can't remember the exact moment he stopped believing those words. But he remembered when he fell in love for the first time. Remembered the rush of emotions he felt. For him to be in love means being free. Free to love anyone, anywhere. For him, love should be unchained, unbound. 

"You fall in love too easily," Jimin stated one day. He knows that. Love comes easily to him. But it also burns him way too easily. 

The thing is, he is ready to endure the burn. He is ready to go through the pleasant pain of falling in love again and again. But he can't fall in love under conditions. He can't force his emotions. If he regrets anything, that is how he lost control over some parts of his life, how he is sometimes forced to change things about his life. But he will not force himself to love someone, wouldn't lose control over who he loves. Not to anyone. 

___________________________________________

Sometimes you think that you might never belong anywhere. 

You don't like lingering in your past. You're way past those old memories. Have made so many good memories to replace them with. Have people who have helped you, made you feel that you belong there. But that doesn't mean you don't feel alone, that you are not enough. No matter how many people are around you, you've always felt alone. 

It's not about how people made you feel anymore. It's just how you started to feel somehow. No matter how much time you spend with your family and friends, the loneliness doesn't go away.

"You know it might be because of your soulmate? Sometimes our feelings reflect on our soulmates," Asfan said one day while you were helping him at the animal shelter, "I mean they might be feeling lonely. And that's reflecting on you. Or maybe you are feeling lonely because you haven't met them yet?" 

You can't remember the exact moment when you started believing these words. That your soulmate is the person you belong with. They will see you exactly the way you are and still love you. That they will be the only person to whom you will never have to prove that you are enough. You don't believe in love at first sight, don't believe that you can love someone without knowing them. But you believe that your soulmate will want to love you exactly the way you want to love them.

_______________________________

30th December. 

The sound of a door opening snaps you out of your haze. You turn your head toward the door, two young girls enter the cafe, their faces stuffed in their scarves. A gush of cold air enters with them. Even though you are sitting in the corner, far away from the door, the cold still hits you, making you shiver.

You found this cafe when you were exploring your new neighborhood. It's tucked into a corner. Most people probably don't know this place is even here. You wouldn't have either if it wasn't for your tendency of exploring every single corner of every neighborhood you've ever lived in. 

The cafe is mostly deserted at this time of the day. There's a soft indie song playing on the radio. The anchor on the TV is saying something about the birthday projects of some idols. But you tune all of them off, try to focus on the design on your sketchbook in front of you. A slow, satisfied smile stretches on your face. You nod your head to yourself and close the sketchbook book, put it into your bag, then proceed to pay for your coffee. 

You let out a shiver as you step out of the cafe, pulling your coat tightly over your body. Even though the sky is clearer than most days today, you still can't feel your fingertips. The weather has worsened in the few months you've been here. Seoul has its own charm in winter, especially if it's covered with snow. 

You start walking toward your apartment, making a mental note to drop by the convenience store again, when your phone buzzes with a text. You pull it out from your pocket. Yung Sung has shared a news article to your group chat, asking if it was still OK to have the photoshoot on the scheduled date. You frown at your phone as you read the whole article. Apparently there's a storm coming the next week in Gangwon-do, exactly the same day as your shooting schedule. Your phone buzzes again, someone said that they were going to talk to the management. You let out a sigh, lips pull into a small pout. You were really looking forward to this shoot.

When you moved to South Korea, you didn't know what to expect. When your boss told you that you were being promoted and transferred to South Korea's headquarters, you were over the moon. All these years of hard work finally paid off. Even though it was a different country, it felt so important to move here, a strange sense was telling you that it's going to be worth it. And the opportunity was great, new experiences, new place, new everything. On top of that, your best friend is here and you missed her so much. 

What you didn't expect was the cold unsettling feeling, which feels like it is growing intensely as the days go on. 

Entering your apartment, you flick the switch of your hallway. It's been a few months since you moved here. You have finally settled in. You've tried to make the apartment look as homely as possible. But it is still lacking the warmth you feel at your own place back at home, or the familiarity that your parents home provides. It's like the loneliness has intensified ten times more.

You think it's a little embarrassing. You are an adult after all, have been living alone since college. But somehow you feel more lonely after moving here. But it's ok, you think as you get started to prepare your dinner. It's just been a couple of months. It'll be fine. Just have to adjust to being alone in an unknown country. 

___________________________________________

"Well, well, well, Happy New Year, kids!!" Kanika exclaims as soon as she opens the door.

You grin at her as she walks toward the table. "Late happy new year," Cameron mutters beside you, not looking up from his laptop. 

Kanika rolls her eyes as she leans against the table."It's just been a few days since new year's day, Cameron, don't kill the vibe," Kanika hisses.

"Is there any news about the shooting schedule?" Yung Sung asks Kanika.

"Yeah. They wouldn't postpone it. Said that the storm is supposed to hit in the evening anyway. It's not gonna take long to shoot so we just have to wrap up before the storm hits." 

Yung Sung let out a groan. "If we don't finish this project within next week, it will crash with the BTS project. Our meeting with them is in two weeks, remember?" Cameron grumbles, still not looking up from his laptop.

"How can I forget when you keep reminding me every chance you get," Yung Sung grits out, letting out a frustrating sound. 

It is safe to say that Cameron and Yung Sung don't get along with each other. Their banters are always the source of entertainment to everyone. 

You smirk at Yung Sung and return your attention to your laptop again. You were clicking through your sketches for the 100th time when Kanika interrupted you. 

"Hey."

You look up from your laptop. Kanika is smiling down at you. "You want some coffee?" she asked, lifting one eyebrow. 

You blink at her. Her face is doing that thing where she is really trying to be subtle about something. You look back at your laptop. You've been watching the same design for an hour now. Trying not to stress about the project but somehow doing exactly that. Your stress might have reflected on your face. Right, she's trying to distract me.

"Yeah, sure." You get up and grab your jacket, following Kanika out of the room.

_______________________________

Kanika puts a cup of coffee in front of you  and takes a seat across from you at one of the tables in the canteen area. You grab the cup with both hands, trying to consume as much warmth as possible.

"Honestly, Y/N, you need to stop stressing out about these projects." Kanika is one of the few people with whom you've gotten closer with in these past few months. 

"I'm not!" you exclaim. Kanika gives you a pointed look. You don't know if it's because she's your friend or because you're working under her, sometimes she can read you like an open book.

You look down at your coffee. It might have been easier if you could just stop that nagging feeling inside your head.

"Look." You actually look at her, her voice serious."You did a great job. Everyone loved your designs. The project will go smoothly. I know you're worried because it's your first time working on a big project after moving here. But trust me, you got this. Don't let your anxiety knock off your confidence. Ok?"

You can feel your entire face heat up. "Yeah," you murmur. Even though her words somehow comforted you, that doesn't mean you can shove away your anxiety entirely. 

"Anyway, how was your new year's eve?" She asked, sipping into her coffee. "Did you go out?" 

"No…um…I still had some boxes to unpack." 

Lies. You spent that whole night rewatching your favorite old movies. Just so that you can feel some familiarity. But you weren't going to admit that to her. It really doesn't help that you haven't actually made any real friends except for Kanika since you moved here. You do hang out with some of your colleagues, but most of them were probably with families and friends that day, so you didn't want to intrude. 

Kanika smiles apologetically. "You know I would've invited you to my place if we were in town, right? I'm really so-"

"Kanika, please don't apologize," you cut her out. "It's ok! I was fine by myself."

No, you weren't. You felt even more lonely, having always spent the day with friends and family. 

"Still. It can be depressing spending New Year's day alone." 

Kanika was the first person you contacted after you were notified about your promotion. You got her email address from your company's website and emailed her. You informed her about your promotion and that you were really excited to move to South Korea and to work under her. She replied enthusiastically that she was really impressed by your profile and was excited to work with you. You've become close after that. She was the one who helped you find a decent apartment and introduce you to this new city. 

You smiled at her. She is right though. There's no point stressing over the project right now. Everything has been going smoothly about the BTS project till now. Even though there's a lot of things that can go wrong, you are sure that everyone will be able to handle that. You just hope your hard work pays off well. 

______________________________________

Is it possible to love someone else when your soulmate is around? The girl on the TV asks her crush. 

Of course it is. Some people cheat on their soulmate all the time, the same soulmate whom they promised to always love. They fall out of love. They find someone better, someone they connect to more than they do with their soulmates. It's not the 18th century anymore when it was scandalous if you are not with your soulmate. Nowadays people are cautious about who they wanna spend their life with. There are people who are waiting for their soulmate, people who are just friends with their soulmate, people who don't want their soulmate. It's not rare anymore. 

You try to focus on the drama that's playing on your TV. The laptop which is resting on your left is displaying an empty bedroom. The girl on the TV is crying, trying to reason with her crush that they can be happy together, when a voice calls out your name from the laptop. You head snaps at it. Asfandiyar's hands are stretched out, giving you the perfect view of his outfit on the screen. 

"How about this one?" 

You scan him from head to toe. His head is styled perfectly. He is wearing a light grey turtleneck and white slacks. You nod your head and mutter, "Looks good." 

He gives you a funny look. "That's it? No 'you look like a gridded pineapple'?" 

"Well, you should've told me sooner that my insults inspire you, Asfan." You bat your eyelashes at him. "I would prepare them better next time then." 

You watch as he rolls his eyes, going around to put on his watch. You pull a thread from your sweater, trying to cut it out.

"Say hi to Rue for me," you say, a slow sly grin taking over your face. He stills for a moment, looking at you with big eyes. You tilt your head, "Why? Isn't it why you are dressing up so nicely? Because she would be there at the party?" 

He looks down, smiling shyly. "What? A man can't even dress up to impress his soulmate now?" he murmurs shyly. 

You scrunch your nose,"You're so sappy." 

"Well I'm not the one who is single for her soulmate."

"I'm not single because of my soulmate! I just don't have the time to date anymore! And excuse me, you are single too." 

"I'm single because my soulmate also doesn't have time to date," He tsks as he grabs his jacket. "She's really your cousin."

"Try to talk to her today. Don't just stare at her, ok?" You laugh out loud.

"Well it's not my fault she is so pretty," He winks at you. You shake your head, whispering, "Whipped ass." Thankfully he didn't catch it.

"When are you leaving for Gangwon-do?" He asks as he puts on his coat.

"This evening." You glance at your watch. It's only 12 at noon right now. You've got plenty of time to relax. You didn't go to your office as you guys were leaving today anyway. Kanika dismissed the project members for today. You take a deep breath. It was honestly getting irritating, the useless stress you are getting. Usually when you are stressed it means you're going to give your hundred percent to your job. Your stress-work was usually your best work. 

"Hey." 

Your head snaps to your laptop. Asfan moves closer to the screen, his eyes filled with worry. "You okay? You are quieter than usual today."

There's a thing about you that drives all of your friends crazy, that is how little you share your problems with them. You can gently coax out everyone's problems but wouldn't tell them yours until it's too late, either because of the fear of rejection or because of judgment. 

You look at Asfan's concerning eyes and almost tell him about your struggles, about that nagging feeling you've been feeling since you moved here. But you stop yourself. There's no point telling him. You didn't want anyone to feel that you are not adjusting here. 

You are usually a very calm and happy person, granted that you are always stressed about your work, but optimism runs in your blood. That's why this whole situation is irritating you more, because the more stressed and alone you feel the more depressed you become. 

Asfan calls out your name gently again, his head tilted, face showing more concern than before. He has been your friend for years now. You know that he wouldn't judge you. But you didn't want him to worry about you. 

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," you force out a laugh,"I'm just tired."

Asfan eyes you with worry. You know he didn't buy your excuse, but still he nods his head. "Get some rest. Tell me how the shooting goes. And be careful."

"Always am. Have fun."

Asfan waves his hand as you disconnect the video call. He was right. You do need some rest. Maybe taking a nap wouldn't be so bad. 

___________________________________________

"Fuck, it's so cold," Haneul swears as the two of you make your way to the house. The weather has worsened so much in a few hours that it's almost impossible to step out of the building. You guys move around the crowd of tourists and locals, quickly walking toward the shooting location. 

There's a small island in Gangwon-do which is famous for the hanok village. The old traditional houses aka the hanok were matching the traditional vibes of the outfits of the photoshoot. It was originally planned that the shooting would take place in the garden area of the small village. But because of the weather, you guys had to make a last minute change. 

"It was a bad idea," you snap as you step inside the house. "We should've canceled the photoshoot." You were getting frustrated as the minutes went by. "Honestly, what was the point if we had to shoot indoors anyways? It was quite obvious we can't shoot outside in this weather," you grit out.

"At least they've let us use the hanok," Haneul says hopefully. The official management team of the village have given you guys permission to shoot inside the hanok. 

"And why are there so many people outside? It's kind of dangerous to be out there in this weather," you demand. 

"Most of them are locals. They have to open their business every morning, you know," Haneul explains. 

Of course you know that. You know you are getting irritated for no reason. You don't know if you should blame it on the headache that you've gotten up with this morning or the fact that your heart keeps jumping every now and then for no reason whatsoever. Guilt consumes your heart, knowing that the way you are lashing on people isn't acceptable. You let out a sigh, trying to get rid of your frustration. Haneul pats your back sympathetically, "Just a few more hours than we'll be safe in our hotel rooms." 

Haneul, one of the fashion stylists of your company, is the most optimistic creature you've ever come across. 

You two make your way to the center of the house. Most of the people with you are from the production section. The photographer is talking with Yung Sung. In the center the models are getting ready to begin the last bit of the shooting. You can see the stylists in the corner with some other models, trying to fix their outfits. As for the designers, there were just you, Yung Sung and Hwan.

Hwan bows to you when he spots you. You bow back and make your way toward him.

"How's it going?" You ask him. 

"If you are talking about the shooting then it's going great. Almost over actually. But if you are talking about the weather then I think I'm gonna die today," Hwan says merrily.

Even though you roll your eyes, there's a playful smile on your face. You look out of the big window, which is giving you the perfect view of the garden outside.

"It's taking longer than we thought it would, the shooting," you mutter, eyeing the dark clouds through the window.

"Yeah. It's like the weather has slowed down everything," Hwan says as he too looks out of the window. "Where did you disappear to by the way? Haneul was gone too," Hwan asks as he sips into his third cup of coffee of today. 

"Kanika called. There was a production problem with the BTS project. We were just trying to sort it out. Hey, did you know-" 

You stop abruptly and spin around. A shiver runs down your whole body. You frantically look around. You can feel the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. You take a step forward and try to find something that must've caused it. 

"What?" Hwan looks at you and then where you are looking. 

"What…what was that?" 

"What was what?"

"Didn't you feel that?" Your heart has started to beat faster. Your hand automatically goes to your chest, feeling the fast rhythm. "Like…like someone is there?" You swear you felt it. But it's not a presence, not really. It was more like a weird tug. 

"Where?" You can hear the confusion in his  voice. 

"I don't know. Like someone was right here behind me?" 

You look at Hwan. He's looking around, eyes big with confusion. "Could it be a ghost? This place is kinda old," He whispers, his eyes are darting toward the whole room comically. His frantic expression somehow eases your internal panic. 

You open your mouth to tease him when a staff member of the village comes into the room. He looks troubled, his eyes scanning the whole room. When he spots Chan Soo, your project leader, he makes his way toward him. He reaches Chan Soo and says something to him quietly. Chan Soo looks like he's really trying not to panic. 

"Did something happen?" You wonder. Hwan shrugs, looking as confused as you feel. 

When the staff member leaves, Chan Soo makes his way toward you guys. When he is closer Hwan asks him, "What's going on?" 

"We have to leave. Now. The storm is hitting earlier than they thought. And they -" 

"What! But the storm was supposed to hit tonight!" Hwan whines.

"Do you think it's my fault?" Chan Soo snaps hotly. It was clear that he isn't really thrilled about it either. "Anyway, we have to leave now. They are going to force the tourists to leave in a few hours. We have to leave too."

"But we are not done with the shooting yet," you point out.

"It's ok, it'll be enough for now. If it's not then we'll figure it out" Chan Soo says impatiently. "Now, everyone," He addresses everyone loudly and explains the situation.

In the next hour you all are almost ready to leave. Some people are still cleaning up the set up when Chan Soo says,"Why don't you guys go ahead?" Pointing at you, Yung Sung and Haneul. "I'll come with the rest of them. Go."

You guys nod and make your way to the front door. Haneul opens the front door and you are welcome by a gush of cold air. Yung Sung swears under her breath. The sky is covered with dark clouds. The cold is way too much to handle. It looks like the storm will start any minute. But it doesn't faze you at all.  

All you can feel is a warm fuzziness. The nagging feeling that has been bugging you for months now intensifies ten times more. Haneul says something about finding the car and takes off. 

You look over at the place where people are still gathered, probably trying to get out of here. You feel it again, the sensation making your hair stand on end again. You feel a strange pull, it's like an invisible thread pulling you somewhere.

"Did you feel that?" You ask Yung Sung, feeling the beat of your heart quickening.  

"Feel what?" 

"That thing," you touch the back of your neck. "Is it because of the storm?" 

"What? Are you feeling cold?" Yung Sung asks. 

That's when you feel the pull again. You realize that it's coming from the lawn. People are still crowded there, trying to get out or go somewhere safe. You unconsciously take a step toward them, but Yung Sung grabs your hand. "Y/N-ssi, where are you going?" 

You shake your head no, murmuring a quiet, "I'll be right back." You start walking toward the lawn. You can hear Yung Sung calling you. But you ignore her. 

You quick walk into the middle of the lawn. Your heart is beating way too fast now. Your breaths are coming quickly. You look around almost frantically. People are making their way beside you. Nothing is happening out of sort. Am I going mad? You think to yourself. Has the nagging feeling been a warning that I'm going crazy? 

You run your hand through your hair and let out a frustrating breath. You look everywhere again. Something must be wrong, otherwise why would you feel this way? People are giving you funny looks. Of course they are, they can probably see you panicking. 

You let out another frustrating breath. Yung Sung might be right, this might be happening because of the storm. You shake your head and start to go over where Yung Sung is. 

Two things happen at once. Suddenly there is a booming sound of thunder and you feel a presence from behind you this time. You still for a moment, feeling the quick beating of your heart. For a moment you feel like you are stuck in that place. You take a long breath, close your eyes and try to feel that presence again. There's an overwhelming sensation building inside you. But then you open your eyes, take another long breath and slowly turn around. Your heart is beating painfully now. 

You fully turn around and your eyes immediately land on….him. Then you finally meet his eyes.

And Oh. 

He can't be more than twenty feet ahead of you. But you can feel his warmth from where you stand. The nagging feeling finally stops and it's like it has melted into your heart. It's like something inside you finally settles. Your heart skips a beat and then starts beating with a new rhythm. 

You can't see his face because of his mask. But his eyes. His eyes bore into yours. It's warm. And dark. Like the night sky. His shoulders are tensed. Something warms your heart. It's him. It's finally him. Your soulmate.

The sky breaks and the rain starts pouring. The raindrops are harsh on your skin. The coldness is numbing your surroundings. People are rushing to find a shelter. But all you feel is the warmth. 

Neither of you are moving. Your breathing is coming slowly now. You can visibly see him relaxing, as if his breathing is coming to normal too. You cautiously take a step toward him, when someone tries to walk past you and knocks into you. You lose your balance and almost fall over but the stranger grabs your hand to steady you. 

"So sorry. Are you OK?" The stranger asks.

You snap out of your haze. You realize that it has started to rain. You nod your head at the stranger, mutter a " fine". You immediately look around where your soulmate was standing. But he is gone. Lost into the crowd. 

You panic for a second. You look around, trying to find him. But suddenly someone grabs your arm. You jump at the sudden touch, haven't realized how cold it actually is.

"Y/N-ssi, what are you doing?" Yung Sung asks. She's holding an umbrella over her head. "Come on, our car is here. You can't just run off in the rain!" 

And suddenly there's a hand dragging you somewhere. You numbly follow her. Your mind is covered in haziness. You can't function what just happened. Seems like you can't even open your mouth to say something. 

It's when you are safely inside the car with everyone else when things start coming back to you. Your breathing hitches, eyes going big, the shock of what happened finally settles into you. All these years when you've been waiting for this moment to happen, waiting for him to show up, but it happened when you least expected it, when meeting him was the least of your worries. Is this what everyone meant when they say that your soulmates will appear at any random moment of your life? That you will feel their presence before you set your eyes upon them? 

The panic you were feeling a few moments ago melts into a giddy feeling. You slowly smile to yourself. Things around you have started to clear up a bit. Everyone is talking in hush voices. It's raining so heavily that you can't even see anything outside the car. Someone has draped a jacket on your shoulder, your clothes wet and sticking to your body. You don't need to look into the mirror to know that your hair is a mess. 

But all that matters is the happiness you feel right now. You can't help the smile on your face, have to purse your lips to keep the laughter from coming out. You hide your face on your shoulder and look outside the car's window. You wish that you could always remember this moment, that you never forget the moment when you saw those dark eyes for the very first time.

___________________________________________

The rain is pouring more heavily now. Even though the heater is on, the cold doesn't entirely go away. You sit by the window of your hotel room, legs pulled up to your chest, your face rests on your knees. As your emotions are not jumbled up like it was before, you feel calm now.

You've always loved the rain. You don't know what's about it that draws you toward it. Maybe it was the smell of wet earth, or maybe the sound or maybe the cool breeze. But it always had a calming effect on you. A quiet peacefulness. 

And of course. 

Of course, he showed up when it's raining, you think, letting out a quiet chuckle.

Because clearly if the rain calms you down, then your soulmate will come to you drenched in rain too. It makes so much sense right now. And you are nothing if not hopelessly romantic. So even though it was cliche, way too dramatic even for you, your inner romantic is very happy.

You don't think you'll ever be able to describe how peaceful you feel right now. The pure happiness has warmed up your entire body,   making your heart feel soft. And every time you close your eyes, you see those eyes and it's like your heart settles down every time. 

You hug your knees closer to yourself and let out a content sigh. You finally understand why it felt so important to move to Seoul.

___________________________________________

The harsh air greets you like a splash of cold water as you step out of the hotel the next morning. You shudder, pulling your scarf more tightly around your neck. It's not raining anymore, but the air is misty. You walk closely behind Yung Sung and Haneul.

If it wasn't for this shitty weather, you would've explored the town. But you guys have to leave for Seoul first thing in the morning. 

The three of you make your way toward the car. Yung Sung and Haneul talk animatedly about some upcoming movies. But your eyes scan every face you can find. You didn't get much sleep last night. The excitement and giddiness have kept you awake most of the night. You look at your left, trying to find him.

Chan Soo stands right in front of the car, his hands on his hips. "Get in," he grumbles, clearly not happy about the weather. 

Yung Sung and Haneul hurriedly get into the car. But you look back and search the crowd once again. You can't cast out the hope that's blooming inside your heart. You know it's highly unlikely that he's going to be just outside your hotel. 

But still. 

Chan Soo calls out your name. You look back and he gestures for you to get into the car. You let out a small sigh, nod and make your way to the car, feeling crestfallen.

Misery creeps into your heart, but you quickly put it aside. You know that he will show up again. The hope that has developed into you overnight dims a little, because you might have been wishing that you will see him in the morning. 

But you are nothing but optimistic. You take a deep breath, the heaviness that you've felt inside your heart for the past few months is gone now, replaced by pure content. 

And as far as finding him again is concerned, as you've met him already, then you will meet him again soon. Right?